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to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

meditate

How many times the word 'meditate' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

em

How many times the word 'em' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

sunt

How many times the word 'sunt' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

imitating

How many times the word 'imitating' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

factus

How many times the word 'factus' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

d

How many times the word 'd' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

see

How many times the word 'see' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

heartache

How many times the word 'heartache' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

cash

How many times the word 'cash' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

both

How many times the word 'both' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

quem

How many times the word 'quem' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

sumus

How many times the word 'sumus' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

mounted

How many times the word 'mounted' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

this

How many times the word 'this' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

o

How many times the word 'o' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

understanding

How many times the word 'understanding' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

erum

How many times the word 'erum' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

then

How many times the word 'then' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

hamlet

How many times the word 'hamlet' appears in the text?

to slave it all my life, only let me meet Libanus. _Lib._ Mea quidem hercle opera liber numquam fies ocius. (_aside_) By Jove, you ll never be free a minute sooner for any help you get from me. _Leon._ Etiam de tergo ducentas plagas praegnatis dabo. I ll even give two hundred swollen welts from off my back to see him. _Lib._ Largitur peculium, omnem in tergo thensaurum gerit. (_aside_) He s generous with what he has: carries all his coffers on his back. _Leon._ Nam si huic sese occasioni tempus supterduxerit, numquam edepol quadrigis albis indipiscet postea; erum in obsidione linquet, inimicum animos auxerit. 280 sed si mecum occasionem opprimere hanc, quae obvenit, studet, maximas opimitates, gaudio exfertissimas suis eris ille una mecum pariet, gnatoque et patri, adeo ut aetatem ambo ambobus nobis sint obnoxii, nostro devincti beneficio. For if this chance is let slide, he ll never catch it again, by Jove, not with a chariot and four, white[D] horses. He ll be leaving his master under siege and increasing the courage of his enemies. But if he s ready to take part with me and pounce on this opportunity that s turned up, he ll be my partner in hatching the biggest, joy-stuffedest jubilee that ever was for his masters, son and father both, yes, and put the pair of em under obligations to the pair of us for life, too, chained tight by our services. [Footnote D: White horses were supposed to be the fastest.] _Lib._ Vinctos nescio quos ait; non placet: metuo, in commune ne quam fraudem frausus sit. (_aside_) Chained, he says: some one or other chained! I don t like it. I m afraid he s been trumping up some trumpery that ll involve the both of us. _Leon._ Perii ego oppido, nisi Libanum invenio iam, ubiubi est gentium. (_quivering with excitement_) I m absolutely done for, if I don t find Libanus at once, wherever he is. _Lib._ Illic homo socium ad malam rem quaerit quem adiungat sibi. non placet: pro monstro extemplo est, quando qui sudat tremit. That chap s after a mate to yoke with in a race for a thrashing. I don t like it! it means something bad soon, when a man in a sweat shivers. _Leon._ Sed quid ego his properans concesso pedibus. lingua largior? 290 quin ego hanc iubeo tacere, quae loquens lacerat diem? But why am I holding in my feet and letting out my tongue, and I in such a hurry? Why don t I tell it to shut up, with its wagging the day to shreds? _Lib._ Edepol hominem infelicem, qui patronam conprimat. nam si quid sceleste fecit, lingua pro illo perierat. (_aside_) Good Lord! Poor devil--choking off his patroness! Why, once he s been up to some rascality, it s that same tongue perjures herself for him. _Leon._ Adproperabo, ne post tempus praedae praesidium parem. I ll cut along, so as not to procure protection for the prize when it s too late. (_moves away_) _Lib._ Quae illaec praeda est? ibo advorsum atque electabo, quidquid est. iubeo te salvere voce summa, quo ad vires valent. What s that prize? I ll up and worm it out of him, whatever it is. (_aloud_) Good day to you--(_raising his voice, Leonida having paid no attention_) as loud a one as my lungs allow! _Leon._ Gymnasium flagri, salveto. Ah there, (_turning and stopping_) you whip developer! _Lib._ Quid agis, custos carceris? How goes it, gaol guard? _Leon._ O catenarum colone. Oh you fetter farmer. _Lib._ O virgarum lascivia. Oh you rod tickler! _Leon._ Quot pondo ted esse censes nudum? How much do you think you weigh, stripped? _Lib._ Non edepol scio. Lord! I don t know. _Leon._ Scibam ego te nescire, at pol ego, qui ted expendi, scio: 300 nudus vinctus centum pondo es, quando pendes per pedes. I knew you didn t know: but by the Lord, I know for I ve weighed you. Stripped and tied you weigh a hundred pounds-- when you re hanging by your heels. _Lib._ Quo argumento istuc? What s your proof of that? _Leon._ Ego dicam, quo argumento et quo modo. ad pedes quando adligatumst aequom centumpondium, ubi manus manicae complexae sunt atque adductae ad trabem, nec dependes nec propendes--quin malus nequamque sis. I ll tell you my proof and my method. When a fair hundred- weight is fastened to your feet, with the handcuffs hugging your hands lashed to a beam, you re not a bit under or over the weight of--a good-for-nothing rascal. _Lib._ Vae tibi. You be damned! _Leon._ Hoc testamento Servitus legat tibi. Precisely what you are down for yourself in Slavery s will. _Lib._ Verbivelitationem fieri compendi volo. quid istud est negoti? Let s cut short this war of words. What s that business of yours? _Leon._ Certum est credere, I ve determined to trust you. _Lib._ Audacter licet. You can--boldly. _Leon._ Sis amanti subvenire familiari filio, tantum adest boni inproviso, verum commixtum malo: 310 omnes de nobis carnificum concelebrabuntur dies. Libane, nunc audacia usust nobis inventa et dolis. tantum facinus modo inveni ego, ut nos dicamur duo omnium dignissumi esse, quo cruciatus confluant, If you ve got a mind to help the young master in his love affair, there s such an unexpected supply of good luck come to hand--mixed with bad, though--that the public torturers will have a regular festival at our expense every day. Libanus, now we need grit and guile. I ve just now come upon such a deed for us to do, that we two will be called the worthiest men alive--to be where the torture s thickest. _Lib._ Ergo mirabar quod dudum scapulae gestibant mihi, hariolari quae occeperunt, sibi esse in mundo malum. quidquid est, eloquere. (_dryly_) Aha! I was wondering what made my shoulders tingle a while ago: they began prognosticating trouble was in pickle for em. Whatever it is, out with it! _Leon._ Magna est praeda cum magno malo. It s a big prize and a big risk. _Lib._ Si quidem omnes coniurati cruciamenta conferant, habeo opinor familiare tergum, ne quaeram foris. No matter if they all combine to pile the torments on, I fancy I ve got a back of my own, without having to look for one outside. _Leon._ Si istam firmitudinem animi optines, salvi sumus. 320 That s the spirit, hold to it and we re safe. _Lib._ Quin si tergo res solvenda est, rapere cupio publicum: pernegabo atque obdurabo, periurabo denique. Pooh! if it s my back that is to pay the score, I m ripe for sacking the Treasury: then I ll say up and down I didn t, stick to it I didn t, yes, yes, take my solemn oath I didn t. _Leon._ Em ista virtus est, quando usust qui malum fert fortiter; fortiter malum qui patitur, idem post potitur bonum. There! That s courage--to take hard knocks like a man when occasion calls. The chap that endures hard knocks like a man enjoys a soft time later on. _Lib._ Quin rem actutum edisseris? cupio malum nanciscier. Why don t you hurry up and unfold your tale? I long for some hard knocks. _Leon._ Placide ergo unum quidquid rogita, ut adquiescam. non vides me ex cursura anhelitum etiam ducere? Easy then with each question, so that I can get a rest. Don t you see I m still puffing after that run of mine? _Lib._ Age, age, mansero tuo arbitratu, vel adeo usque dum peris. All right, all right, I ll wait till you re ready, yes, ready to expire, for that matter. _Leon._ Ubinam est erus? (_after a pause_) Where the deuce is master? _Lib._ Maior apud forumst, minor hic est intus. Old one s at the forum, young one s inside here. (_pointing to Clearetas house_) _Leon._ Iam satis est mihi. That ll do! I m satisfied. _Lib._ Tum igitur tu dives es factus? Satisfied? So you re a millionaire already, are you? _Leon._ Mitte ridicularia. 330 Don t try to be funny. _Lib._ Mitto.[9] istuc quod adfers aures exspectant meae. I won t. (_grandly_) My ears await your tidings. _Leon._ Animum adverte, ut aeque mecum haec scias. Listen here, and you ll know about things as well as I do. _Lib._ Taceo. I m dumb. _Leon._ Beas. meministin asinos Arcadicos mercatori Pellaeo nostrum vendere atriensem? (_ironically_) Oh, bliss! Do you remember those Arcadian asses our steward sold to the merchant from Pella? _Lib._ Memini. quid tum postea? I do. Well, what next? _Leon._ Em ergo is argentum huc remisit, quod daretur Saureae pro asinis. adulescens venit modo, qui id argentum attulit. Now then! He s sent the money for em, to be paid to Saurea. A young chap s just arrived with it. _Lib._ Ubi is homost? (_with a start_) Where is he? _Leon._ Iam devorandum censes, si conspexeris? Think he ought to be swallowed down the minute you spy him, eh? _Lib._ Ita enim vero. sed tamen, tu nempe eos asinos praedicas vetulos, claudos, quibus subtritae ad femina iam erant ungulae? 340 Aye, that I do! But let me see, of course you mean those poor old lame asses with their hoofs worn away up to their hocks? _Leon._ Ipsos, qui tibi subvectabant rure hue virgas ulmeas. Precisely! the ones that used to come down from the farm with loads of elm rods for you. _Lib._ Teneo, atque idem te hinc vexerunt vinctum rus. I have you: yes, the same ones that carried you off to the farm in fetters. _Lib._ Memor es probe, verum in tonstrina ut sedebam, me infit percontarier, ecquem filium Stratonis noverim Demaenetum. dico me novisse extemplo et me eius servom praedico esse, et aedis demonstravi nostras. Remarkable memory, yours! However, when I was in the barber s chair he speaks up and asks me if I know a Demaenetus, the son of Strato. I say yes at once, and declare that I m his servant, and I told him where our house was. _Lib._ Quid tum postea? Well, what next? _Leon._ Ait se ob asinos ferre argentum atriensi Saureae, viginti minas, sed eum sese non nosse hominem qui siet, ipsum vero se novisse callide Demaenetum. quoniam ille elocutus haec sic-- He says he s bringing money for the asses to steward Saurea, eighty pounds; but that he doesn t know the man at all: says he knows Demaenetus himself well, though. After he had given me an account of things this way-- _Lib._ Quid tum? What next? _Leon._ Ausculta ergo, scies. 350 extemplo facio facetum me atque magnificum virum, dico med esse atriensem. sic hoc respondit mihi: ego pol Sauream non novi neque qua facie sit scio. te non aequomst suscensere. si erum vis Demaenetum, quem ego novi, adduce: argentum non morabor quin feras. Well, listen and you ll find out. Instantly I pose as a fine, superior sort of creature and tell him I am the steward. Here s the way he answered me: Well, well, says he, I am not acquainted with Saurea personally and I don t know what he looks like. You have no reason to take offence. Bring along your master Demaenetus whom I do know, if you please: I ll let you have the money without delay. ego me dixi erum adducturum et me domi praesto fore; ille in balineas iturust, inde huc veniet postea. quid nunc consili captandum censes? dic. I told him I would bring my master and be at home waiting for him. He s going to the baths: then he ll be here later. What do you propose now for a plan of campaign? Tell me. _Lib._ Em istuc ago, quo modo argento intervortam et adventorem et Sauream. iam hoc opus est exasciato[10]; nam si ille argentum prius 360 hospes huc affert, continuo nos ambo exclusi sumus. nam me hodie senex seduxit solum sorsum ab aedibus, mihi tibique interminatust nos futuros ulmeos, ni hodie Argyrippo essent viginti argenti minae; (_thinking_) That s the point! Just what I m casting about for--some way to relieve newcomer and Saurea of the cash. We must have our scheme roughed out at once; for let that stranger fetch his money before we re ready and the next minute we re both shut out of it. You see, the old man took me aside out of the house to-day all by myself: swore he d made the pair of us perfectly elmy, if eighty pounds was not forthcoming for Argyrippus this very day. iussit vel nos atriensem vel nos uxorem suam defraudare, dixit sese operam promiscam dare. nunc tu abi ad forum ad erum et narra haec ut nos acturi sumus: te ex Leonida futurum esse atriensem Sauream, dum argentum afferat mercator pro asinis. He gave us orders to do the steward out of it, or else his wife: said he d stand by us whichever it was. Now you be off to the forum to master and tell him what our game will be: that you are going to change from Leonida to steward Saurea when the trader brings the money for the asses. _Leon._ Faciam ut iubes. I ll do as you say. (_moves off_) _Lib._ Ego illum interea hic oblectabo, prius si forte advenerit. 370 I ll entertain him here myself meanwhile, if he happens to come before you do. _Leon._ Quid ais? (_halting_) I say. _Lib._ Quid vis? What do you want? _Leon._ Pugno malam si tibi percussero, mox cum Sauream imitabor, caveto ne suscenseas. (_gravely_) In case I punch your jaw for you later on when I m imitating Saurea, take care you don t get angry. _Lib._ Hercle vero tu cavebis ne me attingas, si sapis, ne hodie malo cum auspicio nomen commutaveris. By gad, you d just better take care yourself not to touch me, if you know what s what, or you ll find you ve picked an unlucky day for changing your name. _Leon._ Quaeso, aequo animo patitor. Come, come, put up with it patiently. _Lib._ Patitor tu item, cum ego te referiam. Yes, and you put up with it when I hit you back. _Leon._ Dico ut usust fieri. I m telling how it s got to be done. _Lib._ Dico hercle ego quoque ut facturus sum. And by the Lord, I m telling how I m going to do it. _Leon._ Ne nega. Don t refuse. _Lib._ Quin promitto, inquam, hostire contra ut merueris. Oh, I agree, I agree--to pay you back all you earn. _Leon._ Ego abeo, tu iam, scio, patiere. sed quis hic est? is est, ille est ipsus. iam ego recurro huc. tu hunc interea his tene. volo seni narrare. (_turning to go_) I m off: you ll put up with it now, I know you will. (_looking down street_) Hullo! Who s this! It s he, the very man! I ll hurry back here soon! You keep him here while I m gone. I must tell the old man. (_stops to look again_) _Lib._ Quin tuom officium facis ergo ac fugis? 380 (_sneeringly_) Why don t you play your part then, and--run away? [EXIT _Leonida_. II. 3. Scene 3. ENTER _Trader_, WITH SERVANT. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ut demonstratae sunt mihi, hasce aedis esse oportet, Demaenetus ubi dicitur habitare. i, puere, pulta atque atriensem Sauream, si est intus, evocato huc. (_looking at house of Demaenetus_) According to directions, this must be the house where they say Demaenetus lives. (_to servant_) Go knock, my lad, and if steward Saurea is in there, call him out. (_servant goes toward house_) _Lib._ Quis nostras sic frangit fores? ohe, inquam, si quid audis. (_stepping forward_) Who s that battering our door so? Whoa there, I say--if you re not deaf! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nemo etiam tetigit. sanun es? No one has touched it yet. Are you in your senses? _Lib._ At censebam attigisse propterea, huc quia habebas iter. nolo ego fores conservas meas a te verberarier. sane ego sum amicus nostris. Well, I was thinking you had touched it, seeing you were making this way. I don t want you to beat that door--it s a fellow servant of mine. I tell you what, I love my fellow servants. _Merc._ _Trader_ Pol haud periclum est, cardines ne foribus effringantur, si istoc exemplo omnibus qui quaerunt respondebis. Gad! No danger of the door being battered off its hinges, if you answer all callers in that style. _Lib._ Ita haec morata est ianua: extemplo ianitorem 390 clamat, procul si quem videt ire ad se calcitronem. sed quid venis? quid quaeritas? Here s the way this door has been trained: once it sights some bully in the distance coming towards it, it bawls for the porter directly. But what s your business? What are you after? _Merc._ _Trader_ Demaenetum volebam. I wished to see Demaenetus. _Lib._ Si sit domi, dicam tibi. If he was at home, I d tell you. _Merc._ _Trader_ Quid eius atriensis? What about his steward? _Lib._ Nihilo mage intus est. No, he s not in, either. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ubi est? Where is he? _Lib._ Ad tonsorem ire dixit. Said he was going to the barber s. _Merc._ _Trader_ Conveni. sed post non redit? I met him. But he has not been back since? _Lib._ Non edepol. quid volebas? Lord, no! What did you want? _Merc._ _Trader_ Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset. He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here. _Lib._ Qui pro istuc? What for? _Merc._ _Trader_ Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori mercatu. He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella. _Lib._ Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum. I know. Bringing the cash now, are you? He ll be here soon, I fancy. _Merc._ _Trader_ Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero. What does your Saurea look like? (_aside_) Now I can find out if that fellow is my man. _Lib._ Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus, truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400 (_reflectively_) Lantern-jawed--reddish hair--pot-bellied-- savage eyes--average height--and a scowl. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam. (_aside_) No painter could give me a more living likeness of that fellow. _Lib._ Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit. quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit. (_looking down street_) Yes, and what s more, he s in sight himself, by gad,--swaggering along and shaking his head! Anyone that crosses his path when he s angry gets thrashed. _Merc._ _Trader_ Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit, si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit. Good Lord! No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire and fury as Achilles--if your angry man lays a hand on me, it s your angry man gets thrashed. II. 4. Scene 4. ENTER _Leonida_, APPARENTLY IN A RAGE. _Leon._ Quid hoc sit negoti, neminem meum dictum magni facere? Libanum in tonstrinam ut iusseram venire, is nullus venit. ne ille edepol tergo et cruribus consuluit haud decore. What does this mean? Does no one mind what I say? I told Libanus to come to the barber s shop, and he never came at all. By the Lord, he hasn t given due thought to the welfare of his hide and shanks, that s a fact! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis imperiosust. (_aside_) A precious domineering chap! _Lib._ Vae mihi. (_affecting terror_) Oh, I m in for it! _Leon._ Hodie salvere iussi 410 Libanum libertum? iam manu emissu s? (_to Libanus ironically_) Ah, greetings to Libanus the freedman, is it, to-day? Have you been manumitted now? (_advancing_) _Lib._ Obsecro te. (_cowering_) Please, please, sir! _Leon._ Ne tu hercle cum magno malo mihi obviam occessisti. cur non venisti, ut iusseram, in tonstrinam? By heaven, I ll certainly give you good reason to regret crossing my path. Why didn t you come to the barber s, as I ordered? _Lib._ Hic me moratust. (_pointing to trader_) This gentleman delayed me. _Leon._ Siquidem hercle nunc summum Iovem te dicas detinuisse atque is precator adsiet, malam rem effugies numquam. tu, verbero, imperium meum contempsisti? (_without looking at trader_) Damme! You can go on and say Jove Almighty detained you, yes, and he can come here and plead your case, but you shall never escape a flogging. You scorned my authority, you whipping post? _Lib._ Perii, hospes. (_running behind trader_) Oh kind stranger, I m a dead man! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quaeso hercle noli, Saurea, mea causa hunc verberare. By Jove, Saurea! Now, now, don t flog him, for my sake! _Leon._ Utinam nunc stimulus in manu mihi sit. (_paying no attention_) Oh, if I could only get hold of an ox goad now! _Merc._ _Trader_ Quiesce quaeso. Now, now, calm down. _Leon._ Qui latera conteram tua, quae occalluere plagis. abscede ac sine me hunc perdere, qui semper me ira incendit, 420 cui numquam unam rem me licet semel praecipere furi, quin centiens eadem imperem atque ogganniam, itaque iam hercle clamore ac stomacho non queo labori suppeditare. So as to stave in those ribs of yours that have grown callous to blows! (_to trader_) Out of my way, and let me murder the rascal that always sets me afire with rage, that never lets one order from me suffice for one job, the criminal, but keeps me commanding and growling the same thing a hundred times over. Good Lord, it s come to the point where I can t stand the work, what with yelling and storming at him! iussin, sceleste, ab ianua hoc stercus hinc auferri? iussin columnis deici operas araneorum? iussin in splendorem dari bullas has foribus nostris? Didn t I tell you to carry off this dung from the doorway, you villain? Didn t I tell you to clean the spiders webs off the columns? Didn t I tell you to rub these door knobs till they shone? nihil est: tamquam si claudus sim, cum fustist ambulandum. quia triduom hoc unum modo foro operam adsiduam dedo, dum reperiam qui quaeritet argentum in faenus, hic vos dormitis interea domi, atque erus in hara, haud aedibus habitat, 430 em ergo hoc tibi. It s no good: anyone would think I was lame, the way I have to travel around after you with a cane. Because I ve been constantly busy at the forum just for the last three days, trying to find some one to place a loan with, here you ve been drowsing all the time at home, and your master living in a pig-pen, not a house. There now, take that! (_strikes him_) _Lib._ Hospes, te obsecro, defende. Kind stranger! For heaven s sake protect me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Saurea, oro, mea causa ut mittas. Come, Saurea, do let him off for my sake. _Leon._ Eho, ecquis pro vectura olivi rem solvit? (_to Libanus_) Hey, you! Did anyone pay for the shipping of that oil? _Lib._ Solvit. Yes, sir. _Leon._ Cui datumst? Who to? _Lib._ Sticho vicario ipsi tuo. To Stichus himself, sir, your own deputy. _Leon._ Vah, delenire apparas, scio mihi vicarium esse, neque eo esse servom in aedibus eri qui sit pluris quam illest. sed vina quae heri vendidi vinario Exaerambo, iam pro eis satis fecit Sticho? Hm-m! trying to smooth me down! To be sure I have a deputy, and there s not a slave in the master s house that is a more valuable man than that deputy, either. But how about the wine I sold to Exaerambus the vintner yesterday--has he settled with Stichus for it yet? _Lib._ Fecisse satis opinor, nam vidi huc ipsum adducere trapezitam Exaerambum. I reckon he has, sir: for I saw Exaerambus bringing the banker here himself. _Leon._ Sic dedero. prius quae credidi vix anno post exegi; nunc satagit: adducit domum etiam ultro et scribit nummos. Dromo mercedem rettulit? 440 That s the style for me! Last time I trusted him I barely got the money out of him a year afterwards. Now he pays his bills: even brings his banker over to the house besides, and writes his cheque. Has Dromo brought home his wages? _Lib._ Dimidio minus opinor. Only half, I think. _Leon._ Quid relicuom? And the rest? _Lib._ Aibat reddere quom extemplo redditum esset; nam retineri, ut quod sit sibi operis locatum efficeret. He said he d give it to you as soon as it was given to him; claimed it was kept back so that he d finish up a job that was placed with him. _Leon._ Scyphos quos utendos dedi Philodamo, rettulitne? Those cups that I lent Philodamus--has he returned em? _Lib._ Non etiam. Not yet. _Leon._ Hem non? si velis, da,[11] commoda homini amico. Hey? No? (_sourly_) Give things away, if you like,--give em to a friend on loan. _Merc._ _Trader_ Perii hercle, iam his me abegerit suo odio. (_half aside, wearily_) Oh, the devil! The fellow will be driving me off before long with his confounded talk. _Lib._ Heus iam satis tu. audin quae loquitur? (_aside to Leonida_) Hi, you! That s enough now! D ye hear what he says? _Leon._ Audio et quiesco. (_aside to Libanus_) I hear; I ll calm down. _Merc._ _Trader_ Tandem, opinor, conticuit. nunc adeam optimum est, prius quam incipit tinnire. quam mox mi operam das? (_aside_) Silent at last, I do believe. Best approach him now before he begins to rattle on again. (_aloud to Leonida_) How soon can you give me your attention? _Leon._ Ehem, optume. quam dudum tu advenisti? non hercle te provideram--quaeso ne vitio vortas-- 450 ita iracundia obstitit oculis. (_looking at him and affecting surprise_) Aha! Splendid! How long have you been here? Well, well, I hadn t noticed you before! I trust you won t feel offended. I was so angry that it affected my eyesight. _Merc._ _Trader_ Non mirum factum est. sed si domi est, Demaenetum volebam. Nothing strange in that. But I wished to see Demaenetus, if he is at home. _Leon._ Negat esse intus. verum istuc argentum tamen mihi si vis denumerare, repromittam istoc nomine solutam rem futuram. He (_indicating Libanus_) says he s not in. But as to that money, though,--count it out to me, if you like, and then I ll engage that your account with us is settled. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sic potius, ut Demaeneto tibi ero praesente reddam. I should prefer to make the payment in the presence of your master Demaenetus. _Lib._ Erus istunc novit atque erum hic. (_protestingly_) Oh, master knows him and he knows master. _Merc._ _Trader_ Ero huic praesente reddam. (_firmly_) I shall pay him in his master s presence. _Lib._ Da modo meo periculo, rem salvam ego exhibebo; nam si sciat noster senex fidem non esse huic habitam, suscenseat, quoi omnium rerum ipsus semper credit. Oh now, give it to him, at my risk: I ll make it all right. Why, if our old man knew Saurea here was doubted, he d be furious: he always trusts him with everything himself. _Leon._ Non magni pendo. ne duit, si non volt, sic sine astet. 460 (_very superior_) It s of no importance. He can keep it, if he wants. Let him stand by with it there. _Lib._ Da, inquam. vah, formido miser, ne hic me tibi arbitretur suasisse, sibi ne crederes. da, quaeso, ac ne formida: salvom hercle erit. (_aside to trader_) I say, do give it to him. Oh dear, this is awful! I m afraid he ll think I persuaded you not to trust him. Give it to him, for mercy s sake, and don t be afraid. Good Lord, it ll be all right! _Merc._ _Trader_ Credam fore, dum quidem ipse in manu habebo. peregrinus ego sum, Sauream non novi. I trust it will be, so long as I keep hold of it myself, anyway. I am a stranger here: I don t know Saurea. _Lib._ At nosce sane. (_pointing to Leonida_) Well, just make his acquaintance, then. _Merc._ _Trader_ Sit, non sit, non edepol scio. si is est, eum esse oportet. ego certe me incerto scio hoc daturum nemini homini. Whether he is the man or not, I don t know, by gad. If he is, he is, of course. I certainly do know that when I am uncertain I give this (_showing a wallet_) to nobody on earth. _Leon._ Hercle istum di omnes perduint. verbo cave supplicassis. ferox est viginti minas meas tractare sese. nemo accipit aufer te domum, abscede hinc, molestus ne sis. Be damned to the fellow! (_to Libanus_) Not a word of entreaty, you! He s puffed up at having the handling of my eighty pounds. (_to trader_) No one will take it! Home with you! Away with you! Don t bother me! _Merc._ _Trader_ Nimis iracunde. non decet superbum esse hominem servom. 470 (_scoffingly_) Quite in a pet! The idea of a mere slave being arrogant! _Leon._ Malo hercle iam magno tuo, ni isti nec recte dicis. (_to Libanus_) By heaven, you ll soon pay dear for it, if you don t abuse him! _Lib._ Impure, nihili. non vides irasci? (_loudly to trader_) You dirty thing, you, you good for nothing! (_in lower tone_) Don t you see he s angry? _Leon._ Perge porro. (_to Libanus_) Go on, get at him! _Lib._ Flagitum hominis. da, obsecro, argentum huic, ne male loquatur. (_loudly_) You scandal of a man! (_in lower tone_) Do give him the money, for heaven s sake, so that he won t call you bad names. _Merc._ _Trader_ Malum hercle vobis quaeritis. Gad! It s a bad time you two are looking for. _Leon._ Crura hercle diffringentur, ni istum impudicum percies. (_to Libanus_) By the Lord, your legs shall be broken to splinters, if you don t give that shameless rascal a blowing up. _Lib._ Perii hercle. age impudice, sceleste, non audes mihi scelesto subvenire? (_to trader in low tone_) Oh Lord! I m in for it! (_loudly_) Come, you shameless rascal, you wretch, won t you help me, poor wretch that I am? _Leon._ Pergin precari pessimo? (_to Libanus_) Continuing to coax that criminal, are you? _Merc._ _Trader_ Quae res? tun libero homini male servos loquere? (_getting indignant_) How is this? You

facing

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to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

summat

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to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

affairs

How many times the word 'affairs' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

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to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

indulgent

How many times the word 'indulgent' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

among

How many times the word 'among' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

bliss

How many times the word 'bliss' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

officers

How many times the word 'officers' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

thousand

How many times the word 'thousand' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

discovered

How many times the word 'discovered' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

preservation

How many times the word 'preservation' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

act

How many times the word 'act' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

eloquence

How many times the word 'eloquence' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

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How many times the word 'home' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

friend

How many times the word 'friend' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

equally

How many times the word 'equally' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

villages

How many times the word 'villages' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

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to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

because

How many times the word 'because' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

anywhere

How many times the word 'anywhere' appears in the text?

to talk of duty, was a farce, excepting what was due to herself. Delicacy, as well as reason, forbade her ever to think of returning to her husband: was she then to restrain her charming sensibility through mere prejudice? These arguments were not absolutely impartial, for he disdained to conceal, that, when he appealed to her reason, he felt that he had some interest in her heart.--The conviction was not more transporting, than sacred--a thousand times a day, he asked himself how he had merited such happiness?--and as often he determined to purify the heart she deigned to inhabit--He intreated to be again admitted to her presence. He was; and the tear which glistened in his eye, when he respectfully pressed her to his bosom, rendered him peculiarly dear to the unfortunate mother. Grief had stilled the transports of love, only to render their mutual tenderness more touching. In former interviews, Darnford had contrived, by a hundred little pretexts, to sit near her, to take her hand, or to meet her eyes--now it was all soothing affection, and esteem seemed to have rivalled love. He adverted to her narrative, and spoke with warmth of the oppression she had endured.--His eyes, glowing with a lambent flame, told her how much he wished to restore her to liberty and love; but he kissed her hand, as if it had been that of a saint; and spoke of the loss of her child, as if it had been his own.--What could have been more flattering to Maria?--Every instance of self-denial was registered in her heart, and she loved him, for loving her too well to give way to the transports of passion. They met again and again; and Darnford declared, while passion suffused his cheeks, that he never before knew what it was to love.-- One morning Jemima informed Maria, that her master intended to wait on her, and speak to her without witnesses. He came, and brought a letter with him, pretending that he was ignorant of its contents, though he insisted on having it returned to him. It was from the attorney already mentioned, who informed her of the death of her child, and hinted, "that she could not now have a legitimate heir, and that, would she make over the half of her fortune during life, she should be conveyed to Dover, and permitted to pursue her plan of travelling." Maria answered with warmth, "That she had no terms to make with the murderer of her babe, nor would she purchase liberty at the price of her own respect." She began to expostulate with her jailor; but he sternly bade her "Be silent--he had not gone so far, not to go further." Darnford came in the evening. Jemima was obliged to be absent, and she, as usual, locked the door on them, to prevent interruption or discovery.--The lovers were, at first, embarrassed; but fell insensibly into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to separate them." As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as her protector--and eternal friend.-- There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation, which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated and warmed her.* * Two and a half lines of dashes follow here in the original [Publisher's note]. CHAPTER 16 ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight." Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that some one should fasten it on her for ever. Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human race." "But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its sweets." "I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose no time!" In an agitation of spirit, not to be calmed, Maria began to write to Darnford. She called him by the sacred name of "husband," and bade him "hasten to her, to share her fortune, or she would return to him."--An hotel in the Adelphi was the place of rendezvous. The letter was sealed and given in charge; and with light footsteps, yet terrified at the sound of them, she descended, scarcely breathing, and with an indistinct fear that she should never get out at the garden gate. Jemima went first. A being, with a visage that would have suited one possessed by a devil, crossed the path, and seized Maria by the arm. Maria had no fear but of being detained--"Who are you? what are you?" for the form was scarcely human. "If you are made of flesh and blood," his ghastly eyes glared on her, "do not stop me!" "Woman," interrupted a sepulchral voice, "what have I to do with thee?"--Still he grasped her hand, muttering a curse. "No, no; you have nothing to do with me," she exclaimed, "this is a moment of life and death!"-- With supernatural force she broke from him, and, throwing her arms round Jemima, cried, "Save me!" The being, from whose grasp she had loosed herself, took up a stone as they opened the door, and with a kind of hellish sport threw it after them. They were out of his reach. When Maria arrived in town, she drove to the hotel already fixed on. But she could not sit still--her child was ever before her; and all that had passed during her confinement, appeared to be a dream. She went to the house in the suburbs, where, as she now discovered, her babe had been sent. The moment she entered, her heart grew sick; but she wondered not that it had proved its grave. She made the necessary enquiries, and the church-yard was pointed out, in which it rested under a turf. A little frock which the nurse's child wore (Maria had made it herself) caught her eye. The nurse was glad to sell it for half-a-guinea, and Maria hastened away with the relic, and, reentering the hackney-coach which waited for her, gazed on it, till she reached her hotel. She then waited on the attorney who had made her uncle's will, and explained to him her situation. He readily advanced her some of the money which still remained in his hands, and promised to take the whole of the case into consideration. Maria only wished to be permitted to remain in quiet--She found that several bills, apparently with her signature, had been presented to her agent, nor was she for a moment at a loss to guess by whom they had been forged; yet, equally averse to threaten or intreat, she requested her friend [the solicitor] to call on Mr. Venables. He was not to be found at home; but at length his agent, the attorney, offered a conditional promise to Maria, to leave her in peace, as long as she behaved with propriety, if she would give up the notes. Maria inconsiderately consented--Darnford was arrived, and she wished to be only alive to love; she wished to forget the anguish she felt whenever she thought of her child. They took a ready furnished lodging together, for she was above disguise; Jemima insisting on being considered as her house-keeper, and to receive the customary stipend. On no other terms would she remain with her friend. Darnford was indefatigable in tracing the mysterious circumstances of his confinement. The cause was simply, that a relation, a very distant one, to whom he was heir, had died intestate, leaving a considerable fortune. On the news of Darnford's arrival [in England, a person, intrusted with the management of the property, and who had the writings in his possession, determining, by one bold stroke, to strip Darnford of the succession,] had planned his confinement; and [as soon as he had taken the measures he judged most conducive to his object, this ruffian, together with his instrument,] the keeper of the private mad-house, left the kingdom. Darnford, who still pursued his enquiries, at last discovered that they had fixed their place of refuge at Paris. Maria and he determined therefore, with the faithful Jemima, to visit that metropolis, and accordingly were preparing for the journey, when they were informed that Mr. Venables had commenced an action against Darnford for seduction and adultery. The indignation Maria felt cannot be explained; she repented of the forbearance she had exercised in giving up the notes. Darnford could not put off his journey, without risking the loss of his property: Maria therefore furnished him with money for his expedition; and determined to remain in London till the termination of this affair. She visited some ladies with whom she had formerly been intimate, but was refused admittance; and at the opera, or Ranelagh, they could not recollect her. Among these ladies there were some, not her most intimate acquaintance, who were generally supposed to avail themselves of the cloke of marriage, to conceal a mode of conduct, that would for ever have damned their fame, had they been innocent, seduced girls. These particularly stood aloof.--Had she remained with her husband, practicing insincerity, and neglecting her child to manage an intrigue, she would still have been visited and respected. If, instead of openly living with her lover, she could have condescended to call into play a thousand arts, which, degrading her own mind, might have allowed the people who were not deceived, to pretend to be so, she would have been caressed and treated like an honourable woman. "And Brutus* is an honourable man!" said Mark-Antony with equal sincerity. * The name in the manuscript is by mistake written Caesar. EDITOR. [Godwin's note] With Darnford she did not taste uninterrupted felicity; there was a volatility in his manner which often distressed her; but love gladdened the scene; besides, he was the most tender, sympathizing creature in the world. A fondness for the sex often gives an appearance of humanity to the behaviour of men, who have small pretensions to the reality; and they seem to love others, when they are only pursuing their own gratification. Darnford appeared ever willing to avail himself of her taste and acquirements, while she endeavoured to profit by his decision of character, and to eradicate some of the romantic notions, which had taken root in her mind, while in adversity she had brooded over visions of unattainable bliss. The real affections of life, when they are allowed to burst forth, are buds pregnant with joy and all the sweet emotions of the soul; yet they branch out with wild ease, unlike the artificial forms of felicity, sketched by an imagination painful alive. The substantial happiness, which enlarges and civilizes the mind, may be compared to the pleasure experienced in roving through nature at large, inhaling the sweet gale natural to the clime; while the reveries of a feverish imagination continually sport themselves in gardens full of aromatic shrubs, which cloy while they delight, and weaken the sense of pleasure they gratify. The heaven of fancy, below or beyond the stars, in this life, or in those ever-smiling regions surrounded by the unmarked ocean of futurity, have an insipid uniformity which palls. Poets have imagined scenes of bliss; but, sencing out sorrow, all the extatic emotions of the Soul, and even its grandeur, seem to be equally excluded. We dose over the unruffled lake, and long to scale the rocks which fence the happy valley of contentment, though serpents hiss in the pathless desert, and danger lurks in the unexplored wiles. Maria found herself more indulgent as she was happier, and discovered virtues, in characters she had before disregarded, while chasing the phantoms of elegance and excellence, which sported in the meteors that exhale in the marshes of misfortune. The heart is often shut by romance against social pleasure; and, fostering a sickly sensibility, grows callous to the soft touches of humanity. To part with Darnford was indeed cruel.--It was to feel most painfully alone; but she rejoiced to think, that she should spare him the care and perplexity of the suit, and meet him again, all his own. Marriage, as at present constituted, she considered as leading to immorality--yet, as the odium of society impedes usefulness, she wished to avow her affection to Darnford, by becoming his wife according to established rules; not to be confounded with women who act from very different motives, though her conduct would be just the same without the ceremony as with it, and her expectations from him not less firm. The being summoned to defend herself from a charge which she was determined to plead guilty to, was still galling, as it roused bitter reflections on the situation of women in society. CHAPTER 17 SUCH was her state of mind when the dogs of law were let loose on her. Maria took the task of conducting Darnford's defence upon herself. She instructed his counsel to plead guilty to the charge of adultery; but to deny that of seduction. The counsel for the plaintiff opened the cause, by observing, "that his client had ever been an indulgent husband, and had borne with several defects of temper, while he had nothing criminal to lay to the charge of his wife. But that she left his house without assigning any cause. He could not assert that she was then acquainted with the defendant; yet, when he was once endeavouring to bring her back to her home, this man put the peace-officers to flight, and took her he knew not whither. After the birth of her child, her conduct was so strange, and a melancholy malady having afflicted one of the family, which delicacy forbade the dwelling on, it was necessary to confine her. By some means the defendant enabled her to make her escape, and they had lived together, in despite of all sense of order and decorum. The adultery was allowed, it was not necessary to bring any witnesses to prove it; but the seduction, though highly probable from the circumstances which he had the honour to state, could not be so clearly proved.--It was of the most atrocious kind, as decency was set at defiance, and respect for reputation, which shows internal compunction, utterly disregarded." A strong sense of injustice had silenced every motion, which a mixture of true and false delicacy might otherwise have excited in Maria's bosom. She only felt in earnest to insist on the privilege of her nature. The sarcasms of society, and the condemnations of a mistaken world, were nothing to her, compared with acting contrary to those feelings which were the foundation of her principles. [She therefore eagerly put herself forward, instead of desiring to be absent, on this memorable occasion.] Convinced that the subterfuges of the law were disgraceful, she wrote a paper, which she expressly desired might be read in court: "Married when scarcely able to distinguish the nature of the engagement, I yet submitted to the rigid laws which enslave women, and obeyed the man whom I could no longer love. Whether the duties of the state are reciprocal, I mean not to discuss; but I can prove repeated infidelities which I overlooked or pardoned. Witnesses are not wanting to establish these facts. I at present maintain the child of a maid servant, sworn to him, and born after our marriage. I am ready to allow, that education and circumstances lead men to think and act with less delicacy, than the preservation of order in society demands from women; but surely I may without assumption declare, that, though I could excuse the birth, I could not the desertion of this unfortunate babe:--and, while I despised the man, it was not easy to venerate the husband. With proper restrictions however, I revere the institution which fraternizes the world. I exclaim against the laws which throw the whole weight of the yoke on the weaker shoulders, and force women, when they claim protectorship as mothers, to sign a contract, which renders them dependent on the caprice of the tyrant, whom choice or necessity has appointed to reign over them. Various are the cases, in which a woman ought to separate herself from her husband; and mine, I may be allowed emphatically to insist, comes under the description of the most aggravated. "I will not enlarge on those provocations which only the individual can estimate; but will bring forward such charges only, the truth of which is an insult upon humanity. In order to promote certain destructive speculations, Mr. Venables prevailed on me to borrow certain sums of a wealthy relation; and, when I refused further compliance, he thought of bartering my person; and not only allowed opportunities to, but urged, a friend from whom he borrowed money, to seduce me. On the discovery of this act of atrocity, I determined to leave him, and in the most decided manner, for ever. I consider all obligations as made void by his conduct; and hold, that schisms which proceed from want of principles, can never be healed. "He received a fortune with me to the amount of five thousand pounds. On the death of my uncle, convinced that I could provide for my child, I destroyed the settlement of that fortune. I required none of my property to be returned to me, nor shall enumerate the sums extorted from me during six years that we lived together. "After leaving, what the law considers as my home, I was hunted like a criminal from place to place, though I contracted no debts, and demanded no maintenance--yet, as the laws sanction such proceeding, and make women the property of their husbands, I forbear to animadvert. After the birth of my daughter, and the death of my uncle, who left a very considerable property to myself and child, I was exposed to new persecution; and, because I had, before arriving at what is termed years of discretion, pledged my faith, I was treated by the world, as bound for ever to a man whose vices were notorious. Yet what are the vices generally known, to the various miseries that a woman may be subject to, which, though deeply felt, eating into the soul, elude description, and may be glossed over! A false morality is even established, which makes all the virtue of women consist in chastity, submission, and the forgiveness of injuries. "I pardon my oppressor--bitterly as I lament the loss of my child, torn from me in the most violent manner. But nature revolts, and my soul sickens at the bare supposition, that it could ever be a duty to pretend affection, when a separation is necessary to prevent my feeling hourly aversion. "To force me to give my fortune, I was imprisoned--yes; in a private mad-house.--There, in the heart of misery, I met the man charged with seducing me. We became attached--I deemed, and ever shall deem, myself free. The death of my babe dissolved the only tie which subsisted between me and my, what is termed, lawful husband. "To this person, thus encountered, I voluntarily gave myself, never considering myself as any more bound to transgress the laws of moral purity, because the will of my husband might be pleaded in my excuse, than to transgress those laws to which [the policy of artificial society has] annexed [positive] punishments.--While no command of a husband can prevent a woman from suffering for certain crimes, she must be allowed to consult her conscience, and regulate her conduct, in some degree, by her own sense of right. The respect I owe to myself, demanded my strict adherence to my determination of never viewing Mr. Venables in the light of a husband, nor could it forbid me from encouraging another. If I am unfortunately united to an unprincipled man, am I for ever to be shut out from fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother?--I wish my country to approve of my conduct; but, if laws exist, made by the strong to oppress the weak, I appeal to my own sense of justice, and declare that I will not live with the individual, who has violated every moral obligation which binds man to man. "I protest equally against any charge being brought to criminate the man, whom I consider as my husband. I was six-and-twenty when I left Mr. Venables' roof; if ever I am to be supposed to arrive at an age to direct my own actions, I must by that time have arrived at it.--I acted with deliberation.--Mr. Darnford found me a forlorn and oppressed woman, and promised the protection women in the present state of society want.--But the man who now claims me--was he deprived of my society by this conduct? The question is an insult to common sense, considering where Mr. Darnford met me.--Mr. Venables' door was indeed open to me--nay, threats and intreaties were used to induce me to return; but why? Was affection or honour the motive?--I cannot, it is true, dive into the recesses of the human heart--yet I presume to assert, [borne out as I am by a variety of circumstances,] that he was merely influenced by the most rapacious avarice. "I claim then a divorce, and the liberty of enjoying, free from molestation, the fortune left to me by a relation, who was well aware of the character of the man with whom I had to contend.--I appeal to the justice and humanity of the jury--a body of men, whose private judgment must be allowed to modify laws, that must be unjust, because definite rules can never apply to indefinite circumstances--and I deprecate punishment upon the man of my choice, freeing him, as I solemnly do, from the charge of seduction. "I did not put myself into a situation to justify a charge of adultery, till I had, from conviction, shaken off the fetters which bound me to Mr. Venables.--While I lived with him, I defy the voice of calumny to sully what is termed the fair fame of woman.--Neglected by my husband, I never encouraged a lover; and preserved with scrupulous care, what is termed my honour, at the expence of my peace, till he, who should have been its guardian, laid traps to ensnare me. From that moment I believed myself, in the sight of heaven, free--and no power on earth shall force me to renounce my resolution." The judge, in summing up the evidence, alluded to "the fallacy of letting women plead their feelings, as an excuse for the violation of the marriage-vow. For his part, he had always determined to oppose all innovation, and the newfangled notions which incroached on the good old rules of conduct. We did not want French principles in public or private life--and, if women were allowed to plead their feelings, as an excuse or palliation of infidelity, it was opening a flood-gate for immorality. What virtuous woman thought of her feelings?--It was her duty to love and obey the man chosen by her parents and relations, who were qualified by their experience to judge better for her, than she could for herself. As to the charges brought against the husband, they were vague, supported by no witnesses, excepting that of imprisonment in a private madhouse. The proofs of an insanity in the family, might render that however a prudent measure; and indeed the conduct of the lady did not appear that of a person of sane mind. Still such a mode of proceeding could not be justified, and might perhaps entitle the lady [in another court] to a sentence of separation from bed and board, during the joint lives of the parties; but he hoped that no Englishman would legalize adultery, by enabling the adulteress to enrich her seducer. Too many restrictions could not be thrown in the way of divorces, if we wished to maintain the sanctity of marriage; and, though they might bear a little hard on a few, very few individuals, it was evidently for the good of the whole." CONCLUSION BY THE EDITOR * * i.e., Godwin [Publisher's note]. VERY FEW hints exist respecting the plan of the remainder of the work. I find only two detached sentences, and some scattered heads for the continuation of the story. I transcribe the whole. I. "Darnford's letters were affectionate; but circumstances occasioned delays, and the miscarriage of some letters rendered the reception of wished-for answers doubtful: his return was necessary to calm Maria's mind." II. "As Darnford had informed her that his business was settled, his delaying to return seemed extraordinary; but love to excess, excludes fear or suspicion." The scattered heads for the continuation of the story, are as follow. * * To understand these minutes, it is necessary the reader should consider each of them as setting out from the same point in the story, viz. the point to which it is brought down in the preceding chapter. [Godwin's note] I. "Trial for adultery--Maria defends herself--A separation from bed and board is the consequence--Her fortune is thrown into chancery--Darnford obtains a part of his property--Maria goes into the country." II. "A prosecution for adultery commenced--Trial--Darnford sets out for France--Letters--Once more pregnant--He returns--Mysterious behaviour--Visit--Expectation--Discovery--Interview--Consequence." III. "Sued by her husband--Damages awarded to him--Separation from bed and board--Darnford goes abroad--Maria into the country--Provides for her father--Is shunned--Returns to London--Expects to see her lover--The rack of expectation--Finds herself again with child--Delighted--A discovery--A visit--A miscarriage--Conclusion." IV. "Divorced by her husband--Her lover unfaithful--Pregnancy--Miscarriage--Suicide." [The following passage appears in some respects to deviate from the preceding hints. It is superscribed] "THE END. "She swallowed the laudanum; her soul was calm--the tempest had subsided--and nothing remained but an eager longing to forget herself--to fly from the anguish she endured to escape from thought--from this hell of disappointment. "Still her eyes closed not--one remembrance with frightful velocity followed another--All the incidents of her life were in arms, embodied to assail her, and prevent her sinking into the sleep of death.--Her murdered child again appeared to her, mourning for the babe of which she was the tomb.--'And could it have a nobler?--Surely it is better to die with me, than to enter on life without a mother's care!--I cannot live!--but could I have deserted my child the moment it was born?--thrown it on the troubled wave of life, without a hand to support it?'--She looked up: 'What have I not suffered!--may I find a father where I am going!--Her head turned; a stupor ensued; a faintness--'Have a little patience,' said Maria, holding her swimming head (she thought of her mother), 'this cannot last long; and what is a little bodily pain to the pangs I have endured?' "A new vision swam before her. Jemima seemed to enter--leading a little creature, that, with tottering footsteps, approached the bed. The voice of Jemima sounding as at a distance, called her--she tried to listen, to speak, to look! "'Behold your child!' exclaimed Jemima. Maria started off the bed, and fainted.--Violent vomiting followed. "When she was restored to life, Jemima addressed her with great solemnity: '----- led me to suspect, that your husband and brother had deceived you, and secreted the child. I would not torment you with doubtful hopes, and I left you (at a fatal moment) to search for the child!--I snatched her from misery--and (now she is alive again) would you leave her alone in the world, to endure what I have endured?' "Maria gazed wildly at her, her whole frame was convulsed with emotion; when the child, whom Jemima had been tutoring all the journey, uttered the word 'Mamma!' She caught her to her bosom, and burst into a passion of tears--then, resting the child gently on the bed, as if afraid of killing it,--she put her hand to her eyes, to conceal as it were the agonizing struggle of her soul. She remained silent for five minutes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and reclining her head,--then exclaimed: 'The conflict is over!--I will live for my child!'" A few readers perhaps, in looking over these hints, will wonder how it could have been practicable, without tediousness, or remitting in any degree the interest of the story, to have filled, from these slight sketches, a number of pages, more considerable than those which have been already presented. But, in reality, these hints, simple as they are, are pregnant with passion and distress. It is the refuge of barren authors only, to crowd their fictions with

honourable

How many times the word 'honourable' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

impossible

How many times the word 'impossible' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

sister

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to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

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to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

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to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

marriage

How many times the word 'marriage' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

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to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

immediately

How many times the word 'immediately' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

given

How many times the word 'given' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

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to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

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to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

possession

How many times the word 'possession' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

bearing

How many times the word 'bearing' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

known

How many times the word 'known' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

courage

How many times the word 'courage' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

dozen

How many times the word 'dozen' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

ever

How many times the word 'ever' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

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to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

everybody

How many times the word 'everybody' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

pleased

How many times the word 'pleased' appears in the text?

to your family to go," said Lady Macleod. What further correspondence about her affairs had passed between Lady Macleod and Lady Midlothian Alice never knew. She steadily refused all entreaty made that she would answer the Countess's letter, and at last threatened her aunt that if the request were further urged she would answer it,--telling Lady Midlothian that she had been very impertinent. "I am becoming a very old woman, Alice," the poor lady said, piteously, "and I suppose I had better not interfere any further. Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle by their rank. "And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a softly sad, apologetic voice. Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning. "I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the cab together. "Why, papa?" "Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too." "And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right. If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised, and of course I shouldn't go." "You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody want to get them?" "But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory." "You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them. That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards. Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world, and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply growing up, towards the light, as the trees do." Alice listened to her father's worldly wisdom with a smile, but she did not attempt to answer him. It was very seldom, indeed, that he took upon himself the labour of lecturing her, or that he gave her even as much counsel as he had given now. "Well, papa, I hope I shall find myself growing towards the light," she said as she got out of the cab. Then he had not entered the house, but had taken the cab on with him to his club. On her table Alice found a note from her cousin George. "I hear you are going down to the Pallisers at Matching Priory to-morrow, and as I shall be glad to say one word to you before you go, will you let me see you this evening,--say at nine?--G. V." She felt immediately that she could not help seeing him, but she greatly regretted the necessity. She wished that she had gone directly from Cheltenham to the North,--regardless even of those changes of wardrobe which her purposed visit required. Then she set herself to considering. How had George heard of her visit to the Priory, and how had he learned the precise evening which she would pass in London? Why should he be so intent on watching all her movements as it seemed that he was? As to seeing him she had no alternative, so she completed her arrangements for her journey before nine, and then awaited him in the drawing-room. "I'm so glad you're going to Matching Priory," were the first words he said. He, too, might have taught her to grow towards the light, if she had asked him for his reasons;--but this she did not do just then. "How did you learn that I was going?" she said. "I heard it from a friend of mine. Well;--from Burgo Fitzgerald, if you must know." "From Mr. Fitzgerald?" said Alice, in profound astonishment: "How could Mr. Fitzgerald have heard of it?" "That's more than I know, Alice. Not directly from Lady Glencora, I should say." "That would be impossible." "Yes; quite so, no doubt. I think she keeps up her intimacy with Burgo's sister, and perhaps it got round to him in that way." "And did he tell you also that I was going to-morrow? He must have known all about it very accurately." "No; then I asked Kate, and Kate told me when you were going. Yes; I know. Kate has been wrong, hasn't she? Kate was cautioned, no doubt, to say nothing about your comings and goings to so inconsiderable a person as myself. But you must not be down upon Kate. She never mentioned it till I showed by my question to her that I knew all about your journey to Matching. I own I do not understand why it should be necessary to keep me so much in the dark." Alice felt that she was blushing. The caution had been given to Kate because Kate still transgressed in her letters, by saying little words about her brother. And Alice did not even now believe Kate to have been false to her; but she saw that she herself had been imprudent. "I cannot understand it," continued George, speaking without looking at her. "It was but the other day that we were such dear friends! Do you remember the balcony at Basle? and now it seems that we are quite estranged;--nay, worse than estranged; that I am, as it were, under some ban. Have I done anything to offend you, Alice? If so, speak out, like a woman of spirit as you are." "Nothing," said Alice. "Then why am I tabooed? Why was I told the other day that I might not congratulate you on your happy emancipation? I say boldly, that had you resolved on that while we were together in Switzerland, you would have permitted me, as a friend, almost as a brother, to discuss it with you." "I think not, George." "I am sure you would. And why has Kate been warned not to tell me of this visit to the Pallisers? I know she has been warned though she has not confessed it." Alice sat silent, not knowing what to say in answer to this charge brought against her,--thinking, perhaps, that the questioner would allow his question to pass without an answer. But Vavasor was not so complaisant. "If there be any reason, Alice, I think that I have a right to ask it." For a few seconds she did not speak a word, but sat considering. He also remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. She looked at him and saw nothing but his scar,--nothing but his scar and the brightness of his eyes, which was almost fierce. She knew that he was in earnest, and therefore resolved that she would be in earnest also. "I think that you have such a right," she said at last. "Then let me exercise it." "I think that you have such a right, but I think also that you are ungenerous to exercise it." "I cannot understand that. By heavens, Alice, I cannot be left in this suspense! If I have done anything to offend you, perhaps I can remove the offence by apology." "You have done nothing to offend me." "Or if there be any cause why our friendship should be dropped,--why we should be on a different footing to each other in London than we were in Switzerland, I may acknowledge it, if it be explained to me. But I cannot put up with the doubt, when I am told that I have a right to demand its solution." "Then I will be frank with you, George, though my being so will, as you may guess, be very painful." She paused again, looking at him to see if yet he would spare her; but he was all scar and eyes as before, and there was no mercy in his face. "Your sister, George, has thought that my parting with Mr. Grey might lead to a renewal of a purpose of marriage between you and me. You know her eagerness, and will understand that it may have been necessary that I should require silence from her on that head. You ought now to understand it all." "I then am being punished for her sins," he said; and suddenly the scar on his face was healed up again, and there was something of the old pleasantness in his eyes. "I have said nothing about any sins, George, but I have found it necessary to be on my guard." "Well," he said, after a short pause, "You are an honest woman, Alice,--the honestest I ever knew. I will bring Kate to order,--and, now, we may be friends again; may we not?" And he extended his hand to her across the table. "Yes," she said, "certainly, if you wish it." She spoke doubtingly, with indecision in her voice, as though remembering at the moment that he had given her no pledge. "I certainly do wish it very much," said he; and then she gave him her hand. "And I may now talk about your new freedom?" "No," said she; "no. Do not speak of that. A woman does not do what I have done in that affair without great suffering. I have to think of it daily; but do not make me speak of it." "But this other subject, this visit to Matching; surely I may speak of that?" There was something now in his voice so bright, that she felt the influence of it, and answered him cheerfully, "I don't see what you can have to say about it." "But I have a great deal. I am so glad you are going. Mind you cement a close intimacy with Mr. Palliser." "With Mr. Palliser?" "Yes; with Mr. Palliser. You must read all the blue books about finance. I'll send them to you if you like it." "Oh, George!" "I'm quite in earnest. That is, not in earnest about the blue books, as you would not have time; but about Mr. Palliser. He will be the new Chancellor of the Exchequer without a doubt." "Will he indeed? But why should I make a bosom friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I don't want any public money." "But I do, my girl. Don't you see?" "No; I don't." "I think I shall get returned at this next election." "I'm sure I hope you will." "And if I do, of course it will be my game to support the ministry;--or rather the new ministry; for of course there will be changes." "I hope they will be on the right side." "Not a doubt of that, Alice." "I wish they might be changed altogether." "Ah! that's impossible. It's very well as a dream; but there are no such men as you want to see,--men really from the people,--strong enough to take high office. A man can't drive four horses because he's a philanthropist,--or rather a philhorseophist, and is desirous that the team should be driven without any hurt to them. A man can't govern well, simply because he is genuinely anxious that men should be well governed." "And will there never be any such men?" "I won't say that. I don't mind confessing to you that it is my ambition to be such a one myself. But a child must crawl before he can walk. Such a one as I, hoping to do something in politics, must spare no chance. It would be something to me that Mr. Palliser should become the friend of any dear friend of mine,--especially of a dear friend bearing the same name." "I'm afraid, George, you'll find me a bad hand at making any such friendship." "They say he is led immensely by his wife, and that she is very clever. But I mean this chiefly, Alice, that I do hope I shall have all your sympathy in any political career that I may make, and all your assistance also." "My sympathy I think I can promise you. My assistance, I fear, would be worthless." "By no means worthless, Alice; not if I see you take that place in the world which I hope to see you fill. Do you think women nowadays have no bearing upon the politics of the times? Almost as much as men have." In answer to which Alice shook her head; but, nevertheless, she felt in some way pleased and flattered. George left her without saying a word more about her marriage prospects past or future, and Alice as she went to bed felt glad that this explanation between them had been made. CHAPTER XXII. Dandy and Flirt. Alice reached the Matching Road Station about three o'clock in the afternoon without adventure, and immediately on the stopping of the train became aware that all trouble was off her own hands. A servant in livery came to the open window, and touching his hat to her, inquired if she were Miss Vavasor. Then her dressing-bag and shawls and cloaks were taken from her, and she was conveyed through the station by the station-master on one side of her, the footman on the other, and by the railway porter behind. She instantly perceived that she had become possessed of great privileges by belonging even for a time to Matching Priory, and that she was essentially growing upwards towards the light. Outside, on the broad drive before the little station, she saw an omnibus that was going to the small town of Matching, intended for people who had not grown upwards as had been her lot; and she saw also a light stylish-looking cart which she would have called a Whitechapel had she been properly instructed in such matters, and a little low open carriage with two beautiful small horses, in which was sitting a lady enveloped in furs. Of course this was Lady Glencora. Another servant was standing on the ground, holding the horses of the carriage and the cart. "Dear Alice, I'm so glad you've come," said a voice from the furs. "Look here, dear; your maid can go in the dog-cart with your things,"--it wasn't a dog-cart, but Lady Glencora knew no better;--"she'll be quite comfortable there; and do you get in here. Are you very cold?" "Oh, no; not cold at all." "But it is awfully cold. You've been in the stuffy carriage, but you'll find it cold enough out here, I can tell you." "Oh! Lady Glencora, I am so sorry that I've brought you out on such a morning," said Alice, getting in and taking the place assigned her next to the charioteer. "What nonsense! Sorry! Why I've looked forward to meeting you all alone, ever since I knew you were coming. If it had snowed all the morning I should have come just the same. I drive out almost every day when I'm down here,--that is, when the house is not too crowded, or I can make an excuse. Wrap these things over you; there are plenty of them. You shall drive if you like." Alice, however, declined the driving, expressing her gratitude in what prettiest words she could find. "I like driving better than anything, I think. Mr. Palliser doesn't like ladies to hunt, and of course it wouldn't do as he does not hunt himself. I do ride, but he never gets on horseback. I almost fancy I should like to drive four-in-hand,--only I know I should be afraid." "It would look very terrible," said Alice. "Yes; wouldn't it? The look would be the worst of it; as it is all the world over. Sometimes I wish there were no such things as looks. I don't mean anything improper, you know; only one does get so hampered, right and left, for fear of Mrs. Grundy. I endeavour to go straight, and get along pretty well on the whole, I suppose. Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar; he pulls so, going home, that I can't hold him in the check." She stopped the horses, and Baker, a very completely-got-up groom of some forty years of age, who sat behind, got down and put the impetuous Dandy "in the bar," thereby changing the rein, so that the curb was brought to bear on him. "They're called Dandy and Flirt," continued Lady Glencora, speaking to Alice. "Ain't they a beautiful match? The Duke gave them to me and named them himself. Did you ever see the Duke?" [Illustration: "Baker, you must put Dandy in the bar."] "Never," said Alice. "He won't be here before Christmas, but you shall be introduced some day in London. He's an excellent creature and I'm a great pet of his; though, after all, I never speak half a dozen words to him when I see him. He's one of those people who never talk. I'm one of those who like talking, as you'll find out. I think it runs in families; and the Pallisers are non-talkers. That doesn't mean that they are not speakers, for Mr. Palliser has plenty to say in the House, and they declare that he's one of the few public men who've got lungs enough to make a financial statement without breaking down." Alice was aware that she had as yet hardly spoken herself, and began to bethink herself that she didn't know what to say. Had Lady Glencora paused on the subject of Dandy and Flirt, she might have managed to be enthusiastic about the horses, but she could not discuss freely the general silence of the Palliser family, nor the excellent lungs, as regarded public purposes, of the one who was the husband of her present friend. So she asked how far it was to Matching Priory. "You're not tired of me already, I hope," said Lady Glencora. "I didn't mean that," said Alice. "I delight in the drive. But somehow one expects Matching Station to be near Matching." "Ah, yes; that's a great cheat. It's not Matching Station at all but Matching Road Station, and it's eight miles. It is a great bore, for though the omnibus brings our parcels, we have to be constantly sending over, and it's very expensive, I can assure you. I want Mr. Palliser to have a branch, but he says he would have to take all the shares himself, and that would cost more, I suppose." "Is there a town at Matching?" "Oh, a little bit of a place. I'll go round by it if you like, and in at the further gate." "Oh, no!" said Alice. "Ah, but I should like. It was a borough once, and belonged to the Duke; but they put it out at the Reform Bill. They made some kind of bargain;--he was to keep either Silverbridge or Matching, but not both. Mr. Palliser sits for Silverbridge, you know. The Duke chose Silverbridge,--or rather his father did, as he was then going to build his great place in Barsetshire;--that's near Silverbridge. But the Matching people haven't forgiven him yet. He was sitting for Matching himself when the Reform Bill passed. Then his father died, and he hasn't lived there much since. It's a great deal nicer place than Gatherum Castle, only not half so grand. I hate grandeur; don't you?" "I never tried much of it, as you have." "Come now; that's not fair. There's no one in the world less grand than I am." "I mean that I've not had grand people about me." "Having cut all your cousins,--and Lady Midlothian in particular, like a naughty girl as you are. I was so angry with you when you accused me of selling you about that. You ought to have known that I was the last person in the world to have done such a thing." "I did not think you meant to sell me, but I thought--" "Yes, you did, Alice. I know what you thought; you thought that Lady Midlothian was making a tool of me that I might bring you under her thumb, so that she might bully you into Mr. Grey's arms. That's what you thought. I don't know that I was at all entitled to your good opinion, but I was not entitled to that special bad opinion." "I had no bad opinion;--but it was so necessary that I should guard myself." "You shall be guarded. I'll take you under my shield. Mr. Grey shan't be named to you, except that I shall expect you to tell me all about it; and you must tell me all about that dangerous cousin, too, of whom they were saying such terrible things down in Scotland. I had heard of him before." These last words Lady Glencora spoke in a lower voice and in an altered tone,--slowly, as though she were thinking of something that pained her. It was from Burgo Fitzgerald that she had heard of George Vavasor. Alice did not know what to say. She found it impossible to discuss all the most secret and deepest of her feelings out in that open carriage, perhaps in the hearing of the servant behind, on this her first meeting with her cousin,--of whom, in fact, she knew very little. She had not intended to discuss these things at all, and certainly not in such a manner as this. So she remained silent. "This is the beginning of the park," said Lady Glencora, pointing to a grand old ruin of an oak tree, which stood on the wide margin of the road, outside the rounded corner of the park palings, propped up with a skeleton of supporting sticks all round it. "And that is Matching oak, under which Coeur de Lion or Edward the Third, I forget which, was met by Sir Guy de Palisere as he came from the war, or from hunting, or something of that kind. It was the king, you know, who had been fighting or whatever it was, and Sir Guy entertained him when he was very tired. Jeffrey Palliser, who is my husband's cousin, says that old Sir Guy luckily pulled out his brandy-flask. But the king immediately gave him all the lands of Matching,--only there was a priory then and a lot of monks, and I don't quite understand how that was. But I know one of the younger brothers always used to be abbot and sit in the House of Lords. And the king gave him Littlebury at the same time, which is about seven miles away from here. As Jeffrey Palliser says, it was a great deal of money for a pull at his flask. Jeffrey Palliser is here now, and I hope you'll like him. If I have no child, and Mr. Palliser were not to marry again, Jeffrey would be the heir." And here again her voice was low and slow, and altogether changed in its tone. "I suppose that's the way most of the old families got their estates." "Either so, or by robbery. Many of them were terrible thieves, my dear, and I dare say Sir Guy was no better than he should be. But since that they have always called some of the Pallisers Plantagenet. My husband's name is Plantagenet. The Duke is called George Plantagenet, and the king was his godfather. The queen is my godmother, I believe, but I don't know that I'm much the better for it. There's no use in godfathers and godmothers;--do you think there is?" "Not much as it's managed now." "If I had a child,-- Oh, Alice, it's a dreadful thing not to have a child when so much depends on it!" "But you're such a short time married yet." "Ah, well; I can see it in his eyes when he asks me questions; but I don't think he'd say an unkind word, not if his own position depended on it. Ah, well; this is Matching. That other gate we passed, where Dandy wanted to turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man there mends Mr. Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some day. Come, Miss Flirt!" As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung flowering creepers and green tendrils. As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr. Palliser," said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my husband." Then Mr. Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of the carriage. "I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come upon us quite suddenly." He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years of age, looking in all respects like a gentleman, but with nothing in his appearance that was remarkable. It was a face that you might see and forget, and see again and forget again; and yet when you looked at it and pulled it to pieces, you found that it was a fairly good face, showing intellect in the forehead, and much character in the mouth. The eyes too, though not to be called bright, had always something to say for themselves, looking as though they had a real meaning. But the outline of the face was almost insignificant, being too thin; and he wore no beard to give it character. But, indeed, Mr. Palliser was a man who had never thought of assisting his position in the world by his outward appearance. Not to be looked at, but to be read about in the newspapers, was his ambition. Men said that he was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no one thought of suggesting that the insignificance of his face would stand in his way. "Are the people all out?" his wife asked him. "The men have not come in from shooting;--at least I think not;--and some of the ladies are driving, I suppose. But I haven't seen anybody since you went." "Of course you haven't. He never has time, Alice, to see any one. But we'll go up-stairs, dear. I told them to let us have tea in my dressing-room, as I thought you'd like that better than going into the drawing-room before you had taken off your things. You must be famished, I know. Then you can come down, or if you want to avoid two dressings you can sit over the fire up-stairs till dinner-time." So saying she skipped up-stairs and Alice followed her. "Here's my dressing-room, and here's your room all but opposite. You look out into the park. It's pretty, isn't it? But come into my dressing-room, and see the ruins out of the window." Alice followed Lady Glencora across

change;--that

How many times the word 'change;--that' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

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How many times the word 'bangs' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

origin

How many times the word 'origin' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

may

How many times the word 'may' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

total

How many times the word 'total' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

cut

How many times the word 'cut' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

bud

How many times the word 'bud' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

here

How many times the word 'here' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

looks

How many times the word 'looks' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

utterly

How many times the word 'utterly' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

behalf--

How many times the word 'behalf--' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

static

How many times the word 'static' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

log

How many times the word 'log' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

flickers

How many times the word 'flickers' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

scoundrels

How many times the word 'scoundrels' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

ear

How many times the word 'ear' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

glock

How many times the word 'glock' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

comprehension

How many times the word 'comprehension' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

asleep

How many times the word 'asleep' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

console

How many times the word 'console' appears in the text?

told you. He was inside the Core... Weir starts shaking his head. COOPER It was like... nothing was there... and then Justin appeared and the Core... became metal... WEIR (cutting him off) No, he didn't. COOPER You weren't there. I saw it. WEIR Saw what, Mr. Cooper? What did you really see, because what you're describing is not physically possible... Cooper throws the ball at him, hard. Weir ducks. It bounces wildly around the room. Miller catches it. MILLER Cooper! Enough! Cooper sits down. MILLER (turning on Weir) Dr. Weir, Justin may die. Whatever happened to him could happen to all of us. Beat. WEIR I don't know what happened to Justin. COOPER I'm telling you, I saw it... WEIR What you saw could have been an optical effect caused by gravitational distortion. COOPER (turning on Weir) I know what I saw and it wasn't a fucking "optical effect!" MILLER Hold on, what's this "gravitational distortion?" WEIR It's possible that a burst of gravity waves escaped from the Core, distorting space-time. They could be what hit the Lewis and Clark. MILLER What could cause them? (Weir doesn't answer) What's in the Core? WEIR It's complicated... MILLER How much time do you need? We have seventeen hours and forty-two minutes. Now: what is in the Core? Beat. Here comes another bomb... WEIR A black hole. The crew stares at him, stunned. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller, Starck and Weir stand before the Core. Dark ominous structures loom around them, glistening with coolant. The PULSE of the ship is loud here, a deep THRUM that steals their breath. Weir's voice is a reverent WHISPER: WEIR That's how the gravity drive works, you see: it focuses the black hole's immense gravitational power to create the gateway. That's how the Event Horizon travels faster than light. STARCK I can't believe we built this. MILLER It's insane. WEIR "Insane?" The finest astronauts fought to be posted to this ship. It would take the Lewis and Clark a thousand years to reach our closest star. The Event Horizon could be there in a day... MILLER If it worked. WEIR If it worked, yes. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT - 3RD SEAL They stare at the Core, the surrounding machinery moving in a slow giant's dance. A trick of the eye, or does the Core stare back at them? INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT MILLER I want this room sealed. The Second Containment is off limits. WEIR There's no danger. The black hole is contained behind three magnetic fields, it's under control. MILLER Your black hole damn near ripped my ship apart. It may have killed one of my men. (beat) No one goes near that thing. MOVE IN ON THE CORE until its darkness fills the screen... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits before the computer workstation, running the ship's log, forwarding through hours of boring footage. Rubs her eyes. The lights flicker. Peters hears something RUSTLING behind her. She turns... PETERS Justin...? Justin lies unmoving on the nearest examination table. Comatose. Peters reaches out and picks up a scalpel. Peters hears the sound again, FINGERNAILS ON PLASTIC. She moves past Justin... ...past several empty tables, covered with clear plastic... ...to the last table. She stares in shock. THERE'S SOMETHING UNDERNEATH THE PLASTIC COVER She slowly reaches out. Lifts the cover. Her son DENNY looks at her and GIGGLES. She GASPS. The scalpel drops to the floor at her feet. Denny reaches up to her, to be picked up... DENNY Mommy... ...but the plastic that still covers his withered legs squirms like a bag full of snakes... Peters drops the plastic and backs away. DJ (O.S.) Peters? She turns. DJ stands in the doorway, holding blood samples. Peters turns back, but her son is gone. DJ reads her expression. DJ What's wrong? PETERS Nothing. It's nothing. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 2 The Airlock light turns red -- a warning. The Inner Airlock door control flashes: "LOCKED." The Outer Airlock door opens. Smith enters. He closes the Outer Airlock door. Atmosphere HISSES into the chamber. The Inner Airlock door flashes: "PRESSURIZED." INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Cooper in EVA, getting ready to go outside. The Inner Airlock door opens. Smith enters. Takes off his helmet. COOPER You been out there a long time. Trying to break my record? SMITH I'd rather spend the next twelve hours Outside than another five minutes in this can. This ship is bad. It watches you. COOPER What? SMITH You heard me. This ship, it's crazy: trying to go faster'n light, that's like the Tower of Babel. COOPER Shit, Smith, you're going Biblical on me. SMITH You know what happened to the Tower of Babel, don't you? It fell down. COOPER You're sucking too much nitrogen in your mix. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Starck programs the sensor workstation. She glances over at Weir: sitting at a computer terminal, his face rapt as data flashes by. His lips move, muttering to himself. STARCK Why Dr. Weir, I think you're in love. WEIR Hmmm. Claire used to tell me I loved the Event Horizon more than I loved her. I told her that wasn't true, I just knew the Event Horizon better, that's all. STARCK Claire is your wife? WEIR Yes. STARCK It must be hard, being so far away from her. WEIR Yes. I miss her. She died. Two years now. STARCK I'm sorry. Weir keeps his attention focused on the screen. WEIR These things happen. (reacting to something on the screen) Wait a minute, that's not right... He fingers fly across the keyboard, double-checking the data. Miller leans over Weir's shoulder. MILLER You have something, Dr. Weir? WEIR The date. MILLER What about it? WEIR The Event Horizon's computer think's it's 2034. MILLER It's 2041... WEIR Exactly. The ship's internal clock is off by seven years. STARCK Maybe a power interruption crashed the system... WEIR No, there's no evidence of a surge or spike of any kind. It's as if time just... stopped for seven years. MILLER Explanation? WEIR Intense gravitational fields effect the passage of time, it's possible... (beat) Black holes make sense on paper, it's all math, you see, but as to what really happened... (he shakes his head) The Event Horizon has passed beyond our plane of reality, and like Lazarus, returned from the dead. The INTERCOM interrupts them: PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) Captain Miller, Dr. Weir? I found the final log entry. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters sits at the workstation. Miller, DJ and Weir stand behind her, watching. A VIDEO SCREEN INT. EVENT HORIZON - GRAVITY COUCH BAY (FOR VIDEO) A jumpy, handheld camera view of: Gravity couch bay. Two crewmen checking electronics modules. The ship is well-lit, clean, no sign of debris. The narrator's voice is excited and nervous. KILPACK (O.S.) We have reached safe distance and are preparing to engage the gravity drive and open the gateway... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE PETERS The speaker is the mission commander... WEIR (quiet) John Kilpack. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT (FOR VIDEO) Second Containment. A lone engineer finishes his check of the Core. He turns to the camera and gives a self-conscious "thumbs-up." KILPACK (O.S.) When you get this message, God willing, we will reach the solar system of Proxima Centauri... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE MILLER I wonder if they ever made it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR (FOR VIDEO) Corridor. The entire original crew assembled, playing catch with the stuffed dog KILPACK I just want to say how proud I am of my crew. I'd like to name my station heads Chris Chambers, Janice Rubin, Dick Smith, Tom Fender and Stacie Collins. And to Bill Weir and all the scientists that got us here. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE (FOR VIDEO) Bridge. KILPACK addresses the camera. His face is flushed with excitement. KILPACK I... uh, I had something historic to say, and I wrote it down but I... I can't find it. Ave, atque, vale. Hail and farewell. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE A BURST of static... ...followed by an inhuman HOWL of FEEDBACK, like screaming hyaenas, almost alive. Through the swirl of static, the suggestion of movement. Miller freezes the frame. He squints at the screen... POV MILLER Obscured by static, the image is blurred beyond comprehension. MILLER What the hell is that? Dr. Weir? WEIR I don't know. PETERS I can run the image through a series of filters, try to clean it up. MILLER Do it. Suddenly, the lights fade out. Dim emergency lighting snaps on... PETERS What's happening...? DJ A power drain -- MILLER We barely have enough power for life support as it is, if we can't stop the drain, we're not gonna make it. WEIR The Core...! Weir heads for the door. MILLER Wait! But Weir has vanished into the corridor. MILLER The rest of you, stay here, I don't want anyone else going near that thing. Miller follows after Weir. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT The Second Containment Seal opens. Weir is about to enter when Miller stops him. He checks a Geiger counter. It is silent. MILLER No radiation. What's causing the drain? Weir crosses to a console. Frowns. WEIR (shakes his head) The magnetic fields are holding. Maybe a short in the fail-safe circuit. I'll check it out. Miller assists Weir in removing bolts from an access panel. The panel falls away, revealing a cramped duct leading into the ship's circuitry. Weir climbs into the duct. Miller hands him a flashlight and a toolkit. MILLER We don't get the power back, our air's gonna go bad. WEIR Check the Core for radiation. Carbon dioxide may be the least of our worries. Weir begins to crawl into the depths of the ship. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped shaft. He counts off circuit panels as he goes: WEIR E-three... E-five... E-seven... where are you... INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Miller slogs through the coolant to the Core. Stares at it. It remains metallic, mundane. He pulls out a Geiger counter and crosses to the reactor shell. Examines a gleaming weld. The Geiger counter CLICKS slowly: no leak. INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE A yellow light starts flashing on the engineering board. Starck's eyes widen: the engineering sections flash yellow...and green... STARCK What the hell... STARCK'S POV as the bio-scan goes wild. STARCK (into intercom) Skipper, the bio-scan just went off the scale... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Justin shakes on the bed in an epileptic fit. DJ rushes to him. DJ Justin! Can you hear me? Justin! Justin's eyes remain unfocused, unseeing as he tries to speak. DJ leans in close, trying to hear him speak... Justin arches in agony and the words come in a strangled, tortured voice: JUSTIN THE DARK IS COMING... INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Weir stops before module E-12. Hears a faint HISSING and POPPING. WEIR There you are. He uses a screwdriver to open up the module. Reveals a series of circuit boards. One SPARKS. Weir plucks the damaged chips and starts running a by-pass. His flashlight flickers. He bangs it against the duct wall. It grows dimmer. Goes out. WEIR Um. Captain Miller? I, uh, I seem to have a problem with my light. A single DRIP of water in the darkness... WEIR (beat, hushed) Captain Miller? Another DRIP, then a woman's VOICE like a distant echo: VOICE Billy. Weir starts at the sound. He recognizes the voice. She speaks again, no longer far away, but a close WHISPER in his ear: CLAIRE (O.S.) Billy. Help me. I'm so cold. Weir's eyes open wide in hope and fear. INT. EVENT HORIZON - SECOND CONTAINMENT Even the emergency lights go out. Total darkness. MILLER We just lost all power in here. Dr. Weir...? Miller's voice trails off as he looks towards the Core. A red glow reflects across his eyes. He takes a few steps away from the reactor. He stares... ...at the BURNING MAN, standing before the Core. The deep ROAR of its conflagration fills the containment. It slowly turns and raises its arm and points at Miller in accusation. BURNING MAN Don't leave me... Miller stares as the Burning Man turns and vanishes into a bulkhead, leaving the wall blackened and burned with his passing. INT. EVENT HORIZON - WEIR'S DUCT Total darkness. Weir's breath ECHOES in the cramped metal space. WEIR (a whisper) Claire...? Weir bangs his flashlight. Again. Again... CLAIRE (O.S.) Help me. I'm so cold. The flashlight flickers... Claire's face is inches from Weir's. CLAIRE So cold. His flashlight flickers again, snaps on... She is gone. Weir lets his head fall to the floor of the deck, breathing in ragged SOBS. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER The crew, except for Cooper. DJ whets a scalpel against the leg of his jumpsuit, an unconscious gesture. FLICK. FLICK. FLICK. DJ Carbon dioxide poisoning produces hallucinations, impaired judgement... MILLER Goddammit, DJ, it was not a hallucination! I saw a man, he was on fire. And then he disappeared. STARCK Maybe one of the original crew? MILLER No. It was someone else. STARCK Who? MILLER (ignoring the question) Dr. Weir, you were right there, you must have heard something, seen something... WEIR No. I saw nothing. PETERS I did. All heads turn to her. PETERS About an hour ago. In medical. I saw my son. He was lying on one of the examination tables and his legs were... (she trails off) WEIR Isn't it possible that you were traumatized by finding the body on the bridge? PETERS I've seen bodies before. This is different. She falls silent, unwilling to say more. MILLER Peters is right. Its like something reaching into your mind. Seeing your thoughts and making them real. Smith, did you or Cooper experience anything unusual? Smith, leaning against the doorway: SMITH I didn't see anything and I don't have to see anything. This ship is fucked. WEIR Thank you for that scientific analysis, Mister Smith. SMITH (exploding) Hey! You don't need to be a scientist figure it out... MILLER Smith... Weir's face is stone. SMITH ...you break all the laws of physics, you think there won't be a price? You already killed the first crew... MILLER That's enough! DJ lays one hand on Smith's shoulder to calm him... Smith reacts violently, turning on DJ, shoving him back. DJ uses Smith's momentum to spin the pilot into the wall. He presses his scalpel just below Smith's ear... MILLER DJ!! DJ freezes. The scalpel falls from his hands. He releases Smith. DJ I'm sorry, I... I don't know why I did that. WEIR (wry) Carbon dioxide. Smith goes for Weir. SMITH He's fucking lying, you know something...! Miller heads him off, grabs him. MILLER That's it, that's enough for one day, Smith! I need you back on the Clark, I need you calm, I need you using your head, you make a mistake out there, none of are getting home, you understand? Smith calms. SMITH Sir. MILLER Get outside, go back to work. I'll join you shortly. Smith leaves. MILLER We're a long way from home and we're in a bad place. Let's not make it worse. If anyone has any constructive suggestions, now is the time. WEIR I think I can stabilize the fields around the singularity, that should prevent another power drain. MILLER Do it. DJ To conserve our oxygen, we should severely restrict our activity. Anyone who can should get some sleep. MILLER I don't need sleep, DJ. I need answers. Miller exits. Starck follows. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR STARCK TRAILS MILLER: STARCK Miller... MILLER (not slowing) What is it, Starck? STARCK ...I ran the bio-scan with the DNA/RNA filter. The results were bio-readings of indeterminate origin... MILLER (simultaneous) "...bio-readings of indeterminate origin," don't you have anything useful to tell me? STARCK I've got a theory. Miller stops. MILLER Go ahead. STARCK There was a another surge in the bio- readings right before you... you saw what you saw. We picked up a similar readings right before the Clarke was damaged. What if there were a connection between the two? The gravity waves, the hallucination, all part of an defensive reaction, like an immune system... Miller starts walking again. MILLER I don't need to hear this. She rushes to follow. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 2 Miller and Starck enter the Airlock Bay: STARCK You've got to listen... MILLER To what? What are you saying? This ship is alive? STARCK I didn't say that, I said the bio- readings correspond to what happened to you, the ship is reacting to us... MILLER We're hanging on by our fingernails and you're giving me bullshit stories... She grabs him by the arm. STARCK It's not bullshit, it's the only conclusion the data supports... MILLER Starck, do you know how crazy that sounds? It's impossible. STARCK I know that. Beat. Miller allows himself to relax. MILLER If you knew it was impossible, then why'd you waste my time? STARCK I thought you wanted an answer. And that's the only one I have. Miller pulls an EVA suit from the wall, starts putting it on. MILLER What I want is to survive the next ten hours. STARCK (checks her watch) Nine hours and twenty-two minutes. MILLER I'm going outside to work on the Clark. And Starck... don't tell anyone what you just told me. We've got enough to worry about. She nods. He locks his helmet into place. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - MODEL Establish. INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - WITH AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR - NO AIRLOCKS ANOTHER ANGLE. The ship seems to breathe. The lights flicker... INT. EVENT HORIZON - MEDICAL/SCIENCE Peters has fallen asleep in her chair. On the threshold of hearing, a distant POUNDING. Not a heartbeat. Metal on metal. Something trying to get out. Something trying to get in. Peters wakes with a start. PETERS Justin...? She turns. Justin lies on the floor in a heap, completely covered by his sheet. She crosses to him. Pulls back the sheet... Revealing empty nitrogen tanks. PETERS Justin! She looks up, eyes widening, as... The IV bottles fill with blood. Blood fills the X-ray lightboxes, it surges up from gutters in the floor... And the pounding grows louder... LOUDER... almost to Medical... The spell breaks and she RUNS... INT. EVENT HORIZON - GENERIC CORRIDOR Peters sprints, the SOUND BOOMING after her, almost on her heels... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE ANTECHAMBER Peters darts into the Bridge Antechamber. She SLAMS the pressure door shut behind her, CUTTING OFF the sound. She turns. Weir, DJ, Starck look up from their work, staring at her. DJ What's wrong? PETERS You didn't hear it? You must have heard it! STARCK Heard what? Beat. Peters starts to LAUGH, part hysteria, part relief. PETERS Oh... nothing... DJ crosses to Peters, concerned. DJ Sit down... As he reaches out to touch her... BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. POUNDING ON THE DOOR ITSELF Peters SCREAMS. DJ clutches her to him, backs away from the door. The POUNDING grows louder. LOUDER. The door vibrates with each blow Starck puts her hands over her ears. Peters SCREAMS at the door. PETERS Stop it! Stop it! But the POUNDING intensifies, metal GROANING under incredible pressure. DJ (shouting to be heard) What is it? Weir slowly walks to the door. STARCK What are you doing? WEIR It wants me. I have to go. He reaches for the door. STARCK No...! Starck grabs him. He tries to shake her off, but she traps his arm in a wrist-lock. He turns on her, his face furious... ...and the POUNDING stops. They remain frozen for a moment. Afraid to breathe. Weir shakes the trance. STARCK In our current environment, Dr. Weir, self-control is an asset. WEIR I'm alright. Please. In the distance, the POUNDING begins again. Moving away from them. The ship systems station BEEPS. A warning light flashes on the console. STARCK What is it? WEIR The forward airlock. STARCK (into radio) Miller, Smith, Cooper, any of you in the airlock? MILLER (O.S.) (radio) That's a negative, Starck. PETERS (realization) Justin. Peters, Starck and DJ rush from the Bridge, leaving Weir behind. INT. EVENT HORIZON - MAIN ACCESS CORRIDOR NO. 2 - WITH AIRLOCKS Peters leads Starck and DJ down the corridor towards the Forward Airlock bay. They round a corner in time to see a figure moving in the Airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They race into the bay even as Justin steps into the Airlock. He is naked. PETERS Justin, no! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin turns and stares through them with cold eyes. He reaches out to the airlock control. The pressure door shuts with a HISS. CUT TO: EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION Miller, Smith and Cooper cling to the Lewis and Clark's hull. They carefully remove an access panel, revealing scorched wiring. COOPER We'll have to re-route through the port conduit to the APU. SMITH What about the accumulator...? Starck's VOICE breaks in: STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Miller, come in... MILLER What's going on in there, Starck? STARCK (O.S.) (radio) Justin's in the airlock. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck at the intercom. The others huddle by the door. MILLER (O.S.) (intercom) What? STARCK He's awake, he's in the airlock, he's not wearing a suit. EXT. LEWIS AND CLARK - HULL SECTION MILLER (to Cooper) Stay here! Don't stop working! COOPER But Justin... MILLER I'll get him. Miller swings his body around, heads across the umbilicus to the Event Horizon. He moves in great leaps, using the magnetic plates in his gloves and boots to keep from drifting off into Neptune's thin atmosphere. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Starck works the airlock control panel without success. STARCK He's engaged the override. PETERS Can you shut it down? She opens the Airlock access panel. STARCK I'll try. DJ, you better get your bag of tricks. DJ nods, runs off. Peters bangs on the Airlock door. PETERS Justin! Open the door! INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters' voice barely penetrates the pressure door: PETERS (muffled) Open the door! Justin turns off the artificial gravity. He begins to float gently. CUT TO: EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves like a frantic spider across the surface of the Event Horizon. MILLER I'm on my way, Starck. STARCK (O.S.) (radio) You better hurry. He's engaged the override, we can't open the inner door. Miller curses under his breath, moves even faster... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Peters, against the window: PETERS (muffled) The door, Justin! Open the door! He fixes his gaze upon the outer airlock door. And beyond it, space. He speaks in a flat monotone: JUSTIN Did you hear it? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 They are stunned to hear his voice. Peters answers: PETERS Yes. Yes, Justin, we heard it. STARCK Keep him talking. PETERS Do you know what it was? JUSTIN (muffled) It gets inside you. It shows you things... horrible things... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN ...can't describe it... there are no words... INT. EVENT HORIZON - BRIDGE Weir sits alone, listening to the VOICES on the intercom. PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What, Justin, what shows you? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) It won't stop, it goes on and on and on... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) What does? JUSTIN (O.S.) (intercom) The dark inside me. A LOW MOAN escapes Weir's lips. He cradles his head in his hands. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller races across the surface of the Event Horizon, the only sounds, his LABOURED BREATHING, and Justin's tortured VOICE, patched through on his radio: JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) ...It's inside and it eats and eats until there's nothing left. PETERS (O.S.) (radio) "The dark inside..."? I don't understand. JUSTIN (O.S.) (radio) From the Other Place... BACK TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN The other crew, they're there, they're waiting for me. They're waiting for you. I won't go back there... I won't... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 Peters presses her face against the Airlock window, trying to calm him: PETERS Justin, look at me. Look at me. Open this door. DJ runs up with his medkit. STARCK I don't think she can talk him down. We need a sedative. DJ If he opens the outer door he'll turn inside-out. Starck's hands fly as she re-wires the circuits. Sweat beads her face. STARCK Almost got it. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 PETERS (O.S.) (muffled) Come on, Baby-bear, open this door... Justin looks at her with dead eyes. He reaches out to gently touch the glass between them. JUSTIN If you could see the things I've seen, you wouldn't try to stop me. You'd come with me. Justin's hand moves to the OUTER AIRLOCK DOOR control. Hesitates... then floats to the OUTER AIRLOCK control. Hits it. PETERS (muffled) NOOO! A yellow warning light flashes. A warning klaxon WHOOPS, deafening. Justin jerks his hands to his ears, closes his eyes... COMPUTER Stand-by for decompression. Thirty seconds... Justin opens his eyes as if waking from a dream... JUSTIN Hey, Mama-Bear... what are doing...? And then he realizes where he is...and what is about to happen. JUSTIN Oh my god OH MY GOD... INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK BAY NO. 3 PETERS Starck! STARCK I can't! The inner door can't open once the outer door has been triggered, it would decompress the entire ship! JUSTIN (muffled) You gotta open, you gotta stop it, please... PETERS We have to do something, oh God... STARCK (into radio) Skipper, Justin just activated the door. It's on a thirty second delay... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - (MILLER'S CROSSING) Miller moves through the Event Horizon superstructure, recklessly leaping from one beam to another, trying to build up speed. MILLER Patch me through to him. INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 MILLER (O.S.) (radio) Justin. JUSTIN Skipper, you gotta help me... COMPUTER Twenty seconds. JUSTIN ...tell them to open the door... MILLER (O.S.) (radio) They can't do that Justin, now listen carefully... EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller moves faster and faster, his BREATH echoing in his helmet. He can see the exterior airlock just beyond a deep chasm in the ship's superstructure. If he misses this jump, Justin will not be the only man to die today. He doesn't hesitate but leaps, soaring across the chasm towards the airlock. JUSTIN (radio) ...I don't want to die...! MILLER You're not going to die! Not today! I want you to do exactly as I say and I'm gonna get you out of there, alright? INT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 JUSTIN But I can't... I gotta get out of here... Skipper, please... MILLER (radio) Justin. I won't let you die. Miller's words give Justin hope. He regains some control. JUSTIN Okay... okay... Justin breathes hard and follows Miller's hurried instructions: MILLER (radio) Tuck yourself into a crouched position, shut your eyes as tight as you can! STARCK Five seconds. EXT. EVENT HORIZON - AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller lands on the superstructure opposite the exterior airlock. MILLER (radio) Exhale everything you got, Baby Bear, we can't have any air in those lungs, blow it all out... INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Justin goes into a fetal crouch and covers his eyes. JUSTIN Oh god -- He wheezes out all his air... EXT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller squats on the girder, ready to push off. He focuses on the 5 meters of space between him and the airlock... The outer doors OPEN... The rush of escaping atmosphere carries Justin's body out... Miller pushes off... catches Justin's body... sending them both back towards the open Airlock... Ice forms on Justin's body. His veins bulge. Blood fountains from his noise and mouth, forming a red icicle over his face. Miller pulls him into the Airlock. Five seconds have passed since the airlock door opened. INT. EVENT HORIZON -- AIRLOCK NO. 3 Miller closes the Airlock behind them. Air HISSES into the chamber. Justin's body hits the deck as "normal" gravity exerts itself. Miller opens the Inner Door. Peters and DJ rush in. PETERS Oh God... Justin... DJ puts a tube in the Justin's mouth immediately, feeding him oxygen. PETERS I've got a pulse, he's alive... DJ Pressure? PETERS 90 over 50 and falling... . DJ He's crashing... Blood bubbles from Justin's mouth and eyes. He GASPS, then SCREAMS, spraying blood from his mouth. DJ He can breathe. That's good. Let's get him to Medical, go, go! Starck helps DJ and Peters carry Justin from the Airlock. Miller sits there, exhausted. Reaches up and pulls his helmet off. CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- BRIDGE Weir listens to DJ (O.S.) (intercom) Intubate, pure oxygen feed, get the nitrogen out of his blood... PETERS (O.S.) (intercom) His peritoneum has ruptured... DJ (O.S.) (intercom) One thing at a time, let's keep him breathing. Start the drip, 15cc's fibrinogen, Christ, he's bleeding out... CUT TO: INT. EVENT HORIZON -- GRAVITY COUCH BAY One of the tanks has been activated. Swaddled in bandages, Justin floats within, suspended in green gel. The others -- DJ, Starck, Peters, Miller, Weir -- look exhausted. DJ He'll live... if we ever make it back. MILLER We'll make it. STARCK CO2 levels will reach toxic levels in four hours. Peters stands, looking at Justin's ravaged form floating in the tank. MILLER (gently) Peters. We need to know

returned

How many times the word 'returned' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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rose

How many times the word 'rose' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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brave

How many times the word 'brave' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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hearts

How many times the word 'hearts' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. 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bring

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too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. 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undone

How many times the word 'undone' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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laid

How many times the word 'laid' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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loiterer

How many times the word 'loiterer' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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moonlight

How many times the word 'moonlight' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. 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percy

How many times the word 'percy' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. 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drumming

How many times the word 'drumming' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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moralizing

How many times the word 'moralizing' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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velocity

How many times the word 'velocity' appears in the text?

too many for the work there is to do; Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick; And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick." XXXV On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and louder On the roads of earth go by, Dear to friends and food for powder, Soldiers marching, all to die. East and west on fields forgotten Bleach the bones of comrades slain, Lovely lads and dead and rotten; None that go return again. Far the calling bugles hollo, High the screaming fife replies, Gay the files of scarlet follow: Woman bore me, I will rise. XXXVI White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. XXXVII As through the wild green hills of Wyre The train ran, changing sky and shire, And far behind, a fading crest, Low in the forsaken west Sank the high-reared head of Clee, My hand lay empty on my knee. Aching on my knee it lay: That morning half a shire away So many an honest fellow's fist Had well-nigh wrung it from the wrist. Hand, said I, since now we part From fields and men we know by heart, From strangers' faces, strangers' lands,- Hand, you have held true fellows' hands. Be clean then; rot before you do A thing they'd not believe of you. You and I must keep from shame In London streets the Shropshire name; On banks of Thames they must not say Severn breeds worse men than they; And friends abroad must bear in mind Friends at home they leave behind. Oh, I shall be stiff and cold When I forget you, hearts of gold; The land where I shall mind you not Is the land where all's forgot. And if my foot returns no more To Teme nor Corve nor Severn shore, Luck, my lads, be with you still By falling stream and standing hill, By chiming tower and whispering tree, Men that made a man of me. About your work in town and farm Still you'll keep my head from harm, Still you'll help me, hands that gave A grasp to friend me to the grave. XXXVIII The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It fanned their temples, filled their lungs, Scattered their forelocks free; My friends made words of it with tongues That talk no more to me. Their voices, dying as they fly, Thick on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows' and my own. Oh lads, at home I heard you plain, But here your speech is still, And down the sighing wind in vain You hollo from the hill. The wind and I, we both were there, But neither long abode; Now through the friendless world we fare And sigh upon the road. XXXIX 'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town The golden broom should blow; The hawthorn sprinkled up and down Should charge the land with snow. Spring will not wait the loiterer's time Who keeps so long away; So others wear the broom and climb The hedgerows heaped with may. Oh tarnish late on Wenlock Edge, Gold that I never see; Lie long, high snowdrifts in the hedge That will not shower on me. XL Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. XLI In my own shire, if I was sad Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade's pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood. Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another's care. They have enough as 'tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill. XLII THE MERRY GUIDE Once in the wind of morning I ranged the thymy wold; The world-wide air was azure And all the brooks ran gold. There through the dews beside me Behold a youth that trod, With feathered cap on forehead, And poised a golden rod. With mien to match the morning And gay delightful guise And friendly brows and laughter He looked me in the eyes. Oh whence, I asked, and whither? He smiled and would not say, And looked at me and beckoned And laughed and led the way. And with kind looks and laughter And nought to say beside We two went on together, I and my happy guide. Across the glittering pastures And empty upland still And solitude of shepherds High in the folded hill, By hanging woods and hamlets That gaze through orchards down On many a windmill turning And far-discovered town, With gay regards of promise And sure unslackened stride And smiles and nothing spoken Led on my merry guide. By blowing realms of woodland With sunstruck vanes afield And cloud-led shadows sailing About the windy weald, By valley-guarded granges And silver waters wide, Content at heart I followed With my delightful guide. And like the cloudy shadows Across the country blown We two face on for ever, But not we two alone. With the great gale we journey That breathes from gardens thinned, Borne in the drift of blossoms Whose petals throng the wind; Buoyed on the heaven-heard whisper Of dancing leaflets whirled From all the woods that autumn Bereaves in all the world. And midst the fluttering legion Of all that ever died I follow, and before us Goes the delightful guide, With lips that brim with laughter But never once respond, And feet that fly on feathers, And serpent-circled wand. XLIII THE IMMORTAL PART When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, "Another night, another day." "When shall this slough of sense be cast, This dust of thoughts be laid at last, The man of flesh and soul be slain And the man of bone remain?" "This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout, These thews that hustle us about, This brain that fills the skull with schemes, And its humming hive of dreams,-" "These to-day are proud in power And lord it in their little hour: The immortal bones obey control Of dying flesh and dying soul." " 'Tis long till eve and morn are gone: Slow the endless night comes on, And late to fulness grows the birth That shall last as long as earth." "Wanderers eastward, wanderers west, Know you why you cannot rest? 'Tis that every mother's son Travails with a skeleton." "Lie down in the bed of dust; Bear the fruit that bear you must; Bring the eternal seed to light, And morn is all the same as night." "Rest you so from trouble sore, Fear the heat o' the sun no more, Nor the snowing winter wild, Now you labour not with child." "Empty vessel, garment cast, We that wore you long shall last. -Another night, another day." So my bones within me say. Therefore they shall do my will To-day while I am master still, And flesh and soul, now both are strong, Shall hale the sullen slaves along, Before this fire of sense decay, This smoke of thought blow clean away, And leave with ancient night alone The stedfast and enduring bone. XLIV Shot? so quick, so clean an ending? Oh that was right, lad, that was brave: Yours was not an ill for mending, 'Twas best to take it to the grave. Oh you had forethought, you could reason, And saw your road and where it led, And early wise and brave in season Put the pistol to your head. Oh soon, and better so than later After long disgrace and scorn, You shot dead the household traitor, The soul that should not have been born. Right you guessed the rising morrow And scorned to tread the mire you must: Dust's your wages, son of sorrow, But men may come to worse than dust. Souls undone, undoing others,- Long time since the tale began. You would not live to wrong your brothers: Oh lad, you died as fits a man. Now to your grave shall friend and stranger With ruth and some with envy come: Undishonoured, clear of danger, Clean of guilt, pass hence and home. Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking; And here, man, here's the wreath I've made: 'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking, But wear it and it will not fade. XLV If it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: 'Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. And if your hand or foot offend you, Cut it off, lad, and be whole; But play the man, stand up and end you, When your sickness is your soul. XLVI Bring, in this timeless grave to throw, No cypress, sombre on the snow; Snap not from the bitter yew His leaves that live December through; Break no rosemary, bright with rime And sparkling to the cruel clime; Nor plod the winter land to look For willows in the icy brook To cast them leafless round him: bring No spray that ever buds in spring. But if the Christmas field has kept Awns the last gleaner overstept, Or shrivelled flax, whose flower is blue A single season, never two; Or if one haulm whose year is o'er Shivers on the upland frore, -Oh, bring from hill and stream and plain Whatever will not flower again, To give him comfort: he and those Shall bide eternal bedfellows Where low upon the couch he lies Whence he never shall arise. XLVII THE CARPENTER'S SON "Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads." "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I but left ill alone." "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse." "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love." "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone." "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die." XLVIII Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,-call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? XLIX Think no more, lad; laugh, be jolly: Why should men make haste to die? Empty heads and tongues a-talking Make the rough road easy walking, And the feather pate of folly Bears the falling sky. Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around. If young hearts were not so clever, Oh, they would be young for ever: Think no more; 'tis only thinking Lays lads underground. L _ Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. _ In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest under the sun, We still had sorrows to lighten, One could not be always glad, And lads knew trouble at Knighton When I was a Knighton lad. By bridges that Thames runs under, In London, the town built ill, 'Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still. And if as a lad grows older The troubles he bears are more, He carries his griefs on a shoulder That handselled them long before. Where shall one halt to deliver This luggage I'd lief set down? Not Thames, not Teme is the river, Nor London nor Knighton the town: 'Tis a long way further than Knighton, A quieter place than Clun, Where doomsday may thunder and lighten And little 'twill matter to one. LI Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he, And stedfastly he looked at me. "Well met," I thought the look would say, "We both were fashioned far away; We neither knew, when we were young, These Londoners we live among." Still he stood and eyed me hard, An earnest and a grave regard: "What, lad, drooping with your lot? I too would be where I am not. I too survey that endless line Of men whose thoughts are not as mine. Years, ere you stood up from rest, On my neck the collar prest; Years, when you lay down your ill, I shall stand and bear it still. Courage, lad, 'tis not for long: Stand, quit you like stone, be strong." So I thought his look would say; And light on me my trouble lay, And I slept out in flesh and bone Manful like the man of stone. LII Far in a western brookland That bred me long ago The poplars stand and tremble By pools I used to know. There, in the windless night-time, The wanderer, marvelling why, Halts on the bridge to hearken How soft the poplars sigh. He hears: long since forgotten In fields where I was known, Here I lie down in London And turn to rest alone. There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. LIII THE TRUE LOVER The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. "I shall not vex you with my face Henceforth, my love, for aye; So take me in your arms a space Before the east is grey." "When I from hence away am past I shall not find a bride, And you shall be the first and last I ever lay beside." She heard and went and knew not why; Her heart to his she laid; Light was the air beneath the sky But dark under the shade. "Oh do you breathe, lad, that your breast Seems not to rise and fall, And here upon my bosom prest There beats no heart at all?" "Oh loud, my girl, it once would knock, You should have felt it then; But since for you I stopped the clock It never goes again." "Oh lad, what is it, lad, that drips Wet from your neck on mine? What is it falling on my lips, My lad, that tastes of brine?" "Oh like enough 'tis blood, my dear, For when the knife has slit The throat across from ear to ear 'Twill bleed because of it." Under the stars the air was light But dark below the boughs, The still air of the speechless night, When lovers crown their vows. LIV With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad. By brooks too broad for leaping The lightfoot boys are laid; The rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. LV Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I Strip to bathe on Severn shore, They, no help, for all they try, Tread the mill I trod before. There, when hueless is the west And the darkness hushes wide, Where the lad lies down to rest Stands the troubled dream beside. There, on thoughts that once were mine, Day looks down the eastern steep, And the youth at morning shine Makes the vow he will not keep. LVI THE DAY OF BATTLE "Far I hear the bugle blow To call me where I would not go, And the guns begin the song, 'Soldier, fly or stay for long.'" "Comrade, if to turn and fly Made a soldier never die, Fly I would, for who would not? 'Tis sure no pleasure to be shot." "But since the man that runs away Lives to die another day, And cowards' funerals, when they come Are not wept so well at home." "Therefore, though the best is bad, Stand and do the best my lad; Stand and fight and see your slain, And take the bullet in your brain." LVII You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever. LVIII When I came last to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale, Two friends kept step beside me, Two honest lads and hale. Now Dick lies long in the churchyard, And Ned lies long in jail, And I come home to Ludlow Amidst the moonlight pale. LIX THE ISLE OF PORTLAND The star-filled seas are smooth to-night From France to England strown; Black towers above the Portland light The felon-quarried stone. On yonder island, not to rise, Never to stir forth free, Far from his folk a dead lad lies That once was friends with me. Lie you easy, dream you light, And sleep you fast for aye; And luckier may you find the night Than ever you found the day. LX Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread, Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night. LXI HUGHLEY STEEPLE The vane on Hughley steeple Veers bright, a far-known sign, And there lie Hughley people, And there lie friends of mine. Tall in their midst the tower Divides the shade and sun, And the clock strikes the hour And tells the time to none. To south the headstones cluster, The sunny mounds lie thick; The dead are more in muster At Hughley than the quick. North, for a soon-told number, Chill graves the sexton delves, And steeple-shadowed slumber The slayers of themselves. To north, to south, lie parted, With Hughley tower above, The kind, the single-hearted, The lads I used to love. And, south or north, 'tis only A choice of friends one knows, And I shall ne'er be lonely Asleep with these or those. LXII "Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well, the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time Moping melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad." Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not. And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past: The mischief is that 'twill not last. Oh I have been to Ludlow fair And left my necktie God knows where, And carried half-way home, or near, Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer: Then the world seemed none so bad, And I myself a sterling lad; And down in lovely muck I've lain, Happy till I woke again. Then I saw the morning sky: Heigho, the tale was all a lie; The world, it was the old world yet, I was I, my things were wet, And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good. 'Tis true the stuff I bring for sale Is not so brisk a brew as ale: Out of a stem that scored the hand I wrung it in a weary land. But take it: if the smack is sour, The better for the embittered hour; It should do good to heart and head When your soul is in my soul's stead; And I will friend you, if I may, In the dark and cloudy day. There was a king reigned in the East: There, when kings will sit to feast, They get their fill before they think With poisoned meat and poisoned drink. He gathered all that springs to birth From the many-venomed earth; First a little, thence to more, He sampled all her killing store; And easy, smiling, seasoned sound, Sate the king when healths went round. They put arsenic in his meat And stared aghast to watch him eat; They poured strychnine in his cup And shook to see him drink it up: They shook, they stared as white's their shirt: Them it was their poison hurt. -I tell the tale that I heard told. Mithridates, he died old. LXIII I Hoed and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them For lads like me to find, When I shall lie below them, A dead man out of mind. Some seed the birds devour, And some the season mars, But here and there will flower The solitary stars, And fields will yearly bear them As light-leaved spring comes on, And luckless lads will wear them When I am dead and gone. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Shropshire Lad, by A. E. Housman *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SHROPSHIRE LAD *** ***** This file should be named 5720.txt or 5720.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/5/7/2/5720/ Produced by Albert Imrie Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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