LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

He looked at it.

      "Yes," he said, "beople do nod wand good hoods, id seems."

      To get away from his reproachful eyes and voice I hastily remarked: "What have you done to your shop?"

      He answered quietly: "Id was too exbensif. Do you wand some boods?"

      I ordered three pairs, though I had only wanted two, and quickly left. I had, I do not know quite what feeling of being part, in his mind, of a conspiracy against him; or not perhaps so much against him as against his idea of boot. One does not, I suppose, care to feel like that; for it was again many months before my next visit to his shop, paid, I remember, with the feeling: "Oh! well, I can't leave the old boy – so here goes! Perhaps it'll be his elder brother!"

      For his elder brother, I knew, had not character enough to reproach me, even dumbly.

      And, to my relief, in the shop there did appear to be his elder brother, handling a piece of leather.

      "Well, Mr. Gessler," I said, "how are you?"

      He came close, and peered at me.

      "I am breddy well," he said slowly "but my elder brudder is dead."

      And I saw that it was indeed himself – but how aged and wan! And never before had I heard him mention his brother. Much shocked; I murmured: "Oh! I am sorry!"

      "Yes," he answered, "he was a good man, he made a good bood; but he is dead." And he touched the top of his head, where the hair had suddenly gone as thin as it had been on that of his poor brother, to indicate, I suppose, the cause of death. "He could nod ged over losing de oder shop. Do you wand any hoods?" And he held up the leather in his hand: "Id's a beaudiful biece."

      I ordered several pairs. It was very long before they came – but they were better than ever. One simply could not wear them out. And soon after that I went abroad.

      It was over a year before I was again in London. And the first shop I went to was my old friend's. I had left a man of sixty, I came back to one of seventy-five, pinched and worn and tremulous, who genuinely, this time, did not at first know me.

      "Oh! Mr. Gessler," I said, sick at heart; "how splendid your boots are! See, I've been wearing this pair nearly all the time I've been abroad; and they're not half worn out, are they?"

      He looked long at my boots – a pair of Russia leather, and his face seemed to regain steadiness. Putting his hand on my instep, he said:

      "Do dey vid you here? I 'ad drouble wid dat bair, I remember."

      I assured him that they had fitted beautifully.

      "Do you wand any boods?" he said. "I can make dem quickly; id is a slack dime."

      I answered: "Please, please! I want boots all round – every kind!"

      "I will make a vresh model. Your food must be bigger." And with utter slowness, he traced round my foot, and felt my toes, only once looking up to say:

      "Did I dell you my brudder was dead?"

      To watch him was painful, so feeble had he grown; I was glad to get away.

      I had given those boots up, when one evening they came. Opening the parcel, I set the four pairs out in a row. Then one by one I tried them on. There was no doubt about it. In shape and fit, in finish and quality of leather, they were the best he had ever made me. And in the mouth of one of the Town walking-boots I found his bill.

      The amount was the same as usual, but it gave me quite a shock. He had never before sent it in till quarter day. I flew down-stairs, and wrote a cheque, and posted it at once with my own hand.

      A week later, passing the little street, I thought I would go in and tell him how splendidly the new boots fitted. But when I came to where his shop had been, his name was gone. Still there, in the window, were the slim pumps, the patent leathers with cloth tops, the sooty riding boots.

      I went in, very much disturbed. In the two little shops – again made into one – was a young man with an English face.

      "Mr. Gessler in?" I said.

      He gave me a strange, ingratiating look.

      "No, sir," he said, "no. But we can attend to anything with pleasure.

      We've taken the shop over. You've seen our name, no doubt, next door.

      We make for some very good people."

      "Yes, Yes," I said; "but Mr. Gessler?"

      "Oh!" he answered; "dead."

      "Dead! But I only received these boots from him last Wednesday week."

      "Ah!" he said; "a shockin' go. Poor old man starved 'imself."

      "Good God!"

      "Slow starvation, the doctor called it! You see he went to work in such a way! Would keep the shop on; wouldn't have a soul touch his boots except himself. When he got an order, it took him such a time. People won't wait. He lost everybody. And there he'd sit, goin' on and on – I will say that for him not a man in London made a better boot! But look at the competition! He never advertised! Would 'ave the best leather, too, and do it all 'imself. Well, there it is. What could you expect with his ideas?"

      "But starvation – !"

      "That may be a bit flowery, as the sayin' is – but I know myself he was sittin' over his boots day and night, to the very last. You see I used to watch him. Never gave 'imself time to eat; never had a penny in the house. All went in rent and leather. How he lived so long I don't know. He regular let his fire go out. He was a character. But he made good boots."

      "Yes," I said, "he made good boots."

      And I turned and went out quickly, for I did not want that youth to know that I could hardly see. 1911

      THE GRAND JURY – IN TWO PANELS AND A FRAME

      Read that piece of paper, which summoned me to sit on the Grand Jury at the approaching Sessions, lying in a scoop of the shore close to the great rollers of the sea – that span of eternal freedom, deprived just there of too great liberty by the word "Atlantic." And I remember thinking, as I read, that in each breaking wave was some particle which had visited every shore in all the world – that in each sparkle of hot sunlight stealing that bright water up into the sky, was the microcosm of all change, and of all unity.

PANEL I

      In answer to that piece of paper, I presented myself at the proper place in due course and with a certain trepidation. What was it that I was about to do? For I had no experience of these things. And, being too early, I walked a little to and fro, looking at all those my partners in this matter of the purification of Society. Prosecutors, witnesses, officials, policemen, detectives, undetected, pressmen, barristers, loafers, clerks, cadgers, jurymen. And I remember having something of the feeling that one has when one looks into a sink without holding one's nose. There was such uneasy hurry, so strange a disenchanted look, a sort of spiritual dirt, about all that place, and there were – faces! And I thought: To them my face must seem as their faces seem to me!

      Soon I was taken with my accomplices to have my name called, and to be sworn. I do not remember much about that process, too occupied with wondering what these companions of mine were like; but presently we all came to a long room with a long table, where nineteen lists of indictments and nineteen pieces of blotting paper were set alongside nineteen pens. We did not, I recollect, speak much to one another, but sat down, and studied those nineteen lists. We had eighty-seven cases on which to pronounce whether the bill was true or no; and the clerk assured us we should get through them in two days at most. Over the top of these indictments I regarded my eighteen fellows. There was in me a hunger of inquiry, as to what they thought about this business; and a sort of sorrowful affection for them, as if we were all a ship's company bound on some strange and awkward expedition. I wondered, till I thought my wonder must be coming through my eyes, whether they had the same curious sensation that I was feeling, of doing something illegitimate, which I had not been born to do, together with a sense of self-importance, a sort of unholy interest in thus dealing with the lives of my fellow men. And slowly, watching them, I came to the conclusion that I need not wonder. All with the exception perhaps of two, a painter and a Jew looked such good citizens.

Скачать книгу