第32章 PART FIRST(30)

March laughed,but went on soberly:"He was a man predestined to adversity,though.When I first knew him out in Indianapolis he was starving along with a sick wife and a sick newspaper.It was before the Germans had come over to the Republicans generally,but Lindau was fighting the anti-slavery battle just as naturally at Indianapolis in 1858as he fought behind the barricades at Berlin in 1848.And yet he was always such a gentle soul!And so generous!He taught me German for the love of it;he wouldn't spoil his pleasure by taking a cent from me;he seemed to get enough out of my being young and enthusiastic,and out of prophesying great things for me.I wonder what the poor old fellow is doing here,with that one hand of his?""Not amassing a very 'handsome pittance,'I guess,as Artemus Ward would say,"said Fulkerson,getting back some of his lightness."There are lots of two-handed fellows in New York that are not doing much better,Iguess.Maybe he gets some writing on the German papers.""I hope so.He's one of the most accomplished men!He used to be a splendid musician--pianist--and knows eight or ten languages.""Well,it's astonishing,"said Fulkerson,"how much lumber those Germans can carry around in their heads all their lives,and never work it up into anything.It's a pity they couldn't do the acquiring,and let out the use of their learning to a few bright Americans.We could make things hum,if we could arrange 'em that way."He talked on,unheeded by March,who went along half-consciously tormented by his lightness in the pensive memories the meeting with Lindau had called up.Was this all that sweet,unselfish nature could come to?What a homeless old age at that meagre Italian table d'hote,with that tall glass of beer for a half-hour's oblivion!That shabby dress,that pathetic mutilation!He must have a pension,twelve dollars a month,or eighteen,from a grateful country.But what else did he eke out with?

"Well,here we are,"said Fulkerson,cheerily.He ran up the steps before March,and opened the carpenter's temporary valve in the door frame,and led the way into a darkness smelling sweetly of unpainted wood-work and newly dried plaster;their feat slipped on shavings and grated on sand.He scratched a match,and found a candle,and then walked about up and down stairs,and lectured on the advantages of the place.He had fitted up bachelor apartments for himself in the house,and said that he was going to have a flat to let on the top floor.

"I didn't offer it to you because I supposed you'd be too proud to live over your shop;and it's too small,anyway;only five rooms.""Yes,that's too small,"said March,shirking the other point.

"Well,then,here's the room I intend for your office,"said Fulkerson,showing him into a large back parlor one flight up."You'll have it quiet from the street noises here,and you can be at home or not,as you please.There'll be a boy on the stairs to find out.Now,you see,this makes the Grosvenor Green flat practicable,if you want it."March felt the forces of fate closing about him and pushing him to a decision.He feebly fought them off till he could have another look at the flat.Then,baked and subdued still more by the unexpected presence of Mrs.Grosvenor Green herself,who was occupying it so as to be able to show it effectively,he took it.He was aware more than ever of its absurdities;he knew that his wife would never cease to hate it;but he had suffered one of those eclipses of the imagination to which men of his temperament are subject,and into which he could see no future for his desires.He felt a comfort in irretrievably committing himself,and exchanging the burden of indecision for the burden of responsibility.

"I don't know,"said Fulkerson,as they walked back to his hotel together,"but you might fix it up with that lone widow and her pretty daughter to take part of their house here."He seemed to be reminded of it by the fact of passing the house,and March looked up at its dark front.He could not have told exactly why be felt a pang of remorse at the sight,and doubtless it was more regret for having taken the Grosvenor Green flat than for not having taken the widow's rooms.Still,he could not forget her wistfulness when his wife and he were looking at them,and her disappointment when they decided against them.He had toyed,in,his after-talk to Mrs.March,with a sort of hypothetical obligation they had to modify their plans so as to meet the widow's want of just such a family as theirs;they had both said what a blessing it would be to her,and what a pity they could not do it;but they had decided very distinctly that they could not.Now it seemed to him that they might;and he asked himself whether he had not actually departed as much from their ideal as if he had taken board with the widow.Suddenly it seemed to him that his wife asked him this,too.

"I reckon,"said Fulkerson,"that she could have arranged to give you your meals in your rooms,and it would have come to about the same thing as housekeeping.""No sort of boarding can be the same as house-keeping,"said March.

"I want my little girl to have the run of a kitchen,and I want the whole family to have the moral effect of housekeeping.It's demoralizing to board,in every way;it isn't a home,if anybody else takes the care of it off your hands.""Well,I suppose so,"Fulkerson assented;but March's words had a hollow ring to himself,and in his own mind he began to retaliate his dissatisfaction upon Fulkerson.