told his skipper this, the Canadian said, “Sure, I knew that. He spent a week-end about two months ago in a Nottingham hotel, and slept with the receptionist girl in the office there. He’s been trying to treat himself in his cubicle for some time, instead of seeing the doc. right away. Somebody told him that mustard was a cure for the complaint. But what can you expect from a man who before the war was what we in Canada call a dry-goods clerk, and you over here know as a counter-jumper?”
Phillip tried to conceal his alarm at this information. Perhaps he was already infected by the terrible disease which had killed Uncle Hugh. Before him arose a scene that Christmas afternoon when Father was asleep in the sitting room and Mother had opened the door, to see Uncle Hugh, who was forbidden the house, standing there. He had clattered in on crutches, and was sitting in the front room, and they were all laughing at his jokes when suddenly Father came in, and was distant and polite until Uncle Hugh said he knew when he wasn’t wanted, and shambled away again, while Mother cried silently. When he was gone Father had been angry with Mother for crying, insteadof wanting to protect her children from a possible horrible end; and Christmas had gone dark.
*
On the following morning, on his way to the Medical Hut in “B” lines, Phillip passed Clewlee, who had just come from the Hut. Clewlee was walking slowly, leaning heavily on his stick, his face white and pained. He had just had an intramuscular injection of salvarsan in the thigh. He did not look up as he approached Phillip, in whom such fear arose that, as he came level with the limping man, and before he could think to stop the dark phantasm of the past from release in words, heard himself saying, “You filthy beast!”
Clewlee stopped, his face contorted. He half raised his stick, words frozen in his throat. Before he could retort, Phillip walked away in a kind of daze, wondering what had made him speak like that. It might have been Father, speaking of Uncle Hugh years ago to Mother! Did the mind snap sometimes like elastic, to get rid of its fearful thoughts upon someone else? That was what Father Aloysius said was sin; hate was the absence of love. Poor devil, how awful he must feel! Ruined for life. When he saw Clewlee again, he must beg his pardon. But when he went to the cubicle to find him, after tea that day, he was told by the batman that Clewlee had left.
He went into Grantham, and bought a bottle of Lysol, which he diluted before splashing all over the floor, door handles, and lower walls. He burned his washing flannel, hair-brush, shaving-brush , tooth-brush and towel, in case Clewlee had used them, in the tortoise stove, which roared, and soon the iron pipe glowed dull red.
While sitting there, he remembered the poem which Uncle Hugh used to recite to him in his garden room, years before, when he had been seven or eight years old.
From the hag and the hungry goblin
That into rags would rend ye,
All the spirits that stand
By the naked man, In the book of moons, defend ye.
Beware of the black rider
Through blasted dreams borne nightly;
From Venus Queen
Saved may you bin,
And the dead that die unrightly.
With a wench of wanton beauties
I came unto this ailing:
Her breast was strewn
Like the half o ’ the moon
With a cloud of gliding veiling.
In her snow-beds to couch me
I had so white a yearning,
Like a moon-struck man
Her pale breast ’gan
T o set my wits a-turning.
There were other verses, all of them terrible. He read Shelley, to try and lift himself from depression; but it was no good; then an unexpected visit from Pinnegar cheered him with the news that the officer sent to replace him had had an identical report from the S.S.O.
“So I told Downham that he ought to see the Colonel and tell him that you had done your job satisfactorily. He did so, and you’re to come back tomorrow, old
Phillip tried to conceal his alarm at this information. Perhaps he was already infected by the terrible disease which had killed Uncle Hugh. Before him arose a scene that Christmas afternoon when Father was asleep in the sitting room and Mother had opened the door, to see Uncle Hugh, who was forbidden the house, standing there. He had clattered in on crutches, and was sitting in the front room, and they were all laughing at his jokes when suddenly Father came in, and was distant and polite until Uncle Hugh said he knew when he wasn’t wanted, and shambled away again, while Mother cried silently. When he was gone Father had been angry with Mother for crying, insteadof wanting to protect her children from a possible horrible end; and Christmas had gone dark.
*
On the following morning, on his way to the Medical Hut in “B” lines, Phillip passed Clewlee, who had just come from the Hut. Clewlee was walking slowly, leaning heavily on his stick, his face white and pained. He had just had an intramuscular injection of salvarsan in the thigh. He did not look up as he approached Phillip, in whom such fear arose that, as he came level with the limping man, and before he could think to stop the dark phantasm of the past from release in words, heard himself saying, “You filthy beast!”
Clewlee stopped, his face contorted. He half raised his stick, words frozen in his throat. Before he could retort, Phillip walked away in a kind of daze, wondering what had made him speak like that. It might have been Father, speaking of Uncle Hugh years ago to Mother! Did the mind snap sometimes like elastic, to get rid of its fearful thoughts upon someone else? That was what Father Aloysius said was sin; hate was the absence of love. Poor devil, how awful he must feel! Ruined for life. When he saw Clewlee again, he must beg his pardon. But when he went to the cubicle to find him, after tea that day, he was told by the batman that Clewlee had left.
He went into Grantham, and bought a bottle of Lysol, which he diluted before splashing all over the floor, door handles, and lower walls. He burned his washing flannel, hair-brush, shaving-brush , tooth-brush and towel, in case Clewlee had used them, in the tortoise stove, which roared, and soon the iron pipe glowed dull red.
While sitting there, he remembered the poem which Uncle Hugh used to recite to him in his garden room, years before, when he had been seven or eight years old.
From the hag and the hungry goblin
That into rags would rend ye,
All the spirits that stand
By the naked man, In the book of moons, defend ye.
Beware of the black rider
Through blasted dreams borne nightly;
From Venus Queen
Saved may you bin,
And the dead that die unrightly.
With a wench of wanton beauties
I came unto this ailing:
Her breast was strewn
Like the half o ’ the moon
With a cloud of gliding veiling.
In her snow-beds to couch me
I had so white a yearning,
Like a moon-struck man
Her pale breast ’gan
T o set my wits a-turning.
There were other verses, all of them terrible. He read Shelley, to try and lift himself from depression; but it was no good; then an unexpected visit from Pinnegar cheered him with the news that the officer sent to replace him had had an identical report from the S.S.O.
“So I told Downham that he ought to see the Colonel and tell him that you had done your job satisfactorily. He did so, and you’re to come back tomorrow, old
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