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قراءة كتاب Sinister Street, vol. 2
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href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@33798@[email protected]#BOOK_TWO" class="pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">BOOK TWO
JOHN NICOLAS MAVROGORADATO
BOOK ONE
DREAMING SPIRES
| Bright memories of young poetic pleasure |
| In free companionship, the loving stress |
| Of all life-beauty, lull'd in studious leisure, |
| When every Muse was jocund with excess |
| Of fine delight and tremulous happiness; |
| The breath of an indolent unbridled June, |
| When delicate thought fell from the dreamy moon: |
| But now strange care, sorrow, and grief oppress. |
| Robert Bridges. |
CHAPTER I
THE FIRST DAY
Michael felt glad to think he would start the adventure of Oxford from Paddington. The simplicity of that railway station might faintly mitigate alarms which no amount of previous deliberation could entirely disperse. He remembered how once he had lightly seen off a Cambridge friend from Liverpool Street and, looking back at the suburban tumult of the Great Eastern Railway, he was grateful for the simplicity of Paddington.
Michael had been careful that all his heavy luggage should be sent in advance; and he had shown himself gravely exacting toward Alan in this matter of luggage, writing several times to remind him of his promise not to appear on the platform with more than a portmanteau of moderate size and a normal kit-bag. Michael hoped this precaution would prevent at any rate the porters from commenting upon the freshness of him and his friend.
"Oxford train?" inquired a porter, as the hansom pulled up. Michael nodded, and made up his mind to show his esteem when he tipped this promethean.
"Third class?" the porter went on. Michael mentally doubled the tip, for he had neglected to assure himself beforehand about the etiquette of class, and nothing could have suited so well his self-consciousness as this information casually yielded.
"Let me see, you didn't have any golf-clubs, did you, sir?" asked the porter.
Michael shook his head regretfully, for as he looked hurriedly up and down the platform in search of Alan, he perceived golf-clubs everywhere, and when at last he saw him, actually even he had a golf-bag slung over his shoulder.
"I never knew you played golf," said Michael indignantly.
"I don't. These are the governor's. He's given up playing," Alan explained.
"Are you going to play?" Michael pursued. He was feeling rather envious of the appearance of these veteran