Martin V

“ I shall find work and make myself useful somewhere, but I shall always love Martin just as I do now."
"You're very young," said Miss Avies, touched in spite of herself. "Later on you'll find some one much better than young Warlock."
"Perhaps I shall," said Maggie. "But what's the use of that if he isn't Martin? I've heard people say that before—some one's 'better' or 'stronger' or 'wiser.'—But what has that got to do with it? I love Martin because he's Martin. He's got a weak character you say. That's why he wants me, and I want to be wanted more than anything on earth." ”

“ Nay, good wife, when thou hast thought it over, thou wilt see that far fouler shoals and straits lie up yonder, than in the free open sea that God Almighty made. Martin is a devout and godly man, who hath matins and evensong on board each day when the weather is not too foul, and looks well that there be no ill-doings in his ship; and if he have a berth for thy lad, it will be a better school for him than where two-thirds of the household are raging against one another, and the third ever striving to corrupt and outwit the rest. ”

“ But we halted at the sound of Marten’s voice. “Wait a minute, will you?” he called.
It is hard to explain why we all stopped in our tracks. Van Hope, whom I had never suspected of nerves, let his cigarette fall to the ground, a red streak. The voice out of the gloom was wholly quiet, subdued, perfectly [Pg 74] calm, seemingly nothing to waken alarm or even especial interest. Perhaps what held us and startled us was the realization of an effort of will behind those commonplace, unruffled tones.
“What is it, Lem?” Nopp asked.
There was an instant’s interval of unfathomable silence. ”

“ The old monk was launched on an endless subject when he began with St. Martin.
“But, alas!” he sighed in conclusion, “times are changed. The ravages of the barbarians and the exactions of the Romans have impoverished us all; and now the frightful hordes of these savage Huns may be on us any day. Perhaps also we are poorer in ourselves; we care more for the splendour of our churches than for the poverty of our brothers. We want Martin’s poverty of spirit to make us rich as Martin to help and save. We want his love and faith before we can see the visions he saw. ”

“ And how is your father's gardener then to get his living?"
"Don't bother us," drawled out the new king; "we don't like flowers, nor do we care whether you get a living or not!"
[Pg 370] The blood rushed to Martin's head, and a singing sound filled his ears. "A pond!" he cried. "A common fishpond! And how am I to earn my living now? And what is to become of my wife and little Lionel?"
In his anger and despair, Martin sprang blindly forward, and kicked the standard roses, and wrung the necks of the beautiful purple iris that bloomed in the shade of some laurel bushes. ”

“ So Martin's coming was made known to the priests
through the devil's roaring, though they knew it not before.
As often as he desired to cast out devils from the insane,
he prostrated himself on the church-floor,
clothed with hair-cloth and bestrewed with ashes,
lying in his prayers with locked doors,
and the devils afterward were immediately driven
from the afflicted men with wonderful gesticulations;
that the saying might be fulfilled in Martin,
that holy men shall judge angels. ”

“ Hardly had Master Martin finished speaking when a young man, tall and stalwart, shouted to him in a loud voice, "Hi! you there! is this Master Martin's workshop?" "Certainly," replied Master Martin, going towards the young man, "certainly it is; but you needn't shout so deuced loud and lumber in like that; that's not the way to find people." "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the young fellow, "marry, you are Master Martin himself, for--fat belly--stately double-chin--sparkling eyes, and red nose--yes, that's just how he was described to me. I bid you good hail, Master Martin." ”

“ Martin sighed heavily, but did not utter a word.
“So it is,” resumed she; “one ever takes these resolutions too late. What we are doing now should have been done sixteen or eighteen years ago.”
“Or not at all,” muttered Martin, but in a voice not meant to be overheard.
“I don't think so, sir,” cried she, catching up his words; “if only as our protest against the insolence and ingratitude of this neighborhood,—of these creatures who have actually been maintained by us! ”

“ Oh! there are not many men like Martin. He is a king of men. Imagine an old town, with ancient houses and a church tower behind, and the moon shining on it, and in the moonlight Martin in velvet, with a hat in which is a white feather, and his violin, under a window, thinking you are there, and singing Deh, vieni alla finestra. Do you know the tune? Listen.’ The boy took his fiddle, and touching the strings with his fingers, as though playing a mandolin, he sang that sweet minstrel song.
Eve’s blue eyes opened wonderingly, this was all so strange and incomprehensible to her. ”

“ Martin, Martin," broke out Foy in a kind of wail, "I was doing my best to keep my own courage; I never dreamt that you would turn coward."
"Every well has a bottom, master," whined Martin, "and mine is the rack. Forgive me, but I can't abide the sight of it."
Foy stared at him open-mouthed. Could he believe his ears? And if Martin was so horribly scared, why did his eye glint in that peculiar way between his fingers? He had seen this light in it before, no later indeed than the last afternoon just as the soldiers tried to rush the stair. ”

“ Merl, you know the crafty maxim of the French moralist, 'Always treat your enemies as though one day they were to become your friends.'” And with this commonplace, uttered in a tone and with a manner that gave it all the semblance of a piece of special advice, his Lordship took his hat, and, squeezing Martin's hand, moved towards the door. ”

“ You leave Martin alone, Ruth. He knows what's best for himself. Look at what he's done already. He makes me sick sometimes, sick and ashamed of myself. He knows more now about the world, and life, and man's place, and all the rest, than Arthur, or Norman, or I, or you, too, for that matter, and in spite of all our Latin, and French, and Saxon, and culture. ”

“ Nature, indeed, had furnished him with one of ordinary, if not excessive size, but certain incidents in Martin's early career, which in our day would be designated as that of a prize-fighter, had caused it to spread about his countenance in an interesting and curious fashion. ”

“ Drink it, Roberts!—That I should measure my life in terms of one night! One night with Martin, with his [302] young face and old eyes. With his laughter and his understanding. What agony to be born one night and die the same! Better not to be born at all.... Why, Martin, did you swagger through the door with your flapping dungarees and proud head?... Angels dancing in the eyes that hold only devils now. Such insolence! A bright, beautiful distillation of evil. Martin—the god of selfishness, salt to the desire. A blinding picture that grows with absence. ”

“ Ever since that first day when as a tiny child of four or five he had awakened to behold that figure, enormous in a long night-shirt, summoning God in the middle of the night with a candle flickering fantastic shadows on to the wall behind them, Martin had been weak as putty in his father's hands. Against other men he could stand up ”

“ I questioned.
"Now let us divide our treasure, Martin—"
"But I bartered my share for the lives of—"
"Tush!" says he, and reaching a valise from shadowy corner he opened it and I beheld such a glory of flashing gems as nigh dazzled me with their splendour. "Look at 'em, Martin, look at 'em!" he whispered. "Here's love and hate, life and death, every good and all the sins—look at 'em!" And catching up a handful he let them fall, glittering, through his fingers. "Lord love me, Martin," he whispered, "'tis enough to turn a man's brain! Have ye counted 'em over, comrade?" ”

“ At the top of the stairs he banged into Gollop, red-faced and panting through haste.
“Bless my eyes! Here’s a wonder!” gasped the man.
“What is it? Has the Fire got to us?” said Martin.
“The Fire! What’s the Fire to you? Martin, my lad, never did I think I’d live to see this day.”
“Tell me—what is it?” asked Martin in wonder.
“Why, call me a Dutchman if that there Portugal ship ain’t the Merry Maid, your father’s own vessel what never came home, to his ruin, poor old captain of mine. ”

“ Spurring on his horse, he galloped forward, followed by Martin.
“Don’t fire, father!” cried Martin, “it is a human being.”
Martin was right. They soon discovered that the object they had seen was an old bushwoman, although, but for the scanty clothing which covered her wretchedly thin and diminutive body, she might have been mistaken for some wild animal. She seemed dreadfully frightened, as if expecting instant death. Martin by speaking to the old woman somewhat reassured her. ”

“ It is at no great distance from the road, and is part of what is there called a moor, in other words, a rough upland pasture cut up into largish fields.
‘Why is this little bit hedged off so?’ I asked, and John Hill (whose answer I cannot represent as perfectly as I should like) was not at fault. ‘That’s what we call Martin’s Close, sir: ‘tes a curious thing ‘bout that bit of land, sir: goes by the name of Martin’s Close, sir. M-a-r-t-i-n Martin. Beg pardon, sir, did Rector tell you to make inquiry of me ‘bout that, sir?’ ‘Yes, he did.’ ‘Ah, I thought so much, sir. ”

“ He prevented that battle, that Martin's eyes
might in no way be stained by other men's death.
What other victory could our Lord
have given for His champion's sake better than that,
that no man should die, but that they should come to peace?
IV. Then Martin quitted, as he had long ago intended,
worldly warfare and went to the holy man
Hilary, the bishop, in the town
which is called Poitiers, because he was experienced
in God's faith and in good doctrine,
and abode thereafter with the man some while. ”

“ Let your worldly great men lead before their chariots captives with their hands bound behind their backs. Those accompanied the body of Martin who, under his guidance, had overcome the world. Let madness honor these earthly warriors with the united praises of nations. Martin is praised with the divine psalms, Martin is honored in heavenly hymns. Those worldly men, after their triumphs here are over, shall be thrust into cruel Tartarus, while Martin is joyfully received into the bosom of Abraham. Martin, poor and insignificant on earth, has a rich entrance granted him into heaven. ”

“ Hold up, sir. Do something. Couldn't you ease your mind, now, don't you think, by making some personal obserwations in a letter to Scadder?"
"No," said Martin, shaking his head sorrowfully: "I am past that."
"But if you 're past that already," returned Mark, "you must be ill and ought to be attended to."
"Don't mind me," said Martin. "Do the best you can for yourself. You 'll soon have only yourself to consider. And then God speed you home, and forgive me for bringing you here! I am destined to die in this place. ”

“ They are connections of my own!” said the Viceroy; as though what he said made the misery attain its climax.
“I am aware, my Lord, that Lady Dorothea is related to your Excellency, and I am surprised you have not heard the stories I allude to.”
“But perhaps I am incorrect,” said the Marquis. “It may be that I have heard them; so many things pass through one's ears every day. But here is Colonel Mas-singbred; he 's sure to know it. Massingbred, we want some news of the Martins—the Martins of—what is it called?”
“Cro' Martin, my Lord,” said Nelligan, reddening. ”

“ And with this consolatory assurance the Captain hastened away, leaving Martin as much relieved in mind as an indolent nature and an easy conscience were sure to make him. To get anybody “to look to” anything had been his whole object in life; to know that, whatever happened, there was always somebody who misstated this, or neglected that, at whose door all the culpability—where there was such—could be laid and but for whom he had himself performed miracles of energy and devotedness, and endured all the tortures and trials of a martyr. ”

“ He simply set the crown of sovereignty upon his own brows because he believed it to belong there. And had his faith in his destiny wavered, there were always his slaves Mary, Eliza, and Jane to bow their foreheads in the dust at his feet and murmur with true Oriental submissiveness:
His lordship being thus acknowledged, was it any wonder that Martin cast about himself a mantle of aloofness and dignity and rated as trivial the household routine and petty gossip of his sisters? ”

“ God chooses His time. Be with me, Martin, for a little while even though I may seem old to you and foolish. Perhaps things will come back to you that you have long forgotten. You were once pledged and it was a vow that is not easily removed—but it is enough for the present if you will be with me a little, give me some of your time—give the old days a chance to come back." He laid his hand upon his son's.
The sudden touch of the dry, hot, trembling skin filled Martin's heart with the strangest confusion of affection, embarrassment and some familiar pathos. ”