Poleon

“ As to Poleon, no one had ever seen him thus. Never in all his life of dream and song and romance had he known a heavy heart until now, for if at times he had wept like a girl, it was at the hurts of others. He had loved a bit and gambled much, with equal misfortune, and the next day he had forgotten. He had lived the free, clean life of a man who wins joyously or goes down with defiance in his throat, but this venomous thing that Runnion had planted in him had seeped and circulated through his being until every fibre was penetrated with a bitter poison. ”

“ We tied him down and choked it out of him," Necia laughed. "Dear, funny old Poleon—he loves me like a brother."
The man opened his lips, then closed them, as if on second thought, and rose to his feet, for, coming towards them up the trail from the barracks, he beheld a trim, blue-coated figure. He peered at the approaching officer a moment, set his jaw more firmly, and disappeared into the store.
"Well, we have raised our flag-staff," said the Lieutenant as he took a seat below Necia. "It's like getting settled to keep house."
"Are you lazy?" inquired the girl. ”

“ You're fonny feller," laughed Poleon, who had lent the one-eyed man much money in the past and, like others, regarded him not merely as a bad risk but as a total loss. "Mebbe you t'ink you've been a spen't'rif all dese year."
"I've certainly blowed a lot of money on my friends," Lee acknowledged, "and they're welcome to what they've got so far, but I'm goin' to chop all them prodigal habits and put on the tin vest. I'll run the solderin'-iron up my seams so they can't get to me without a can-opener. I'm air-tight for life, I am." ”

“ These stories grew the more grotesque and ridiculous the longer the truth remained hidden, for Stark could not be seen, and neither Gale nor Burrell would speak. All that the people knew was that one lay wounded to death behind the dumb walls of his cabin, and that the other had brought him down. When the old man vouchsafed no more than a nod to his question, the prospector inquired:
"Where's Poleon? I've got news for him from the creek." ”

“ In dis life one t'ing is give me happiness—one t'ing alone—an' dat is bring you joy. Now come. De grass growin' on our feet."
Together and in silence they hurried back as they had come; then, on the plea that he could make better time alone, 'Poleon left his companion and headed for the Barracks.
Rouletta let him go without protest; her heart was heavier than lead; she could find no words whatever. A new tragedy, it seemed, had risen to face her, for she realized now that she had hurt the man who loved her best of all. ”

“ He cursed himself for a clumsy, blundering ass; he shouted at his dogs; he sent his sled forward and lurched along behind it, half supporting himself, until 'Poleon finally halted him.
"It's no good mak' bad t'ing worse, M'sieu'," the woodsman declared. "You bus' him for sure, an' it's no use goin' furder. S'pose mebbe we boil de kettle, eh?"
"And let them get away clean? When we had 'em? They can't be a mile ahead. Let 'em slip between our fingers?" raved the officer. "I can't. ”

“ Pollio had friends enough. Oh, no lack of those! Nunky, papa, and Dick carried him pickapack; mamma and aunt Ann read to him; Teddy was as kind as he could be; and, as for Posy, there was nothing in the world she wouldn’t have done for her Pollio. Then the little boys in town—why, they rushed in in an army! or you would have thought so if you had heard Eliza scold about the mud they brought on their shoes. Even Jimmy Cushing came with a basket of fruit, and begged forgiveness for hitting Pollio’s nose ever so long ago. ”

“ There’s men that does hundreds, Polly, and are never bowled out at all! I’ll tell you what. It ain’t me having been dishonourable as stands between us. It’s your own pride, Polly. It’s a good pride. It’s what you might call a righteous pride. But if I was just what I am, without being your father—if I was just what you might call an average old sinner, you wouldn’t let me beg like this, Polly. No, you wouldn’t! And look here, Polly. Money’s money, and here’s a thousand pound——’
‘Damn your thousand pounds,’ cried Polson. ”

“ Meeken, did he? A lofty-minded fellow," said the Honorable John Ruffin; and his gray eyes darkened as they sparkled. "And so now only five shillings a week stand between the Lump and the workhouse?"
"Yes, sir," said Pollyooly.
"Ours is a wonderful civilization!" said the Honorable John Ruffin with warm enthusiasm. "I trust, Pollyooly, that you are properly thankful that you are a happy English child, living in the heart of the greatest and wealthiest city the world has ever known." ”

“ Be a red Deeping—not too truculent, you know, but firm."
Pollyooly's eyes sparkled a little; and she said:
"Yes, sir: I should like to. I like being a red Deeping, sir, rather. I liked it when I was at Ricksborough Court."
"Good. You have the right spirit. One of these days you will become what the newspapers call a society leader. I foresee it," he said in a tone of the most assured conviction.
"Yes, sir," said Pollyooly.
"There's one difficulty though, and that's your hands. At present they're hardly the hands of a red Deeping," he said thoughtfully. ”

“ Polly fell into a violent rage and hatred against the outer world in the afternoon, and never suspected that it was this inner world to which I am with such masterly delicacy alluding, that was thus reflecting its sinister disorder upon the things without. It is a pity that some human beings are not more transparent. If Mr. Polly, for example, had been transparent or even passably translucent, then perhaps he might have realised from the Laocoon struggle he would have glimpsed, that indeed he was not so much a human being as a civil war. ”

“ As many of Polonius' aphorismic utterances as are given in the 1st Quarto have there inverted commas; but whether intended as gleanings from books or as fruits of experience, the light they throw on the character of him who speaks them is the same: they show it altogether selfish. He is a man of the world, wise in his generation, his principles the best of their bad sort. Of these his son is a fit recipient and retailer, passing on to his sister their father's grand doctrine of self-protection. But, wise in maxim, Polonius is foolish in practice—not from senility, but from vanity. ”

“ Doctor Johnson describes Polonius as "a man bred in courts, exercised in business, stored with observation, confident in his knowledge, proud of his eloquence, and declining into dotage. A man positive and confident, because he knows his mind was once strong, and knows not that it is become weak." The idea of dotage encroaching upon wisdom will solve all the phenomena of the character of Polonius. ”

“ Polly descended into the world again out of the conflagration he had lit to be his funeral pyre, moist, excited, and tremendously alive, amidst a tempest of applause. As he got lower and lower the crowd howled like a pack of dogs at him. Impatient men unable to wait for him seized and shook his descending boots, and so brought him to earth with a run. ”

“ His skating is the least interesting phase of Polly. He is the expression of modern social finesse. He has no brains, no manners, save those that are bad, no money——”
“No money! then that discredits the theory that wealth is necessary in society,” I sang out.
“Therein lies whatever genius the man possesses,” exclaimed Uncle with glee. “Polly has a wealth of impertinence, of self-assurance, and conceit. By birth he should be a gentleman, but a gentleman’s instincts he lacks. Whatever he does, he does well,—tennis, golf, skating. Even his self-adulation is masterly. ”

“ In the pleasurable height of her anticipations, Polly found it indispensable to put down her piece of toast, cross one of her little fat knees over the other, and bring her little fat right hand down into her left hand with a business-like slap. After this gathering of herself together, Polly, by that time a mere heap of dimples, asked in a wheedling manner:
“What are we going to do, you dear old thing?”
“Why, I was thinking,” said Barbox Brothers, “—but are you fond of horses, Polly?”
“Ponies, I am,” said Polly, “especially when their tails are long. ”

“ Polly is a roan pony; very round in the barrel, and particularly so of late, when there has been no food but meadow-grass. She had been with us (this is my neighbour's story, as told to me during the War: a very charming neighbour who keeps her temper at croquet) —Polly had been with us so long as to become, as ponies peculiarly can, a member of the family, so that to part with her savoured of treachery. Necessity, however, knows no law and sanctifies no memory, and the distasteful preparations were therefore begun. ”

“ Polly’s mind was filled with the persuasion that indeed all things whatsoever must needs be satisfying and complete. It was incredible that life has ever done more than seemed to jar, that there could be any shadow in life save such velvet softnesses as made the setting for that silent swan, or any murmur but the ripple of the water as it swirled round the chained and gently swaying punt. ”

“ He certainly is interesting, Polly, although in so different a way from all the men I have ever known or read about that I really do not know whether I like him or not. He fascinates me, but that is his magnetism, the concentration of his preternaturally clever mind upon [145] myself, the brilliant and unexpected things he says, and the truly delightful little attentions he pays me, when I know that he is full of restlessness and hardness, and ambition and nervous contempt of the details of life. ”

“ She of the dancing blue eyes, pink cheeks, and reckless little sun-bonnet was Pauline, otherwise Polly Oliver. Did you ever know a Polly without some one of these things? Well, my Polly had them all, and, besides, a saucy freckled nose, a crown of fluffy, reddish-yellow hair, and a shower of coaxing little pitfalls called dimples round her pretty mouth. She made you think of a sunbeam, a morning songbird, a dancing butterfly, or an impetuous little crocus just out after the first spring shower. Dislike her? You couldn’t. Approve of her? You wouldn’t always. Love her? ”

“ When Mr. Polly re-entered the house he found three entirely strange young women with pink faces, demonstrative manners and emphatic mourning, engaged in an incoherent conversation with Mrs. Johnson. All three kissed him with great gusto after the ancient English fashion. “These are your cousins Larkins,” said Mrs. Johnson; “that’s Annie (unexpected hug and smack) , that’s Miriam (resolute hug and smack) , and that’s Minnie (prolonged hug and smack) .” ”

“ Polly packed ten years of dreams.
“He don’t seem,” said Johnson, “to take a serious interest in anything. That shop at the corner’s bound to be snapped up if he don’t look out.”
The girl and Mr. Polly did not meet on every one of those ten days; one was Sunday and she could not come, and on the eighth the school reassembled and she made vague excuses. All their meetings amounted to this, that she sat on the wall, more or less in bounds as she expressed it, and let Mr. Polly fall in love with her and try to express it below. ”

“ He sat on the stile above Fishbourne and cried to the Heavens above him: “Oh! Roo-o-o-tten Be-e-astly Silly Hole!” And he wore a rather shabby black morning coat and vest, and his tie was richly splendid, being from stock, and his golf cap aslant over one eye.
Fifteen years ago, and it might have seemed to you that the queer little flower of Mr. Polly’s imagination must be altogether withered and dead, and with no living seed left in any part of him. But indeed it still lived as an insatiable hunger for bright and delightful experiences, for the gracious aspects of things, for beauty. ”

“ He was blowing excitedly and running his fingers through his hair, and then moving with all the swift eagerness of a man inspired. All about his feet and knees were scarlet blankets, not folded, not formally unfolded, but—the only phrase is—shied about. And a great bar sinister of roller towelling stretched across the front of the window on which was a ticket, and the ticket said in bold black letters: “LOOK!”
So soon as Mr. Polly got into the silk department and met Platt he knew he had not lingered nearly long enough outside. “Did you see the boards at the back?” said Platt. ”

“ Don’t, Polly! Don’t flourish your spoon, or you’ll go over sideways. Don’t tilt up your legs when you laugh, Polly, or you’ll go over backwards. Whew! Polly, Polly, Polly,” said Barbox Brothers, nearly succumbing to despair, “we are environed with dangers!” ”

“ That evening, after the great dinner, at which Polly had sat in her old place at the head of the table, and Bob at the foot, because the Colonel insisted on sitting where Polly could give him one more squeeze, the whole plantation was ablaze with "Christmas," and Drinkwater Torm, steadying himself against the sideboard, delivered a discourse on peace on earth and good-will to men so powerful and so eloquent that the Colonel, delighted, rose and drank his health, and said, "Damme if I ever sell him again!" ”

“ Polly said, wistfully. “Especially if they looked alike like yours do, Mrs. Murray. It must be like having a lot of little selves around you.”
“Isn’t that just like Polly,” cried Ted. “Now, I’ve got two brothers, and they’re not a bit like me. Mother says I am a good deal more like the one boy in the family. Oh, look, girls!”
“It’s only Don,” Jean said, rising to get a better view. “He’s riding Scamp. That’s his own pony. He broke him himself, and taught him tricks. They say he’d make a good polo pony, but Don wouldn’t sell him for any price.” ”