The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad

frank and as open as the day himself. What did they mean by

pretending then? Unlike his sister, who put her trust in face

values, he wished to go to the bottom of the matter. He carried on

his inquiry by means of an angry challenge.

“What for are they then, Winn? What are they for? Tell me.”

Winnie disliked controversy. But fearing most a fit of black

depression consequent on Stevie missing his mother very much at

first, she did not altogether decline the discussion. Guiltless of

all irony, she answered yet in a form which was not perhaps

unnatural in the wife of Mr Verloc, Delegate of the Central Red

Committee, personal friend of certain anarchists, and a votary of

social revolution.

“Don’t you know what the police are for, Stevie? They are there so

that them as have nothing shouldn’t take anything away from them

who have.”

She avoided using the verb “to steal,” because it always made her

brother uncomfortable. For Stevie was delicately honest. Certain

simple principles had been instilled into him so anxiously (on

account of his “queerness”) that the mere names of certain

transgressions filled him with horror. He had been always easily

impressed by speeches. He was impressed and startled now, and his

intelligence was very alert.

“What?” he asked at once anxiously. “Not even if they were hungry?

Mustn’t they?”

The two had paused in their walk.

“Not if they were ever so,” said Mrs Verloc, with the equanimity of

a person untroubled by the problem of the distribution of wealth,

and exploring the perspective of the roadway for an omnibus of the

right colour. “Certainly not. But what’s the use of talking about

all that? You aren’t ever hungry.”

She cast a swift glance at the boy, like a young man, by her side.

She saw him amiable, attractive, affectionate, and only a little, a

very little, peculiar. And she could not see him otherwise, for he

was connected with what there was of the salt of passion in her

tasteless life – the passion of indignation, of courage, of pity,

and even of self-sacrifice. She did not add: “And you aren’t

likely ever to be as long as I live.” But she might very well have

done so, since she had taken effectual steps to that end. Mr

Verloc was a very good husband. It was her honest impression that

nobody could help liking the boy. She cried out suddenly:

“Quick, Stevie. Stop that green `bus.”

And Stevie, tremulous and important with his sister Winnie on his

arm, flung up the other high above his head at the approaching

`bus, with complete success.

An hour afterwards Mr Verloc raised his eyes from a newspaper he

was reading, or at any rate looking at, behind the counter, and in

the expiring clatter of the door-bell beheld Winnie, his wife,

enter and cross the shop on her way upstairs, followed by Stevie,

his brother-in-law. The sight of his wife was agreeable to Mr

Verloc. It was his idiosyncrasy. The figure of his brother-in-law

remained imperceptible to him because of the morose thoughtfulness

that lately had fallen like a veil between Mr Verloc and the

appearances of the world of senses. He looked after his wife

fixedly, without a word, as though she had been a phantom. His

voice for home use was husky and placid, but now it was heard not

at all. It was not heard at supper, to which he was called by his

wife in the usual brief manner: “Adolf.” He sat down to consume it

without conviction, wearing his hat pushed far back on his head.

It was not devotion to an outdoor life, but the frequentation of

foreign cafes which was responsible for that habit, investing with

a character of unceremonious impermanency Mr Verloc’s steady

fidelity to his own fireside. Twice at the clatter of the cracked

bell he arose without a word, disappeared into the shop, and came

back silently. During these absences Mrs Verloc, becoming acutely

aware of the vacant place at her right hand, missed her mother very

much, and stared stonily; while Stevie, from the same reason, kept

on shuffling his feet, as though the floor under the table were

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *