Трое в лодке, не считая собаки / Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog). Джером Клапка Джером

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VI

      It was a glorious morning, late spring or early summer, when the year seems like a fair young maid. I was looking at the town and began to think about great English kings and queens who built it.

      Suddenly Harris got up and left his seat, and sat on his back, and stuck his legs in the air.[42] Montmorency howled, and the top hamper jumped up, and all the things came out.

      I was somewhat surprised, but I did not lose my temper. I said, pleasantly enough:

      “Hello! what’s the matter?”

      “What’s the matter? Why – ”

      No, on second thoughts, I will not repeat what Harris said. Maybe I was guilty, I admit it; but nothing excuses violence of language of Harris. I was thinking of other things, and forgot, as any one might easily understand, that I was steering, and our boat hit the bank of the river.

      I got out and took the tow-line, and ran the boat on past Hampton Court.[43] What a dear old wall that is that runs along by the river there! If I could only draw, and knew how to paint, I could make a lovely sketch of that old wall, I’m sure.

      I’ve often thought I should like to live at Hampton Court. It looks so peaceful and so quiet, and it is such a dear old place to walk around in the early morning.

      We are creatures of the sun, we men and women. We love light and life. That is why we crowd into the towns and cities, and the country grows more and more deserted every year.

      Harris asked me if I’d ever been in the maze at Hampton Court.[44] He said he went in once to show somebody else the way. He had studied it up in a map, and it was so simple that it seemed foolish – hardly worth the twopence charged for admission. Harris took his country cousin there. He said:

      “We’ll just go in here, so that you can say you’ve been, but it’s very simple. It’s absurd to call it a maze. You must always turn right – that’s all. We’ll just walk round for ten minutes, and then go and get some lunch.”

      They met some people soon after they had got inside, who said they had been there for three-quarters of an hour. Harris told them they could follow him, if they liked; he was just going in, and then should turn round and come out again. They said it was very kind of him, and followed.

      People who had given up all hopes of ever getting either in or out,[45] joined the procession, blessing him. Harris said there were about twenty people, following him; and one woman with a baby, who took his arm, for fear of losing him.

      Harris kept on turning to the right, but it seemed a long way, and his cousin said he supposed it was a very big maze.

      “Oh, one of the largest in Europe,” said Harris. “Yes, it must be,” replied the cousin, “because we’ve walked a good two miles already.”

      Harris began to think it rather strange himself. At last, they passed the piece of a cake that Harris’s cousin had noticed there seven minutes ago. Harris said, “Oh, impossible!” but the woman with the baby said, “Not at all,” as she herself had taken it from the child, and thrown it down there, just before she met Harris. She also added that she wished she never had met Harris, and expressed an opinion that he was an impostor. That made Harris mad, and he showed her his map, and explained his theory.

      “The map may be all right enough,” said one of the party, “if you know where we are now.”

      Harris didn’t know, and suggested that the best thing to do would be to go back to the entrance, and begin again. So everybody turned, and went, in the opposite direction. About ten minutes more passed, and then they found themselves in the centre.

      Anyhow, they knew where they were, and the thing seemed simpler than ever, and off they started for the third time.

      And three minutes later they were back in the centre again.

      After that, whatever way they turned brought them back to the middle. Harris said that he had become unpopular.

      They had to wait till one of the old keepers came back from his dinner before they got out.

      Harris said he thought it was a very fine maze, and we agreed that we would try to get George to go into it, on our way back.

      Chapter VII

      It was while passing through Moulsey Lock[46] that Harris told me about his maze experience. It took us some time to pass through, as we were the only boat, and it is a big lock.

      I have stood and watched it. The river affords a good opportunity for dress. For once in a way, we men are able to show our taste in colours. I always like a little red in my things – red and black. You know my hair is golden brown, and a dark red matches it beautifully. I like a red silk handkerchief round the waist – a handkerchief looks so much better than a belt.

      Harris always keeps to shades or mixtures of orange or yellow, but I don’t think he is at all wise in this. His complexion is too dark for yellows. Yellows don’t suit him: there can be no question about it. I want him to take to blue as a background, with white or cream; but the less taste a person has in dress, the more obstinate he is.

      George has bought some new things for this trip. But his blazer is loud.[47] He brought it home and showed it to us on Thursday evening. We asked him what colour he called it, and he said he didn’t know. He didn’t think there was a name for the colour. The seller had told him it was an Oriental design. George put it on, and asked us what we thought of it. Harris said that it is perfect to frighten the birds away. What troubles Harris and myself, is that this blazer will attract attention to the boat.

      Harris wanted to get out at Hampton Church, to go and see Mrs. Thomas’s tomb.

      “Who is Mrs. Thomas?” I asked.

      “How should I know?” replied Harris. “She’s a lady that’s got a funny tomb, and I want to see it.”

      I objected. Harris, however, adores tombs, and graves, and epitaphs, and monumental inscriptions, and the thought of not seeing Mrs. Thomas’s grave made him crazy. He said he had looked forward to seeing Mrs. Thomas’s grave from the first moment that the trip was proposed.

      I reminded him of George, and how we had to get the boat up to Shepperton. George was working at the bank there and he had to join us later.

      “I never see him doing any work there,” said Harris. “He sits behind a bit of glass all day, trying to look as if he was doing something. What use is he there, and what’s the good of their banks? If he was here, we could go and see that tomb. I don’t believe he’s at the bank at all. I’m going to get out, and have a drink.”

      It is always best to let Harris say everything he wants. Then he pumps himself out,[48] and is quiet afterwards.

      I reminded him that there was concentrated lemonade in the hamper, and a gallon-jar of water in the nose of the boat, and we could mix them and make a cool and refreshing beverage.

      Then

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