Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Parents

Bobby knelt beside the man, who was beyond doubt dead.Waking up at the last moment, asking a question suddenly, and then just dying. Respectfully, Bobby reached into the dead man's pocket, pulled out a silk handkerchief and respectfully covered the dead man's face, and there was nothing more to do. Then he discovered that his actions had brought out something in the dead man's pocket, a photograph.He glanced casually at the photo as he put it back in the deceased's pocket. This is a picture of a woman with extraordinary temperament, which is unforgettable.Peugeot face, eyes wide apart.She looked about the same as a girl, and she must be under thirty, but the attractive beauty captured the young man's imagination far more than beauty itself.He thought, this is the kind of face that is not easy to forget.

He respectfully put the photograph back into the pocket where the deceased had kept it, and sat down again to wait for the doctor to return. Time passed slowly, at least for the waiting boy. He had just remembered one thing: he had promised his father to play the organ at six o'clock vespers, but now it was ten minutes to six.Of course, my father would understand the situation, but at the same time he thought it would be all right if he asked the doctor to send a message.The Reverend Thomas Jones was a very nervous man, and he was very fussy.Whenever he fusses over a small matter, his digestive organs fail, and he suffers from restlessness.Although Bobby thought his father was a sympathetic old fool, he still liked him immensely.Reverend Thomas, on the other hand, considered his fourth son a sympathetic little fool, and he was impatient with Bobby's pursuit of advancement.

"Poor old father," thought Bobby, "he must be fidgeting. He doesn't know whether to start vespers or not. He'll wait until his stomach hurts, and he won't be able to eat supper afterwards. He Don't understand that I wouldn't disappoint him, except when it came to something very unavoidable. Even so, what does it matter? But he never understood. People don't have much sense after fifty, and they don't know much about things they don't care about. Worrying like hell about little things. I reckon they've been brought up all wrong, and now they can't help themselves. Poor old papa, he's not as wise as a chicken!"

He sat there thinking of his father with a mixture of love and anger.He felt that his life was a long sacrifice to his father's peculiar ideas.And on Mr. Jones' side, being misunderstood or gossiped by the younger generation also seems like a long-term sacrifice.Therefore, there are differences of opinion on the same issue. The doctor was gone too long!He should have been back by now. Bobby stood up and stamped his feet unhappily.At this time, he heard some movement above, and he looked up, thanking God that he was saved, and he was no longer needed to keep watch. But it wasn't a doctor, it was a man in golf clothes he didn't know.

"Hello," came the world, "what's the matter? Was there an accident? Can I help?" The man was tall and had a melodious voice.Bobby couldn't see him clearly because it was almost dusk. Bobby recounted what had happened, while the visitor made horrified comments. "Can't I help with something?" he asked. "Go for help?" Bobby said help was still on the way, and asked if he had seen signs of someone coming. "nothing now." "Well," went on Bobby, "I have an appointment at six." "And you don't want to leave..."

"Yes, I hate it," said Bobby. "I mean, the poor fellow's dead, of course there's nothing we can do about it, but still—" He stopped talking, finding it difficult, as usual, to put into words the chaos of his thoughts. But the other party seemed to understand. "I see," he said, "well, I'm coming down, that is, if I can find my way, I'll stay here until the men come." "Oh, would you?" said Bobby appreciatively. "Well, it's my father waiting for me. He's really not a bad guy, he's bothered by chores. Can you see the way? Go left." One o'clock, now go to the right, that's fine. The road is really not difficult to walk."

He pointed to the direction to encourage each other, and then the two stood face to face on this narrow high ground.The visitor was about thirty-five years old, with a somewhat indecisive facial expression, as if wearing a monocle and a little mustache. "I'm a stranger here," he explained. "My name is Bassington-French, and I'm looking for a house here. Oh, what a terrible thing has happened! Has he gone over the edge of the cliff?" Bobby nodded and said, "The fog is coming up and the trail is a bit treacherous. Well, bye! Thank you very much. I have to hurry, you are very kind."

"Never mind," protested the visitor, "anyone would do it. It's not right to leave the poor fellow lying here, oh, I mean, it's not right anyway." Bobby climbed up the steep hill, and when he reached the top he waved to the man, and walked briskly through the woods.In order to save time and avoid having to go by the street gate, he jumped over the church wall.Unexpectedly, this move was clearly seen by the pastor from the window of the chapel, and the pastor was very dissatisfied. It was five minutes past six, and the clock was still ringing. Explanations and reproaches are postponed until after Vespers.Bobby said nothing, sat in a chair and played the organ.Reminiscent of the scene just now, his fingers played Chopin's funeral march. After the evening prayer, the pastor was more sad than angry (as he specifically pointed out) and taught his son a lesson.

"If you can't do a thing properly, my dear Bobby," he said, "you'd better not do it. I know you and all your young friends seem to have no sense of time, but to God, We can't wait. You offered to play the organ voluntarily, I didn't force you, on the contrary, you are a wimp, but you would rather play the game..." Bobby thought it best to interrupt his father before he got very angry. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said cheerfully, for his habit had nothing to do with the cause of the reproach. "It's not my fault this time, I'm nursing a dead man."

"What are you doing?" "Watching a victim who fell off a cliff. The cliff is right next to the seventeenth shot, you know. It was a bit of a mist, and he must have walked right over his head and fell." "For God's sake," cried the preacher, "what a pity! Was he dead then?" "No. He was unconscious. He died as soon as Dr. Thomas left. Of course I felt I ought to stay there, and I couldn't leave him alone. Then someone else came, and I passed on the words of the chief watchman. He ran back as quickly as possible." The pastor sighed.

"Ah, my dear Bobby," he said, "nothing can shake your hard heart? It makes me sad without words. At this moment you have faced death, a sudden and But you can still joke about it: you are so indifferent, no matter how solemn, how sacred, it is just a joke to your generation." Bobby moved his feet. Of course, if his father couldn't understand the thing that he was joking about because he felt it so strongly, alas, his father couldn't understand: that wasn't something that could be explained.The tragic death appeared in front of him, and he still had to stand still. But what else can you expect?People in their fifties don't understand anything at all.Their ideas are particularly extreme. "I think it's the war," said Bobby practically. "The war makes them restless, and they don't know anything about the world after that." He was ashamed of his father and very sorry for him. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said with unexplainable clarity in his eyes. The pastor also felt sorry for his son. He looked embarrassed, but he was ashamed of his son.The boy had no idea of ​​the seriousness of life, and even his apology was thoughtless and unrepentant, and they walked together to the house, each trying to find reasons to forgive the other. The pastor thought, "I don't know when Bobby will find something to do..." Bobby thought, "I don't know how long I'm going to be here..." But they both love each other deeply.