Читать книгу The Dawn of Reckoning - James Hilton - Страница 21

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Ever since he was a small boy Philip had learned to mistrust his body, and to expect it to fail him at critical moments. It was hardly a surprise, though a bitter disappointment to him, when he fell ill within a month of the Tripos examinations. "Nervous weakness," the doctor said, and remarked cheerfully that a month or two's rest would effect a complete cure.

It was possible, of course, to take a degree by means of an "aegrotat," and Philip thought that he would be entitled to do this. Unfortunately, he bungled his interview with his tutor so badly that the latter judged him to be malingering and refused to sign the necessary statement.

"The aegrotat degree is not simply a matter of form," he assured Philip severely. "It is not so easy to obtain as a medical certificate, I dare say...No, Monsell, I am afraid I cannot recommend you as you suggest."

So Philip struggled on as best he could, and in the same way struggled through the hard gruelling of a week-long examination. To his own surprise, he did not collapse. Nor did he do quite so badly as he expected.

At nine o'clock on a warm June morning he stood with Ward amongst the waiting crowd by the flank of the Senate House. Through the windows he could see the dons moving about like slow, mysterious shadows in the dark interior; St. Mary's Church across the road chimed the hour, and then, whilst they were still waiting, the quarter-past. For Philip, at any rate, the seconds crawled like minutes and the minutes like hours; and meanwhile the sun rose languidly and the stone wall with the notice-boards began to glare fiercely in the gathering heat.

There had been evidently some delay, for the official time for posting the results was nine o'clock, and already it was nearly half-past. As the clang of the half-hour sounded across the road Philip's excitement, till then carefully controlled, began to escape a little. "I'll tell you what, Ward," he said, in sharp gusts of speech, in which his inward perturbation gave him a slight stammer, "If—if I've got through—I'll have a p-party, and get my mother and Stella to come up for it."

"Who's Stella? I didn't know you had a sister."

He told him. They had both been reticent about their private affairs, and indeed, had known each other for over a year without having more than a vague idea of each other's families. Now, in the curiously tense atmosphere of waiting for the lists to be posted, it was almost a relief to give and accept confidences. Philip told of his visit three years before to the Balkans and Hungary, of the trip up the Danube, and of the girl who had tried to drown herself on the way to Buda. "She's nearly nineteen now," he said in conclusion, "and speaks p-perfect English."

"I should like to meet her," said Ward quietly.

A uniformed figure appeared at the door of the Senate House, carrying an array of printed sheets, and a simultaneous burst of cheers went up and continued as he picked his way through the throng to the notice-boards. "Y-you go and see," said Philip, puffing nervously at a cigarette. "I think I'd rather wait here than f-face that crowd."

"All right," answered the other, laughing. He strolled over to the excited jostling group, stood on tiptoe, and tried to read down the lists as they were put up. His whole attitude was as if he were no more than casually interested in them.

Three minutes later he returned.

"We shall have that party, Monsell," he said.

"What!"

"You got through all right...And so have I. Let's go and send some wires. Then perhaps we might knock off for the day and go on the river..."

He was like a boy in his excitement.

"Have I just got a p-pass?" inquired Philip nervously.

"Oh, yes, you're through, you needn't worry. Jolly good, I call it. Considering how you've been ill."

"Yes..." He agreed limply. "By the way, what did you get?"

"Oh, a first—much better than I expected."

Philip held out his hand. "Yes," he said, smiling bravely. "We will have that p-party. In your honour if not in m-mine."

"Oh, nonsense, man. You're through—that's the main thing."

Was it? He looked at the blue sky over the Market Square and suddenly the very sunlight seemed to grow dark and dim before his eyes.