Page 139 - swanns-way

and then, after a few adroit questions on points of detail,
he would call out ‘On guard! on guard,’ or, if it were the vic-
tim himself who had already arrived, and had been obliged,
unconsciously, by my grandfather’s subtle examination, to
admit his origin, then my grandfather, to shew us that he
had no longer any doubts, would merely look at us, hum-
ming almost inaudibly the air of
What! do you hither guide the feet Of this timid Israel-
ite?
or of
Sweet vale of Hebron, dear paternal fields,
or, perhaps, of
Yes, I am of the chosen race.
These little eccentricities on my grandfather’s part im-
plied no ill-will whatsoever towards my friends. But Bloch
had displeased my family for other reasons. He had begun
by annoying my father, who, seeing him come in with wet
clothes, had asked him with keen interest:
‘Why, M. Bloch, is there a change in the weather; has it
been raining? I can’t understand it; the barometer has been
‘set fair.’’
Which drew from Bloch nothing more instructive than
‘Sir, I am absolutely incapable of telling you whether it has
rained. I live so resolutely apart from physical contingencies
that my senses no longer trouble to inform me of them.’
‘My poor boy,’ said my father after Bloch had gone, ‘your
friend is out of his mind. Why, he couldn’t even tell me what
the weather was like. As if there could be anything more in-
teresting! He is an imbecile.’

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