The Caesar Translation
Patty heaved a sigh of relief when she found herself back again at school. With the exception of the one afternoon at Jean Bannerman"s, she had not enjoyed her holidays. A month spent in Muriel"s society had been of little pleasure; indeed, almost every day it had needed constant effort to keep her temper, and to submit patiently to her cousin"s whims. Muriel, taking advantage of Patty"s forbearance, had ordered her companion about, and treated her in such a haughty and disdainful manner, that the latter had sometimes felt her position nearly unbearable. At The Priory at least she could be independent; she could select her own friends, with whom she might mix on equal terms, and could secure a standing of her own, apart from Muriel"s scornful patronage. It was delightful to once more meet Enid, Avis, and Winnie, and to make plans for various cherished schemes to be carried out during the term; even May, Ella, and Doris proved more friendly, and chatted quite pleasantly with her in their bedroom about their experiences: while Cissie Gardiner and Maggie Woodhall greeted her with enthusiasm.
"I"ve had such a lovely time!" said Cissie. "My brother Cyril was home from Sandhurst, and he took me to the Military Tournament. I think there"s nothing in the world equal to cavalry. I mean to be an army sister when I grow up. We saw a staff of nurses do field drill, and carry a wounded officer to a Red Cross tent. (He wasn"t really wounded, of course, but he pretended to be.) They looked just too sweet in their uniforms. Grey always suits me, doesn"t it? I wish there"d be another war in South Africa, so that I might volunteer to go out."
"You won"t be grown up for four years, dearest, and then perhaps you"ll be tired of soldiers, and like poets again," said Maggie, putting her arm affectionately round her friend"s waist. "Did you have nice holidays too, Patty?"
"Yes, thank you," replied Patty, as truthfully as she could.
She had decided that it was wiser not to tell any of her friends how unhappy she had been at Thorncroft. For Uncle Sidney"s sake she would be as loyal as she could to Muriel, so, suppressing all mention of the many disagreeable episodes of her visit, she merely described the parties and the afternoon at the pantomime with as much detail as possible, leaving it to be inferred that she had enjoyed herself. The spring term was generally regarded at The Priory as a time of particularly close study and increased work. In the autumn there were lectures, concerts, or other little dissipations to break the monotony of school life; the summer term was arranged specially to allow extra time out-of-doors; but from January to April the girls were expected to put their shoulders to the wheel, and commit to memory such a number of pages in their textbooks, that Avis declared it amounted to hard labour.
"The worst of it is," she complained, "that each teacher expects you to give all your time to her particular subject. Miss Harper looks reproachful if I can"t say my history, and Miss Rowe scolds if I miss in my grammar. Then Mademoiselle gives me yards of French poetry and two or three irregular verbs to learn, and Miss Lincoln asks me why my essay is so short. I could spend the whole of prep. over just one lesson, and then not know it properly in the end. Unless I take my books to bed, I can"t possibly get through everything that"s set me."
"You should do as I do," said Enid. "I learn the beginning of the history portion almost by heart. Then I look very intelligent and attentive, and when Miss Harper asks me a question, I rattle off a long answer nearly word for word from the book, at such a tremendous rate that she can scarcely follow me, and says, "That will do, Enid". It makes her think I know the whole lesson, and she keeps questioning the other girls who"ve hesitated and stumbled."
"She"ll catch you some day," said Winnie. "Miss Harper"s too clever to be taken in by any such tricks. She"s sure to ask you a question at the end quite unexpectedly, and what will you do then?"
"Trust to luck," said Enid. "She"ll perhaps think I"ve forgotten for once. I manage my essays for Miss Lincoln rather well, too. When I can"t remember any facts I make up a line or two of appropriate poetry, and put "as the poet says". It fills up splendidly. Miss Lincoln said once she didn"t recognize all my quotations, but she always gives me a high mark!"
"You can"t do that kind of thing with Mademoiselle," said Avis.
"No, I own it would be no use to try. When one has forty lines of French poetry to recite, one"s obliged to set to work and get it into one"s head. But I mean to manage better in the conversation cla.s.s. My eldest sister has just come home from Paris, and she"s taught me the French for "How is your throat?" and "Do you feel a draught?" Mademoiselle always has a cold, and wants the window shut. She"ll think I"m so sympathetic, and be sure to put "excellent" in my report."
"I can manage French, and do pretty well in history and geography, but I can"t learn Latin," groaned Winnie. "I didn"t mind so much when we only did sentences, but now we"ve begun Caesar it"s simply detestable. I"m an absolute goose at translation."
"So am I," echoed Avis, mournfully. "I don"t think Latin was ever meant for girls. My brother did Caesar two years ago, and he"s in Virgil now, though he"s a year younger than I am. It seems quite easy to him, but I never know which verb goes with which substantive, or whether a thing is a nominative or a genitive. I look out all the words in the dictionary, and learn their meanings, but I can"t make the least sense of them until Miss Harper shows me how they fit into the sentences. Why isn"t Latin arranged like English? Everything seems turned the wrong way."
"I don"t know," said Winnie. "I should think it must have been difficult for a Roman baby to learn to talk. Miss Harper says it"s good mental exercise for us, and we must try to use our brains."
"Mine will wear out," said Avis. "They never were very strong, to begin with. I always forget everything I have learnt the term before; I do indeed. I knew the whole of "Lycidas" by heart last year, and I can"t remember a line of it now. Miss Rowe says my head is like a sieve. You ought to like Caesar, at any rate, Cissie, because it"s all about soldiers."
"I don"t care for Roman soldiers," said Cissie; "at least, not in Caesar, though I rather like them in stories. I love the one in _Puck of Pook"s Hill_, who had to set out for the great wall; he was a perfect dear. If Rudyard Kipling could have written that wretched _De Bello Gallico_ it would have been so different, and so much nicer."
"I should think it would!" said Enid laughing. "Much too nice for us.
They choose the driest books possible for schools. Patty, why don"t you grumble too? It"s quite aggravating to see you looking so complacent."
"I grumble over mathematics, at any rate," said Patty.
"But not over Latin?"
"No, I rather like it."
"How can you like it?"
"I don"t know why, but I do."
"There"s nothing to like."
"Yes, there is; it"s rather fun to try and turn the words into sentences."
"You"re not very good at French translation, and yet you always make sense out of Caesar. I can"t think how you manage it," said Avis.
"Ah, that"s my secret!" answered Patty. "I shan"t give it away, or else perhaps you"d all do as well."
"Is it really a secret?" asked Beatrice Wynne, who had joined the group.
"Of course it is," said Patty mysteriously. "One of those things you can"t explain and wouldn"t if you could."
"Oh, do tell me!" implored Beatrice.
"No!" said Patty, shaking her head solemnly. "A secret is a secret, and you mustn"t ask questions."
"I"ll find out some day," returned Beatrice. "I love discovering secrets."
"Don"t be too sure of mine," said Patty. "You won"t find it out, because----"
But here she shook her head with the air of a sphinx, and, leaving her sentence unfinished, took up her music-case and went to practise.
Now, Patty had only been having a little fun with Beatrice. She had meant to say, "because there is no secret at all", and to have explained what was really the fact, that she had helped her brother Basil so often at home to prepare his Latin translation that the earlier part of _De Bello Gallico_ was already familiar to her. Thinking, however, that it would be possible to continue the joke, and that it would be amusing to excite Beatrice"s curiosity over nothing, she had preserved her mystery for the present, intending to explain it on some future occasion. In view of events which followed, it proved a most unfortunate occurrence, and one which she afterwards bitterly regretted. Her innocent remark led to conclusions quite unforeseen, and so disastrous that she would have given much if her words had never been uttered; but once spoken they were impossible to recall, and the mischief was done. Blind as yet to what was to happen in the future, she spent half an hour at the piano, and then went to the cla.s.sroom to fetch a book which she had forgotten.
It was a pouring wet afternoon, and as it was quite impossible for the girls to play their usual game of hockey, they were allowed to amuse themselves as they liked until tea-time. As a rule the cla.s.sroom was empty between three and four o"clock, and Patty opened the door, expecting to find the room unoccupied. To her astonishment, Muriel was seated there, busily engaged in writing, and evidently copying something from a book which she held on her knee. She started guiltily at her cousin"s entrance, as if she were being caught in some act which she did not wish to be discovered, turned crimson, and, thrusting the book into her desk, banged down the lid, and pretended to be tidying the contents of her pencil-box. It was so unusual to find Muriel at work out of school hours, that Patty could not help expressing her amazement.
"Why, what are you doing here?" she exclaimed.
"I might ask you the same," returned Muriel. "I suppose I have as good a right to come to my desk when I want as anybody else has!"
"Why, of course," said Patty. "I was only surprised."
"Then I wish you would keep your surprise to yourself. I can"t think why you should always be following me about."
"Oh, Muriel, I wasn"t! I only came to fetch my history."
"And I only came to do some of my lessons in quiet. The recreation room is a perfect Babel."
"So it is," said Patty. "I thought I"d learn my dates quietly in here."
"Can"t you learn them in prep.?" asked Muriel.
"Not so well. I want the extra time for my Latin. It"s such a stiff piece for to-morrow. Don"t you think so?"
"I haven"t looked at it yet," replied Muriel, in a rather strained voice, and avoiding Patty"s eye.
"Why, Muriel," cried the latter, who had come close to her cousin, "what are you writing now? "There remained one way through the Sequani.""
"I wish you"d mind your own business. I was only scribbling nonsense to try my new pen," said Muriel angrily, tearing up her piece of paper. "Do leave me alone!"
Patty sat down at her own desk, and, taking out her history book, was soon deep in an effort to master the dates which Miss Harper had set for the next day"s lesson. Muriel went on for some little time arranging her pencils and indiarubbers in a very discontented and annoyed manner.
"Look here, Patty, I wish you"d go!" she said at last.