Eccentrics and eccentricities -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
“‘How did it come about?’ he asked.
“Somehow I found myself telling him.
“‘When I was young—that is to say, after I had left Oxford—I thought I’d
like to see the world, so I started; I travelled, stopping sometimes for
six months or two if I liked the place. Then when I got tired of that, I
took to specialising in different subjects, giving a year, two years,
three, to each. So I drifted on till the war, and here I am.’
“‘I see,’ he said. ‘And now you’re bored.’
“‘Yes,’ I said, adding, ‘and worse.’
“He made no comment on that; I don’t know whether he heard. He said
presently, in the same tone as he would have used to remark on current
politics,—
“‘I’m going to Ephesus to-morrow, you’d better come with me. My name’s
MacPherson.’
“‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’ll come. My name’s Malory. What are you going
to do at Ephesus?’
“He replied, ‘Excavate.’
* * * * *
“That will tell you what MacPherson was like; an eccentric, laconic sort
of fellow; he never argued, he just made proposals, and, whether they
were accepted or declined, nodded briefly in acquiescence without
further discussion. For a long time I thought that I should never get
any further with him, then gradually I began to find him out: a grim,
sardonic soul, with only one passion in life, if I can give the name of
passion to a determination so cold and unshakable; I mean his passion
for excavation. I have seen him labouring for hours under the sun, dusty
and indistinguishable from the ruins among which he worked, apparently
tireless and thirstless; I have seen him labour like a man under the
domination of a great inspiration, of a force such as drives fanatics to
cut their own heads and cover their own backs with wales from the rod,
but I have never heard an expression of delight or enthusiasm, or even
of satisfaction, escape his lips at the result of his labours.
Scientists and archæologists came to him with respect, invited his
opinion, paid him compliments evidently sincere; he listened in total
indifference, neither disclaiming nor acknowledging, only waiting for
them to have done that he might get back to his work.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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