There was gossip, too, at the Club. Most of its members were of the
LAISSEZ FAIRE or even rationalistic type, and one of them--an
unobtrusive Hindu who was suspected of wearing stays--went so far in his
indifference as to declare that the only result of the drying-up of the
fountain would be "one smell less on Nepenthe." A small but compact
minority, however, thought otherwise. Obsessed by vague forebodings,
they found an able and eloquent interpreter of their fears in the
Commissioner who, rather redder in the face than usual, strode fussily
up and down the premises, tugging at his disreputable briar pipe,
drinking the whisky with anybody who cared to pay for it, and declaring
to all and sundry that something must be done. It was his panacea--his
unvarying formula for every emergency, scandalous or otherwise.
Something must be done, he avowed. And from the card-table came two
approving echoes--the voices of Mr. Muhlen and Signor Malipizzo, who did
not care tuppence about the fountain but never lost an opportunity of
expressing their public approval of Mr. Parker's words and actions.
Something must be done and that soon, for in a few brief hours an
atmosphere of gloom, a sense of impending calamity, had begun to hover
over the sunny island. The natives called to mind, with consternation,
that only once within the memory of their ancestors had the fountain
behaved after this fashion. It was on the eve of that great volcanic
outbreak on the mainland which, by a deadly shower of ashes, destroyed
their crops and impoverished them to such an extent that for three
consecutive months they could barely afford the most unnecessary
luxuries of life. They opined with some show of reason that the little
streamlet had been tempted by ancient and obscure bonds to sympathy to
forsake its old home and creep away, under leagues of shimmering sea,
towards the fiery heart of the volcano; there to undergo some alchemic
process of readjustment, some ordeal, some torrid nuptial rite which
would result in the birth of a flaming monster and the ruin of mankind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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