There had been a christening that afternoon at St Peter's, Neville Square, and Albert Edward Foreman still wore his verger's gown. He kept his new one, its folds as full and stiff as though it were made not of alpaca but of perennial bronze, for funerals and weddings (St Peter's, Neville Square, was a church much favoured by the fashionable for these ceremonies) and now he wore only his second-best. He wore it with complacence, for it was the dignified symbol of his office, and without it (when he took it off to go home) he had the disconcerting sensation of being somewhat insufficiently clad. He took pains with it; he pressed it and ironed it himself. During the sixteen years he had been verger of this church he had had a succession of such gowns, but he had never been able to throw them away when they were worn out and the complete series, neatly wrapped up in brown paper, lay in the bottom drawers of the wardrobe in his bedroom.
The verger busied himself quietly, replacing the painted wooden cover on the marble font, taking away a chair that had been brought for an infirm old lady, and waited for the vicar to have finished in the vestry so that he could tidy up in there and go home. Presently he saw him walk across the chancel, genuflect in front of the high altar, and come down the aisle; but he still wore his cassock.
What's he 'anging about for? the verger said to himself. "Don't 'e know I want my tea?"
The vicar had been but recently appointed, a red-faced energetic man in the early forties, and Albert Edward still regretted his predecessor, a clergyman of the old school who preached leisurely sermons in a silvery voice and dined out a great deal with his more aristocratic parishioners. He liked things in church to be just so, but he never fussed; he was not like this new man who wanted to have his finger in every pie. But Albert Edward was tolerant. St Peter's was in a very good neighbourhood and the parishioners were a very nice class of people. The new vicar had come from the East End and he couldn't be expected to fall in all at once with the discreet ways of his fashionable congregation.
All this 'ustle, said Albert Edward. "But give 'im time, he'll learn."
When the vicar had walked down the aisle so far that he could address the verger without raising his voice more than was becoming in a place of worship he stopped.
Foreman, will you come into the vestry for a minute. I have something to say to you.
Very good, sir.
The vicar waited for him to come up and they walked up the church together.
A very nice christening, I thought, sir. Funny 'ow the baby stopped cryin' the moment you took him.
I've noticed they very often do, said the vicar, with a little smile. "After all I've had a good deal of practice with them."
It was a source of subdued pride to him that he could nearly always quiet a whimpering infant by the manner in which he held it and he was not unconscious of the amused admiration with which mothers and nurses watched him settle the baby in the crook of his surpliced arm. The verger knew that it pleased him to be complimented on his talent.
The vicar preceded Albert Edward into the vestry. Albert Edward was a trifle surprised to find the two churchwardens there. He had not seen them come in. They gave him pleasant nods.
Good afternoon, my lord. Good afternoon, sir, he said to one after the other.
They were elderly men, both of them, and they had been churchwardens almost as long as Albert Edward had been verger. They were sitting now at a handsome refectory table that the old vicar had brought many years before from Italy and the vicar sat down in the vacant chair between them. Albert Edward faced them, the table between him and them, and wondered with slight uneasiness what was the matter. He remembered still the occasion on which the organist had got into trouble and the bother they had all had to hush things up. In a church like St Peter's, Neville Square, they couldn't afford a scandal. On the vicar's red face was a look of resolute benignity, but the others bore an expression that was slightly troubled.
He's been naggin' them, he 'as, said the verger to himself. "He's jockeyed them into doin' something, but they don't 'alf like it. That's what it is, you mark my words."
But his thoughts did not appear on Albert Edward's clean-cut and distinguished features. He stood in a respectful but not obsequious attitude. He had been in service before he was appointed to his ecclesiastical office, but only in very good houses, and his deportment was irreproachable. Starting as a page-boy in the household of a merchant-prince, he had risen by due degrees from the position of fourth to first footman, for a year he had been single-handed butler to a widowed peeress, and, till the vacancy occurred at St Peter's, butler with two men under him in the house of a retired ambassador. He was tall, spare, grave, and dignified. He looked, if not like a duke, at least like an actor of the old school who specialized in dukes' parts. He had tact, firmness, and self-assurance. His character was unimpeachable.
The vicar began briskly.
Foreman, we've got something rather unpleasant to say to you. You've been here a great many years and I think his lordship and the general agree with me that you've fulfilled the duties of your office to the satisfaction of everybody concerned.
The two churchwardens nodded.
But a most extraordinary circumstance came to my knowledge the other day and I felt it my duty to impart it to the churchwardens. I discovered to my astonishment that you could neither read nor write.
The verger's face betrayed no sign of embarrassment.
The last vicar knew that, sir, he replied. "He said it didn't make no difference. He always said there was a great deal too much education in the world for 'is taste."
It's the most amazing thing I ever heard, cried the general. "Do you mean to say that you've been verger of this church for sixteen years and never learned to read or write?"
I went into service when I was twelve, sir. The cook in the first place tried to teach me once, but I didn't seem to 'ave the knack for it, and then what with one thing and another I never seemed to 'ave the time. I've never really found the want of it. I think a lot of these young fellows waste a rare lot of time readin' when they might be doin' something useful.
But don't you want to know the news? said the other churchwarden. "Don't you ever want to write a letter?"
No, me lord, I seem to manage very well without. And of late years now they've all these pictures in the papers I get to know what's goin' on pretty well. Me wife's quite a scholar and if I want to write a letter she writes it for me. It's not as if I was a bettin' man.
The two churchwardens gave the vicar a troubled glance and then looked down at the table.
Well, Foreman, I've talked the matter over with these gentlemen and they quite agree with me that the situation is impossible. At a church like St Peter's, Neville Square, we cannot have a verger who can neither read nor write.
Albert Edward's thin, sallow face reddened and he moved uneasily on his feet, but he made no reply.
Understand me, Foreman, I have no complaint to make against you. You do your work quite satisfactorily; I have the highest opinion both of your character and of your capacity; but we haven't the right to take the risk of some accident that might happen owing to your lamentable ignorance. It's a matter of prudence as well as of principle.
But couldn't you learn, Foreman? asked the general.
No, sir, I'm afraid I couldn't, not now. You see, I'm not as young as I was and if I couldn't seem able to get the letters in me 'ead when I was a nipper I don't think there's much chance of it now.
We don't want to be harsh with you, Foreman, said the vicar. "But the churchwardens and I have quite made up our minds. We'll give you three months and if at the end of that time you cannot read and write I'm afraid you'll have to go."
Albert Edward had never liked the new vicar. He'd said from the beginning that they'd made a mistake when they gave him St Peter's. He wasn't the type of man they wanted with a classy congregation like that. And now he straightened himself a little. He knew his value and he wasn't going to allow himself to be put upon.
I'm very sorry, sir, I'm afraid it's no good. I'm too old a dog to learn new tricks. I've lived a good many years without knowin' 'ow to read and write, and without wishin' to praise myself, self-praise is no recommendation, I don't mind sayin' I've done my duty in that state of life in which it 'as pleased a merciful providence to place me, and if I could learn now I don't know as I'd want to.
In that case, Foreman, I'm afraid you must go.
Yes, sir, I quite understand. I shall be 'appy to 'and in my resignation as soon as you've found somebody to take my place.
But when Albert Edward with his usual politeness had closed the church door behind the vicar and the two churchwardens he could not sustain the air of unruffled dignity with which he had borne the blow inflicted upon him and his lips quivered. He walked slowly back to the vestry and hung up on its proper peg his verger's gown. He sighed as he thought of all the grand funerals and smart weddings it had seen. He tidied everything up, put on his coat, and hat in hand walked down the aisle. He locked the church door behind him. He strolled across the square, but deep in his sad thoughts he did not take the street that led him home, where a nice strong cup of tea awaited him; he took the wrong turning. He walked slowly along. His heart was heavy. He did not know what he should do with himself. He did not fancy the notion of going back to domestic service; after being his own master for so many years, for the vicar and churchwardens could say what they liked, it was he that had run St Peter's, Neville Square, he could scarcely demean himself by accepting a situation. He had saved a tidy sum, but not enough to live on without doing something, and life seemed to cost more every year. He had never thought to be troubled with such questions. The vergers of St Peter's, like the popes of Rome, were there for life. He had often thought of the pleasant reference the vicar would make in his sermon at evensong the first Sunday after his death to the long and faithful service, and the exemplary character of their late verger, Albert Edward Foreman. He sighed deeply. Albert Edward was a non-smoker and a total abstainer, but with a certain latitude; that is to say he liked a glass of beer with his dinner and when he was tired he enjoyed a cigarette. It occurred to him now that one would comfort him and since he did not carry them he looked about him for a shop where he could buy a packet of Gold Flake. He did not at once see one and walked on a little. It was a long street, with all sorts of shops in it, but there was not a single one where you could buy cigarettes.
That's strange, said Albert Edward.
To make sure he walked right up the street again. No, there was no doubt about it. He stopped and looked reflectively up and down.
I can't be the only man as walks along this street and wants a fag, he said. "I shouldn't wonder but what a fellow might do very well with a little shop here. Tobacco and sweets, you know."
He gave a sudden start.
That's an idea, he said. "Strange 'ow things come to you when you least expect it."
He turned, walked home, and had his tea.
You're very silent this afternoon, Albert, his wife remarked.
I'm thinkin', he said.
He considered the matter from every point of view and next day he went along the street and by good luck found a little shop to let that looked as though it would exactly suit him. Twenty-four hours later he had taken it, and when a month after that he left St Peter's, Neville Square, for ever, Albert Edward Foreman set up in business as a tobacconist and newsagent. His wife said it was a dreadful come-down after being verger of St Peter's, but he answered that you had to move with the times, the church wasn't what it was, and 'enceforward he was going to render unto Caesar what was Caesar's. Albert Edward did very well. He did so well that in a year or so it struck him that he might take a second shop and put a manager in. He looked for another long street that hadn't got a tobacconist in it and when he found it, and a shop to let, took it and stocked it. This was a success too. Then it occurred to him that if he could run two he could run half a dozen, so he began walking about London, and whenever he found a long street that had no tobacconist and a shop to let he took it. In the course of ten years he had acquired no less than ten shops and he was making money hand over fist. He went round to all of them himself every Monday, collected the week's takings, and took them to the bank.
One morning when he was there paying in a bundle of notes and a heavy bag of silver the cashier told him that the manager would like to see him. He was shown into an office and the manager shook hands with him.
Mr. Foreman, I wanted to have a talk to you about the money you've got on deposit with us. d'you know exactly how much it is?
Not within a pound or two, sir; but I've got a pretty rough idea.
Apart from what you paid in this morning it's a little over thirty thousand pounds. That's a very large sum to have on deposit and I should have thought you'd do better to invest it.
I wouldn't want to take no risk, sir. I know it's safe in the bank.
You needn't have the least anxiety. We'll make you out a list of absolutely gilt-edged securities. They'll bring you in a better rate of interest than we can possibly afford to give you.
A troubled look settled on Mr. Foreman's distinguished face. "I've never 'ad anything to do with stocks and shares and I'd 'ave to leave it all in your 'ands," he said.
The manager smiled. "We'll do everything. All you'll have to do next time you come in is just to sign the transfers."
I could do that all right, said Albert uncertainly. "But 'ow should I know what I was signin'?"
I suppose you can read, said the manager a trifle sharply.
Mr. Foreman gave him a disarming smile.
Well, sir, that's just it. I can't. I know it sounds funny-like, but there it is, I can't read or write, only me name, an' I only learnt to do that when I went into business.
The manager was so surprised that he jumped up from his chair.
That's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard.
You see, it's like this, sir, I never 'ad the opportunity until it was too late and then some'ow I wouldn't. I got obstinate-like.
The manager stared at him as though he were a prehistoric monster.
And do you mean to say that you've built up this important business and amassed a fortune of thirty thousand pounds without being able to read or write? Good God, man, what would you be now if you had been able to?
I can tell you that, sir, said Mr. Foreman, a little smile on his still aristocratic features. "I'd be verger of St Peter's, Neville Square."
葉雷 譯
那天下午,位于內(nèi)維爾廣場的圣彼得教堂剛結(jié)束了一場洗禮儀式,艾伯特·愛德華·福爾曼仍然身披司事長袍。長袍已經(jīng)半舊,他倒是有一件新的,但專門留在葬禮或婚禮(社會(huì)名流常常選擇在內(nèi)維爾廣場的圣彼得教堂舉辦這些儀式)上穿。他把那件新長袍疊得方正筆挺,仿佛它不是羊駝毛織物,而是一件傳了千秋萬代的青銅器。他春風(fēng)得意地披著這件長袍,因?yàn)樗鈽s地象征著他的職位。一旦脫下它(回家前他不得不這么做),他總有點(diǎn)兒張皇失措,仿佛衣不蔽體。他為這件長袍勞神費(fèi)心,親手把它熨燙得平整順滑。在這個(gè)教堂做司事的十六年間,他有過一件又一件這樣的長袍,但穿壞時(shí)總也舍不得扔掉,而是全部拿牛皮紙整整齊齊地包好,放在臥房衣櫥最底下的抽屜里。
司事默默地埋首工作,換掉了大理石圣水盤上的描漆木蓋,拿走了一張專門為一位年邁體衰的老太太搬來的椅子。只需等牧師從更衣室出來,他進(jìn)去打掃干凈便能回家了。片刻之后,他看見牧師從圣壇前走過,對祭臺(tái)微微屈了一下膝,沿耳堂走了過來。但他仍舊穿著法衣。
“他在那里磨蹭什么呢?”司事喃喃自語道,“難道他不知道我著急回家喝下午茶嗎?”
這位新到任的牧師才四十出頭,面色紅潤,干勁沖天。對于前任牧師,艾伯特·愛德華依然念茲在茲。那位老派的牧師,做起布道來總是從容不迫,清亮的聲音宛如珍珠落玉盤,還頻繁與身份高貴的教區(qū)居民共同外出用膳。他喜歡讓教堂里的事物井然有序,但從不苛求,不像這個(gè)新任牧師,每件事都事必躬親。不過,艾伯特·愛德華深諳隱忍之道。圣彼得教堂坐落于上等街區(qū),教區(qū)居民高貴優(yōu)雅,而新任牧師來自倫敦東區(qū)[1],自然不能指望他立刻從這些貴族身上學(xué)會(huì)謹(jǐn)慎而得體的行事風(fēng)度。
“瞧他那風(fēng)風(fēng)火火的輕浮樣子!”艾伯特·愛德華說,“不過假以時(shí)日,他總會(huì)成熟起來的?!?/p>
牧師走下耳堂,走到不用抬高音量就能讓司事聽清楚的地方便停下腳步。教堂是肅穆神圣之地,不容許高聲說話。
“福爾曼,你能到更衣室來一下嗎?我有事情跟你說?!?/p>
“我現(xiàn)在就過去,先生?!?/p>
牧師等他走近,他們便一道穿過了教堂。
“我覺得這次洗禮儀式十分成功,先生。您一抱起嬰兒,他就不哭了,真是厲害?!?/p>
“確實(shí)經(jīng)常如此,我也注意到了,”牧師說,露出一絲微笑,“畢竟我處理這種場面也是個(gè)老手了?!?/p>
牧師一直為此暗暗自豪著。他知道把嬰兒抱起來的竅門,知道怎樣立刻止住嬰兒啼哭。那些目睹披著白色法袍的牧師將抱在他臂彎中的嬰兒安撫下來的母親和保姆常常對他贊不絕口,對此,牧師也并非毫無意識(shí)。司事知道牧師喜歡聽到別人夸賞他這一項(xiàng)天才的技能。
牧師把艾伯特·愛德華領(lǐng)進(jìn)更衣室。艾伯特·愛德華發(fā)現(xiàn)里面坐著兩位教會(huì)委員,小小地吃了一驚。他沒看見他們進(jìn)去。他們和藹可親地向他點(diǎn)頭示意。
“午安,閣下。午安,先生?!彼鹨粏柡騼晌唤虝?huì)委員。
兩位教會(huì)委員可謂年高德劭。艾伯特當(dāng)了多久司事,他們幾乎就當(dāng)了多久教會(huì)委員。此刻,他們正坐在一張端莊典雅的大餐桌旁,那是前任牧師許多年前從意大利帶回來的。新牧師在兩人之間的空椅子上坐下。艾伯特·愛德華隔著桌子面朝他們站著,微微有些不安,心下疑惑發(fā)生了什么事。他還記得有一次琴師闖了禍,他們是如何不惜一切代價(jià)把事情掩蓋了起來。內(nèi)維爾廣場的圣彼得教堂是如此尊貴,絕對不能卷入丑聞。牧師的臉紅彤彤的,溫和的表情里,透著一絲塵埃落定后的安詳,但兩位教會(huì)委員的表情卻略顯不安。
“牧師剛才肯定一直對他們糾纏不休來著,肯定,”司事暗暗想道,“他誘使他們做出違心的事情。就是這樣,我敢保證?!?/p>
但艾伯特·愛德華那張棱角分明的臉并沒有出賣這些想法。他生就貴族般的容貌,此刻恭恭敬敬站在那里,不卑不亢。在覓得這份神職工作之前,他一直是名男仆,但他只在鐘鳴鼎食之家當(dāng)差,他的態(tài)度舉止是無可挑剔的。最開始的時(shí)候,他在一個(gè)巨賈之家做雜役,一步步從四等男仆升為一等男仆。后來,他在一位高貴的寡婦家中當(dāng)了一年男管家,家中大小事務(wù)一概任他處置。圣彼得教堂的職位空缺出來時(shí),他正在一位退休大使的家里管事,手下有兩個(gè)人。他高大瘦削,不茍言笑,威嚴(yán)持重,即使看起來不像一位公爵,至少也像一名專門扮演公爵角色的老派演員。他有心機(jī),有魄力,有自信。雇主都對他稱賞不已。
牧師爽快干脆地開了口。
“福爾曼,我們要跟你說一件非常尷尬的事情。你已經(jīng)在這里工作了很多年,我想爵爺閣下和會(huì)長閣下與我意見一致,認(rèn)為你在任期間出色地履行了職責(zé),獲得了眾人的認(rèn)可?!?/p>
兩位教會(huì)委員點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭。
“但前幾天我忽然發(fā)現(xiàn)了一個(gè)很嚴(yán)重的問題,我覺得自己有義務(wù)告知教會(huì)委員們。你竟然不識(shí)字,這實(shí)在是太令我驚訝了?!?/p>
司事面不改色。
“前任牧師也知曉這一情況,先生,”他回應(yīng)道,“他說這無關(guān)痛癢。他總說這個(gè)世界上的教育實(shí)在多得令他難以承受?!?/p>
“我從未聽說過如此驚人之事,”會(huì)長喊起來,“按您的意思,您在這里足足當(dāng)了十六年司事,卻未能學(xué)會(huì)讀書寫字?”
“我十二歲就出來當(dāng)差了,先生。最初那戶人家的廚師試過教我,但我學(xué)得云里霧里。后來我忙于生計(jì),一直沒有時(shí)間念書。我從沒感覺到有念書的必要。我常常想,現(xiàn)在的年輕人念書念得實(shí)在太多,他們本可以用這些時(shí)間做更有意義的事情?!?/p>
“可是,難道您不關(guān)心新聞嗎?”另一位教會(huì)委員說,“難道您從未動(dòng)過寫信的念頭嗎?”
“親愛的閣下,雖然我不識(shí)字,但我自有辦法。況且近幾年報(bào)紙上滿是照片,我很清楚這個(gè)世界上發(fā)生著什么事。我的妻子很是識(shí)得幾個(gè)字,如果我需要寫信,她會(huì)幫助我。而且,我對賽馬和彩票之類的事情也不感興趣?!?/p>
兩位教會(huì)委員不安地瞥了牧師一眼,便低頭看向桌子。
“是這樣,福爾曼,我已經(jīng)和這兩位委員詳細(xì)討論過此事,他們也認(rèn)為這簡直是天方夜譚。內(nèi)維爾廣場的圣彼得教堂大名鼎鼎,絕不能聘請一個(gè)不識(shí)字的司事?!?/p>
艾伯特·愛德華瘦黃的臉漲得通紅。他窘迫地挪動(dòng)著雙腳,一言不發(fā)。
“請你理解我的苦衷,福爾曼,我絲毫沒有埋怨你的意思。你非常稱職,人品和能力都無可挑剔。但你這種可悲的無知很有可能給我們帶來難以預(yù)料的災(zāi)難,我們無權(quán)鋌而走險(xiǎn)。小心駛得萬年船,而且這也是原則問題?!?/p>
“為什么您不能嘗試學(xué)習(xí)一下呢,福爾曼?”會(huì)長問道。
“不,先生,恐怕不行,已經(jīng)太遲了。您也知道,我已經(jīng)上年紀(jì)了。如果我年輕時(shí)都記不住那些字,現(xiàn)在就更記不住了?!?/p>
“我們也不是要趕你走,福爾曼,”牧師說,“但委員們和我已經(jīng)達(dá)成共識(shí)。我們會(huì)給你三個(gè)月時(shí)間,如果到時(shí)你沒有任何改觀,恐怕就要請你另謀高就了?!?/p>
對這位新牧師,艾伯特·愛德華從未萌生過好感。當(dāng)初他們把圣彼得教堂交至他手中,艾伯特便明言這將鑄成大錯(cuò)。這個(gè)教區(qū)如此高貴,他與之格格不入。艾伯特稍稍站直了一些。他也算得上是才德兼?zhèn)?,他要維護(hù)自己的尊嚴(yán)。
“非常抱歉,先生,恐怕那對我已經(jīng)沒有什么意義了。我已經(jīng)過了學(xué)習(xí)新事物的年紀(jì)。這么多年來,我不識(shí)字也過得很好。我不想說我有多么了不起,那樣做沒什么意思。但平心而論,我很感謝仁慈的上帝安排我如此過活,而我也可謂兢兢業(yè)業(yè)。即使我現(xiàn)在能學(xué)會(huì)讀書寫字,也不愿意浪費(fèi)時(shí)間?!?/p>
“如果你固執(zhí)己見,福爾曼,恐怕這里容不下你了?!?/p>
“好的,先生,我非常理解。等您找到新人來接替我的位置,我馬上遞交辭呈?!?/p>
當(dāng)艾伯特·愛德華在牧師和兩位教會(huì)委員身后關(guān)上大門的時(shí)候,他的舉止一如既往地恭敬有禮。然而,他無論如何也無法繼續(xù)裝出一副若無其事的模樣來捍衛(wèi)自己的尊嚴(yán)。他的嘴唇不住地顫抖。他拖著沉沉的腳步走回更衣室,把司事長袍掛在屬于他的鉤子上。它見證過無數(shù)豪華的葬禮和華麗的婚禮,一場場都?xì)v歷在目。他嘆了一口氣。他把更衣室收拾得井然有序、一塵不染,披上大衣,拿起帽子,穿過耳堂,鎖上教堂大門,轉(zhuǎn)過身去。他魂不守舍地橫越廣場,悲不自勝。他沒有走向那條通往他家的路,即便家中正有一杯上好的濃茶在等著他,他轉(zhuǎn)入了錯(cuò)誤的路口。他沿街緩緩而行,一顆心沉沉地直往下墜,不知何以自處。他并不想回去給富貴人家當(dāng)差,畢竟他已經(jīng)自己當(dāng)家做主這么多年了,因?yàn)椴徽撃翈熀徒虝?huì)委員如何信口雌黃,這些年一直都是他在運(yùn)營內(nèi)維爾廣場的圣彼得教堂,他怎么能再回去受那樣的委屈。他確實(shí)存了一大筆錢,但遲早會(huì)坐吃山空,而且生活成本逐年攀高。他竟也要為此等事情焦心勞思!圣彼得教堂的司事本應(yīng)是終身職位,就如羅馬教皇一般。他常?;孟胱约核篮蟮谝粋€(gè)禮拜日的場景,牧師將在晚禱時(shí)充滿贊賞之情地追思他,說:艾伯特·愛德華·福爾曼于漫長之任職期間恪盡職守,謙恭守禮,其嘉言懿行,堪為模范。他喟然長嘆。艾伯特·愛德華不沾煙酒,但他不是個(gè)不懂變通的人。也就是說,晚飯時(shí)可以喝一杯啤酒,精疲力竭之時(shí)也會(huì)抽煙解乏。他想,此時(shí)此刻一根香煙可以平復(fù)他的心情,但他沒帶煙在身上,便環(huán)顧四周,想找到一間出售金箔牌香煙的店鋪。視線范圍之內(nèi)沒有,他繼續(xù)往前走。那是一條長長的街道,街上開滿各色店鋪,卻獨(dú)獨(dú)沒有香煙店。
“真是奇怪了?!卑亍鄣氯A說。
他折回去,重新走了一趟。確實(shí)沒有香煙店。他站定了,若有所思地前后打量這條街。
“我不可能是唯一一個(gè)走在這條街上,同時(shí)又想買一包香煙的人?!彼f,“要是有人在這里開一間小香煙店,難道不是非常有利可圖嗎?一間賣香煙和糖果的小店?!?/p>
他靈光一閃。
“這是個(gè)好機(jī)會(huì),”他說,“真是意外收獲?!?/p>
他轉(zhuǎn)身回家喝茶。
“艾伯特,你怎么一聲不吭的?”他妻子說。
“我在想事情?!彼f。
他反復(fù)徹底地把這件事考慮清楚之后,第二天又到那條街去,幸運(yùn)地覓得一家心儀的小店鋪。二十四小時(shí)后,他租下了它。一個(gè)月后,艾伯特·愛德華·福爾曼永遠(yuǎn)地離開內(nèi)維爾廣場的圣彼得教堂,開創(chuàng)了自己的事業(yè),成為一名煙草商和報(bào)刊經(jīng)銷商。他妻子說,作為堂堂的教堂司事,此等行徑簡直是墮落無恥。但他回應(yīng)說,人不得不跟上潮流,教堂已然不是從前的教堂,今后他要自食其力。香煙店大獲成功,僅僅過了一年左右,他就發(fā)現(xiàn)自己可以開一間分店,聘一位經(jīng)理來打理。他另覓沒有香煙店的長街,正巧碰上一家店鋪招租,便租下來,備足貨。分店也獲利豐厚。于是他想,他既然能開一家分店,為什么不干脆多開幾家,便開始在倫敦四處走動(dòng),每發(fā)現(xiàn)一條既沒有香煙店又有店鋪招租的長街,就把店鋪?zhàn)庀聛?。十年間,他開了不下十間分店,日進(jìn)斗金。他每周一去各間分店巡視一番,收取每周的進(jìn)款,把它們存入銀行。
一天早上,他正要把一大捆鈔票和一大包沉沉的銀幣存入銀行,司庫說經(jīng)理想見他。他被引進(jìn)一間辦公室,經(jīng)理忙上前跟他握手。
“福爾曼先生,我想跟您談?wù)勀谖覀冦y行的存款。請問您知道具體數(shù)目嗎?”
“確切的數(shù)字說不上來,先生,但我知道大概有多少?!?/p>
“不計(jì)您今天的存款,目前共有三萬英鎊出頭。把這樣一筆巨款存在銀行不太上算,我建議您拿去投資?!?/p>
“我不想冒險(xiǎn),先生。我知道把它們存在銀行很安全。”
“您完全可以放心。我們會(huì)給您列出一份保證收益的金邊債券名單。收益率比存在我們銀行要高得多?!?/p>
福爾曼先生那張貴族般的臉上露出困惑的表情?!拔覐奈唇佑|過股票債券之類的,這要麻煩您全權(quán)處理了?!彼f。
經(jīng)理微笑道:“我們會(huì)竭盡所能。下次您只要來簽署委托書即可?!?/p>
“這倒不難,”艾伯特猶疑地說,“但我怎么知道您讓我簽的是什么?”
“我想您應(yīng)該會(huì)先看看委托書的內(nèi)容?!苯?jīng)理說,語氣中隱隱地透出一絲尖刻。
福爾曼先生向經(jīng)理微微一笑,打消他的疑慮。
“先生,事實(shí)上,我不識(shí)字。我知道這聽起來很奇怪,但事實(shí)就是這樣,我是個(gè)文盲。我只會(huì)寫自己的名字,而且是為了做生意才學(xué)會(huì)的?!?/p>
經(jīng)理驚訝得從椅子上跳了起來。
“我這輩子從未聽說過如此不可思議的事情?!?/p>
“就是這樣,先生。我一直沒機(jī)會(huì)學(xué)識(shí)字,等到有機(jī)會(huì),出于某個(gè)原因,我卻不愿意學(xué)了。我有點(diǎn)兒倔。”
經(jīng)理盯著他,仿佛他是一只史前怪獸。
“您是說,您不識(shí)字,卻把生意做得這么大,還積攢起一筆三萬英鎊的財(cái)富?天啊,要是您識(shí)字,現(xiàn)在該從事多么了不起的事業(yè)??!”
“我還真知道答案,先生?!备柭壬f,他那一如既往的高貴的臉上掛著一絲微笑,“那樣的話,我現(xiàn)在會(huì)在內(nèi)維爾廣場的圣彼得教堂任職司事?!?/p>
* * *
[1] 倫敦東區(qū)為貧民區(qū)。
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