第 29 节
作者:飘雪的季节      更新:2023-08-22 20:47      字数:9321
  only true when love was light and selfish; but not when people
  loved as they did; with all their hearts and souls; so that they
  would die for each other any minute; so that without each other
  there was no meaning in anything。  It would not help a single soul;
  for them to murder their love and all the happiness of their lives;
  to go on in a sort of living death。  Even if it were wrong; he
  would rather do that wrong; and take the consequences!  But it was
  not; it COULD not be wrong; when they felt like that!
  And all the time that he was pouring forth those supplications; his
  eyes searched and searched her face。  But there only came from her:
  〃I don't knowI can't tellif only I knew!〃  And then he was
  silent; stricken to the heart; till; at a look or a touch from her;
  he would break out again: 〃You do love meyou do; then what does
  anything else matter?〃
  And so it went on and on that summer afternoon; in the deserted
  room meant for such other things; where the two Frenchmen were too
  sympathetic; and the old official too drowsy; to come。  Then it all
  narrowed to one fierce; insistent question:
  〃What is itWHAT is it you're afraid of?〃
  But to that; too; he got only the one mournful answer; paralyzing
  in its fateful monotony。
  〃I don't knowI can't tell!〃
  It was awful to go on thus beating against this uncanny; dark;
  shadowy resistance; these unreal doubts and dreads; that by their
  very dumbness were becoming real to him; too。  If only she could
  tell him what she feared!  It could not be povertythat was not
  like herbesides; he had enough for both。  It could not be loss of
  a social position; which was but irksome to her!  Surely it was not
  fear that he would cease to love her!  What was it?  In God's name
  what?
  To…morrowshe had told himshe was to go down; alone; to the
  river…house; would she not come now; this very minute; to him
  instead?  And they would start offthat night; back to the South
  where their love had flowered。  But again it was: 〃I can't!  I
  don't knowI must have time!〃  And yet her eyes had that brooding
  love…light。  How COULD she hold back and waver?  But; utterly
  exhausted; he did not plead again; did not even resist when she
  said: 〃You must go; now; and leave me to get back!  I will write。
  PerhapssoonI shall know。〃  He begged for; and took one kiss;
  then; passing the old official; went quickly up and out。
  XV
  He reached his rooms overcome by a lassitude that was not; however;
  quite despair。  He had made his effort; failedbut there was still
  within him the unconquerable hope of the passionate lover。 。 。 。
  As well try to extinguish in full June the beating of the heart of
  summer; deny to the flowers their deepening hues; or to winged life
  its slumbrous buzzing; as stifle in such a lover his conviction of
  fulfilment。 。 。 。
  He lay down on a couch; and there stayed a long time quite still;
  his forehead pressed against the wall。  His will was already
  beginning to recover for a fresh attempt。  It was merciful that she
  was going away from Cramier; going to where he had in fancy watched
  her feed her doves。  No laws; no fears; not even her commands could
  stop his fancy from conjuring her up by day and night。  He had but
  to close his eyes; and she was there。
  A ring at the bell; repeated several times; roused him at last to
  go to the door。  His caller was Robert Cramier。  And at sight of
  him; all Lennan's lethargy gave place to a steely feeling。  What
  had brought him here?  Had he been spying on his wife?  The old
  longing for physical combat came over him。  Cramier was perhaps
  fifteen years his senior; but taller; heavier; thicker。  Chances;
  then; were pretty equal!
  〃Won't you come in?〃 he said。
  〃Thanks。〃
  The voice had in it the same mockery as on Sunday; and it shot
  through him that Cramier had thought to find his wife here。  If so;
  he did not betray it by any crude look round。  He came in with his
  deliberate step; light and well…poised for so big a man。
  〃So this;〃 he said; 〃is where you produce your masterpieces!
  Anything great since you came back?〃
  Lennan lifted the cloths from the half…modelled figure of his bull…
  man。  He felt malicious pleasure in doing that。  Would Cramier
  recognize himself in this creature with the horn…like ears; and
  great bossed forehead?  If this man who had her happiness beneath
  his heel had come here to mock; he should at all events get what he
  had come to give。  And he waited。
  〃I see。  You are giving the poor brute horns!〃
  If Cramier had seen; he had dared to add a touch of cynical humour;
  which the sculptor himself had never thought of。  And this even
  evoked in the young man a kind of admiring compunction。
  〃Those are not horns;〃 he said gently; 〃only ears。〃
  Cramier lifted a hand and touched the edge of his own ear。
  〃Not quite like that; are theyhuman ears?  But I suppose you
  would call this symbolic。  What; if I may ask; does it represent?〃
  All the softness in Lennan vanished。
  〃If you can't gather that from looking; it must be a failure。〃
  〃Not at all。  If I am right; you want something for it to tread on;
  don't you; to get your full effect?〃
  Lennan touched the base of the clay。
  〃The broken curve here〃then; with sudden disgust at this fencing;
  was silent。  What had the man come for?  He must want something。
  And; as if answering; Cramier said:
  〃To pass to another subjectyou see a good deal of my wife。  I
  just wanted to tell you that I don't very much care that you
  should。  It is as well to be quite frank; I think。〃
  Lennan bowed。
  〃Is that not;〃 he said; 〃perhaps rather a matter for HER decision?〃
  That heavy figurethose threatening eyes!  The whole thing was
  like a dream come true!
  〃I do not feel it so。  I am not one of those who let things drift。
  Please understand me。  You come between us at your peril。〃
  Lennan kept silence for a moment; then he said quietly:
  〃Can one come between two people who have ceased to have anything
  in common?〃
  The veins in Cramier's forehead were swollen; his face and neck had
  grown crimson。  And Lennan thought with strange elation: Now he's
  going to hit me!  He could hardly keep his hands from shooting out
  and seizing in advance that great strong neck。  If he could
  strangle; and have done with him!
  But; quite suddenly; Cramier turned on his heel。  〃I have warned
  you;〃 he said; and went。
  Lennan took a long breath。  So!  That was over; and he knew where
  he was。  If Cramier had struck out; he would surely have seized his
  neck and held on till life was gone。  Nothing should have shaken
  him off。  In fancy he could see himself swaying; writhing; reeling;
  battered about by those heavy fists; but always with his hands on
  the thick neck; squeezing out its life。  He could feel; absolutely
  feel; the last reel and stagger of that great bulk crashing down;
  dragging him with it; till it lay upturned; still。  He covered his
  eyes with his hands。 。 。 。  Thank God!  The fellow had not hit out!
  He went to the door; opened it; and stood leaning against the door…
  post。  All was still and drowsy out there in that quiet backwater
  of a street。  Not a soul in sight!  How still; for London!  Only
  the birds。  In a neighbouring studio someone was playing Chopin。
  Queer!  He had almost forgotten there was such a thing as Chopin。
  A mazurka!  Spinning like some top thing; round and roundweird
  little tune! 。 。 。  Well; and what now?  Only one thing certain。
  Sooner give up life than give her up!  Far sooner!  Love her;
  achieve heror give up everything; and drown to that tune going on
  and on; that little dancing dirge of summer!
  XVI
  At her cottage Olive stood often by the river。
  What lay beneath all that bright waterwhat strange; deep;
  swaying; life so far below the ruffling of wind; and the shadows of
  the willow trees?  Was love down there; too?  Love between sentient
  things; where it was almost dark; or had all passion climbed up to
  rustle with the reeds; and float with the water…flowers in the
  sunlight?  Was there colour?  Or had colour been drowned?  No scent
  and no music; but movement there would be; for all the dim groping
  things bending one way to the currentmovement; no less than in
  the aspen…leaves; never quite still; and the winged droves of the
  clouds。  And if it were dark down there; it was dark; too; above
  the water; and hearts ached; and eyes just as much searched for
  that which did not come。
  To watch it always flowing by to the sea; never looking back; never
  swaying this way or that; drifting along; quiet as Fatedark; or
  glamorous with the gold and moonlight of these beautiful days and
  nights; when every flower in her garden; in the fields; and along
  the river banks; was full of sweet life; when dog…roses starred the
  lanes; and in the wood the bracken was nearly a foot high。
  She was not alone there; though she would much rather have been;
  two days after she left London her Uncle and Aunt had joined her。
  It was from Cramier they had received their invitation。  He himself
  had not yet been down。
  Every night; having parted from Mrs。 Ercott and gone up the wide
  shallow stairs to her room; she would sit down at the window to
  write to Lennan; one candle beside herone pale