The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第39章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


to　get　tired。　After　a　certain　point；　she　became　impassive；
detached　utterly　from　him。　He　was　always　ready　to　burst　out
murderously　against　her。　Her　soul　got　up　and　left　him；　she　went
her　way。　Nevertheless　in　her　apparent　blitheness；　that　made　his
soul　black　with　opposition；　she　trembled　as　if　she　bled。

And　ever　and　again；　the　pure　love　came　in　sunbeams　between
them；　when　she　was　like　a　flower　in　the　sun　to　him；　so
beautiful；　so　shining；　so　intensely　dear　that　he　could　scarcely
bear　it。　Then　as　if　his　soul　had　six　wings　of　bliss　he　stood
absorbed　in　praise；　feeling　the　radiance　from　the　Almighty　beat
through　him　like　a　pulse；　as　he　stood　in　the　upright　flame　of
praise；　transmitting　the　pulse　of　Creation。

And　ever　and　again　he　appeared　to　her　as　the　dread　flame　of
power。　Sometimes；　when　he　stood　in　the　doorway；　his　face　lit　up；
he　seemed　like　an　Annunciation　to　her；　her　heart　beat　fast。　And
she　watched　him；　suspended。　He　had　a　dark；　burning　being　that
she　dreaded　and　resisted。　She　was　subject　to　him　as　to　the　Angel
of　the　Presence。　She　waited　upon　him　and　heard　his　will；　and　she
trembled　in　his　service。

Then　all　this　passed　away。　Then　he　loved　her　for　her
childishness　and　for　her　strangeness　to　him；　for　the　wonder　of
her　soul　which　was　different　from　his　soul；　and　which　made　him
genuine　when　he　would　be　false。　And　she　loved　him　for　the　way　he
sat　loosely　in　a　chair；　or　for　the　way　he　came　through　a　door
with　his　face　open　and　eager。　She　loved　his　ringing；　eager
voice；　and　the　touch　of　the　unknown　about　him；　his　absolute
simplicity。

Yet　neither　of　them　was　quite　satisfied。　He　felt；　somewhere；
that　she　did　not　respect　him。　She　only　respected　him　as　far　as
he　was　related　to　herself。　For　what　he　was；　beyond　her；　she　had
no　care。　She　did　not　care　for　what　he　represented　in　himself。　It
is　true；　he　did　not　know　himself　what　he　represented。　But
whatever　it　was　she　did　not　really　honour　it。　She　did　no　service
to　his　work　as　a　lace…designer；　nor　to　himself　as　bread…winner。
Because　he　went　down　to　the　office　and　worked　every
day……that　entitled　him　to　no　respect　or　regard　from　her；　he
knew。　Rather　she　despised　him　for　it。　And　he　almost　loved　her
for　this；　though　at　first　it　maddened　him　like　an　insult。

What　was　much　deeper；　she　soon　came　to　bat　his　deepest
feelings。　What　he　thought　about　life　and　about　society　and
mankind　did　not　matter　very　much　to　her：　he　was　right　enough　to
be　insignificant。　This　was　again　galling　to　him。　She　would　judge
beyond　him　on　these　things。　But　at　length　he　came　to　accept　her
judgments；　discovering　them　as　if　they　were　his　own。　It　was　not
here　the　deep　trouble　lay。　The　deep　root　of　his　enmity　lay　in
the　fact　that　she　jeered　at　his　soul。　He　was　inarticulate　and
stupid　in　thought。　But　to　some　things　he　clung　passionately。　He
loved　the　Church。　If　she　tried　to　get　out　of　him；　what　he
believed；　then　they　were　both　soon　in　a　white　rage。

Did　he　believe　the　water　turned　to　wine　at　Cana？　She　would
drive　him　to　the　thing　as　a　historical　fact：　so　much
rain…water…look　at　it……can　it　bee　grape…juice；　wine？　For
an　instant；　he　saw　with　the　clear　eyes　of　the　mind　and　said　no；
his　clear　mind；　answering　her　for　a　moment；　rejected　the　idea。
And　immediately　his　whole　soul　was　crying　in　a　mad；　inchoate
hatred　against　this　violation　of　himself。　It　was　true　for　him。
His　mind　was　extinguished　again　at　once；　his　blood　was　up。　In
his　blood　and　bones；　he　wanted　the　scene；　the　wedding；　the　water
brought　forward　from　the　firkins　as　red　wine：　and　Christ　saying
to　His　mother：　〃Woman；　what　have　I　to　do　with　thee？……mine
hour　is　not　yet　e。〃

And　then：

〃His　mother　saith　unto　the　servants；　'Whatsoever　he　saith
unto　you；　do　it。'〃

Brangwen　loved　it；　with　his　bones　and　blood　he　loved　it；　he
could　not　let　it　go。　Yet　she　forced　him　to　let　it　go。　She　hated
his　blind　attachments。

Water；　natural　water；　could　it　suddenly　and　unnaturally　turn
into　wine；　depart　from　its　being　and　at　haphazard　take　on
another　being？　Ah　no；　he　knew　it　was　wrong。

She　became　again　the　palpitating；　hostile　child；　hateful；
putting　things　to　destruction。　He　became　mute　and　dead。　His　own
being　gave　him　the　lie。　He　knew　it　was　so：　wine　was　wine；　water
was　water；　for　ever：　the　water　had　not　bee　wine。　The　miracle
was　not　a　real　fact。　She　seemed　to　be　destroying　him。　He　went
out；　dark　and　destroyed；　his　soul　running　its　blood。　And　he
tasted　of　death。　Because　his　life　was　formed　in　these
unquestioned　concepts。

She；　desolate　again　as　she　had　been　when　she　was　a　child；
went　away　and　sobbed。　She　did　not　care；　she　did　not　care　whether
the　water　had　turned　to　wine　or　not。　Let　him　believe　it　if　he
wanted　to。　But　she　knew　she　had　won。　And　an　ashy　desolation　came
over　her。

They　were　ashenly　miserable　for　some　time。　Then　the　life
began　to　e　back。　He　was　nothing　if　not　dogged。　He　thought
again　of　the　chapter　of　St。　John。　There　was　a　great　biting　pang。
〃But　thou　hast　kept　the　good　wine　until　now。〃　〃The　best　wine！〃
The　young　man's　heart　responded　in　a　craving；　in　a　triumph；
although　the　knowledge　that　it　was　not　true　in　fact　bit　at　him
like　a　weasel　in　his　heart。　Which　was　stronger；　the　pain　of　the
denial；　or　the　desire　for　affirmation？　He　was　stubborn　in
spirit；　and　abode　by　his　desire。　But　he　would　not　any　more
affirm　the　miracles　as　true。

Very　well；　it　was　not　true；　the　water　had　not　turned　into
wine。　The　water　had　not　turned　into　wine。　But　for　all　that　he
would　live　in　his　soul　as　if　the　water　had　turned　into
wine。　For　truth　of　fact；　it　had　not。　But　for　his　soul；　it
had。

〃Whether　it　turned　into　wine　or　whether　it　didn't；〃　he　said；
〃it　doesn't　bother　me。　I　take　it　for　what　it　is。〃

〃And　what　is　it？〃　she　asked；　quickly；　hopefully。

〃It's　the　Bible；〃　he　said。

That　answer　enraged　her；　and　she　despised　him。　She　did　not
actively　question　the　Bible　herself。　But　he　drove　her　to
contempt。

And　yet　he　did　not　care　about　the　Bible；　the　written　letter。
Although　he　could　not　satisfy　her；　yet　she　knew　of　herself　that
he　had　something　real。　He　was　not　a　dogmatist。　He　did　not
believe　in　fact　that　the　water　turned　into　wine。　He　did
not　want　to　make　a　fact　out　of　it。　Indeed；　his　attitude　was
without　criticism。　It　was　purely　individual。　He　took　that　which
was　of　value　to　him　from　the　Written　Word；　he　added　to　his
spirit。　His　mind　he　let　sleep。

And　she　was　bitter　against　him；　that　he　let　his　mind　sleep。
That　which　was　human；　belonged　to　mankind；　he　would　not　exert。
He　cared　only　for　himself。　He　was　no　Christian。　Above　all；
Christ　had　asserted　the　brotherhood　of　man。

She；　almost　against　herself；　clung　to　the　worship　of　the
human　knowledge。　Man　must　die　in　the　body；　but　in　his　knowledge
he　was　immortal。　Such；　somewhere；　was　her　belief；　quite　obscure
and　unformulated。　She　believed　in　the　omnipotence　of　the　human
mind。

He；　on　the　other　hand；　blind　as　a　subterranean　thing；　just
ignored　the　human　mind　and　ran　after　his　own　dark…souled
desires；　following　his　own　tunnelling　nose。　She　felt　often　she
must　suffocate。　And　she　fought　him　off。

Then　he；　knowing　he　was　blind；　fought　madly　back　again；
frantic　in　sensual　fear。　He　did　foolish　things。　He　asserted
himself　on　his　rights；　he　arrogated　the　old　position　of　master
of　the　house。

〃You've　a　right　to　do　as　I　want；〃　he　cried。

〃Fool！〃　she　answered。　〃Fool！〃

〃I'll　let　you　know　who's　master；〃　he　cried。

〃Fool！〃　she　answered。　〃Fool！　I've　known　my　own　father；　who
could　put　a　dozen　of　you　in　his　pipe　and　push　them　down　with　his
finger…end。　Don't　I　know　what　a　fool　you　are！〃

He　knew　himself　what　a　fool　he　was；　and　was　flayed　by　the
knowledge。　Yet　he　went　on　trying　to　steer　the　ship　of　their　dual
life。　He　asserted　his　position　as　the　captain　of　the　ship。　And
captain　and　ship　bored　her。　He　wanted　to　loom　important　as
master　of　one　of　the　innumerable　domestic　craft　that　make　up　the
great　fleet　of　society。　It　seemed　to　her　a　ridiculous　armada　of
tubs　jostling　in　futility。　She　felt　no　belief　in　it。　She　jeered
at　him　as　master　of　the　house；　master　of　their　dual　life。　And　he
was　black　with　shame　and　rage。　He　knew；　with　shame；　how　her
father　had　been　a　man　without　arrogating　any　authority。

He　had　gone　on　the　wrong　tack；　and　he　felt　it　hard　to　give　up
the　expedition。　There　was　great　surging　and　shame。　Then　he
yielded。　He　had　given　up　the　master…of…the…house　idea。

There　was　something　he　wanted；　nevertheless；　some　form　of
mastery。　Ever　and　anon；　after　his　collapses　into　the　petty　and
the　shameful；　he　rose　up　again；　and；　stubborn　in　spirit；　strong
in　his　power　to　start　afresh；　set　out　once　more　in　his　male
pride　of　being　to　fulfil　the　hidden　passion　of　his　spirit。

It　began　well；　but　it　ended　always　in　war　between　them；　till
they　were　both　driven　almost　to　madness。　He　said；　she　did　not
respect　him。　She　laughed　in　hollow　scorn　of　this。　For　her　it　was
enough　that　she　loved　him。

〃Respect　what？〃　she　asked。

But　he　always　answered　the　wrong　thing。　And　though　she
cudgelled　her　brains；　she　could　not　e　at　it。

〃Why　don't　you　go　on　with　your　wood…carving？〃　she　said。　〃Why
don't　you　finish　your　Adam　and　Eve？〃

But　she　did　not　care　for　the　Adam　and　Eve；　and　he　never　put
another　stroke　to　it。　She　jeered