The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第47章

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These　sly　little　faces　peeped　out　of　the　grand　tide　of　the
cathedral　like　something　that　knew　better。　They　knew　quite　well；
these　little　imps　that　retorted　on　man's　own　illusion；　that　the
cathedral　was　not　absolute。　They　winked　and　leered；　giving
suggestion　of　the　many　things　that　had　been　left　out　of　the
great　concept　of　the　church。　〃However　much　there　is　inside　here；
there's　a　good　deal　they　haven't　got　in；〃　the　little　faces
mocked。

Apart　from　the　lift　and　spring　of　the　great　impulse　towards
the　altar；　these　little　faces　had　separate　wills；　separate
motions；　separate　knowledge；　which　rippled　back　in　defiance　of
the　tide；　and　laughed　in　triumph　of　their　own　very
littleness。

〃Oh；　look！〃　cried　Anna。　〃Oh；　look　how　adorable；　the　faces！
Look　at　her。〃

Brangwen　looked　unwillingly。　This　was　the　voice　of　the
serpent　in　his　Eden。　She　pointed　him　to　a　plump；　sly；　malicious
little　face　carved　in　stone。

〃He　knew　her；　the　man　who　carved　her；〃　said　Anna。　〃I'm　sure
she　was　his　wife。〃

〃It　isn't　a　woman　at　all；　it's　a　man；〃　said　Brangwen
curtly。

〃Do　you　think　so？……No！　That　isn't　a　man。　That　is　no
man's　face。〃

Her　voice　sounded　rather　jeering。　He　laughed　shortly；　and
went　on。　But　she　would　not　go　forward　with　him。　She　loitered
about　the　carvings。　And　he　could　not　go　forward　without　her。　He
waited　impatient　of　this　counteraction。　She　was　spoiling　his
passionate　intercourse　with　the　cathedral。　His　brows　began　to
gather。

〃Oh；　this　is　good！〃　she　cried　again。　〃Here　is　the　same
woman……look！……only　he's　made　her　cross！　Isn't　it
lovely！　Hasn't　he　made　her　hideous　to　a　degree？〃　She　laughed
with　pleasure。　〃Didn't　he　hate　her？　He　must　have　been　a　nice
man！　Look　at　her……isn't　it　awfully　good……just　like　a
shrewish　woman。　He　must　have　enjoyed　putting　her　in　like　that。
He　got　his　own　back　on　her；　didn't　he？〃

〃It's　a　man's　face；　no　woman's　at　all……a
monk's……clean　shaven；〃　he　said。

She　laughed　with　a　pouf！　of　laughter。

〃You　hate　to　think　he　put　his　wife　in　your　cathedral；　don't
you？〃　she　mocked；　with　a　tinkle　of　profane　laughter。　And　she
laughed　with　malicious　triumph。

She　had　got　free　from　the　cathedral；　she　had　even　destroyed
the　passion　he　had。　She　was　glad。　He　was　bitterly　angry。　Strive
as　he　would；　he　could　not　keep　the　cathedral　wonderful　to　him。
He　was　disillusioned。　That　which　had　been　his　absolute；
containing　all　heaven　and　earth；　was　bee　to　him　as　to　her；　a
shapely　heap　of　dead　matter……but　dead；　dead。

His　mouth　was　full　of　ash；　his　soul　was　furious。　He　hated　her
for　having　destroyed　another　of　his　vital　illusions。　Soon　he
would　be　stark；　stark；　without　one　place　wherein　to　stand；
without　one　belief　in　which　to　rest。

Yet　somewhere　in　him　he　responded　more　deeply　to　the　sly
little　face　that　knew　better；　than　he　had　done　before　to　the
perfect　surge　of　his　cathedral。

Nevertheless　for　the　time　being　his　soul　was　wretched　and
homeless；　and　he　could　not　bear　to　think　of　Anna's　ousting　him
from　his　beloved　realities。　He　wanted　his　cathedral；　he　wanted
to　satisfy　his　blind　passion。　And　he　could　not　any　more。
Something　intervened。

They　went　home　again；　both　of　them　altered。　She　had　some　new
reverence　for　that　which　he　wanted；　he　felt　that　his　cathedrals
would　never　again　be　to　him　as　they　had　been。　Before；　he　had
thought　them　absolute。　But　now　he　saw　them　crouching　under　the
sky；　with　still　the　dark；　mysterious　world　of　reality　inside；
but　as　a　world　within　a　world；　a　sort　of　side　show；　whereas
before　they　had　been　as　a　world　to　him　within　a　chaos：　a
reality；　an　order；　an　absolute；　within　a　meaningless
confusion。

He　had　felt；　before；　that　could　he　but　go　through　the　great
door　and　look　down　the　gloom　towards　the　far…off；　concluding
wonder　of　the　altar；　that　then；　with　the　windows　suspended
around　like　tablets　of　jewels；　emanating　their　own　glory；　then
he　had　arrived。　Here　the　satisfaction　he　had　yearned　after　came
near；　towards　this；　the　porch　of　the　great　Unknown；　all　reality
gathered；　and　there；　the　altar　was　the　mystic　door；　through
which　all　and　everything　must　move　on　to　eternity。

But　now；　somehow；　sadly　and　disillusioned；　he　realized　that
the　doorway　was　no　doorway。　It　was　too　narrow；　it　was　false。
Outside　the　cathedral　were　many　flying　spirits　that　could　never
be　sifted　through　the　jewelled　gloom。　He　had　lost　his
absolute。

He　listened　to　the　thrushes　in　the　gardens　and　heard　a　note
which　the　cathedrals　did　not　include：　something　free　and
careless　and　joyous。　He　crossed　a　field　that　was　all　yellow　with
dandelions；　on　his　way　to　work；　and　the　bath　of　yellow　glowing
was　something　at　once　so　sumptuous　and　so　fresh；　that　he　was
glad　he　was　away　from　his　shadowy　cathedral。

There　was　life　outside　the　Church。　There　was　much　that　the
Church　did　not　include。　He　thought　of　God；　and　of　the　whole　blue
rotunda　of　the　day。　That　was　something　great　and　free。　He
thought　of　the　ruins　of　the　Grecian　worship；　and　it　seemed；　a
temple　was　never　perfectly　a　temple；　till　it　was　ruined　and
mixed　up　with　the　winds　and　the　sky　and　the　herbs。

Still　he　loved　the　Church。　As　a　symbol；　he　loved　it。　He
tended　it　for　what　it　tried　to　represent；　rather　than　for　that
which　it　did　represent。　Still　he　loved　it。　The　little　church
across　his　garden…wall　drew　him；　he　gave　it　loving　attention。
But　he　went　to　take　charge　of　it；　to　preserve　it。　It　was　as　an
old；　sacred　thing　to　him。　He　looked　after　the　stone　and
woodwork；　mending　the　organ　and　restoring　a　piece　of　broken
carving；　repairing　the　church　furniture。　Later；　he　became
choir…master　also。

His　life　was　shifting　its　centre；　being　more　superficial。
He　had　failed　to　bee　really　articulate；　failed　to　find　real
expression。　He　had　to　continue　in　the　old　form。　But　in　spirit；
he　was　uncreated。

Anna　was　absorbed　in　the　child　now；　she　left　her　husband　to
take　his　own　way。　She　was　willing　now　to　postpone　all　adventure
into　unknown　realities。　She　had　the　child；　her　palpable　and
immediate　future　was　the　child。　If　her　soul　had　found　no
utterance；　her　womb　had。

The　church　that　neighboured　with　his　house　became　very
intimate　and　dear　to　him。　He　cherished　it；　he　had　it　entirely　in
his　charge。　If　he　could　find　no　new　activity；　he　would　be　happy
cherishing　the　old；　dear　form　of　worship。　He　knew　this　little；
whitewashed　church。　In　its　shadowy　atmosphere　he　sank　back　into
being。　He　liked　to　sink　himself　in　its　hush　as　a　stone　sinks
into　water。

He　went　across　his　garden；　mounted　the　wall　by　the　little
steps；　and　entered　the　hush　and　peace　of　the　church。　As　the
heavy　door　clanged　to　behind　him；　his　feet　re…echoed　in　the
aisle；　his　heart　re…echoed　with　a　little　passion　of　tenderness
and　mystic　peace。　He　was　also　slightly　ashamed；　like　a　man　who
has　failed；　who　lapses　back　for　his　fulfilment。

He　loved　to　light　the　candles　at　the　organ；　and　sitting　there
alone　in　the　little　glow；　practice　the　hymns　and　chants　for　the
service。　The　whitewashed　arches　retreated　into　darkness；　the
sound　of　the　organ　and　the　organ…pedals　died　away　upon　the
unalterable　stillness　of　the　church；　there　were　faint；　ghostly
noises　in　the　tower；　and　then　the　music　swelled　out　again；
loudly；　triumphantly。

He　ceased　to　fret　about　his　life。　He　relaxed　his　will；　and
let　everything　go。　What　was　between　him　and　his　wife　was　a　great
thing；　if　it　was　not　everything。　She　had　conquered；　really。　Let
him　wait；　and　abide；　wait　and　abide。　She　and　the　baby　and
himself；　they　were　one。　The　organ　rang　out　his　protestation。　His
soul　lay　in　the　darkness　as　he　pressed　the　keys　of　the
organ。

To　Anna；　the　baby　was　a　plete　bliss　and　fulfilment。　Her
desires　sank　into　abeyance；　her　soul　was　in　bliss　over　the　baby。
It　was　rather　a　delicate　child；　she　had　trouble　to　rear　it。　She
never　for　a　moment　thought　it　would　die。　It　was　a　delicate
infant；　therefore　it　behoved　her　to　make　it　strong。　She　threw
herself　into　the　labour；　the　child　was　everything。　Her
imagination　was　all　occupied　here。　She　was　a　mother。　It　was
enough　to　handle　the　new　little　limbs；　the　new　little　body；　hear
the　new　little　voice　crying　in　the　stillness。　All　the　future
rang　to　her　out　of　the　sound　of　the　baby's　crying　and　cooing；
she　balanced　the　ing　years　of　life　in　her　hands；　as　she
nursed　the　child。　The　passionate　sense　of　fulfilment；　of　the
future　germinated　in　her；　made　her　vivid　and　powerful。　All　the
future　was　in　her　hands；　in　the　hands　of　the　woman。　And　before
this　baby　was　ten　months　old；　she　was　again　with　child。　She
seemed　to　be　in　the　fecund　of　storm　life；　every　moment　was　full
and　busy　with　productiveness　to　her。　She　felt　like　the　earth；
the　mother　of　everything。

Brangwen　occupied　himself　with　the　church；　he　played　the
organ；　he　trained　the　choir…boys；　he　taught　a　Sunday…school
class　of　youths。　He　was　happy　enough。　There　was　an　eager；
yearning　kind　of　happiness　in　him　as　he　taught　the　boys　on
Sundays。　He　was　all　the　time　exciting　himself　with　the　proximity
of　some　secret　that　he　had　not　yet　fathomed。

In　the　house；　he　served　his　wife　and　the　little　matriarchy。
She　loved　him　because　he　was　the　father　of　her　children。　And　she
always　had　a　physical　passion　for　him。　So　he　gave　up　trying　to
have　the　spiritual　superiority　and　control；　or　ev