flatland-第20部分

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Next　morning；　standing　in　the　very　place　where　but　a　very　few　months　ago　the　Sphere　had　stood　in　my　company；　I　was　allowed　to　begin　and　to　continue　my　narration　unquestioned　and　uninterrupted。　But　from　the　first　I　foresaw　my　fate；　for　the　President；　noting　that　a　guard　of　the　better　sort　of　Policemen　was　in　attendance；　of　angularity　little；　if　at　all；　under　55　degrees；　ordered　them　to　be　relieved　before　I　began　my　defence；　by　an　inferior　class　of　2　or　3　degrees。　　I　knew　only　too　well　what　that　meant。　I　was　to　be　executed　or　imprisoned；　and　my　story　was　to　be　kept　secret　from　the　world　by　the　simultaneous　destruction　of　the　officials　who　had　heard　it；　and；　this　being　the　case；　the　President　desired　to　substitute　the　cheaper　for　the　more　expensive　victims。

After　I　had　concluded　my　defence；　the　President；　perhaps　perceiving　that　some　of　the　junior　Circles　had　been　moved　by　my　evident　earnestness；　asked　me　two　questions：　

1。　　Whether　I　could　indicate　the　direction　which　I　meant　when　I　used　the　words　〃Upward；　not　Northward〃？

2。　　Whether　I　could　by　any　diagrams　or　descriptions　（other　than　the　enumeration　of　imaginary　sides　and　angles）　indicate　the　Figure　I　was　pleased　to　call　a　Cube？

I　declared　that　I　could　say　nothing　more；　and　that　I　must　commit　myself　to　the　Truth；　whose　cause　would　surely　prevail　in　the　end。

The　President　replied　that　he　quite　concurred　in　my　sentiment；　and　that　I　could　not　do　better。　　I　must　be　sentenced　to　perpetual　imprisonment；　but　if　the　Truth　intended　that　I　should　emerge　from　prison　and　evangelize　the　world；　the　Truth　might　be　trusted　to　bring　that　result　to　pass。　　Meanwhile　I　should　be　subjected　to　no　discomfort　that　was　not　necessary　to　preclude　escape；　and；　unless　I　forfeited　the　privilege　by　misconduct；　I　should　be　occasionally　permitted　to　see　my　brother　who　had　preceded　me　to　my　prison。

Seven　years　have　elapsed　and　I　am　still　a　prisoner；　and　　if　I　except　the　occasional　visits　of　my　brother　　debarred　from　all　companionship　save　that　of　my　jailers。　My　brother　is　one　of　the　best　of　Squares；　just；　sensible；　cheerful；　and　not　without　fraternal　affection；　yet　I　confess　that　my　weekly　interviews；　at　least　in　one　respect；　cause　me　the　bitterest　pain。　　He　was　present　when　the　Sphere　manifested　himself　in　the　Council　Chamber；　he　saw　the　Sphere's　changing　sections；　he　heard　the　explanation　of　the　phenomena　then　given　to　the　Circles。　Since　that　time；　scarcely　a　week　has　passed　during　seven　whole　years；　without　his　hearing　from　me　a　repetition　of　the　part　I　played　in　that　manifestation；　together　with　ample　descriptions　of　all　the　phenomena　in　Spaceland；　and　the　arguments　for　the　existence　of　Solid　things　derivable　from　Analogy。　　Yet　　I　take　shame　to　be　forced　to　confess　it　　my　brother　has　not　yet　grasped　the　nature　of　the　Third　Dimension；　and　frankly　avows　his　disbelief　in　the　existence　of　a　Sphere。

Hence　I　am　absolutely　destitute　of　converts；　and；　for　aught　that　I　can　see；　the　millennial　Revelation　has　been　made　to　me　for　nothing。　Prometheus　up　in　Spaceland　was　bound　for　bringing　down　fire　for　mortals；　but　I　　poor　Flatland　Prometheus　　lie　here　in　prison　for　bringing　down　nothing　to　my　countrymen。　　Yet　I　exist　in　the　hope　that　these　memoirs；　in　some　manner；　I　know　not　how；　may　find　their　way　to　the　minds　of　humanity　in　Some　Dimension；　and　may　stir　up　a　race　of　rebels　who　shall　refuse　to　be　confined　to　limited　Dimensionality。

That　is　the　hope　of　my　brighter　moments。　　Alas；　it　is　not　always　so。　Heavily　weighs　on　me　at　times　the　burdensome　reflection　that　I　cannot　honestly　say　I　am　confident　as　to　the　exact　shape　of　the　once…seen；　oft…regretted　Cube；　and　in　my　nightly　visions　the　mysterious　precept；　〃Upward；　not　Northward〃；　haunts　me　like　a　soul…devouring　Sphinx。　It　is　part　of　the　martyrdom　which　I　endure　for　the　cause　of　the　Truth　that　there　are　seasons　of　mental　weakness；　when　Cubes　and　Spheres　flit　away　into　the　background　of　scarce…possible　existences；　when　the　Land　of　Three　Dimensions　seems　almost　as　visionary　as　the　Land　of　One　or　None；　nay；　when　even　this　hard　wall　that　bars　me　from　my　freedom；　these　very　tablets　on　which　I　am　writing；　and　all　the　substantial　realities　of　Flatland　itself；　appear　no　better　than　the　offspring　of　a　diseased　imagination；　or　the　baseless　fabric　of　a　dream。




　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　




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