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hemingway, ernest - islands in the stream-第2部分
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the only fireplace on the island。 It was a big open fireplace and Thomas Hudson burned driftwood in it。
He had a big pile of driftwood stacked against the south wall of the house。 It was whitened by the sun and sand…scoured by the wind and he would become fond of different pieces so that he would hate to burn them。 But there was always more driftwood along the beach after the big storms and he found it was fun to burn even the pieces he was fond of。 He knew the sea would sculpt more； and on a cold night he would sit in the big chair in front of the fire； reading by the lamp that stood on the heavy plank table and look up while he was reading to hear the northwester blowing outside and the crashing of the surf and watch the great； bleached pieces of driftwood burning。
Sometimes he would put the lamp out and lie on the rug on the floor and watch the edges of color that the sea salt and the sand in the wood made in the flame as they burned。 On the floor his eyes were even with the line of the burning wood and he could see the line of the flame when it left the wood and it made him both sad and happy。 All wood that burned affected him in this way。 But burning driftwood did something to him that he could not define。 He thought that it was probably wrong to burn it when he was so fond of it； but he felt no guilt about it。
As he lay on the floor he felt under the wind although； really； the wind whipped at the lower corners of the house and at the lowest grass on the island and into the roots of the sea grass and the cockleburs and into the sand itself。 On the floor he could feel the pounding of the surf the way he remembered feeling the firing of heavy guns when he had lain on the earth close by some battery a long time ago when he had been a boy。
The fireplace was a great thing in winter and through all the other months he looked at it with affection and thought how it would be when winter came again。 Winter was the best of all seasons on the island and he looked forward to it through all the rest of the year。
II
WINTER WAS OVER and spring was nearly gone when Thomas Hudsonˇs boys came to the island that year。 It had been arranged for the three of them to meet in New York to come down together on the train and then fly over from the Mainland。 There had been the usual difficulties with the mother of two of the boys。 She had planned a European trip saying nothing； of course； to the boysˇ father when she planned it； and she wanted the boys for the summer。 He could have them for the Christmas holidays； after Christmas of course。 Christmas itself would be spent with her。
Thomas Hudson was familiar with the pattern by now and finally there was the usual compromise。 The two younger boys would come to the island to visit their father for five weeks and then leave to sail from New York； student class； on a French Line boat to join their mother in Paris where she would have bought a few necessary clothes。 They would be in the charge of their older brother； young Tom； on the trip。 Young Tom would then join his mother； who was making a picture in the south of France。
Young Tomˇs mother had not asked for him and would have liked him to be at the island with his father。 But she would love to see him and it was a fair compromise with the unmalleable decision of the other boysˇ mother。 She was a delightful and charming woman who had never altered a plan that she had made in her life。 Her plans were always made in secret； like those of a good general； and they were as rigidly enforced。 A compromise might be effected。 But never a basic change in a plan whether that plan was conceived in a sleepless night or on an angry morning or on a gin…aided evening。
A plan was a plan and a decision was truly a decision and knowing all this and having been well educated in the usages of divorce； Thomas Hudson was happy that a compromise had been made and that the children were coming for five weeks。 If five weeks is what we get； he thought； that is what we draw。 Five weeks is a good long time to be with people that you love and would wish to be with always。 But why did I ever leave Tomˇs mother in the first place？ Youˇd better not think about that； he told himself。 That is one thing you had better not think about。 And these are fine children that you got from the other one。 Very strange and very complicated and you know how many of their good qualities come from her。 She is a fine woman and you never should have left her either。 Then he said to himself； Yes。 I had to。
But he did not worry much about any of it。 He had long ago ceased to worry and he had exorcised guilt with work insofar as he could； and all he cared about now was that the boys were coming over and that they should have a good summer。 Then he would go back to work。
He had been able to replace almost everything except the children with work and the steady normal working life he had built on the island。 He believed he had made something there that would last and that would hold him。 Now when he was lonesome for Paris he would remember Paris instead of going there。 He did the same thing with all of Europe and much of Asia and of Africa。
He remembered what Renoir had said when they told him that Gauguin had gone to Tahiti to paint。 ¨Why does he have to spend so much money to go so far away to paint when one paints so well here at the Batignolles？〃 It was better in French； ¨quand on peint si bien aux Batignolles；〃 and Thomas Hudson thought of the island as his quartier and he was settled in it and knew his neighbors and worked as hard as he had ever worked in Paris when young Tom had been a baby。
Sometimes he would leave the island to fish off Cuba or to go to the mountains in the fall。 But he had rented the ranch that he owned in Montana because the best time out there was the summer and the fall and now the boys always had to go to school in the fall。
He had to go to New York occasionally to see his dealer。 But more often now his dealer came down to see him and took canvases north with him。 He was well established as a painter and he was respected both in Europe and in his own country。 He had a regular income from oil leases on land his grandfather had owned。 It had been grazing land and when it was sold the mineral rights had been retained。 About half of this income went into alimony and the balance provided him with security so that he could paint exactly as he wanted to with no commercial pressure。 It also enabled him to live where he wished and to travel when he cared to。
He had been successful in almost every way except in his married life； although he had never cared； truly； about success。 What he cared about was painting and his children and he was still in love with the first woman he had been in love with。 He had loved many women since and sometimes someone would come to stay on the island。 He needed to see women and they were welcome for a while。 He liked having them there； sometimes for quite a long time。 But in the end he was always glad when they were gone； even when he was very fond of them。 He had trained himself not to quarrel with women anymore and he had learned how not to get married。 These two things had been nearly as difficult to learn as how to settle down and paint in a steady and well…ordered way。 But he had learned them and he hoped that he had learned them permanently。 He had known how to paint for a long time and he believed he learned more every year。 But learning how to settle down and how to paint with discipline had been hard for him because there had been a time in his life when he had not been disciplined。 He had never been truly irresponsible； but he had been undisciplined； selfish； and ruthless。 He knew this now； not only because many women had told it to him； but because he had finally discovered it for himself。 Then he had resolved that he would be selfish only for his painting； ruthless only for his work； and that he would discipline himself and accept the discipline。
He was going to enjoy life within the limits of the discipline that he imposed and work hard。 And today he was very happy because his children were coming in the morning。
¨Mr。 Tom； donˇt you want nothing？〃 Joseph the house…boy asked him。 ¨You knocked off for the day； ainˇt you？〃
Joseph was tall with a very long； very black face and big hands and big feet。 He wore a white jacket and trousers and was barefooted。
¨Thank you； Joseph。 I donˇt think I want anything。〃
¨Little gin and tonic？〃
¨No。 I think Iˇll go down and have one at Mr。 Bobbyˇs。〃
¨Drink one here。 Itˇs cheaper。 Mr。 Bobby was in an evil mood when I went by。 Too many mixed drinks he says。 Somebody off a yacht asked him for something called a White Lady and he served her a bottle of that American mineral water with a lady in white kinda mosquito netting dress sitting by a spring。〃
¨I better be getting down there。〃
¨Let me mix you one first。 You got some mails on the pilot boat。 You can read your mails and drink the drink and then go down to Mr。 Bobbyˇs。〃
¨All right。〃
¨Good thing；〃 said Joseph。 ¨Because I already mixed it。 Mails donˇt look to amount to anything； Mr。 Tom。〃
¨Where are they？〃
¨Down in the kitchen。 Iˇll bring them up。 Couple with womenˇs writing on them。 One from New York。 One from Palm Beach。 Pretty writing。 One from that gentleman sells your pictures in New York。 Couple more unknown to me。〃
¨You want to answer them for me？〃
¨Yes sir。 If thatˇs what you want。 Iˇm educated way beyond my means。〃
¨Better bring them up。〃
¨Yes sir； Mr。 Tom。 Thereˇs a paper too。〃
¨Save it for breakfast； please； Joseph。〃
Thomas Hudson sat and read his mail and sipped at the cool drink。 He read one letter over again and then put them all in a drawer of his desk。
¨Joseph；〃 he called。 ¨Have you everything ready for the boys？〃
¨Yes sir； Mr。 Tom。 And two extra cases of Coca…Cola。 Young Tom； he must be bigger than me； ainˇt he？〃
¨Not yet。〃
¨Think he can lick me now？〃
¨I donˇt think so。〃
¨I fought that boy so many times in private life；〃 Joseph said。 ¨Sure is funny to call him mister。 Mr。 Tom； Mr。 David； and Mr。 Andrew。 Three of the finest goddam boys I know。 And the meanest is Andy。〃
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