the dark flower-第7部分

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in　this　sudden　feeling　of　sick　fear。　　In　the　presence　of　these
'English　Grundys；'　so　superior　to　all　vulgar　sensations；　he　could
not　give　vent　to　his　alarm；　already　they　viewed　him　as　unsound　for
having　fainted。　　Then　he　grasped　that　there　had　begun　all　round　him
a　sort　of　luxurious　speculation　on　what　might　have　happened　to　the
Stormers。　　The　descent　was　very　nasty；　there　was　a　particularly　bad
traverse。　　The　'Grundy；'　whose　collar　was　not　now　crumpled；　said　he
did　not　believe　in　women　climbing。　　It　was　one　of　the　signs　of　the
times　that　he　most　deplored。　　The　mother　of　the　young　'Grundys'
countered　him　at　once：　In　practice　she　agreed　that　they　were　out　of
place；　but　theoretically　she　could　not　see　why　they　should　not
climb。　　An　American　standing　near　threw　all　into　confusion　by
saying　he　guessed　that　it　might　be　liable　to　develop　their
understandings。　　Lennan　made　for　the　front　door。　　The　moon　had　just
come　up　over　in　the　South；　and　exactly　under　it　he　could　see　their
mountain。　　What　visions　he　had　then！　　He　saw　her　lying　dead；　saw
himself　climbing　down　in　the　moonlight　and　raising　her　still…
living；　but　half…frozen；　form　from　some　perilous　ledge。　　Even　that
was　almost　better　than　this　actuality　of　not　knowing　where　she　was；
or　what　had　happened。　　People　passed　out　into　the　moonlight；
looking　curiously　at　his　set　face　staring　so　fixedly。　　One　or　two
asked　him　if　he　were　anxious；　and　he　answered：　〃Oh　no；　thanks！〃
Soon　there　would　have　to　be　a　search　party。　　How　soon？　　He　would；
he　must　be；　of　it！　　They　should　not　stop　him　this　time。　　And
suddenly　he　thought：　Ah；　it　is　all　because　I　stayed　up　there　this
afternoon　talking　to　that　girl；　all　because　I　forgot　HER！

And　then　he　heard　a　stir　behind　him。　　There　they　were；　coming　down
the　passage　from　a　side　doorshe　in　front　with　her　alpenstock　and
rucksacksmiling。　　Instinctively　he　recoiled　behind　some　plants。
They　passed。　　Her　sunburned　face；　with　its　high　cheek…bones　and　its
deep…set　eyes；　looked　so　happy；　smiling；　tired；　triumphant。
Somehow　he　could　not　bear　it；　and　when　they　were　gone　by　he　stole
out　into　the　wood　and　threw　himself　down　in　shadow；　burying　his
face；　and　choking　back　a　horrible　dry　sobbing　that　would　keep
rising　in　his　throat。


IX


Next　day　he　was　happy；　for　all　the　afternoon　he　lay　out　in　the
shade　of　that　same　wood　at　her　feet；　gazing　up　through　larch…
boughs。　　It　was　so　wonderful；　with　nobody　but　Nature　near。　　Nature
so　alive；　and　busy；　and　so　big！

Coming　down　from　the　hut　the　day　before；　he　had　seen　a　peak　that
looked　exactly　like　the　figure　of　a　woman　with　a　garment　over　her
head；　the　biggest　statue　in　the　world；　from　further　down　it　had
become　the　figure　of　a　bearded　man；　with　his　arm　bent　over　his
eyes。　　Had　she　seen　it？　　Had　she　noticed　how　all　the　mountains　in
moonlight　or　very　early　morning　took　the　shape　of　beasts？　　What　he
wanted　most　in　life　was　to　be　able　to　make　images　of　beasts　and
creatures　of　all　sorts；　that　were　likethat　hadthat　gave　out　the
spirit　ofNature；　so　that　by　just　looking　at　them　one　could　have
all　those　jolly　feelings　one　had　when　one　was　watching　trees；　and
beasts；　and　rocks；　and　even　some　sorts　of　menbut　not　'English
Grundys。'

So　he　was　quite　determined　to　study　Art？

Oh　yes；　of　course！

He　would　want　to　leaveOxford；　then！

No；　oh　no！　　Only　some　day　he　would　have　to。

She　answered：　〃Some　never　get　away！〃

And　he　said　quickly：　〃Of　course；　I　shall　never　want　to　leave　Oxford
while　you　are　there。〃

He　heard　her　draw　her　breath　in　sharply。

〃Oh　yes；　you　will！　　Now　help　me　up！〃　　And　she　led　the　way　back　to
the　hotel。

He　stayed　out　on　the　terrace　when　she　had　gone　in；　restless　and
unhappy　the　moment　he　was　away　from　her。　　A　voice　close　by　said：

〃Well；　friend　Lennanbrown　study；　or　blue　devils；　which？〃

There；　in　one　of　those　high　wicker　chairs　that　insulate　their
occupants　from　the　world；　he　saw　his　tutor　leaning　back；　head　a
little　to　one　side；　and　tips　of　fingers　pressed　together。　　He
looked　like　an　idol　sitting　there　inert；　and　yetyesterday　he　had
gone　up　that　mountain！

〃Cheer　up！　　You　will　break　your　neck　yet！　　When　I　was　your　age；　I
remember　feeling　it　deeply　that　I　was　not　allowed　to　risk　the　lives
of　others。〃

Lennan　stammered　out：

〃I　didn't　think　of　that；　but　I　thought　where　Mrs。　Stormer　could　go；
I　could。〃

〃Ah！　　For　all　our　admiration　we　cannot　quite　admitcan　we；　when　it
comes　to　the　point？〃

The　boy's　loyalty　broke　into　flame：

〃It's　not　that。　　I　think　Mrs。　Stormer　as　good　as　any　manonly
only〃

〃Not　quite　so　good　as　you；　eh？〃

〃A　hundred　times　better；　sir。〃

Stormer　smiled。　　Ironic　beast！

〃Lennan；〃　he　said；　〃distrust　hyperbole。〃

〃Of　course；　I　know　I'm　no　good　at　climbing；〃　the　boy　broke　out
again；　〃butbutI　thought　where　she　was　allowed　to　risk　her　life；
I　ought　to　be！〃

〃Good！　　I　like　that。〃　　It　was　said　so　entirely　without　irony　for
once；　that　the　boy　was　disconcerted。

〃You　are　young；　Brother　Lennan；〃　his　tutor　went　on。　　〃Now；　at　what
age　do　you　consider　men　develop　discretion？　　Because；　there　is　just
one　thing　always　worth　rememberingwomen　have　none　of　that　better
part　of　valour。〃

〃I　think　women　are　the　best　things　in　the　world；〃　the　boy　blurted
out。

〃May　you　long　have　that　opinion！〃　　His　tutor　had　risen；　and　was
ironically　surveying　his　knees。　　〃A　bit　stiff！〃　he　said。　　〃Let　me
know　when　you　change　your　views！〃

〃I　never　shall；　sir。〃

〃Ah；　ah！　　Never　is　a　long　word；　Lennan。　　I　am　going　to　have　some
tea；〃　and　gingerly　he　walked　away；　quizzing；　as　it　were；　with　a
smile；　his　own　stiffness。

Lennan　remained　where　he　was；　with　burning　cheeks。　　His　tutor's
words　again　had　seemed　directed　against　her。　　How　could　a　man　say
such　things　about　women！　　If　they　were　true；　he　did　not　want　to
know；　if　they　were　not　true；　it　was　wicked　to　say　them。　　It　must　be
awful　never　to　have　generous　feelings；　always　to　have　to　be
satirical。　　Dreadful　to　be　like　the　'English　Grundys'；　only
different；　of　course；　because；　after　all；　old　Stormer　was　much　more
interesting　and　intelligentever　so　much　more；　only；　just　as
'superior。'　　〃Some　never　get　away！〃　　Had　she　meantfrom　that
superiority？　　Just　down　below　were　a　family　of　peasants　scything
and　gathering　in　the　grass。　　One　could　imagine　her　doing　that；　and
looking　beautiful；　with　a　coloured　handkerchief　over　her　head；　one
could　imagine　her　doing　anything　simpleone　could　not　imagine　old
Stormer　doing　anything　but　what　he　did　do。　　And　suddenly　the　boy
felt　miserable；　oppressed　by　these　dim　glimmerings　of　lives
misplaced。　　And　he　resolved　that　he　would　not　be　like　Stormer　when
he　was　old！　　No；　he　would　rather　be　a　regular　beast　than　be　like
that！　。　。　。

When　he　went　to　his　room　to　change　for　dinner　he　saw　in　a　glass　of
water　a　large　clove　carnation。　　Who　had　put　it　there？　　Who　could
have　put　it　therebut　she？　　It　had　the　same　scent　as　the　mountain
pinks　she　had　dropped　over　him；　but　deeper；　richera　scent　moving；
dark；　and　sweet。　　He　put　his　lips　to　it　before　he　pinned　it　into
his　coat。

There　was　dancing　again　that　nightmore　couples　this　time；　and　a
violin　beside　the　piano；　and　she　had　on　a　black　frock。　　He　had
never　seen　her　in　black。　　Her　face　and　neck　were　powdered　over
their　sunburn。　　The　first　sight　of　that　powder　gave　him　a　faint
shock。　　He　had　not　somehow　thought　that　ladies　ever　put　on　powder。
But　if　SHE　didthen　it　must　be　right！　　And　his　eyes　never　left
her。　　He　saw　the　young　German　violinist　hovering　round　her；　even
dancing　with　her　twice；　watched　her　dancing　with　others；　but　all
without　jealousy；　without　troubling；　all　in　a　sort　of　dream。　　What
was　it？　　Had　he　been　bewitched　into　that　queer　state；　bewitched　by
the　gift　of　that　flower　in　his　coat？　　What　was　it；　when　he　danced
with　her；　that　kept　him　happy　in　her　silence　and　his　own？　　There
was　no　expectation　in　him　of　anything　that　she　would　say；　or　dono
expectation；　no　desire。　　Even　when　he　wandered　out　with　her　on　to
the　terrace；　even　when　they　went　down　the　bank　and　sat　on　a　bench
above　the　fields　where　the　peasants　had　been　scything；　he　had　still
no　feeling　but　that　quiet；　dreamy　adoration。　　The　night　was　black
and　dreamy　too；　for　the　moon　was　still　well　down　behind　the
mountains。　　The　little　band　was　playing　the　next　waltz；　but　he　sat；
not　moving；　not　thinking；　as　if　all　power　of　action　and　thought　had
been　stolen　out　of　him。　　And　the　scent　of　the　flower　in　his　coat
rose；　for　there　was　no　wind。　　Suddenly　his　heart　stopped　beating。
She　had　leaned　against　him；　he　felt　her　shoulder　press　his　arm；　her
hair　touch　his　cheek。　　He　closed　his　eyes　then；　and　turned　his　face
to　her。　　He　felt　her　lips　press　his　mouth　with　a　swift；　burning
kiss。　　He　sighed；　stretched　out　his　arms。　　There　was　nothing　there
but　air。　　The　rustle　of　her　dress　against　the　grass　was　all！　　The
flowerit；　too；　was　gone。


X


Not　one　minute　all　that　night　did　Anna　sleep。　　Was　it　remorse　that
kept　her　awake；　or　the　intoxication　of　memory？　　If　she　felt　that
her　kiss　had　been　a　crime；　it　was　not　against　her　husband　or
herself；　but　against　the　boythe　murder　of　illusion；　of　something
sacred。　　But　she　could　not　help　feeling　a　delirious　happiness　too；
and　the　thought　of　trying　to　annul　what　she　had　done　did　not　even
occur　to　her。

He　was　ready；　then；　to　give　her　a　little　love！　　Ever　so　little；
compared　to　hers；　but　still　a　little！　　There　could　be　no　other
meaning　to　that　movement　of　his　face　with　the　closed　eyes；　as　if　he
would　nestle　it　down　on　her　breast。

Was　she　ashamed　of　her　little　manoeuvres　of　these　last　few　days
ashamed　of　having　smiled　at　the　young　violinist；　of　that　late
return　from　the　mountain　climb；　of　the　flower　she　had　given　him；　of
all　the　conscious　siege　she　had　laid　since　the　evening　her　husband
came　in　and　sat　watching　her；　without　knowing　that　she　saw　him？
No；　not　really　ashamed！　　Her　remorse　rose　only　from　the　kiss。　　It
hurt　to　think　of　that；　because　it　was　death；　the　final　extinction
of　the　mother…feeling　in　her；　the　awakening　ofwho　knew　whatin
the　boy！　　For　if　she　was　mysterious　to　him；　what　was　he　not　to　her；
with　his　eagerness；　and　his　dreaminess；　his　youthful　warmth；　his
innocence！　　What　if　it　had　killed　in　him　trust；　brushed　off　the
dew；　tumbled　a　star