The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第14部分

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She　suffered；　but　he　was　out　of　doors；　full　in　life；　and　it
would　be　ridiculous；　indecent；　to　pull　a　long　face　and　to　insist
on　being　miserable。　He　was　happy；　this　morning；　driving　to　town；
with　the　hoofs　of　the　horse　spanking　the　hard　earth。　Well　he　was
happy；　if　half　the　world　were　weeping　at　the　funeral　of　the
other　half。　And　it　was　a　jolly　girl　sitting　beside　him。　And
Woman　was　immortal；　whatever　happened；　whoever　turned　towards
death。　Let　the　misery　e　when　it　could　not　be　resisted。

The　evening　arrived　later　very　beautiful；　with　a　rosy　flush
hovering　above　the　sunset；　and　passing　away　into　violet　and
lavender；　with　turquoise　green　north　and　south　in　the　sky；　and
in　the　east；　a　great；　yellow　moon　hanging　heavy　and　radiant。　It
was　magnificent　to　walk　between　the　sunset　and　the　moon；　on　a
road　where　little　holly　trees　thrust　black　into　the　rose　and
lavender；　and　starlings　flickered　in　droves　across　the　light。
But　what　was　the　end　of　the　journey？　The　pain　came　right　enough；
later　on；　when　his　heart　and　his　feet　were　heavy；　his　brain
dead；　his　life　stopped。

One　afternoon；　the　pains　began；　Mrs。　Brangwen　was　put　to　bed；
the　midwife　came。　Night　fell；　the　shutters　were　closed；　Brangwen
came　in　to　tea；　to　the　loaf　and　the　pewter　teapot；　the　child；
silent　and　quivering；　playing　with　glass　beads；　the　house；
empty；　it　seemed；　or　exposed　to　the　winter　night；　as　if　it　had
no　walls。

Sometimes　there　sounded；　long　and　remote　in　the　house；
vibrating　through　everything；　the　moaning　cry　of　a　woman　in
labour。　Brangwen；　sitting　downstairs；　was　divided。　His　lower；
deeper　self　was　with　her；　bound　to　her；　suffering。　But　the　big
shell　of　his　body　remembered　the　sound　of　owls　that　used　to　fly
round　the　farmstead　when　he　was　a　boy。　He　was　back　in　his　youth；
a　boy；　haunted　by　the　sound　of　the　owls；　waking　up　his　brother
to　speak　to　him。　And　his　mind　drifted　away　to　the　birds；　their
solemn；　dignified　faces；　their　flight　so　soft　and　broad…winged。
And　then　to　the　birds　his　brother　had　shot；　fluffy；
dust…coloured；　dead　heaps　of　softness　with　faces　absurdly
asleep。　It　was　a　queer　thing；　a　dead　owl。

He　lifted　his　cup　to　his　lips；　he　watched　the　child　with　the
beads。　But　his　mind　was　occupied　with　owls；　and　the　atmosphere
of　his　boyhood；　with　his　brothers　and　sisters。　Elsewhere；
fundamental；　he　was　with　his　wife　in　labour；　the　child　was　being
brought　forth　out　of　their　one　flesh。　He　and　she；　one　flesh；　out
of　which　life　must　be　put　forth。　The　rent　was　not　in　his　body；
but　it　was　of　his　body。　On　her　the　blows　fell；　but　the　quiver
ran　through　to　him；　to　his　last　fibre。　She　must　be　torn　asunder
for　life　to　e　forth；　yet　still　they　were　one　flesh；　and
still；　from　further　back；　the　life　came　out　of　him　to　her；　and
still　he　was　the　unbroken　that　has　the　broken　rock　in　its　arms；
their　flesh　was　one　rock　from　which　the　life　gushed；　out　of　her
who　was　smitten　and　rent；　from　him　who　quivered　and　yielded。

He　went　upstairs　to　her。　As　he　came　to　the　bedside　she　spoke
to　him　in　Polish。

〃Is　it　very　bad？〃　he　asked。

She　looked　at　him；　and　oh；　the　weariness　to　her；　of　the
effort　to　understand　another　language；　the　weariness　of　hearing
him；　attending　to　him；　making　out　who　he　was；　as　he　stood　there
fair…bearded　and　alien；　looking　at　her。　She　knew　something　of
him；　of　his　eyes。　But　she　could　not　grasp　him。　She　closed　her
eyes。

He　turned　away；　white　to　the　gills。

〃It's　not　so　very　bad；〃　said　the　midwife。

He　knew　he　was　a　strain　on　his　wife。　He　went　downstairs。

The　child　glanced　up　at　him；　frightened。

〃I　want　my　mother；〃　she　quavered。

〃Ay；　but　she's　badly；〃　he　said　mildly；　unheeding。

She　looked　at　him　with　lost；　frightened　eyes。

〃Has　she　got　a　headache？〃

〃No……she's　going　to　have　a　baby。〃

The　child　looked　round。　He　was　unaware　of　her。　She　was　alone
again　in　terror。

〃I　want　my　mother；〃　came　the　cry　of　panic。

〃Let　Tilly　undress　you；〃　he　said。　〃You're　tired。〃

There　was　another　silence。　Again　came　the　cry　of　labour。

〃I　want　my　mother；〃　rang　automatically　from　the　wincing；
panic…stricken　child；　that　felt　cut　off　and　lost　in　a　horror　of
desolation。

Tilly　came　forward；　her　heart　wrung。

〃e　an'　let　me　undress　her　then；　pet…lamb；〃　she　crooned。
〃You　s'll　have　your　mother　in　th'　mornin'；　don't　you　fret；　my
duckie；　never　mind；　angel。〃

But　Anna　stood　upon　the　sofa；　her　back　to　the　wall。

〃I　want　my　mother；〃　she　cried；　her　little　face　quivering；　and
the　great　tears　of　childish；　utter　anguish　falling。

〃She's　poorly；　my　lamb；　she's　poorly　to…night；　but　she'll　be
better　by　mornin'。　Oh；　don't　cry；　don't　cry；　love；　she　doesn't
want　you　to　cry；　precious　little　heart；　no；　she　doesn't。〃

Tilly　took　gently　hold　of　the　child's　skirts。　Anna　snatched
back　her　dress；　and　cried；　in　a　little　hysteria：

〃No；　you're　not　to　undress　me……I　want　my
mother；〃……and　her　child's　face　was　running　with　grief　and
tears；　her　body　shaken。

〃Oh；　but　let　Tilly　undress　you。　Let　Tilly　undress　you；　who
loves　you；　don't　be　wilful　to…night。　Mother's　poorly；　she
doesn't　want　you　to　cry。〃

The　child　sobbed　distractedly；　she　could　not　hear。

〃I　want……my……mother；〃　she　wept。

〃When　you're　undressed；　you　s'll　go　up　to　see　your
mother……when　you're　undressed；　pet；　when　you've　let　Tilly
undress　you；　when　you're　a　little　jewel　in　your　nightie；　love。
Oh；　don't　you　cry；　don't　you……〃

Brangwen　sat　stiff　in　his　chair。　He　felt　his　brain　going
tighter。　He　crossed　over　the　room；　aware　only　of　the　maddening
sobbing。

〃Don't　make　a　noise；〃　he　said。

And　a　new　fear　shook　the　child　from　the　sound　of　his　voice。
She　cried　mechanically；　her　eyes　looking　watchful　through　her
tears；　in　terror；　alert　to　what　might　happen。

〃I　want……my……mother；〃　quavered　the　sobbing；　blind
voice。

A　shiver　of　irritation　went　over　the　man's　limbs。　It　was　the
utter；　persistent　unreason；　the　maddening　blindness　of　the　voice
and　the　crying。

〃You　must　e　and　be　undressed；〃　he　said；　in　a　quiet　voice
that　was　thin　with　anger。

And　he　reached　his　hand　and　grasped　her。　He　felt　her　body
catch　in　a　convulsive　sob。　But　he　too　was　blind；　and　intent；
irritated　into　mechanical　action。　He　began　to　unfasten　her
little　apron。　She　would　have　shrunk　from　him；　but　could　not。　So
her　small　body　remained　in　his　grasp；　while　he　fumbled　at　the
little　buttons　and　tapes；　unthinking；　intent；　unaware　of
anything　but　the　irritation　of　her。　Her　body　was　held　taut　and
resistant；　he　pushed　off　the　little　dress　and　the　petticoats；
revealing　the　white　arms。　She　kept　stiff；　overpowered；　violated；
he　went　on　with　his　task。　And　all　the　while　she　sobbed；
choking：

〃I　want　my　mother。〃

He　was　unheedingly　silent；　his　face　stiff。　The　child　was　now
incapable　of　understanding；　she　had　bee　a　little；　mechanical
thing　of　fixed　will。　She　wept；　her　body　convulsed；　her　voice
repeating　the　same　cry。

〃Eh；　dear　o'　me！〃　cried　Tilly；　being　distracted　herself。
Brangwen；　slow；　clumsy；　blind；　intent；　got　off　all　the　little
garments；　and　stood　the　child　naked　in　its　shift　upon　the
sofa。

〃Where's　her　nightie？〃　he　asked。

Tilly　brought　it；　and　he　put　it　on　her。　Anna　did　not　move　her
limbs　to　his　desire。　He　had　to　push　them　into　place。　She　stood；
with　fixed；　blind　will；　resistant；　a　small；　convulsed；
unchangeable　thing　weeping　ever　and　repeating　the　same　phrase。
He　lifted　one　foot　after　the　other；　pulled　off　slippers　and
socks。　She　was　ready。

〃Do　you　want　a　drink？〃　he　asked。

She　did　not　change。　Unheeding；　uncaring；　she　stood　on　the
sofa；　standing　back；　alone；　her　hands　shut　and　half　lifted；　her
face；　all　tears；　raised　and　blind。　And　through　the　sobbing　and
choking　came　the　broken：

〃I……want……my……mother。〃

〃Do　you　want　a　drink？〃　he　said　again。

There　was　no　answer。　He　lifted　the　stiff；　denying　body
between　his　hands。　Its　stiff　blindness　made　a　flash　of　rage　go
through　him。　He　would　like　to　break　it。

He　set　the　child　on　his　knee；　and　sat　again　in　his　chair
beside　the　fire；　the　wet；　sobbing；　inarticulate　noise　going　on
near　his　ear；　the　child　sitting　stiff；　not　yielding　to　him　or
anything；　not　aware。

A　new　degree　of　anger　came　over　him。　What　did　it　all　matter？
What　did　it　matter　if　the　mother　talked　Polish　and　cried　in
labour；　if　this　child　were　stiff　with　resistance；　and　crying？
Why　take　it　to　heart？　Let　the　mother　cry　in　labour；　let　the
child　cry　in　resistance；　since　they　would　do　so。　Why　should　he
fight　against　it；　why　resist？　Let　it　be；　if　it　were　so。　Let　them
be　as　they　were；　if　they　insisted。

And　in　a　daze　he　sat；　offering　no　fight。　The　child　cried　on；
the　minutes　ticked　away；　a　sort　of　torpor　was　on　him。

It　was　some　little　time　before　he　came　to；　and　turned　to
attend　to　the　child。　He　was　shocked　by　her　little　wet；　blinded
face。　A　bit　dazed；　he　pushed　back　the　wet　hair。　Like　a　living
statue　of　grief；　her　blind　face　cried　on。

〃Nay；〃　he　said；　〃not　as　bad　as　that。　It's　not　as　bad　as　that；
Anna；　my　child。　e；　what　are　you　crying　for　so　much？　e；
stop　now；　it'll　make　you　sick。　I　wipe　you　dry；　don't　wet　your
face　any　more。　Don't　cry　any　more　wet　tears；　don't；　it's　better
not　to。　Don't　cry……it's　not　so　bad　as　all　that。　Hush　now；
hush……let　it　be　enough。〃

His　voice　was　queer　and　distant　and　calm。　He　looked　at　the
child。　She　was　beside　herself　now。　He　wanted　her　to　stop；　he
wanted　it　all　to　stop；　to　bee　natural。

〃e；〃　he　said；　rising　to　turn　away；　〃we'll　go　an'　supper…up
the　beast。〃

He　took　a　big　shawl；　folded　her　round；　and　went　out　into　the
kitchen　for　a　lantern。

〃You're　never　taking　the　child　out；　of　a　night　like　this；〃
said　Tilly。

〃Ay；　it'll　quieten　her；〃　he　answered。

It　was　raining。　The　child　was　suddenly　still；　shocked；
finding　the　rain　on　its　face；　the　darkness。

〃We'll　just　give　the　cows　their　something…to…eat；　afore　they
go　to　bed；〃　Brangwen　was　saying　to　her；　holding　her　close　and
sure。

There　was　a　trickling　of　water　into　the　butt；　a　burst　of
rain…drops　sputtering　on　to　her　shawl；　and　the　light　of　the
lantern　swinging；　flashing　on　a　wet　pavement　and　the　base　of　a
wet　wall。　Otherwise　it　was　black　darkness：　one　breathed
darkness。

He　opened　the　doors；　upper　and　lower；　and　they　entered　into
the　high；　dry　barn；　that　smelled　warm　even　if　it　were　not　warm。
He　hung　the　lantern　on　the　nail　and　shut　the　door。　They　were　in
another　world　now。　The　light　shed　softly　on　the　timbered　barn；
on　the　whitewashed　walls；　and　the　great　heap　of　hay；　instruments
cast　their　shadows　largely；　a　ladder　rose　to　the　dark　arch　of　a
loft。　Outside　there　was　the　driving　rain；　inside；　the
softly…illuminated　stillness　and　calmness　of　the　barn。

Holding　the　child　on　one　arm；　he　set　about　preparing　the　food
for　the　cows；　filling　a　pan　with　chopped　hay　and　brewer's　grains
and　a　little　meal。　The　child；　all　wonder；　watched　what　he　did。　A
new　being　was　created　in　her　for　the　new　conditions。　Sometimes；
a　little　spasm；　eddying　from　the　bygone　storm　of　sobbing；　shook
her　small　body。　Her　eyes　were　wide　and　wondering；　pathetic。　She
was　silent；　quite　still。

In　a　sort　of　dream；　his　heart　sunk　to　the　bottom；　leaving　the
surface　of　him　still；　quite　still；　he　rose　with　the　panful　of
food；　carefully　balancing　the　child　on　one　arm；　the　pan　in　the
other　hand。　The　silky　fringe　of　the　shawl　swayed　softly