The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第58部分

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was　so　filled　by　her　own　bright　ecstacy。　She　did　not　see　him　go；
for　she　was　filled　with　light；　which　was　of　him。　Bright　with　an
amazing　light　as　she　was；　how　could　she　miss　him。

In　her　bedroom　she　threw　her　arms　in　the　air　in　clear　pain　of
magnificence。　Oh；　it　was　her　transfiguration；　she　was　beyond
herself。　She　wanted　to　fling　herself　into　all　the　hidden
brightness　of　the　air。　It　was　there；　it　was　there；　if　she　could
but　meet　it。

But　the　next　day　she　knew　he　had　gone。　Her　glory　had　partly
died　down……but　never　from　her　memory。　It　was　too　real。　Yet
it　was　gone　by；　leaving　a　wistfulness。　A　deeper　yearning　came
into　her　soul；　a　new　reserve。

She　shrank　from　touch　and　question。　She　was　very　proud；　but
very　new；　and　very　sensitive。　Oh；　that　no　one　should　lay　hands
on　her！

She　was　happier　running　on　by　herself。　Oh；　it　was　a　joy　to
run　along　the　lanes　without　seeing　things；　yet　being　with　them。
It　was　such　a　joy　to　be　alone　with　all　one's　riches。

The　holidays　came；　when　she　was　free。　She　spent　most　of　her
time　running　on　by　herself；　curled　up　in　a　squirrel…place　in　the
garden；　lying　in　a　hammock　in　the　coppice；　while　the　birds　came
near……near……so　near。　Oh；　in　rainy　weather；　she　flitted
to　the　Marsh；　and　lay　hidden　with　her　book　in　a　hay…loft。

All　the　time；　she　dreamed　of　him；　sometimes　definitely；　but
when　she　was　happiest；　only　vaguely。　He　was　the　warm　colouring
of　her　dreams；　he　was　the　hot　blood　beating　within　them。

When　she　was　less　happy；　out　of　sorts；　she　pondered　over　his
appearance；　his　clothes；　the　buttons　with　his　regimental　badge；
which　he　had　given　her。　Or　she　tried　to　imagine　his　life　in
barracks。　Or　she　conjured　up　a　vision　of　herself　as　she　appeared
in　his　eyes。

His　birthday　was　in　August；　and　she　spent　some　pains　on
making　him　a　cake。　She　felt　that　it　would　not　be　in　good　taste
for　her　to　give　him　a　present。

Their　correspondence　was　brief；　mostly　an　exchange　of
post…cards；　not　at　all　frequent。　But　with　her　cake　she　must　send
him　a　letter。

〃Dear　Anton。　The　sunshine　has　e　back　specially　for　your
birthday；　I　think。　I　made　the　cake　myself；　and　wish　you　many
happy　returns　of　the　day。　Don't　eat　it　if　it　is　not　good。　Mother
hopes　you　will　e　and　see　us　when　you　are　near　enough。

　〃I　am

　〃Your　Sincere　Friend；

　〃Ursula　Brangwen。〃

It　bored　her　to　write　a　letter　even　to　him。　After　all；
writing　words　on　paper　had　nothing　to　do　with　him　and　her。

The　fine　weather　had　set　in；　the　cutting　machine　went　on　from
dawn　till　sunset；　chattering　round　the　fields。　She　heard　from
Skrebensky；　he　too　was　on　duty　in　the　country；　on　Salisbury
Plain。　He　was　now　a　second　lieutenant　in　a　Field　Troop。　He　would
have　a　few　days　off　shortly；　and　would　e　to　the　Marsh　for　the
wedding。

Fred　Brangwen　was　going　to　marry　a　schoolmistress　out　of
Ilkeston　as　soon　as　corn…harvest　was　at　an　end。

The　dim　blue…and…gold　of　a　hot；　sweet　autumn　saw　the　close　of
the　corn…harvest。　To　Ursula；　it　was　as　if　the　world　had　opened
its　softest　purest　flower；　its　chicory　flower；　its　meadow
saffron。　The　sky　was　blue　and　sweet；　the　yellow　leaves　down　the
lane　seemed　like　free；　wandering　flowers　as　they　chittered　round
the　feet；　making　a　keen；　poignant；　almost　unbearable　music　to
her　heart。　And　the　scents　of　autumn　were　like　a　summer　madness
to　her。　She　fled　away　from　the　little；　purple…red
button…chrysanthemums　like　a　frightened　dryad；　the　bright　yellow
little　chrysanthemums　smelled　so　strong；　her　feet　seemed　to
dither　in　a　drunken　dance。

Then　her　Uncle　Tom　appeared；　always　like　the　cynical　Bacchus
in　the　picture。　He　would　have　a　jolly　wedding；　a　harvest　supper
and　a　wedding　feast　in　one：　a　tent　in　the　home　close；　and　a　band
for　dancing；　and　a　great　feast　out　of　doors。

Fred　demurred；　but　Tom　must　be　satisfied。　Also　Laura；　a
handsome；　clever　girl；　the　bride；　she　also　must　have　a　great　and
jolly　feast。　It　appealed　to　her　educated　sense。　She　had　been　to
Salisbury　Training　College；　knew　folk…songs　and
morris…dancing。

So　the　preparations　were　begun；　directed　by　Tom　Brangwen。　A
marquee　was　set　up　on　the　home　close；　two　large　bonfires　were
prepared。　Musicians　were　hired；　feast　made　ready。

Skrebensky　was　to　e；　arriving　in　the　morning。　Ursula　had　a
new　white　dress　of　soft　crepe；　and　a　white　hat。　She　liked　to
wear　white。　With　her　black　hair　and　clear　golden　skin；　she
looked　southern；　or　rather　tropical；　like　a　Creole。　She　wore　no
colour　whatsoever。

She　trembled　that　day　as　she　appeared　to　go　down　to　the
wedding。　She　was　to　be　a　bridesmaid。　Skrebensky　would　not　arrive
till　afternoon。　The　wedding　was　at　two　o'clock。

As　the　wedding…party　returned　home；　Skrebensky　stood　in　the
parlour　at　the　Marsh。　Through　the　window　he　saw　Tom　Brangwen；
who　was　best　man；　ing　up　the　garden　path　most　elegant　in
cut…away　coat　and　white　slip　and　spats；　with　Ursula　laughing　on
his　arm。　Tom　Brangwen　was　handsome；　with　his　womanish　colouring
and　dark　eyes　and　black　close…cut　moustache。　But　there　was
something　subtly　coarse　and　suggestive　about　him　for　all　his
beauty；　his　strange；　bestial　nostrils　opened　so　hard　and　wide；
and　his　well…shaped　head　almost　disquieting　in　its　nakedness；
rather　bald　from　the　front；　and　all　its　soft　fulness
betrayed。

Skrebensky　saw　the　man　rather　than　the　woman。　She　saw　only
the　slender；　unchangeable　youth　waiting　there　inscrutable；　like
her　fate。　He　was　beyond　her；　with　his　loose；　slightly　horsey
appearance；　that　made　him　seem　very　manly　and　foreign。　Yet　his
face　was　smooth　and　soft　and　impressionable。　She　shook　hands
with　him；　and　her　voice　was　like　the　rousing　of　a　bird　startled
by　the　dawn。

〃Isn't　it　nice；〃　she　cried；　〃to　have　a　wedding？〃

There　were　bits　of　coloured　confetti　lodged　on　her　dark
hair。

Again　the　confusion　came　over　him；　as　if　he　were　losing
himself　and　being　all　vague；　undefined；　inchoate。　Yet　he
wanted　to　be　hard；　manly；　horsey。　And　he　followed　her。

There　was　a　light　tea；　and　the　guests　scattered。　The　real
feast　was　for　the　evening。　Ursula　walked　out　with　Skrebensky
through　the　stackyard　to　the　fields；　and　up　the　embankment　to
the　canal…side。

The　new　corn…stacks　were　big　and　golden　as　they　went　by；　an
army　of　white　geese　marched　aside　in　braggart　protest。　Ursula
was　light　as　a　white　ball　of　down。　Skrebensky　drifted　beside
her；　indefinite；　his　old　from　loosened；　and　another　self；　grey；
vague；　drifting　out　as　from　a　bud。　They　talked　lightly；　of
nothing。

The　blue　way　of　the　canal　wound　softly　between　the　autumn
hedges；　on　towards　the　greenness　of　a　small　hill。　On　the　left
was　the　whole　black　agitation　of　colliery　and　railway　and　the
town　which　rose　on　its　hill；　the　church　tower　topping　all。　The
round　white　dot　of　the　clock　on　the　tower　was　distinct　in　the
evening　light。

That　way；　Ursula　felt；　was　the　way　to　London；　through　the
grim；　alluring　seethe　of　the　town。　On　the　other　hand　was　the
evening；　mellow　over　the　green　water…meadows　and　the　winding
alder　trees　beside　the　river；　and　the　pale　stretches　of　stubble
beyond。　There　the　evening　glowed　softly；　and　even　a　pee…wit　was
flapping　in　solitude　and　peace。

Ursula　and　Anton　Skrebensky　walked　along　the　ridge　of　the
canal　between。　The　berries　on　the　hedges　were　crimson　and　bright
red；　above　the　leaves。　The　glow　of　evening　and　the　wheeling　of
the　solitary　pee…wit　and　the　faint　cry　of　the　birds　came　to　meet
the　shuffling　noise　of　the　pits；　the　dark；　fuming　stress　of　the
town　opposite；　and　they　two　walked　the　blue　strip　of　water…way；
the　ribbon　of　sky　between。

He　was　looking；　Ursula　thought；　very　beautiful；　because　of　a
flush　of　sunburn　on　his　hands　and　face。　He　was　telling　her　how
he　had　learned　to　shoe　horses　and　select　cattle　fit　for
killing。

〃Do　you　like　to　be　a　soldier？〃　she　asked。

〃I　am　not　exactly　a　soldier；〃　he　replied。

〃But　you　only　do　things　for　wars；〃　she　said。

〃Yes。〃

〃Would　you　like　to　go　to　war？〃

〃I？　Well；　it　would　be　exciting。　If　there　were　a　war　I　would
want　to　go。〃

A　strange；　distracted　feeling　came　over　her；　a　sense　of
potent　unrealities。

〃Why　would　you　want　to　go？〃

〃I　should　be　doing　something；　it　would　be　genuine。　It's　a
sort　of　toy…life　as　it　is。〃

〃But　what　would　you　be　doing　if　you　went　to　war？〃

〃I　would　be　making　railways　or　bridges；　working　like　a
nigger。〃

〃But　you'd　only　make　them　to　be　pulled　down　again　when　the
armies　had　done　with　them。　It　seems　just　as　much　a　game。〃

〃If　you　call　war　a　game。〃

〃What　is　it？〃

〃It's　about　the　most　serious　business　there　is；
fighting。〃

A　sense　of　hard　separateness　came　over　her。

〃Why　is　fighting　more　serious　than　anything　else？〃　she
asked。

〃You　either　kill　or　get　killed……and　I　suppose　it　is
serious　enough；　killing。〃

〃But　when　you're　dead　you　don't　matter　any　more；〃　she
said。

He　was　silenced　for　a　moment。

〃But　the　result　matters；〃　he　said。　〃It　matters　whether　we
settle　the　Mahdi　or　not。〃

〃Not　to　you……nor　me……we　don't　care　about
Khartoum。〃

〃You　want　to　have　room　to　live　in：　and　somebody　has　to　make
room。〃

〃But　I　don't　want　to　live　in　the　desert　of　Sahara……do
you？〃　she　replied；　laughing　with　antagonism。

〃I　don't……but　we've　got　to　back　up　those　who　do。

〃Why　have　we？〃

〃Where　is　the　nation　if　we　don't？〃

〃But　we　aren't　the　nation。　There　are　heaps　of　other　people
who　are　the　nation。〃

〃They　might　say　they　weren't　either。〃

〃Well；　if　everybody　said　it；　there　wouldn't　be　a　nation。　But
I　should　still　be　myself；〃　she　asserted　brilliantly。

〃You　wouldn't　be　yourself　if　there　were　no　nation。〃

〃Why　not？〃

〃Because　you'd　just　be　a　prey　to　everybody　and　anybody。〃

〃How　a　prey？〃

〃They'd　e　and　take　everything　you'd　got。〃

〃Well；　they　couldn't　take　much　even　then。　I　don't　care　what
they　take。　I'd　rather　have　a　robber　who　carried　me　off　than　a
millionaire　who　gave　me　everything　you　can　buy。〃

〃That's　because　you　are　a　romanticist。〃

〃Yes；　I　am。　I　want　to　be　romantic。　I　hate　houses　that　never
go　away；　and　people　just　living　in　the　houses。　It's　all　so　stiff
and　stupid。　I　hate　soldiers；　they　are　stiff　and　wooden。　What　do
you　fight　for；　really？〃

〃I　would　fight　for　the　nation。〃

〃For　all　that；　you　aren't　the　nation。　What　would　you　do　for
yourself？〃

〃I　belong　to　the　nation　and　must　do　my　duty　by　the
nation。〃

〃But　when　it　didn't　need　your　services　in
particular……when　there　is　no　fighting？　What　would　you　do
then？〃

He　was　irritated。

〃I　would　do　what　everybody　else　does。〃

〃What？〃

〃Nothing。　I　would　be　in　readiness　for　when　I　was　needed。〃

The　answer　came　in　exasperation。

〃It　seems　to　me；〃　she　answered；　〃as　if　you　weren't
anybody……as　if　there　weren't　anybody　there；　where　you　are。
Are　you　anybody；　really？　You　seem　like　nothing　to　me。〃

They　had　walked　till　they　had　reached　a　wharf；　just　above　a
lock。　There　an　empty　barge；　painted　with　a　red　and　yellow　cabin
hood；　but　with　a　long；　coal…black　hold；　was　lying　moored。　A　man；
lean　and　grimy；　was　sitting　on　a　box　against　the　cabin…side　by
the　door；　smoking；　and　nursing　a　baby　that　was　wrapped　in　a　drab
shawl；　and　looking　into　the　glow　of　evening。　A　woman　bustled
out；　sent　a　pail　dashing　into　the　canal；　drew　her　water；　and
bustled　in　again。　Children's　voices　were　heard。　A　thin　blue
smoke　ascended　from　the　cabin　chimney；