The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第12部分

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to　him；　looking　at　him　with　wide；　grey　eyes　that　almost　smiled
with　a　low　light。　But　her　uglybeautiful　mouth　was　still　unmoved
and　sad。　He　was　afraid。

His　eyes；　strained　and　roused　with　unusedness；　quailed　a
little　before　her；　he　felt　himself　quailing　and　yet　he　rose；　as
if　obedient　to　her；　he　bent　and　kissed　her　heavy；　sad；　wide
mouth；　that　was　kissed；　and　did　not　alter。　Fear　was　too　strong
in　him。　Again　he　had　not　got　her。

She　turned　away。　The　vicarage　kitchen　was　untidy；　and　yet　to
him　beautiful　with　the　untidiness　of　her　and　her　child。　Such　a
wonderful　remoteness　there　was　about　her；　and　then　something　in
touch　with　him；　that　made　his　heart　knock　in　his　chest。　He　stood
there　and　waited；　suspended。

Again　she　came　to　him；　as　he　stood　in　his　black　clothes；　with
blue　eyes　very　bright　and　puzzled　for　her；　his　face　tensely
alive；　his　hair　dishevelled。　She　came　close　up　to　him；　to　his
intent；　blackclothed　body；　and　laid　her　hand　on　his　arm。　He
remained　unmoved。　Her　eyes；　with　a　blackness　of　memory
struggling　with　passion；　primitive　and　electric　away　at　the　back
of　them；　rejected　him　and　absorbed　him　at　once。　But　he　remained
himself。　He　breathed　with　difficulty；　and　sweat　came　out　at　the
roots　of　his　hair；　on　his　forehead。

〃Do　you　want　to　marry　me？〃　she　asked　slowly；　always
uncertain。

He　was　afraid　lest　he　could　not　speak。　He　drew　breath　hard；
saying：

〃I　do。〃

Then　again；　what　was　agony　to　him；　with　one　hand　lightly
resting　on　his　arm；　she　leaned　forward　a　little；　and　with　a
strange；　primeval　suggestion　of　embrace；　held　him　her　mouth。　It
was　uglybeautiful；　and　he　could　not　bear　it。　He　put　his　mouth
on　hers；　and　slowly；　slowly　the　response　came；　gathering　force
and　passion；　till　it　seemed　to　him　she　was　thundering　at　him
till　he　could　bear　no　more。　He　drew　away；　white；　unbreathing。
Only；　in　his　blue　eyes；　was　something　of　himself　concentrated。
And　in　her　eyes　was　a　little　smile　upon　a　black　void。

She　was　drifting　away　from　him　again。　And　he　wanted　to　go
away。　It　was　intolerable。　He　could　bear　no　more。　He　must　go。　Yet
he　was　irresolute。　But　she　turned　away　from　him。

With　a　little　pang　of　anguish；　of　denial；　it　was　decided。

〃I'll　e　an'　speak　to　the　vicar　tomorrow；〃　he　said；　taking
his　hat。

She　looked　at　him；　her　eyes　expressionless　and　full　of
darkness。　He　could　see　no　answer。

〃That'll　do；　won't　it？〃　he　said。

〃Yes；〃　she　answered；　mere　echo　without　body　or　meaning。

〃Good　night；〃　he　said。

〃Good　night。〃

He　left　her　standing　there；　expressionless　and　void　as　she
was。　Then　she　went　on　laying　the　tray　for　the　vicar。　Needing　the
table；　she　put　the　daffodils　aside　on　the　dresser　without
noticing　them。　Only　their　coolness；　touching　her　hand；　remained
echoing　there　a　long　while。

They　were　such　strangers；　they　must　for　ever　be　such
strangers；　that　his　passion　was　a　clanging　torment　to　him。　Such
intimacy　of　embrace；　and　such　utter　foreignness　of　contact！　It
was　unbearable。　He　could　not　bear　to　be　near　her；　and　know　the
utter　foreignness　between　them；　know　how　entirely　they　were
strangers　to　each　other。　He　went　out　into　the　wind。　Big　holes
were　blown　into　the　sky；　the　moonlight　blew　about。　Sometimes　a
high　moon；　liquidbrilliant；　scudded　across　a　hollow　space　and
took　cover　under　electric；　browniridescent　cloudedges。　Then
there　was　a　blot　of　cloud；　and　shadow。　Then　somewhere　in　the
night　a　radiance　again；　like　a　vapour。　And　all　the　sky　was
teeming　and　tearing　along；　a　vast　disorder　of　flying　shapes　and
darkness　and　ragged　fumes　of　light　and　a　great　brown　circling
halo；　then　the　terror　of　a　moon　running　liquidbrilliant　into
the　open　for　a　moment；　hurting　the　eyes　before　she　plunged　under
cover　of　cloud　again。



CHAPTER　II

THEY　LIVE　AT　THE　MARSH

She　was　the　daughter　of　a　Polish　landowner　who；　deeply　in
debt　to　the　Jews；　had　married　a　German　wife　with　money；　and　who
had　died　just　before　the　rebellion。　Quite　young；　she　had　married
Paul　Lensky；　an　intellectual　who　had　studied　at　Berlin；　and　had
returned　to　Warsaw　a　patriot。　Her　mother　had　married　a　German
merchant　and　gone　away。

Lydia　Lensky；　married　to　the　young　doctor；　became　with　him　a
patriot　and　an　emancipee。　They　were　poor；　but　they
were　very　conceited。　She　learned　nursing　as　a　mark　of　her
emancipation。　They　represented　in　Poland　the　new　movement　just
begun　in　Russia。　But　they　were　very　patriotic：　and；　at　the　same
time；　very　〃European〃。

They　had　two　children。　Then　came　the　great　rebellion。　Lensky；
very　ardent　and　full　of　words；　went　about　inciting　his
countrymen。　Little　Poles　flamed　down　the　streets　of　Warsaw；　on
the　way　to　shoot　every　Muscovite。　So　they　crossed　into　the　south
of　Russia；　and　it　was　mon　for　six　little　insurgents　to　ride
into　a　Jewish　village；　brandishing　swords　and　words；　emphasizing
the　fact　that　they　were　going　to　shoot　every　living
Muscovite。

Lensky　was　something　of　a　fireeater　also。　Lydia；　tempered　by
her　German　blood；　ing　of　a　different　family；　was　obliterated；
carried　along　in　her　husband's　emphasis　of　declaration；　and　his
whirl　of　patriotism。　He　was　indeed　a　brave　man；　but　no　bravery
could　quite　have　equalled　the　vividness　of　his　talk。　He　worked
very　hard；　till　nothing　lived　in　him　but　his　eyes。　And　Lydia；　as
if　drugged；　followed　him　like　a　shadow；　serving；　echoing。
Sometimes　she　had　her　two　children；　sometimes　they　were　left
behind。

She　returned　once　to　find　them　both　dead　of　diphtheria。　Her
husband　wept　aloud；　unaware　of　everybody。　But　the　war　went　on；
and　soon　he　was　back　at　his　work。　A　darkness　had　e　over
Lydia's　mind。　She　walked　always　in　a　shadow；　silenced；　with　a
strange；　deep　terror　having　hold　of　her；　her　desire　was　to　seek
satisfaction　in　dread；　to　enter　a　nunnery；　to　satisfy　the
instincts　of　dread　in　her；　through　service　of　a　dark　religion。
But　she　could　not。

Then　came　the　flight　to　London。　Lensky；　the　little；　thin　man；
had　got　all　his　life　locked　into　a　resistance　and　could　not
relax　again。　He　lived　in　a　sort　of　insane　irritability；　touchy；
haughty　to　the　last　degree；　fractious；　so　that　as　assistant
doctor　in　one　of　the　hospitals　he　soon　became　impossible。　They
were　almost　beggars。　But　he　kept　still　his　great　ideas　of
himself；　he　seemed　to　live　in　a　plete　hallucination；　where　he
himself　figured　vivid　and　lordly。　He　guarded　his　wife　jealously
against　the　ignominy　of　her　position；　rushed　round　her　like　a
brandished　weapon；　an　amazing　sight　to　the　English　eye；　had　her
in　his　power；　as　if　he　hypnotized　her。　She　was　passive；　dark；
always　in　shadow。

He　was　wasting　away。　Already　when　the　child　was　born　he
seemed　nothing　but　skin　and　bone　and　fixed　idea。　She　watched　him
dying；　nursed　him；　nursed　the　baby；　but　really　took　no　notice　of
anything。　A　darkness　was　on　her；　like　remorse；　or　like　a
remembering　of　the　dark；　savage；　mystic　ride　of　dread；　of　death；
of　the　shadow　of　revenge。　When　her　husband　died；　she　was
relieved。　He　would　no　longer　dart　about　her。

England　fitted　her　mood；　its　aloofness　and　foreignness。　She
had　known　a　little　of　the　language　before　ing；　and　a　sort　of
parrotmind　made　her　pick　it　up　fairly　easily。　But　she　knew
nothing　of　the　English；　nor　of　English　life。　Indeed；　these　did
not　exist　for　her。　She　was　like　one　walking　in　the　Underworld；
where　the　shades　throng　intelligibly　but　have　no　connection　with
one。　She　felt　the　English　people　as　a　potent；　cold；　slightly
hostile　host　amongst　whom　she　walked　isolated。

The　English　people　themselves　were　almost　deferential　to　her；
the　Church　saw　that　she　did　not　want。　She　walked　without
passion；　like　a　shade；　tormented　into　moments　of　love　by　the
child。　Her　dying　husband　with　his　tortured　eyes　and　the　skin
drawn　tight　over　his　face；　he　was　as　a　vision　to　her；　not　a
reality。　In　a　vision　he　was　buried　and　put　away。　Then　the　vision
ceased；　she　was　untroubled；　time　went　on　grey；　uncoloured；　like
a　long　journey　where　she　sat　unconscious　as　the　landscape
unrolled　beside　her。　When　she　rocked　her　baby　at　evening；　maybe
she　fell　into　a　Polish　slumber　song；　or　she　talked　sometimes　to
herself　in　Polish。　Otherwise　she　did　not　think　of　Poland；　nor　of
that　life　to　which　she　had　belonged。　It　was　a　great　blot　looming
blank　in　its　darkness。