The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第73部分

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Alas；　that　so　soon　the　drama　is　over；　that　life　is　ended　at
thirtythree；　that　the　half　of　the　year　of　the　soul　is　cold　and
historiless！　Alas；　that　a　risen　Christ　has　no　place　with　us！
Alas；　that　the　memory　of　the　passion　of　Sorrow　and　Death　and　the
Grave　holds　triumph　over　the　pale　fact　of　Resurrection！

But　why？　Why　shall　I　not　rise　with　my　body　whole　and　perfect；
shining　with　strong　life？　Why；　when　Mary　says：　Rabboni；　shall　I
not　take　her　in　my　arms　and　kiss　her　and　hold　her　to　my　breast？
Why　is　the　risen　body　deadly；　and　abhorrent　with　wounds？

The　Resurrection　is　to　life；　not　to　death。　Shall　I　not　see
those　who　have　risen　again　walk　here　among　men　perfect　in　body
and　spirit；　whole　and　glad　in　the　flesh；　living　in　the　flesh；
loving　in　the　flesh；　begetting　children　in　the　flesh；　arrived　at
last　to　wholeness；　perfect　without　scar　or　blemish；　healthy
without　fear　of　ill　health？　Is　this　not　the　period　of　manhood
and　of　joy　and　fulfilment；　after　the　Resurrection？　Who　shall　be
shadowed　by　Death　and　the　Cross；　being　risen；　and　who　shall　fear
the　mystic；　perfect　flesh　that　belongs　to　heaven？

Can　I　not；　then；　walk　this　earth　in　gladness；　being　risen
from　sorrow？　Can　I　not　eat　with　my　brother　happily；　and　with　joy
kiss　my　beloved；　after　my　resurrection；　celebrate　my　marriage　in
the　flesh　with　feastings；　go　about　my　business　eagerly；　in　the
joy　of　my　fellows？　Is　heaven　impatient　for　me；　and　bitter
against　this　earth；　that　I　should　hurry　off；　or　that　I　should
linger　pale　and　untouched？　Is　the　flesh　which　was　crucified
bee　as　poison　to　the　crowds　in　the　street；　or　is　it　as　a
strong　gladness　and　hope　to　them；　as　the　first　flower　blossoming
out　of　the　earth's　humus？



CHAPTER　XII

FIRST　LOVE

As　Ursula　passed　from　girlhood　towards　womanhood；　gradually
the　cloud　of　selfresponsibility　gathered　upon　her。　She　became
aware　of　herself；　that　she　was　a　separate　entity　in　the　midst　of
an　unseparated　obscurity；　that　she　must　go　somewhere；　she　must
bee　something。　And　she　was　afraid；　troubled。　Why；　oh　why　must
one　grow　up；　why　must　one　inherit　this　heavy；　numbing
responsibility　of　living　an　undiscovered　life？　Out　of　the
nothingness　and　the　undifferentiated　mass；　to　make　something　of
herself！　But　what？　In　the　obscurity　and　pathlessness　to　take　a
direction！　But　whither？　How　take　even　one　step？　And　yet；　how
stand　still？　This　was　torment　indeed；　to　inherit　the
responsibility　of　one's　own　life。

The　religion　which　had　been　another　world　for　her；　a　glorious
sort　of　playworld；　where　she　lived；　climbing　the　tree　with　the
shortstatured　man；　walking　shakily　on　the　sea　like　the
disciple；　breaking　the　bread　into　five　thousand　portions；　like
the　Lord；　giving　a　great　picnic　to　five　thousand　people；　now
fell　away　from　reality；　and　became　a　tale；　a　myth；　an　illusion；
which；　however　much　one　might　assert　it　to　be　true　an　historical
fact；　one　knew　was　not　trueat　least；　for　this
presentday　life　of　ours。　There　could；　within　the　limits
of　this　life　we　know；　be　no　Feeding　of　the　Five　Thousand。　And
the　girl　had　e　to　the　point　where　she　held　that　that　which
one　cannot　experience　in　daily　life　is　not　true　for　oneself。

So；　the　old　duality　of　life；　wherein　there　had　been　a　weekday
world　of　people　and　trains　and　duties　and　reports；　and　besides
that　a　Sunday　world　of　absolute　truth　and　living　mystery；　of
walking　upon　the　waters　and　being　blinded　by　the　face　of　the
Lord；　of　following　the　pillar　of　cloud　across　the　desert　and
watching　the　bush　that　crackled　yet　did　not　burn　away；　this　old；
unquestioned　duality　suddenly　was　found　to　be　broken　apart。　The
weekday　world　had　triumphed　over　the　Sunday　world。　The　Sunday
world　was　not　real；　or　at　least；　not　actual。　And　one　lived　by
action。

Only　the　weekday　world　mattered。　She　herself；　Ursula
Brangwen；　must　know　how　to　take　the　weekday　life。　Her　body　must
be　a　weekday　body；　held　in　the　world's　estimate。　Her　soul　must
have　a　weekday　value；　known　according　to　the　world's
knowledge。

Well；　then；　there　was　a　weekday　life　to　live；　of　action　and
deeds。　And　so　there　was　a　necessity　to　choose　one's　action　and
one's　deeds。　One　was　responsible　to　the　world　for　what　one
did。

Nay；　one　was　more　than　responsible　to　the　world。　One　was
responsible　to　oneself。　There　was　some　puzzling；　tormenting
residue　of　the　Sunday　world　within　her；　some　persistent　Sunday
self；　which　insisted　upon　a　relationship　with　the　now　shedaway
vision　world。　How　could　one　keep　up　a　relationship　with　that
which　one　denied？　Her　task　was　now　to　learn　the　weekday
life。

How　to　act；　that　was　the　question？　Whither　to　go；　how　to
bee　oneself？　One　was　not　oneself；　one　was　merely　a
halfstated　question。　How　to　bee　oneself；　how　to　know　the
question　and　the　answer　of　oneself；　when　one　was　merely　an
unfixed　somethingnothing；　blowing　about　like　the　winds　of
heaven；　undefined；　unstated。

She　turned　to　the　visions；　which　had　spoken　faroff　words
that　ran　along　the　blood　like　ripples　of　an　unseen　wind；　she
heard　the　words　again；　she　denied　the　vision；　for　she　must　be　a
weekday　person；　to　whom　visions　were　not　true；　and　she　demanded
only　the　weekday　meaning　of　the　words。

There　were　words　spoken　by　the　vision：　and　words　must
have　a　weekday　meaning；　since　words　were　weekday　stuff。　Let　them
speak　now：　let　them　bespeak　themselves　in　weekday　terms。　The
vision　should　translate　itself　into　weekday　terms。

〃Sell　all　thou　hast；　and　give　to　the　poor；〃　she　heard　on
Sunday　morning。　That　was　plain　enough；　plain　enough　for　Monday
morning　too。　As　she　went　down　the　hill　to　the　station；　going　to
school；　she　took　the　saying　with　her。

〃Sell　all　thou　hast；　and　give　to　the　poor。〃

Did　she　want　to　do　that？　Did　she　want　to　sell　her
pearlbacked　brush　and　mirror；　her　silver　candlestick；　her
pendant；　her　lovely　little　necklace；　and　go　dressed　in　drab　like
the　Wherrys：　the　unlovely　unbed　Wherrys；　who　were　the　〃poor〃
to　her？　She　did　not。

She　walked　this　Monday　morning　on　the　verge　of　misery。　For
she　did　want　to　do　what　was　right。　And　she　didn't　want　to　do
what　the　gospels　said。　She　didn't　want　to　be　poorreally
poor。　The　thought　was　a　horror　to　her：　to　live　like　the　Wherrys；
so　ugly；　to　be　at　the　mercy　of　everybody。

〃Sell　that　thou　hast；　and　give　to　the　poor。〃

One　could　not　do　it　in　real　life。　How　dreary　and　hopeless　it
made　her！

Nor　could　one　turn　the　other　cheek。　Theresa　slapped　Ursula　on
the　face。　Ursula；　in　a　mood　of　Christian　humility；　silently
presented　the　other　side　of　her　face。　Which　Theresa；　in
exasperation　at　the　challenge；　also　hit。　Whereupon　Ursula；　with
boiling　heart；　went　meekly　away。

But　anger；　and　deep；　writhing　shame　tortured　her；　so　she　was
not　easy　till　she　had　again　quarrelled　with　Theresa　and　had
almost　shaken　her　sister's　head　off。

〃That'll　teach　you；〃　she　said；　grimly。

And　she　went　away；　unchristian　but　clean。

There　was　something　unclean　and　degrading　about　this　humble
side　of　Christianity。　Ursula　suddenly　revolted　to　the　other
extreme。

〃I　hate　the　Wherrys；　and　I　wish　they　were　dead。　Why　does　my
father　leave　us　in　the　lurch　like　this；　making　us　be　poor　and
insignificant？　Why　is　he　not　more？　If　we　had　a　father　as　he
ought　to　be；　he　would　be　Earl　William　Brangwen；　and　I　should　be
the　Lady　Ursula？　What　right　have　I　to　be　poor？　crawling
along　the　lane　like　vermin？　If　I　had　my　rights　I　should　be
seated　on　horseback　in　a　green　ridinghabit；　and　my　groom　would
be　behind　me。　And　I　should　stop　at　the　gates　of　the　cottages；
and　enquire　of　the　cottage　woman　who　came　out　with　a　child　in
her　arms；　how　did　her　husband；　who　had　hurt　his　foot。　And　I
would　pat　the　flaxen　head　of　the　child；　stooping　from　my　horse；
and　I　would　give　her　a　shilling　from　my　purse；　and　order
nourishing　food　to　be　sent　from　the　hall　to　the　cottage。〃

So　she　rode　in　her　pride。　And　sometimes；　she　dashed　into
flames　to　rescue　a　fotten　child；　or　she　dived　into　the　canal
locks　and　supported　a　boy　who　was　seized　with　cramp；　or　she
swept　up　a　toddling　infant　from　the　feet　of　a　runaway　horse：
always　imaginatively；　of　course。

But　in　the　end　there　returned　the　poignant　yearning　from　the
Sunday　world。　As　she　went　down　in　the　morning　from　Cossethay　and
saw　Ilkeston　smoking　bl