the ninth vibration-第11节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


the　sea　…　it　sounds　like　the　portrait　of　a　beauty；　and　she　was　never　that。　Also；　incidentally；　it　gives　none　of　her　charm。　I　never　heard　any　one　get　any　further　than　that　she　was　〃oddly　attractive〃　…　let　us　leave　it　at　that。　She　was　certainly　attractive　to　me。

She　was　the　governess　of　little　Winifred　Meryon；　whose　father　held　the　august　position　of　General　Commanding　the　Frontier　Forces；　and　her　mother　the　more　commanding　position　of　the　reigning　beauty　of　Northern　India；　generally　speaking。　No　one　disputed　that。　She　was　as　pretty　as　a　picture；　and　her　charming　photograph　had　graced　as　many　illustrated　papers　as　there　were　illustrated　papers　to　grace。

But　Vanna　…　I　gleaned　her　story　by　bits　when　I　came　across　her　with　the　child　in　the　gardens。　I　was　beginning　to　piece　it　together　now。

Her　love　of　the　strange　and　beautiful　she　had　inherited　from　a　young　Italian　mother；　daughter　of　a　political　refugee；　her　childhood　had　been　spent　in　a　remote　little　village　in　the　West　of　England；　half　reluctantly　she　told　me　how　she　had　brought　herself　up　after　her　mother's　death　and　her　father's　second　marriage。　Little　was　said　of　that；　but　I　gathered　that　it　had　been　a　grief　to　her；　a　factor　in　her　flight　to　the　East。

We　were　walking　in　the　Circular　Road　then　with　Winifred　in　front　leading　her　Pekingese　by　its　blue　ribbon；　and　we　had　it　almost　to　ourselves　except　for　a　few　natives　passing　slow　and　dignified　on　their　own　occasions；　for　fashionable　Peshawar　was　finishing　its　last　rubber　of　bridge；　before　separating　to　dress　for　dinner；　and　had　no　time　to　spare　for　trivialities　and　sunsets。

〃So　when　I　came　to　three…and…twenty；〃　she　said　slowly；　〃I　felt　I　must　break　away　from　our　narrow　life。　I　had　a　call　to　India　stronger　than　anything　on　earth。　You　would　not　understand　but　that　was　so；　and　I　had　spent　every　spare　moment　in　teaching　myself　India　…　its　history；　legends；　religions；　everything！　And　I　was　not　wanted　at　home；　and　I　had　grown　afraid。〃

I　could　divine　years　of　patience　and　repression　under　this　plain　tale；　but　also　a　power　that　would　be　dynamic　when　the　authentic　voice　called。　That　was　her　charm　…　gentleness　in　strength　…　a　sweet　serenity。

〃What　were　you　afraid　of？〃

〃Of　growing　old　and　missing　what　was　waiting　for　me　out　here。　But　I　could　not　get　away　like　other　people。　No　money；　you　see。　So　I　thought　I　would　come　out　here　and　teach。　Dare　I？　Would　they　let　me？　I　knew　I　was　fighting　life　and　chances　and　risks　if　I　did　it；　but　it　was　death　if　I　stayed　there。　And　then…　Do　you　really　care　to　hear？〃

〃Of　course。　Tell　me　how　you　broke　your　chain。〃

〃I　spare　you　the　family　quarrels。　I　can　never　go　back。　But　I　was　spurred　…　spurred　to　take　some　wild　leap；　and　I　took　it。　Six　years　ago　I　came　out。　First　I　went　to　a　doctor　and　his　wife　at　Cawnpore。　They　had　a　wonderful　knowledge　of　the　Indian　peoples；　and　there　I　learned　Hindustani　and　much　else。　Then　he　died。　But　an　aunt　had　left　me　two　hundred　pounds；　and　I　could　wait　a　little　and　choose；　and　so　I　came　here。〃

It　interested　me。　The　courage　that　pale　elastic　type　of　woman　has！

〃Have　you　ever　regretted　it？　Would　they　take　you　back　if　you　failed？〃

〃Never；　to　both　questions；〃　she　said；　smiling。　〃Life　is　glorious。　I've　drunk　of　a　cup　I　never　thought　to　taste；　and　if　I　died　tomorrow　I　should　know　I　had　done　right。　I　rejoice　in　every　moment　I　live　…　even　when　Winifred　and　I　are　wrestling　with　arithmetic。〃

〃I　shouldn't　have　thought　life　was　very　easy　with　Lady　Meryon。〃

〃Oh；　she　is　kind　enough　in　an　indifferent　sort　of　way。　I　am　not　the　persecuted　Jane　Eyre　sort　of　governess　at　all。　But　that　is　all　on　the　surface　and　does　not　matter。　It　is　India　I　care　for　…the　people；　the　sun；　the　infinite　beauty。　It　was　coming　home。　You　would　laugh　if　I　told　you　I　knew　Peshawar　long　before　I　came　here。　Knew　it　…　walked　here；　lived。　Before　there　were　English　in　India　at　all。〃　She　broke　off。　〃You　won't　understand。〃

〃Oh；　I　have　had　that　feeling；　too；〃　I　said　patronizingly。　〃If　one　has　read　very　much　about　a　place…〃

〃That　was　not　quite　what　I　meant。　Never　mind。　The　people；　the　place　…　that　is　the　real　thing　to　me。　All　this　is　the　dream。〃　The　sweep　of　her　hand　took　in　not　only　Winifred　and　myself；　but　the　general's　stately　residence；　which　to　blaspheme　in　Peshawar　is　rank　infidelity。

〃By　George；　I　would　give　thousands　to　feel　that！　I　can't　get　out　of　Europe　here。　I　want　to　write；　Miss　Loring；〃　I　found　myself　saying。　〃I'd　done　a　bit；　and　then　the　war　came　and　blew　my　life　to　pieces。　Now　I　want　to　get　inside　the　skin　of　the　East；　and　I　can't　do　it。　I　see　it　from　outside；　with　a　pane　of　glass　between。　No　life　in　it。　If　you　feel　as　you　say；　for　God's　sake　be　my　interpreter！〃

I　really　meant　what　I　said。　I　knew　she　was　a　harp　that　any　breeze　would　sweep　into　music。　I　divined　that　temperament　in　her　and　proposed　to　use　it　for　my　own　ends。　She　had　and　I　had　not；　the　power　to　be　a　part　of　all　she　saw；　to　feel　kindred　blood　running　in　her　own　veins。　To　the　average　European　the　native　life　of　India　is　scarcely　interesting；　so　far　is　it　removed　from　all　comprehension。　To　me　it　was　interesting；　but　I　could　not　tell　why。　I　stood　outside　and　had　not　the　fairy　gold　to　pay　for　my　entrance。　Here　at　all　events　she　could　buy　her　way　where　I　could　not。　Without　cruelty；　which　honestly　was　not　my　besetting　sin　…　especially　where　women　were　concerned；　the　egoist　in　me　felt　I　would　use　her；　would　extract　the　last　drop　of　the　enchantment　of　her　knowledge　before　I　went　on　my　way。　What　more　natural　than　that　Vanna　or　any　other　woman　should　minister　to　my　thirst　for　information？　Men　are　like　that。　I　pretend　to　be　no　better　than　the　rest。　She　pleased　my　fastidiousness　…　that　fastidiousness　which　is　the　only　austerity　in　men　not　otherwise　austere。

〃Interpret？〃　she　said；　looking　at　me　with　clear　hazel　eyes；　〃how　could　I？　You　were　in　the　native　city　yesterday。　What　did　you　miss？〃

〃Everything！　I　saw　masses　of　colour；　light；　movement。　Brilliantly　picturesque　people。　Children　like　Asiatic　angels。　Magnificently　scowling　ruffians　in　sheepskin　coats。　In　fact；　a　movie　staged　for　my　benefit。　I　was　afraid　they　would　ring　down　the　curtain　before　I　had　had　enough。　It　had　no　meaning。　When　I　got　back　to　my　diggings　I　tried　to　put　down　what　I　had　just　seen；　and　I　swear　there's　more　inspiration　in　the　guide…book。〃

〃Did　you　go　alone？〃

〃Yes；　I　certainly　would　not　go　sight…seeing　with　the　Meryon　crowd。　Tell　me　what　you　felt　when　you　saw　it　first。〃

〃I　went　with　Sir　John's　uncle。　He　was　a　great　traveler。　The　colour　struck　me　dumb。　It　flames　…　it　sings。　Think　of　the　grey　pinched　life　in　the　West！　I　saw　a　grave　dark　potter　turning　his　wheel；　while　his　little　girl　stood　by；　glad　at　our　pleasure；　her　head　veiled　like　a　miniature　woman；　tiny　baggy　trousers；　and　a　silver　nose…stud；　like　a　star；　in　one　delicate　nostril。　In　her　thin　arms　she　held　a　heavy　baby　in　a　gilt　cap；　like　a　monkey。　And　the　wheel　turned　and　whirled　until　it　seemed　to　be　spinning　dreams；　thick　as　motes　in　the　sun。　The　clay　rose　in　smooth　spirals　under　his　hand；　and　the　wheel　sang；　'Shall　the　vessel　reprove　him　who　made　one　to　honour　and　one　to　dishonour？'　And　I　saw　the　potter　thumping　his　wet　clay；　and　the　clay；　plastic　as　dream…stuff；　shaped　swift　as　light；　and　the　three　Fates　stood　at　his　shoul…　der。　Dreams；　dreams；　and　all　in　the　spinning　of　the　wheel；　and　the　rich　shadows　of　the　old　broken　courtyard　where　he　sat。　And　the　wheel　stopped　and　the　thread　broke；　and　the　little　new　shapes　he　had　made　stood　all　about　him；　and　he　was　only　a　potter　in　Peshawar。〃

Her　voice　was　like　a　song。　She　had　utterly　forgotten　my　existence。　I　did　not　dislike　it　at　the　moment；　for　I　wanted　to　hear　more；　and　the　impersonal　is　the　rarest　gift　a　woman　can　give　a　man。

〃Did　you　buy　anything？〃

〃He　gave　me　a　gift　…　a　flawed　jar　of　turquoise　blue；　faint　turquoise　green　round　the　lip。　He　saw　I　understood。　And　then　I　bought　a　little　gold　cap　and　a　wooden　box　of　jade…green　Kabul　grapes。　About　a　rupee；　all　told。　But　it　was　Eastern　merchandise；　and　I　was　trading　from　Balsora　and　Baghdad；　and　Eleazar's　camels　were　swaying　down　from　Damascus　along　the　Khyber　Pass；　and　coming　in　at　the　great　Darwazah；　and　friends'　eyes　met　me　everywhere。　I　am　profoundly　happy　here。〃

The　sinking　sun　lit　an　almost　ecstatic　face。

I　envied　her　more　deeply　than　I　had　ever　envied　any　one。　She　had　the　secret　of　immortal　youth；　and　I　felt　old　as　I　looked　at　her。　One　might　be　eighty　and　share　that　passionate　impersonal　joy。　Age　could　not　wither　nor　custom　stale　the　infinite　variety　of　her　world's　joys。　She　had　a　child's　dewy　youth　in　her　eyes。

There　are　great　sunsets　at　Peshawar；　flaming　over　the　plain；　dying　in　melancholy　splendour　over　the　dangerous　hills。　They　too　were　hers；　in　a　sense　in　which　they　could　never　be　mine。　But　what　a　companion！　To　my　astonishment　a　wild　thought　of　marriage　flashed　across　me；　to　be　instantly　rebuffed　with　a　shrug。　Marriage　…　that　one's　wife　might　talk　poetry　to　one　about　the　East！　Absurd！　But　what　was　it　these　people　felt　and　I　could　not　feel？　Almost；　shut　up　in　the　prison　of　self；　I　knew　what　Vanna　had　felt　in　her　village　…　a　maddening　desire　to　escape；　to　be　a　part　of　the　loveliness　that　lay　beyond　me。　So　might　a　man　love　a　king's　daughter　in　her　hopeless　heights。