stories by english authors in london(英国作家在伦敦的故事)-第20节
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pleasant hours with him than with any living person。〃
He rose and came forward to examine her copy of Andrea del Sarto's
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portrait。
〃Yours is better than mine；〃 he said； critically； 〃in fact； mine is a
failure。 I think I shall only get a small price for mine； indeed； I doubt
whether I shall get sufficient to pay for my funeral。〃
〃You speak dismally；〃 she answered； smiling。
〃I missed you yesterday；〃 he continued； half dreamily。 〃I left my work；
and I wandered through the rooms； and I did not even read Lucretius。
Something seemed to have gone from my life。 At first I thought it must be
my favourite Raphael； or the Murillo； but it was neither the one nor the
other； it was you。 That was strange； wasn't it？ But you know we get
accustomed to anything； and perhaps I should have missed you less the
second day； and by the end of a week I should not have missed you at all。
Mercifully； we have in us the power of forgetting。〃
〃I do not wish to plead for myself；〃 she said； 〃but I do not believe that
you or any one could really forget。 That which outsiders call forgetfulness
might be called by the better name of resignation。〃
〃I don't care about talking any more now；〃 he said； suddenly； and he
went to his easel and worked silently at his picture； and Helen Stanley
glanced at him； and thought she had never seen her old companion look so
forlorn and desolate as he did to…day。 He looked as if no gentle hand had
ever been placed on him in kindliness and affection； and that seemed to
her a terrible thing； for she was one of those prehistorically minded
persons who persist in believing that affection is as needful to human life
as rain to flower life。 When first she came to work at the gallerysome
twelve months agoshe had noticed this old man； and had wished for his
companionship； she was herself lonely and sorrowful； and； although
young； had to fight her own battles； and had learned something of the
difficulties of fighting； and this had given her an experience beyond her
years。 She was not more than twenty…four years of age； but she looked
rather older； and； though she had beautiful eyes； full of meaning and
kindness； her features were decidedly plain as well as unattractive。 There
were some in the gallery who said among themselves that； as Mr。 Lindall
had waited so many years before talking to any one； he might have chosen
some one better worth the waiting for！ But they soon became accustomed
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to seeing Helen Stanley and Mr。 Lindall together； and they laughed less
than before； and meanwhile the acquaintance ripened into a sort of
friendship； half sulky on his part and wholly kind on her part。 He told her
nothing about himself； and he asked nothing about herself； for weeks he
never even knew her name。 Sometimes he did not speak at all； and the two
friends would work silently side by side until it was time to go； and then
he waited until she was ready； and walked with her across Trafalgar
Square； where they parted and went their own ways。
But occasionally； when she least expected it； he would speak with
glowing enthusiasm on art； then his eyes seemed to become bright； and his
bent figure more erect； and his whole bearing proud and dignified。 There
were times； too； when he would speak on other subjects： on the morality
of free thoughton Bruno； of blessed memory； on him； and scores of
others too。 He would speak of the different schools of philosophy； he
would laugh at himself； and at all who； having given time and thought to
the study of life's complicated problems； had not reached one step further
than the Old…World thinkers。 Perhaps he would quote one of his favourite
philosophers； and then suddenly relapse into silence； returning to his
wonted abstraction and to his indifference to his surroundings。 Helen
Stanley had learned to understand his ways and to appreciate his mind；
and； without intruding on him in any manner； had put herself gently into
his life as his quiet champion and his friend。 No one in her presence dared
speak slightingly of the old man； or to make fun of his tumble…down
appearance； or of his worn…out silk hat with a crack in the side； or of his
rag of a black tie； which； together with his overcoat； had 〃seen better
days。〃 Once she brought her needle and thread； and darned the torn sleeve
during her lunch…time； and； though he never knew it； it was a satisfaction
to her to have helped him。
To…day she noticed that he was painting badly； and that he seemed to
take no interest in his work； but she went on busily with her own picture；
and was so engrossed in it that she did not at first observe that he had
packed up his brushes and was preparing to go home。
〃Three more strokes；〃 he said； quietly； 〃and you will have finished
your picture。 I shall never finish mine； perhaps you will be good enough to
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set it right for me。 I am not coming here again。 I don't seem to have caught
the true expression； what do you think？ But I am not going to let it worry
me； for I am sure you will promise to do your best for me。 See； I will hand
over these colours and these brushes to you； and no doubt you will accept
the palette as well。 I have no further use for it。〃
Helen Stanley took the palette which he held out toward her； and
looked at him as though she would wish to question him。
〃It is very hot here；〃 he continued； 〃and I am going out。 I am tired of
work。〃
He hesitated； and then added； 〃I should like you to come with me； if
you can spare the time。〃
She packed up her things at once； and the two friends moved slowly
away； he gazing absently at the pictures； and she wondering in her mind as
to the meaning of his strange mood。
When they were on the steps inside the building； he turned to Helen
Stanley and said：
〃I should like to go back to the pictures once more。 I feel as if I must
stand among them just a little longer。 They have been my companions for
so long that they are almost part of myself。 I can close my eyes and recall
them faithfully。 But I want to take a last look at them； I want to feel once
more the presence of the great masters； and to refresh my mind with their
genius。 When I look at their work I think of their life； and can only wonder
at their death。 It was so strange that they should die。〃
They went back together； and he took her to his favourite pictures； but
remained speechless before them； and she did not disturb his thoughts。 At
last he said：
〃I am ready to go。 I have said farewell to them all。 I know nothing
more wonderful than being among a number of fine pictures。 It is almost
overwhelming。 Once expects nature to be grand； but one does not expect
man to be grand。〃
〃You know we don't agree there；〃 she answered。 〃/I/ expect everything
grand and great from man。〃
They went out of the gallery； and into Trafalgar Square。 It was a
scorching afternoon in August； but there was some cooling comfort in
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seeing the dancing water of the fountains sparkling so brightly in the
sunshine。
〃Do you mind stopping here a few minutes？〃 he said。 〃I should like to
sit down and watch。 There is so much to see。〃
She led the way to a seat； one end of which was occupied by a
workman； who was sleeping soundly； and snoring too； his arms folded
tightly together。 He had a little clay pipe in the corner of his mouth； it
seemed to be tucked in so snugly that there was not much danger of its
falling to the ground。 At last Helen spoke to her companion。
〃What do you mean by saying that you will not be able to finish your
picture？ Per
