we two-第78节

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〃I'm　really　thankful　it　is　the　last　time　I　shall　have　to　get　this　abominable　paper　money；〃　said　Raeburn；　coming　down　the　stairs。　　〃Just　count　these　twos　and　fives　for　me；　dear；　fifteen　of　each　there　should　be。〃

At　that　moment　Brian　had　just　passed　the　tall；　white　column　disappearing　into　the　street　which　leads　to　the　Borgo　Ogni　Santi。　　Erica　turned　to　begin　her　new　chapter　of　life　heavily　handicapped　in　the　race　for　once　more　that　deadly　faintness　crept　over　her；　a　numbing；　stifling　pressure；　as　if　Pain　in　physical　form　had　seized　her　heart　in　his　cold　clasp。　　But　with　all　her　strength　she　fought　against　it；　forcing　herself　to　count　the　hateful　little　bits　of　paper；　and　thankful　that　her　father　was　too　much　taken　up　with　the　arrangement　of　his　purse　to　notice　her。

〃I　am　glad　we　happened　to　meet　Brian；〃　he　remarked；　〃he　goes　by　an　earlier　train　that　I　thought。　　Now；　little　son　Eric；　where　shall　we　go？　　We'll　have　a　day　of　unmitigated　pleasure　and　throw　care　to　the　winds。　　I'll　even　forswear　Vieusseux；　there　won't　be　much　news　today。〃

〃Let　us　take　the　Pitti　Palace　first；〃　said　Erica；　knowing　that　the　fresh　air　and　the　walk　would　be　the　only　chance　for　her。

She　walked　very　quickly　with　the　feeling　that；　if　she　were　still　for　a　single　moment；　she　should　fall　down。　　And；　luckily；　Raeburn　thought　her　paleness　accounted　for　by　yesterday's　headache　and　the　wakeful　night；　and　never　suspected　the　true　state　of　the　case。　　On　they　went；　past　fascinating　marble　shops　and　jewelers'　windows　filled　with　Florentine　mosaics；　across　the　Ponte　Vecchio；　down　a　shady　street；　and　into　the　rough…hewn；　grim…looking　palace。　　It　was　to　Erica　like　a　dream　of　pain；　the　surroundings　were　so　lovely；　the　sunshine　so　perfect；　and　her　own　heart　so　sore。；

But　within　that　old　palace　she　found　the　true　cure　for　sore　hearts。　　She　remembered　having　looked　with　Brian　at　an　〃Ecce　Home；〃　by　Carlo　Dolci　and　thought　she　would　like　to　see　it　again。　　It　was　not　a　picture　her　father　would　have　cared　for；　and　she　left　him　looking　at　Raphael's　〃Three　Ages　of　Man；〃　and　went　by　herself　into　the　little　room　which　is　called　the　〃Hall　of　Ulysses。〃　　The　picture　was　a　small　one　and　had　what　are　considered　the　usual　faults　of　the　painter；　but　it　was　the　first　〃Ecce　Homo〃　that　Erica　had　ever　cared　for；　and；　whatever　the　shortcomings　of　the　execution；　the　ideal　was　a　most　beautiful　one。　　The　traces　of　physical　pain　were　not　brought　into　undue　prominence；　appearing　not　at　all　in　the　face；　which　was　full　of　unutterable　calm　and　dignity。　　The　deep；　brown　eyes　had　the　strange　power　which　belongs　to　some　pictures；　they　followed　you　all　over　the　room　there　was　no　escaping　them。　　They　were　hauntingly　sad　eyes；　eyes　in　which　there　lurked　grief　unspeakable；　not　the　grief　which　attends　bodily　pain；　but　the　grief　which　grieves　for　others　the　grief　which　grieves　for　humanity；　for　its　thousand　ills　and　ignorances；　its　doubts　and　denials；　its　sins　and　sufferings。　　There　was　no　bitterness　in　it；　no　restlessness；　no　questioning。　　It　was　the　grief　of　a　noble　strong　man　whose　heart　is　torn　by　the　thought　of　the　sin　and　misery　of　his　brothers；　but　who　knows　that　the　Father　can；　and　will；　turn　the　evil　into　the　means　of　glorious　gain。

As　Erica　looked；　the　true　meaning　of　pain　seemed　to　flash　upon　her。　　Dimly　she　had　apprehended　it　in　the　days　of　her　atheism；　had　clung　to　the　hope　that　the　pain　of　the　few　brought　the　gain　of　the　many；　but　now　the　hope　became　certainty；　the　faith　became　open　vision。　　For　was　it　not　all　here；　written　in　clearest　characters；　in　the　life　of　the　Ideal　Man？　　And　is　not　what　was　true　for　him；　true　for　us　too？　　We　talk　much　about　〃Christ　our　example；〃　and　struggle　painfully　along　the　uphill　road　of　the　〃Imitation　of　Christ；〃　meaning　by　that　too　often　a　vague　endeavor　to　be　〃good；〃　to　be　patient；　to　be　not　entirely　absorbed　in　the　things　which　are　seen。　　But　when　pain　comes；　when　the　immense　misery　and　evil　in　the　world　are　borne　in　upon　us；　we　too　often　stumble；　or　fail　utterly；　just　because　we　do　not　understand　our　sonship；　because　we　forget　that　Christians　must　be　sin…bearers　like　their　Master；　pain　bearers　like　their　Master；　because　we　will　let　ourselves　be　blinded　by　the　mystery　of　evil　and　the　mystery　of　pain；　instead　of　fixing　our　eyes　as　Christ　did；　on　the　joy　that　those　mysteries　are　sure　to　bring。　　〃Lo；　I　come　to　do　Thy　will。〃　　And　what　is　the　will　of　even　a　good　earthly　father　but　the　best　possible　for　all　his　children？

Erica　saw　for　the　first　time　that　no　pain　she　had　ever　suffered　had　been　a　wasted　thing；　nor　had　it　merely　taught　her　personally　some　needful　lesson；　it　had　been　rather　her　allotted　service；　her　share　of　pain…bearing；　sin…bearing；　Christ…following；　her　opportunity　of　doing　the　〃Will〃　not　self…chosen；　but　given　to　her　as　one　of　the　best　of　gifts　by　the　Father　Himself。

〃Oh；　what　a　little　fool　I've　been！〃　she　thought　to　herself　with　the　strange　pang　of　joy　which　comes　when　we　make　some　discovery　which　sweetens　the　whole　of　life；　and　which　seems　so　self…evident　that　we　can　but　wonder　and　wonder　at　our　dense　stupidity　in　not　seeing　it　sooner。　　〃I've　been　grudging　Brian　what　God　sees　he　most　wants！　　I've　been　groaning　over　the　libels　and　injustices　which　seem　to　bring　so　much　pain　and　evil　when；　after　all；　they　will　be；　in　the　long　run；　the　very　things　to　show　people　the　need　of　tolerance；　and　to　establish　freedom　of　speech。〃

Even　this　pain　of　renunciation　seemed　to　gain　a　new　meaning　for　her　though　she　could　not　in　the　least　fathom　it；　even　the　unspeakable　grief　of　feeling　that　her　father　was　devoting　much　of　his　life　to　the　propagation　of　error；　lost　its　bitterness　though　it　retained　its　depth。　　For　with　the　true　realization　of　Fatherhood　and　Sonship　impatience　and　bitterness　die；　and　in　their　place　rises　the　peace　which　〃passeth　understanding。〃

〃We　will　have　a　day　of　unmitigated　pleasure；〃　her　father　had　said　to　her；　and　the　words　had　at　the　time　been　like　a　sharp　stab。　　But；　after　all；　might　not　this　pain；　this　unseen　and　dimly　understood　work　for　humanity；　be　in　very　truth　the　truest　pleasure？　　What　artist　is　there　who　would　not　gratefully　receive　from　the　Master　an　order　to　attempt　the　loftiest　of　subjects？　　What　poet　is　there　whose　heart　would　not　bound　when　he　knew　he　was　called　to　write　on　the　noblest　of　themes？　　All　the　struggles；　all　the　weary　days　of　failure；　all　the　misery　of　conscious　incompleteness；　all　the　agony　of　soul　these　were　but　means　to　the　end；　and　so　inseparably　bound　up　with　the　end　that　they　were　no　more　evil；　but　good；　their　darkness　over　flooded　with　the　light　of　the　work　achieved。

Raeburn；　coming　into　the　room；　saw　what　she　was　looking　at；　and　turned　away。　　Little　as　he　could　understand　her　thoughts；　he　was　not　the　sort　of　man　to　wound　unnecessarily　one　who　differed　from　him。　　His　words　in　public　were　sharp　and　uncompromising；　in　debate　he　did　not　much　care　how　he　hit　as　long　as　he　hit　hard。　　But；　apart　from　the　excitement　of　such　sword　play；　he　was；　when　convinced　that　his　hearers　were　honest　Christians；　genuinely　sorry　to　give　them　pain。

Erica　found　him　looking　at　a　Sevres　china　vase　in　which　he　could　not　by　any　possibility　have　been　interested。

〃I　feel　Mr。　Ruskin's　wrathful　eye　upon　me；〃　she　said；　laughing。　　〃Now　after　spending　all　that　time　before　a　Carlo　Dolci；　we　must　really　go　to　the　Uffizzi　and　look　at　Botticelli's　'Fortitude。〃　　Brian　and　I　nearly　quarreled　over　it　the　last　time　we　were　there。〃

So　they　wandered　away　together　through　the　long　galleries；　Erica　pointing　out　her　favorite　pictures　and　hearing　his　opinion　about　them。　　And　indeed　Raeburn　was　as　good　a　companion　as　could　be　wished　for　in　a　picture　gallery。　　The　intense　development　of　the　critical　faculty；　which　had　really　been　the　bane　of　his　existence；　came　here　to　his　aid　for　he　had　a　quick　eye　for　all　that　was　beautiful　both　in　art　and　nature；　and　wonderfully　keen　powers　of　observation。　　The　refreshment；　too；　of　leaving　for　a　moment　his　life　of　excessive　toil　was　great；　Erica　hoped　that　he　really　did　find　the　day；　for　once；　〃unmitigated　pleasure。〃

They　went　to　Santa　Croce；　they　walked　through　the　crowded　market；　they　had　a　merry　dispute　about　ascending　the　campanile。

〃Just　this　one　you　really　must　let　me　try；〃　said　Erica；　〃they　say　it　is　very　easy。〃

〃To　people　without　spines　perhaps　it　may　be；〃　said　Raeburn。

〃But　think　of　the　view　from　the　top；〃　said　Erica；　〃and　it　really　won't　hurt　me。　　Now；　padre　mio；　I'm　sure　it's　for　the　greatest　happiness　of　the　greatest　number　that　I　should　go　up！〃

〃It's　the　old　story；〃　said　Raeburn；　smiling；　

'Vain　is　the　hope；　by　any　force　or　skill；　To　stem　the　current　of　a　woman's　will；　For　if　she　will；　she　will；　you　may　depend　on't；　And　if　she　won't；　she　won't；　and　there's　an　end　on't。'

However；　since　this　is　probably　the　last　time　in　our　lives　that　we　shall　have　the　chance；　perhaps；　I'll　not　do　the　tyrannical　father。〃

They　had　soon　climbed　the　steep　staircase　and　were　quite　rewarded　by　the　magnificent　view　from　the　top；　a　grand　panorama　of　city　and　river　and　green　Apennines。　　Erica　looked　northward　to　Fiesole　with　a　fast…throbbing　heart。　　Yet　it　seemed　as　if　half　a　life　time　lay　between　the　passion…tossed　yesterday　and　the　sad　yet　peaceful　present。　　Nor　was　the　feeling　a　mere　de