The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第72部分

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like　to　try　it？〃

〃I　should　love　to；〃　said　Ursula。

Her　own　dinner　seemed　coarse　and　ugly　beside　this　savoury；
clean　dish。

〃I've　never　eaten　vegetarian　things；〃　she　said。　〃But　I　should
think　they　can　be　good。〃

〃I'm　not　really　a　vegetarian；〃　said　Maggie；　〃I　don't　like　to
bring　meat　to　school。〃

〃No；〃　said　Ursula；　〃I　don't　think　I　do　either。〃

And　again　her　soul　rang　an　answer　to　a　new　refinement；　a　new
liberty。　If　all　vegetarian　things　were　as　nice　as　this；　she
would　be　glad　to　escape　the　slight　uncleanness　of　meat。

〃How　good！〃　she　cried。

〃Yes；〃　said　Miss　Schofield；　and　she　proceeded　to　tell　her　the
receipt。　The　two　girls　passed　on　to　talk　about　themselves。
Ursula　told　all　about　the　High　School；　and　about　her
matriculation；　bragging　a　little。　She　felt　so　poor　here；　in　this
ugly　place。　Miss　Schofield　listened　with　brooding；　handsome
face；　rather　gloomy。

〃Couldn't　you　have　got　to　some　better　place　than　this？〃　she
asked　at　length。

〃I　didn't　know　what　it　was　like；〃　said　Ursula；
doubtfully。

〃Ah！〃　said　Miss　Schofield；　and　she　turned　aside　her　head　with
a　bitter　motion。

〃Is　it　as　horrid　as　it　seems？〃　asked　Ursula；　frowning
lightly；　in　fear。

〃It　is；〃　said　Miss　Schofield；　bitterly。　〃Ha！it　is
hateful！〃

Ursula's　heart　sank；　seeing　even　Miss　Schofield　in　the　deadly
bondage。

〃It　is　Mr。　Harby；〃　said　Maggie　Schofield；　breaking　forth。

〃I　don't　think　I　could　live　again　in　the　big
roomMr。　Brunt's　voice　and　Mr。
Harbyah〃

She　turned　aside　her　head　with　a　deep　hurt。　Some　things　she
could　not　bear。

〃Is　Mr。　Harby　really　horrid？〃　asked　Ursula；　venturing　into
her　own　dread。

〃He！why；　he's　just　a　bully；〃　said　Miss　Schofield；
raising　her　shamed　dark　eyes；　that　flamed　with　tortured
contempt。　〃He's　not　bad　as　long　as　you　keep　in　with　him；　and
refer　to　him；　and　do　everything　in　his　waybutit's
all　so　mean！　It's　just　a　question　of　fighting　on　both
sidesand　those　great　louts〃

She　spoke　with　difficulty　and　with　increased　bitterness。　She
had　evidently　suffered。　Her　soul　was　raw　with　ignominy。　Ursula
suffered　in　response。

〃But　why　is　it　so　horrid？〃　she　asked；　helplessly。

〃You　can't　do　anything；〃　said　Miss　Schofield。　〃He's
against　you　on　one　side　and　he　sets　the　children　against　you　on
the　other。　The　children　are　simply　awful。　You've　got　to
make　them　do　everything。　Everything；　everything　has　got
to　e　out　of　you。　Whatever　they　learn；　you've　got　to　force　it
into　themand　that's　how　it　is。〃

Ursula　felt　her　heart　fail　inside　her。　Why　must　she　grasp　all
this；　why　must　she　force　learning　on　fiftyfive　reluctant
children；　having　all　the　time　an　ugly；　rude　jealousy　behind　her；
ready　to　throw　her　to　the　mercy　of　the　herd　of　children；　who
would　like　to　rend　her　as　a　weaker　representative　of　authority。
A　great　dread　of　her　task　possessed　her。　She　saw　Mr。　Brunt；　Miss
Harby；　Miss　Schofield；　all　the　schoolteachers；　drudging
unwillingly　at　the　graceless　task　of　pelling　many　children
into　one　disciplined；　mechanical　set；　reducing　the　whole　set　to
an　automatic　state　of　obedience　and　attention；　and　then　of
manding　their　acceptance　of　various　pieces　of　knowledge。　The
first　great　task　was　to　reduce　sixty　children　to　one　state　of
mind；　or　being。　This　state　must　be　produced　automatically；
through　the　will　of　the　teacher；　and　the　will　of　the　whole
school　authority；　imposed　upon　the　will　of　the　children。　The
point　was　that　the　headmaster　and　the　teachers　should　have　one
will　in　authority；　which　should　bring　the　will　of　the　children
into　accord。　But　the　headmaster　was　narrow　and　exclusive。　The
will　of　the　teachers　could　not　agree　with　his；　their　separate
wills　refused　to　be　so　subordinated。　So　there　was　a　state　of
anarchy；　leaving　the　final　judgment　to　the　children　themselves；
which　authority　should　exist。

So　there　existed　a　set　of　separate　wills；　each　straining
itself　to　the　utmost　to　exert　its　own　authority。　Children　will
never　naturally　acquiesce　to　sitting　in　a　class　and　submitting
to　knowledge。　They　must　be　pelled　by　a　stronger；　wiser　will。
Against　which　will　they　must　always　strive　to　revolt。　So　that
the　first　great　effort　of　every　teacher　of　a　large　class　must　be
to　bring　the　will　of　the　children　into　accordance　with　his　own
will。　And　this　he　can　only　do　by　an　abnegation　of　his　personal
self；　and　an　application　of　a　system　of　laws；　for　the　purpose　of
achieving　a　certain　calculable　result；　the　imparting　of　certain
knowledge。　Whereas　Ursula　thought　she　was　going　to　bee　the
first　wise　teacher　by　making　the　whole　business　personal；　and
using　no　pulsion。　She　believed　entirely　in　her　own
personality。

So　that　she　was　in　a　very　deep　mess。　In　the　first　place　she
was　offering　to　a　class　a　relationship　which　only　one　or　two　of
the　children　were　sensitive　enough　to　appreciate；　so　that　the
mass　were　left　outsiders；　therefore　against　her。　Secondly；　she
was　placing　herself　in　passive　antagonism　to　the　one　fixed
authority　of　Mr。　Harby；　so　that　the　scholars　could　more　safely
harry　her。　She　did　not　know；　but　her　instinct　gradually　warned
her。　She　was　tortured　by　the　voice　of　Mr。　Brunt。　On　it　went；
jarring；　harsh；　full　of　hate；　but　so　monotonous；　it　nearly　drove
her　mad：　always　the　same　set；　harsh　monotony。　The　man　was　bee
a　mechanism　working　on　and　on　and　on。　But　the　personal　man　was
in　subdued　friction　all　the　time。　It　was　horribleall
hate！　Must　she　be　like　this？　She　could　feel　the　ghastly
necessity。　She　must　bee　the　sameput　away　the　personal
self；　bee　an　instrument；　an　abstraction；　working　upon　a
certain　material；　the　class；　to　achieve　a　set　purpose　of　making
them　know　so　much　each　day。　And　she　could　not　submit。　Yet
gradually　she　felt　the　invincible　iron　closing　upon　her。　The　sun
was　being　blocked　out。　Often　when　she　went　out　at　playtime　and
saw　a　luminous　blue　sky　with　changing　clouds；　it　seemed　just　a
fantasy；　like　a　piece　of　painted　scenery。　Her　heart　was　so　black
and　tangled　in　the　teaching；　her　personal　self　was　shut　in
prison；　abolished；　she　was　subjugate　to　a　bad；　destructive　will。
How　then　could　the　sky　be　shining？　There　was　no　sky；　there　was
no　luminous　atmosphere　of　outofdoors。　Only　the　inside　of　the
school　was　realhard；　concrete；　real　and　vicious。

She　would　not　yet；　hoe　her。
She　always　said。　〃It　is　not　a　permanency；　it　will　e　to　an
end。〃　She　could　always　see　herself　beyond　the　place；　see　the
time　when　she　had　left　it。　On　Sundays　and　on　holidays；　when　she
was　away　at　Cossethay　or　in　the　woods　where　the　beechleaves
were　fallen；　she　could　think　of　St。　Philip's　Church　School；　and
by　an　effort　of　will　put　it　in　the　picture　as　a　dirty　little
lowsquatting　building　that　made　a　very　tiny　mound　under　the
sky；　while　the　great　beechwoods　spread　immense　about　her；　and
the　afternoon　was　spacious　and　wonderful。　Moreover　the　children；
the　scholars；　they　were　insignificant　little　objects　far　away；
oh；　far　away。　And　what　power　had　they　over　her　free　soul？　A
fleeting　thought　of　them；　as　she　kicked　her　way　through　the
beechleaves；　and　they　were　gone。　But　her　will　was　tense　against
them　all　the　time。

All　the　while；　they　pursued　her。　She　had　never　had　such　a
passionate　love　of　the　beautiful　things　about　her。　Sitting　on
top　of　the　tramcar；　at　evening；　sometimes　school　was　swept　away
as　she　saw　a　magnificent　sky　settling　down。　And　her　breast；　her
very　hands；　clamoured　for　the　lovely　flare　of　sunset。　It　was
poignant　almost　to　agony；　her　reaching　for　it。　She　almost　cried
aloud　seeing　the　sundown　so　lovely。

For　she　was　held　away。　It　was　no　matter　how　she　said　to
herself　that　school　existed　no　more　once　she　had　left　it。　It
existed。　It　was　within　her　like　a　dark　weight；　controlling　her
movement。　It　was　in　vain　the　highspirited；　proud　young　girl
flung　off　the　school　and　its　association　with　her。　She　was　Miss
Brangwen；　she　was　Standard　Five　teacher；　she　had　her　most
important　being　in　her　work　now。

Constantly　haunting　her；　like　a　darkness　hovering　over　her
heart　and　threatening　to　swoop　down　over　it　at　every　moment；　was
the　sense　that　somehow；　somehow　she　was　brought　down。　Bitterly
she　denied　unto　herself　that　she　was　really　a　schoolteacher。
Leave　that　to　the　Violet　Harbys。　She　herself　would　stand　clear
of　the　accusation。　It　was　in　vain　she　denied　it。

Within　herself　some　recording　hand　seemed　to　point
mechanically　to　a　negation。　She　was　incapable　of　fulfilling　her
task。　She　could　never　for　a　moment　escape　from　the　fatal　weight
of　the　knowledge。

And　so　she　felt　inferior　to　Violet　Harby。　Miss　Harby　was　a
splendid　teacher。　She　could　keep　order　and　inflict　knowledge　on
a　class　with　remarkable　efficiency。　It　was　no　good　Ursula's
protesting　to　herself　that　she　was　infinitely；　infinitely　the
superior　of　Violet　Harby。　She　knew　that　Violet　Harby　succeeded
where　she　failed；　and　this　in　a　task　which　was　almost　a　test　of
her。　She　felt　something　all　the　time　wearing　upon　her；　wearing
her　down。　She　went　about　in　these　first　weeks　trying　to　deny　it；
to　say　she　was　free　as　ever。　She　tried　not　to　feel　at　a
disadvantage　before　Miss　Harby；　tried　to　keep　up　the　effect　of
her　own　superiority。　But　a　great　weight　was　on　her；　which　Violet
Harby　could　bear；　and　she　herself　could　not。

Though　she　did　not　give　in；　she　never　succeeded。　Her　class
was　getting　in　worse　condition；　she　knew　herself　less　and　less
secure　in　teaching　it。　Ought　she　to　withdraw　and　go　home　again？
Ought　she　to　say　she　had　e　to　the　wrong　place；　and　so　retire？
Her　very　life　was　at　test。

She　went　on　doggedly；　blindly；　waiting　for　a　crisis。　Mr。
Harby　had　now　begun　to　persecute　her。　Her　dread　and　hatred　of
him　grew　and　loomed　larger　and　larger。　She　was　afraid　he　was
going　to　bully　her　and　destroy　her。　He　began　to　persecute　her
because　she　could　not　keep　her　class　in　proper　condition；
because　her　class　was　the　weak　link　in　the　chain　which　made　up
the　school。

One　of　the　offences　was　that　her　class　was　noisy　and
disturbed　Mr。　Harby；　as　he　took　Standard　Seven　at　the　other　end
of　the　room。　She　was　taking　position　on　a　certain　morning；
walking　in　among　the　scholars。　Some　of　the　boys　had　dirty　ears
and　necks；　their　clothing　smelled　unpleasantly；　but　she　could
ignore　it。　She　corrected　the　writing　as　she　went。

〃When　you　say　'their　fur　is　brown'；　how　do　you　write
'their'？〃　she　asked。

There　was　a　little　pause；　the　boys　were　always　jeeringly
backward　in　answering。　They　had　begun　to　jeer　at　her　authority
altogether。

〃Please；　miss；　their〃；　spelled　a　lad；　loudly；　with　a　note
of　mockery。

At　that　moment　Mr。　Harby　was　passing。

〃Stand　up；　Hill！〃　he　called；　in　a　big　voice。

Everybody　started。　Ursula　watched　the　boy。　He　was　evidently
poor；　and　rather　cunning。　A　stiff　bit　of　hair　stood　straight　off
his　forehead；　the　rest　fitted　close　to　his　meagre　head。　He　was
pale　and　colourless。

〃Who　told　you　to　call　out？〃　thundered　Mr。　Harby。

The　boy　looked　up　and　down；　with　a　guilty　air；　and　a　cunning；
cynical　reserve。

〃Please；　sir；　I　was　answering；〃　he　replied；　with　the　same
humble　insolence。

〃Go　to　my　desk。〃

The　boy　set　off　down　the　room；　the　big　black　jacket　hanging
in　dejected　folds　about　him；　his　thin　legs；　rather　knocked　at
the　knees；　going　already　with　the　pauper's　crawl；　his　feet　in
their　big　boots　scarcely　lifted。　Ursula　watched　him　in　his