The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第83部分

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to。　And　she　said　to　herself；　when　present　things　seemed　a
failure：

〃Ah；　I　was　fond　of　him；〃　as　if　with　him　the　leading
flower　of　her　life　had　died。

Now　she　heard　from　him　again。　The　chief　effect　was　pain。　The
pleasure；　the　spontaneous　joy　was　not　there　any　longer。　But　her
will　rejoiced。　Her　will　had　fixed　itself　to　him。　And　the
old　excitement　of　her　dreams　stirred　and　woke　up。　He　was　e；
the　man　with　the　wondrous　lips　that　could　send　the　kiss　wavering
to　the　very　end　of　all　space。　Was　he　e　back　to　her？　She　did
not　believe。

My　dear　Ursula；　I　am　back　in　England　again　for　a　few
months　before　going　out　again；　this　time　to　India。　I　wonder　if
you　still　keep　the　memory　of　our　times　together。　I　have　still
got　the　little　photograph　of　you。　You　must　be　changed　since
then；　for　it　is　about　six　years　ago。　I　am　fully　six　years
older；I　have　lived　through　another　life　since　I　knew　you
at　Cossethay。　I　wonder　if　you　would　care　to　see　me。　I　shall　e
up　to　Derby　next　week；　and　I　would　call　in　Nottingham；　and　we
might　have　tea　together。　Will　you　let　me　know？　I　shall　look　for
your　answer。

　Anton　Skrebensky

Ursula　had　taken　this　letter　from　the　rack　in　the　hall　at
college；　and　torn　it　open　as　she　crossed　to　the　Women's　room。
The　world　seemed　to　dissolve　away　from　around　her；　she　stood
alone　in　clear　air。

Where　could　she　go；　to　be　alone？　She　fled　away；　upstairs；　and
through　the　private　way　to　the　reference　library。　Seizing　a
book；　she　sat　down　and　pondered　the　letter。　Her　heart　beat；　her
limbs　trembled。　As　in　a　dream；　she　heard　one　gong　sound　in　the
college；　then；　strangely；　another。　The　first　lecture　had　gone
by。

Hurriedly　she　took　one　of　her　notebooks　and　began　to
write。

〃Dear　Anton；　Yes；　I　still　have　the　ring。　I　should　be　very
glad　to　see　you　again。　You　can　e　here　to　college　for　me；　or　I
will　meet　you　somewhere　in　the　town。　Will　you　let　me　know？　Your
sincere　friend〃

Trembling；　she　asked　the　librarian；　who　was　her　friend；　if　he
would　give　her　an　envelope。　She　sealed　and　addressed　her　letter；
and　went　out；　bareheaded；　to　post　it。　When　it　was　dropped　into
the　pillarbox；　the　world　became　a　very　still；　pale　place；
without　confines。　She　wandered　back　to　college；　to　her　pale
dream；　like　a　first　wan　light　of　dawn。

Skrebensky　came　one　afternoon　the　following　week。　Day　after
day；　she　had　hurried　swiftly　to　the　letterrack　on　her　arrival
at　college　in　the　morning；　and　during　the　intervals　between
lectures。　Several　times；　swiftly；　with　secretive　fingers；　she
had　plucked　his　letter　down　from　its　public　prominence；　and　fled
across　the　hall　holding　it　fast　and　hidden。　She　read　her　letters
in　the　botany　laboratory；　where　her　corner　was　always　reserved
to　her。

Several　letters；　and　then　he　was　ing。　It　was　Friday
afternoon　he　appointed。　She　worked　over　her　microscope　with
feverish　activity；　able　to　give　only　half　her　attention；　yet
working　closely　and　rapidly。　She　had　on　her　slide　some　special
stuff　e　up　from　London　that　day；　and　the　professor　was　fussy
and　excited　about　it。　At　the　same　time；　as　she　focused　the　light
on　her　field；　and　saw　the　plantanimal　lying　shadowy　in　a
boundless　light；　she　was　fretting　over　a　conversation　she　had
had　a　few　days　ago　with　Dr。　Frankstone；　who　was　a　woman　doctor
of　physics　in　the　college。

〃No；　really；〃　Dr。　Frankstone　had　said；　〃I　don't　see　why　we
should　attribute　some　special　mystery　to　lifedo　you？　We
don't　understand　it　as　we　understand　electricity；　even；　but　that
doesn't　warrant　our　saying　it　is　something　special；　something
different　in　kind　and　distinct　from　everything　else　in　the
universedo　you　think　it　does？　May　it　not　be　that　life
consists　in　a　plexity　of　physical　and　chemical　activities；　of
the　same　order　as　the　activities　we　already　know　in　science？　I
don't　see；　really；　why　we　should　imagine　there　is　a　special
order　of　life；　and　life　alone〃

The　conversation　had　ended　on　a　note　of　uncertainty；
indefinite；　wistful。　But　the　purpose；　what　was　the　purpose？
Electricity　had　no　soul；　light　and　heat　had　no　soul。　Was　she
herself　an　impersonal　force；　or　conjunction　of　forces；　like　one
of　these？　She　looked　still　at　the　unicellular　shadow　that　lay
within　the　field　of　light；　under　her　microscope。　It　was　alive。
She　saw　it　moveshe　saw　the　bright　mist　of　its　ciliary
activity；　she　saw　the　gleam　of　its　nucleus；　as　it　slid　across
the　plane　of　light。　What　then　was　its　will？　If　it　was　a
conjunction　of　forces；　physical　and　chemical；　what　held　these
forces　unified；　and　for　what　purpose　were　they　unified？

For　what　purpose　were　the　incalculable　physical　and　chemical
activities　nodalized　in　this　shadowy；　moving　speck　under　her
microscope？　What　was　the　will　which　nodalized　them　and　created
the　one　thing　she　saw？　What　was　its　intention？　To　be　itself？　Was
its　purpose　just　mechanical　and　limited　to　itself？

It　intended　to　be　itself。　But　what　self？　Suddenly　in　her　mind
the　world　gleamed　strangely；　with　an　intense　light；　like　the
nucleus　of　the　creature　under　the　microscope。　Suddenly　she　had
passed　away　into　an　intenselygleaming　light　of　knowledge。　She
could　not　understand　what　it　all　was。　She　only　knew　that　it　was
not　limited　mechanical　energy；　nor　mere　purpose　of
selfpreservation　and　selfassertion。　It　was　a　consummation；　a
being　infinite。　Self　was　a　oneness　with　the　infinite。　To　be
oneself　was　a　supreme；　gleaming　triumph　of　infinity。

Ursula　sat　abstracted　over　her　microscope；　in　suspense。　Her
soul　was　busy；　infinitely　busy；　in　the　new　world。　In　the　new
world；　Skrebensky　was　waiting　for　herhe　would　be　waiting
for　her。　She　could　not　go　yet；　because　her　soul　was　engaged。
Soon　she　would　go。

A　stillness；　like　passing　away；　took　hold　of　her。　Far　off；
down　the　corridors；　she　heard　the　gong　booming　five　o'clock。　She
must　go。　Yet　she　sat　still。

The　other　students　were　pushing　back　their　stools　and　putting
their　microscopes　away。　Everything　broke　into　turmoil。　She　saw；
through　the　window；　students　going　down　the　steps；　with　books
under　their　arms；　talking；　all　talking。

A　great　craving　to　depart　came　upon　her。　She　wanted　also　to
be　gone。　She　was　in　dread　of　the　material　world；　and　in　dread　of
her　own　transfiguration。　She　wanted　to　run　to　meet
Skrebenskythe　new　life；　the　reality。

Very　rapidly　she　wiped　her　slides　and　put　them　back；　cleared
her　place　at　the　bench；　active；　active；　active。　She　wanted　to
run　to　meet　Skrebensky；　hastenhasten。　She　did　not　know
what　she　was　to　meet。　But　it　would　be　a　new　beginning。　She　must
hurry。

She　flitted　down　the　corridor　on　swift　feet；　her　razor　and
notebooks　and　pencil　in　one　hand；　her　pinafore　over　her　arm。
Her　face　was　lifted　and　tense　with　eagerness。　He　might　not　be
there。

Issuing　from　the　corridor；　she　saw　him　at　once。　She　knew　him
at　once。　Yet　he　was　so　strange。　He　stood　with　the　curious
selfeffacing　diffidence　which　so　frightened　her　in　wellbred
young　men　whom　she　knew。　He　stood　as　if　he　wished　to　be　unseen。
He　was　very　welldressed。　She　would　not　admit　to　herself　the
chill　like　a　sunshine　of　frost　that　came　over　her。　This　was　he；
the　key；　the　nucleus　to　the　new　world。

He　saw　her　ing　swiftly　across　the　hall；　a　slim　girl　in　a
white　flannel　blouse　and　dark　skirt；　with　some　of　the
abstraction　and　gleam　of　the　unknown　upon　her；　and　he　started；
excited。　He　was　very　nervous。　Other　students　were　loitering
about　the　hall。

She　laughed；　with　a　blind；　dazzled　face；　as　she　gave　him　her
hand。　He　too　could　not　perceive　her。

In　a　moment　she　was　gone；　to　get　her　outdoor　things。　Then
again；　as　when　she　had　been　at　school；　they　walked　out　into　the
town　to　tea。　And　they　went　to　the　same　teashop。

She　knew　a　great　difference　in　him。　The　kinship　was　there；
the　old　kinship；　but　he　had　belonged　to　a　different　world　from
hers。　It　was　as　if　they　had　cried　a　state　of　truce　between　him
and　her；　and　in　this　truce　they　had　met。　She　knew；　vaguely；　in
the　first　minute；　that　they　were　enemies　e　together　in　a
truce。　Every　movement　and　word　of　his　was　alien　to　her
being。

Yet　still　she　loved　the　fine　texture　of　his　face；　of　his
skin。　He　was　rather　browner；　physically　stronger。　He　was　a　man
now。　She　thought　his　manliness　made　the　strangeness　in　him。　When
he　was　only　a　youth；　fluid；　he　was　nearer　to　her。　She　thought　a
man　must　inevitably　set　into　this　strange　separateness；　cold
otherness　of　being。　He　talked；　but　not　to　her。　She　tried　to
speak　to　him；　but　she　could　not　reach　him。

He　seemed　so　balanced　and　sure；　he　made　such　a　confident
presence。　He　was　a　great　rider；　so　there　was　about　him　some　of　a
horseman's　sureness　and　habitual　definiteness　of　decision；　also
some　of　the　horseman's　animal　darkness。　Yet　his　soul　was　only
the　more　wavering；　vague。　He　seemed　made　up　of　a　set　of　habitual
actions　and　decisions。　The　vulnerable；　variable　quick　of　the　man
was　inaccessible。　She　knew　nothing　of　it。　She　could　only　feel
the　dark；　heavy　fixity　of　his　animal　desire。

This　dumb　desire　on　his　part　had　brought　him　to　her？　She　was
puzzled；　hurt　by　some　hopeless　fixity　in　him；　that　terrified　her
with　a　cold　feeling　of　despair。　What　did　he　want？　His　desires
were　so　underground。　Why　did　he　not　admit　himself？　What　did　he
want？　He　wanted　something　that　should　be　nameless。　She　shrank　in
fear。

Yet　she　flashed　with　excitement。　In　his　dark；　subterranean
male　soul；　he　was　kneeling　before　her；　darkly　exposing　himself。
She　quivered；　the　dark　flame　ran　over　her。　He　was　waiting　at　her
feet。　He　was　helpless；　at　her　mercy。　She　could　take　or　reject。
If　she　rejected　him；　something　would　die　in　him。　For　him　it　was
life　or　death。　And　yet；　all　must　be　kept　so　dark；　the
consciousness　must　admit　nothing。

〃How　long；〃　she　said；　〃are　you　staying　in　England？〃

〃I　am　not　surebut　not　later　than　July；　I　believe。〃

Then　they　were　both　silent。　He　was　here；　in　England；　for　six
months。　They　had　a　space　of　six　months　between　them。　He　waited。
The　same　iron　rigidity；　as　if　the　world　were　made　of　steel；
possessed　her　again。　It　was　no　use　turning　with　flesh　and　blood
to　this　arrangement　of　fed　metal。

Quickly；　her　imagination　adjusted　itself　to　the
situation。

〃Have　you　an　appointment　in　India？〃　she　asked。

〃YesI　have　just　the　six　months'　leave。〃

〃Will　you　like　being　out　there？〃

〃I　think　sothere's　a　good　deal　of　social　life；　and
plenty　going　onhunting；　poloand　always　a　good
horseand　plenty　of　work；　any　amount　of　work。〃

He　was　always　sidetracking；　always　sidetracking　his　own
soul。　She　could　see　him　so　well　out　there；　in　Indiaone　of
the　governing　class；　superimposed　upon　an　old　civilization；　lord
and　master　of　a　clumsier　civilization　than　his　own。　It　was　his
choice。　He　would　bee　again　an　aristocrat；　invested　with
authority　and　responsibility；　having　a　great　helpless　populace
beneath　him。　One　of　the　ruling　class；　his　whole　being　would　be
given　over　to　the　fulfilling　and　the　executing　of　the　better
idea　of　the　state。　And　in　India；　there　would　be　real　work　to　do。
The　country　did　need　the　civilization　which　he　himself
represented：　it　did　need　his　roads　and　bridges；　and　the
enlightenment　of　which　he　was　part。　He　would　go　to　India。　But
that　was　not　her　road。

Yet　she　loved　him；　the　body　of　him；　whatever　his　decisions
might　be。　He　seemed　to　want　something　of　her。　He　was　waiting　for