The Rainbow-虹(英文版)- 第69部分

The　train　was　rushing　up。　Ursula's　heart　heaved；　but　the　ice
was　frozen　too　strong　upon　it。

〃Good…bye；〃　she　said；　lifting　her　hand；　her　face　laughing
with　her　peculiar；　blind；　almost　dazzling　laugh。　She　wondered
what　he　was　doing；　when　he　stooped　and　kissed　her。　He　should　be
shaking　hands　and　going。

〃Good…bye；〃　she　said　again。

He　picked　up　his　little　bag　and　turned　his　back　on　her。　There
was　a　hurry　along　the　train。　Ah；　here　was　his　carriage。　He　took
his　seat。　Tom　Brangwen　shut　the　door；　and　the　two　men　shook
hands　as　the　whistle　went。

〃Good…bye……and　good　luck；〃　said　Brangwen。

〃Thank　you……good…bye。〃

The　train　moved　off。　Skrebensky　stood　at　the　carriage　window；
waving；　but　not　really　looking　to　the　two　figures；　the　girl　and
the　warm…coloured；　almost　effeminately…dressed　man　Ursula　waved
her　handkerchief。　The　train　gathered　speed；　it　grew　smaller　and
smaller。　Still　it　ran　in　a　straight　line。　The　speck　of　white
vanished。　The　rear　of　the　train　was　small　in　the　distance。　Still
she　stood　on　the　platform；　feeling　a　great　emptiness　about　her。
In　spite　of　herself　her　mouth　was　quivering：　she　did　not　want　to
cry：　her　heart　was　dead　cold。

Her　Uncle　Tom　had　gone　to　an　automatic　machine；　and　was
getting　matches。

〃Would　you　like　some　sweets？〃　he　said；　turning　round。

Her　face　was　covered　with　tears；　she　made　curious；　downward
grimaces　with　her　mouth；　to　get　control。　Yet　her　heart　was　not
crying……it　was　cold　and　earthy。

〃What　kind　would　you　like……any？〃　persisted　her
uncle。

〃I　should　love　some　peppermint　drops；〃　she　said；　in　a
strange；　normal　voice；　from　her　distorted　face。　But　in　a　few
moments　she　had　gained　control　of　herself；　and　was　still；
detached。

〃Let　us　go　into　the　town；〃　he　said；　and　he　rushed　her　into　a
train；　moving　to　the　town　station。　They　went　to　a　cafe　to　drink
coffee；　she　sat　looking　at　people　in　the　street；　and　a　great
wound　was　in　her　breast；　a　cold　imperturbability　in　her
soul。

This　cold　imperturbability　of　spirit　continued　in　her　now。　It
was　as　if　some　disillusion　had　frozen　upon　her；　a　hard
disbelief。　Part　of　her　had　gone　cold；　apathetic。　She　was　too
young；　too　baffled　to　understand；　or　even　to　know　that　she
suffered　much。　And　she　was　too　deeply　hurt　to　submit。

She　had　her　blind　agonies；　when　she　wanted　him；　she　wanted
him。　But　from　the　moment　of　his　departure；　he　had　bee　a
visionary　thing　of　her　own。　All　her　roused　torment　and　passion
and　yearning　she　turned　to　him。

She　kept　a　diary；　in　which　she　wrote　impulsive　thoughts。
Seeing　the　moon　in　the　sky；　her　own　heart　surcharged；　she　went
and　wrote：

〃If　I　were　the　moon；　I　know　where　I　would　fall　down。〃

It　meant　so　much　to　her；　that　sentence……she　put　into　it
all　the　anguish　of　her　youth　and　her　young　passion　and　yearning。
She　called　to　him　from　her　heart　wherever　she　went；　her　limbs
vibrated　with　anguish　towards　him　wherever　she　was；　the
radiating　force　of　her　soul　seemed　to　travel　to　him；　endlessly；
endlessly；　and　in　her　soul's　own　creation；　find　him。

But　who　was　he；　and　where　did　he　exist？　In　her　own　desire
only。

She　received　a　post…card　from　him；　and　she　put　it　in　her
bosom。　It　did　not　mean　much　to　her；　really。　The　second　day；　she
lost　it；　and　never　even　remembered　she　had　had　it；　till　some
days　afterwards。

The　long　weeks　went　by。　There　came　the　constant　bad　news　of
the　war。　And　she　felt　as　if　all；　outside　there　in　the　world；
were　a　hurt；　a　hurt　against　her。　And　something　in　her　soul
remained　cold；　apathetic；　unchanging。

Her　life　was　always　only　partial　at　this　time；　never　did　she
live　pletely。　There　was　the　cold；　unliving　part　of　her。　Yet
she　was　madly　sensitive。　She　could　not　bear　herself。　When　a
dirty；　red…eyed　old　woman　came　begging　of　her　in　the　street；　she
started　away　as　from　an　unclean　thing。　And　then；　when　the　old
woman　shouted　acrid　insults　after　her；　she　winced；　her　limbs
palpitated　with　insane　torment；　she　could　not　bear　herself。
Whenever　she　thought　of　the　red…eyed　old　woman；　a　sort　of
madness　ran　in　inflammation　over　her　flesh　and　her　brain；　she
almost　wanted　to　kill　herself。

And　in　this　state；　her　sexual　life　flamed　into　a　kind　of
disease　within　her。　She　was　so　overwrought　and　sensitive；　that
the　mere　touch　of　coarse　wool　seemed　to　tear　her　nerves。



CHAPTER　XII

SHAME

Ursula　had　only　two　more　terms　at　school。　She　was　studying
for　her　matriculation　examination。　It　was　dreary　work；　for　she
had　very　little　intelligence　when　she　was　disjointed　from
happiness。　Stubbornness　and　a　consciousness　of　impending　fate
kept　her　half…heartedly　pinned　to　it。　She　knew　that　soon　she
would　want　to　bee　a　self…responsible　person；　and　her　dread
was　that　she　would　be　prevented。　An　all…containing　will　in　her
for　plete　independence；　plete　social　independence；
plete　independence　from　any　personal　authority；　kept　her
dullishly　at　her　studies。　For　she　knew　that　she　had　always　her
price　of　ransom……her　femaleness。　She　was　always　a　woman；
and　what　she　could　not　get　because　she　was　a　human　being；　fellow
to　the　rest　of　mankind；　she　would　get　because　she　was　a　female；
other　than　the　man。　In　her　femaleness　she　felt　a　secret　riches；
a　reserve；　she　had　always　the　price　of　freedom。

However；　she　was　sufficiently　reserved　about　this　last
resource。　The　other　things　should　be　tried　first。　There　was　the
mysterious　man's　world　to　be　adventured　upon；　the　world　of　daily
work　and　duty；　and　existence　as　a　working　member　of　the
munity。　Against　this　she　had　a　subtle　grudge。　She　wanted　to
make　her　conquest　also　of　this　man's　world。

So　she　ground　away　at　her　work；　never　giving　it　up。　Some
things　she　liked。　Her　subjects　were　English；　Latin；　French；
mathematics　and　history。　Once　she　knew　how　to　read　French　and
Latin；　the　syntax　bored　her。　Most　tedious　was　the　close　study　of
English　literature。　Why　should　one　remember　the　things　one　read？
Something　in　mathematics；　their　cold　absoluteness；　fascinated
her；　but　the　actual　practice　was　tedious。　Some　people　in　history
puzzled　her　and　made　her　ponder；　but　the　political　parts　angered
her；　and　she　hated　ministers。　Only　in　odd　streaks　did　she　get　a
poignant　sense　of　acquisition　and　enrichment　and　enlarging　from
her　studies；　one　afternoon；　reading　As　You　Like　It；　once　when；
with　her　blood；　she　heard　a　passage　of　Latin；　and　she　knew　how
the　blood　beat　in　a　Roman's　body；　so　that　ever　after　she　felt
she　knew　the　Romans　by　contact。　She　enjoyed　the　vagaries　of
English　Grammar；　because　it　gave　her　pleasure　to　detect　the　live
movements　of　words　and　sentences；　and　mathematics；　the　very
sight　of　the　letters　in　Algebra；　had　a　real　lure　for　her。

She　felt　so　much　and　so　confusedly　at　this　time；　that　her
face　got　a　queer；　wondering；　half…scared　look；　as　if　she　were
not　sure　what　might　seize　upon　her　at　any　moment　out　of　the
unknown。

Odd　little　bits　of　information　stirred　unfathomable　passion
in　her。　When　she　knew　that　in　the　tiny　brown　buds　of　autumn　were
folded；　minute　and　plete；　the　finished　flowers　of　the　summer
nine　months　hence；　tiny；　folded　up；　and　left　there　waiting；　a
flash　of　triumph　and　love　went　over　her。

〃I　could　never　die　while　there　was　a　tree；〃　she　said
passionately；　sententiously；　standing　before　a　great　ash　in
worship。

It　was　the　people　who；　somehow；　walked　as　an　upright　menace
to　her。　Her　life　at　this　time　was　unformed；　palpitating；
essentially　shrinking　from　all　touch。　She　gave　something　to
other　people；　but　she　was　never　herself；　since　she　had　no　self。
She　was　not　afraid　nor　ashamed　before　trees；　and　birds；　and　the
sky。　But　she　shrank　violently　from　people；　ashamed　she　was　not
as　they　were；　fixed；　emphatic；　but　a　wavering；　undefined
sensibility　only；　without　form　or　being。

Gudrun　was　at　this　time　a　great　fort　and　shield　to　her。
The　younger　girl　was　a　lithe；　farouche　animal；　who
mistrusted　all　approach；　and　would　have　none　of　the　petty
secrecies　and　jealousies　of　schoolgirl　intimacy。　She　would　have
no　truck　with　the　tame　cats；　nice　or　not；　because　she　believed
that　they　were　all　only　untamed　cats　with　a　nasty；　untrustworthy
habit　of　tameness。

This　was　a　great　stand…back　for　Ursula；　who　suffered　agonies
when　she　thought　a　person　disliked　her；　no　matter　how　much　she
despised　that　other　person。　How　could　anyone　dislike　her；　Ursula
Brangwen？　The　question　terrified　her　and　was　unanswerable。　She
sought　refuge　in　Gudrun's　natural；　proud　indifference。

It　had　been　discovered　that　Gudrun　had　a　talent　for　drawing。
This　solved　the　problem　of　the　girl's　indifference　to　all　study。
It　was　said　of　her；　〃She　can　draw　marvellously。〃

Suddenly　Ursula　found　a　queer　awareness　existed　between
herself　and　her　class…mistress；　Miss　Inger。　The　latter　was　a
rather　beautiful　woman　of　twenty…eight；　a　fearless…seeming；
clean　type　of　modern　girl　whose　very　independence　betrays　her
sorrow。　She　was　clever；　and　expert　in　what　she　did；　accurate；
quick；　manding。

To　Ursula　she　had　always　given　pleasure；　because　of　her
clear；　decided；　yet　graceful　appearance。　She　carried　her　head
high；　a　little　thrown　back；　and　Ursula　thought　there　was　a　look
of　nobility　in　the　way　she　twisted　her　smooth　brown　hair　upon
her　head。　She　always　wore　clean；　attractive；　well…fitting
blouses；　and　a　well…made　skirt。　Everything　about　her　was　so
well…ordered；　betraying　a　fine；　clear　spirit；　that　it　was　a
pleasure　to　sit　in　her　class。

Her　voice　was　just　as　ringing　and　clear；　and　with　unwavering；
finely…touched　modulation。　Her　eyes　were　blue；　clear；　proud；　she
gave　one　altogether　the　sense　of　a　fine…mettled；　scrupulously
groomed　person；　and　of　an　unyielding　mind。　Yet　there　was　an
infinite　poignancy　about　her；　a　great　pathos　in　her　lonely；
proudly　closed　mouth。

It　was　after　Skrebensky　had　gone　that　there　sprang　up　between
the　mistress　and　the　girl　that　strange　awareness；　then　the
unspoken　intimacy　that　sometimes　connects　two　people　who　may
never　even　make　each　other's　acquaintance。　Before；　they　had
always　been　good　friends；　in　the　undistinguished　way　of　the
class…room；　with　the　professional　relationship　of　mistress　and
scholar　always　present。　Now；　however；　another　thing　came　to
pass。　When　they　were　in　the　room　together；　they　were　aware　of
each　other；　almost　to　the　exclusion　of　everything　else