the dark flower-第1章

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The　Dark　Flower

by　John　Galsworthy




〃Take　the　flower　from　my　breast；　I　pray　thee；
　Take　the　flower　too　from　out　my　tresses；
　And　then　go　hence；　for　see；　the　night　is　fair；
　The　stars　rejoice　to　watch　thee　on　thy　way。〃
　From　〃The　Bard　of　the　Dimbovitza。〃



THE　DARK　FLOWER


Part　I

Spring


I


He　walked　along　Holywell　that　afternoon　of　early　June　with　his
short　gown　drooping　down　his　arms；　and　no　cap　on　his　thick　dark
hair。　　A　youth　of　middle　height；　and　built　as　if　he　had　come　of　two
very　different　strains；　one　sturdy；　the　other　wiry　and　light。　　His
face；　too；　was　a　curious　blend；　for；　though　it　was　strongly　formed；
its　expression　was　rather　soft　and　moody。　　His　eyesdark　grey；
with　a　good　deal　of　light　in　them；　and　very　black　lasheshad　a　way
of　looking　beyond　what　they　saw；　so　that　he　did　not　seem　always　to
be　quite　present；　but　his　smile　was　exceedingly　swift；　uncovering
teeth　as　white　as　a　negro's；　and　giving　his　face　a　peculiar
eagerness。　　People　stared　at　him　a　little　as　he　passedsince　in
eighteen　hundred　and　eighty　he　was　before　his　time　in　not　wearing　a
cap。　　Women　especially　were　interested；　they　perceived　that　he　took
no　notice　of　them；　seeming　rather　to　be　looking　into　distance；　and
making　combinations　in　his　soul。

Did　he　know　of　what　he　was　thinkingdid　he　ever　know　quite
definitely　at　that　time　of　his　life；　when　things；　especially　those
beyond　the　immediate　horizon；　were　so　curious　and　interesting？the
things　he　was　going　to　see　and　do　when　he　had　got　through　Oxford；
where　everybody　was　'awfully　decent'　to　him　and　'all　right'　of
course；　but　not　so　very　interesting。

He　was　on　his　way　to　his　tutor's　to　read　an　essay　on　Oliver
Cromwell；　and　under　the　old　wall；　which　had　once　hedged　in　the
town；　he　took　out　of　his　pocket　a　beast。　　It　was　a　small　tortoise；
and；　with　an　extreme　absorption；　he　watched　it　move　its　little
inquiring　head；　feeling　it　all　the　time　with　his　short；　broad
fingers；　as　though　to　discover　exactly　how　it　was　made。　　It　was
mighty　hard　in　the　back！　　No　wonder　poor　old　Aeschylus　felt　a　bit
sick　when　it　fell　on　his　head！　　The　ancients　used　it　to　stand　the
world　ona　pagoda　world；　perhaps；　of　men　and　beasts　and　trees；
like　that　carving　on　his　guardian's　Chinese　cabinet。　　The　Chinese
made　jolly　beasts　and　trees；　as　if　they　believed　in　everything
having　a　soul；　and　not　only　being　just　fit　for　people　to　eat　or
drive　or　make　houses　of。　　If　only　the　Art　School　would　let　him
model　things　'on　his　own；'　instead　of　copying　and　copyingit　was
just　as　if　they　imagined　it　would　be　dangerous　to　let　you　think　out
anything　for　yourself！

He　held　the　tortoise　to　his　waistcoat；　and　let　it　crawl；　till；
noticing　that　it　was　gnawing　the　corner　of　his　essay；　he　put　it
back　into　his　pocket。　　What　would　his　tutor　do　if　he　were　to　know
it　was　there？cock　his　head　a　little　to　one　side；　and　say：　〃Ah！
there　are　things；　Lennan；　not　dreamed　of　in　my　philosophy！〃　　Yes；
there　were　a　good　many　not　dreamed　of　by　'old　Stormer；'　who　seemed
so　awfully　afraid　of　anything　that　wasn't　usual；　who　seemed　always
laughing　at　you；　for　fear　that　you　should　laugh　at　him。　　There　were
lots　of　people　in　Oxford　like　that。　　It　was　stupid。　　You　couldn't
do　anything　decent　if　you　were　afraid　of　being　laughed　at！　　Mrs。
Stormer　wasn't　like　that；　she　did　things　becausethey　came　into
her　head。　　But　then；　of　course；　she　was　Austrian；　not　English；　and
ever　so　much　younger　than　old　Stormer。

And　having　reached　the　door　of　his　tutor's　house；　he　rang　the
bell。　。　。　。


II


When　Anna　Stormer　came　into　the　study　she　found　her　husband
standing　at　the　window　with　his　head　a　little　on　one　sidea　tall；
long…legged　figure　in　clothes　of　a　pleasant　tweed；　and　wearing　a
low　turn…over　collar　（not　common　in　those　days）　and　a　blue　silk
tie；　which　she　had　knitted；　strung　through　a　ring。　　He　was　humming
and　gently　tapping　the　window…pane　with　his　well…kept　finger…nails。
Though　celebrated　for　the　amount　of　work　he　got　through；　she　never
caught　him　doing　any　in　this　house　of　theirs；　chosen　because　it　was
more　than　half　a　mile　away　from　the　College　which　held　the　'dear
young　clowns；'　as　he　called　them；　of　whom　he　was　tutor。

He　did　not　turnit　was　not；　of　course；　his　habit　to　notice　what
was　not　absolutely　necessarybut　she　felt　that　he　was　aware　of
her。　　She　came　to　the　window　seat　and　sat　down。　　He　looked　round　at
that；　and　said：　〃Ah！〃

It　was　a　murmur　almost　of　admiration；　not　usual　from　him；　since；
with　the　exception　of　certain　portions　of　the　classics；　it　was
hardly　his　custom　to　admire。　　But　she　knew　that　she　was　looking　her
best　sitting　there；　her　really　beautiful　figure　poised；　the　sun
shining　on　her　brown　hair；　and　brightening　her　deep…set；　ice…green
eyes　under　their　black　lashes。　　It　was　sometimes　a　great　comfort　to
her　that　she　remained　so　good…looking。　　It　would　have　been　an　added
vexation　indeed　to　have　felt　that　she　ruffled　her　husband's
fastidiousness。　　Even　so；　her　cheekbones　were　too　high　for　his
taste；　symbols　of　that　something　in　her　character　which　did　not　go
with　histhe　dash　of　desperation；　of　vividness；　that　lack　of　a
certain　English　smoothness；　which　always　annoyed　him。

〃Harold！〃she　would　never　quite　flatten　her　r's〃I　want　to　go　to
the　mountains　this　year。〃

The　mountains！　　She　had　not　seen　them　since　that　season　at　San
Martino　di　Castrozza　twelve　years　ago；　which　had　ended　in　her
marrying　him。

〃Nostalgia！〃

〃I　don't　know　what　that　meansI　am　homesick。　　Can　we　go？〃

〃If　you　likewhy　not？　　But　no　leading　up　the　Cimone　della　Pala　for
ME！〃

She　knew　what　he　meant　by　that。　　No　romance。　　How　splendidly　he　had
led　that　day！　　She　had　almost　worshipped　him。　　What　blindness！
What　distortion！　　Was　it　really　the　same　man　standing　there　with
those　bright；　doubting　eyes；　with　grey　already　in　his　hair？　　Yes；
romance　was　over！　　And　she　sat　silent；　looking　out　into　the　street
that　little　old　street　into　which　she　looked　day　and　night。　　A
figure　passed　out　there；　came　to　the　door；　and　rang。

She　said　softly：　〃Here　is　Mark　Lennan！〃

She　felt　her　husband's　eyes　rest　on　her　just　for　a　moment；　knew
that　he　had　turned；　heard　him　murmur：　〃Ah；　the　angel　clown！〃　　And；
quite　still；　she　waited　for　the　door　to　open。　　There　was　the　boy；
with　his　blessed　dark　head；　and　his　shy；　gentle　gravity；　and　his
essay　in　his　hand。

〃Well；　Lennan；　and　how's　old　Noll？　　Hypocrite　of　genius；　eh？　　Draw
up；　let's　get　him　over！〃

Motionless；　from　her　seat　at　the　window；　she　watched　those　two
figures　at　the　tablethe　boy　reading　in　his　queer；　velvety　bass
voice；　her　husband　leaning　back　with　the　tips　of　his　fingers
pressed　together；　his　head　a　little　on　one　side；　and　that　faint；
satiric　smile　which　never　reached　his　eyes。　　Yes；　he　was　dozing；
falling　asleep；　and　the　boy；　not　seeing；　was　going　on。　　Then　he
came　to　the　end　and　glanced　up。　　What　eyes　he　had！　　Other　boys
would　have　laughed；　but　he　looked　almost　sorry。　　She　heard　him
murmur：　〃I'm　awfully　sorry；　sir。〃

〃Ah；　Lennan；　you　caught　me！　　Fact　is；　term's　fagged　me　out。　　We're
going　to　the　mountains。　　Ever　been　to　the　mountains？　　Whatnever！
You　should　come　with　us；　eh？　　What　do　you　say；　Anna？　　Don't　you
think　this　young　man　ought　to　come　with　us？〃

She　got　up；　and　stood　staring　at　them　both。　　Had　she　heard　aright？

Then　she　answeredvery　gravely：

〃Yes；　I　think　he　ought。〃

〃Good；　we'll　get　HIM　to　lead　up　the　Cimone　della　Pala！〃


III


When　the　boy　had　said　good…bye；　and　she　had　watched　him　out　into
the　street；　Anna　stood　for　a　moment　in　the　streak　of　sunlight　that
came　in　through　the　open　door；　her　hands　pressed　to　cheeks　which
were　flaming。　　Then　she　shut　the　door　and　leaned　her　forehead
against　the　window…pane；　seeing　nothing。　　Her　heart　beat　very　fast；
she　was　going　over　and　over　again　the　scene　just　passed　through。
This　meant　so　much　more　than　it　had　seemed　to　mean。　。　。　。

Though　she　always　had　Heimweh；　and　especially　at　the　end　of　the
summer　term；　this　year　it　had　been　a　different　feeling　altogether
that　made　her　say　to　her　husband：　〃I　want　to　go　to　the　mountains！〃

For　twelve　years　she　had　longed　for　the　mountains　every　summer；　but
had　not　pleaded　for　them；　this　year　sh