villa rubein and other stories-第13章

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Have　you　ever　been　hungry？　　Have　you　ever　had　your　soul　down　on　its

back？〃



〃Soul　on　its　back？　　That　is　good！〃



〃A　man's　no　use；〃　cried　Harz；　〃if　he's　always　thinking　of　what　others

think；　he　must　stand　on　his　own　legs。〃



〃He　must　not　then　consider　other　people？〃



〃Not　from　cowardice　anyway。〃



Sarelli　drank。



〃What　would　you　do；〃　he　said；　striking　his　chest；　〃if　you　had　a

devil…here？　　Would　you　go　to　bed？〃



A　sort　of　pity　seized　on　Harz。　　He　wanted　to　say　something　that　would

be　consoling　but　could　find　no　words；　and　suddenly　he　felt　disgusted。

What　link　was　there　between　him　and　this　man；　between　his　love　and

this　man's　love？



〃Harz！〃　muttered　Sarelli；　〃Harz　means　'tar；'　hein？　　Your　family　is

not　an　old　one？〃



Harz　glared；　and　said：　〃My　father　is　a　peasant。〃



Sarelli　lifted　the　kummel　bottle　and　emptied　it　into　his　glass；　with


a　steady　hand。



〃You're　honestand　we　both　have　devils。　　I　forgot；　I　brought　you　in

to　see　a　picture！〃



He　threw　wide　the　shutters；　the　windows　were　already　open；　and　a　rush

of　air　came　in。



〃Ah！〃　he　said；　sniffing；　〃smells　of　the　earth；　nicht　wahr；　Herr

Artist？　　You　should　knowit　belongs　to　your　father。。。。　　Come；　here's

my　picture；　a　Correggio！　　What　do　you　think　of　it？〃



〃It　is　a　copy。〃



〃You　think？〃



〃I　know。〃



〃Then　you　have　given　me　the　lie；　Signor；〃　and　drawing　out　his

handkerchief　SareIIi　flicked　it　in　the　painter's　face。



Harz　turned　white。



〃Duelling　is　a　good　custom！〃　said　Sarelli。　　〃I　shall　have　the　honour

to　teach　you　just　this　one；　unless　you　are　afraid。　　Here　are　pistols…

…this　room　is　twenty　feet　across　at　least；　twenty　feet　is　no　bad

distance。〃



And　pulling　out　a　drawer　he　took　two　pistols　from　a　case；　and　put

them　on　the　table。



〃The　light　is　goodbut　perhaps　you　are　afraid。〃



〃Give　me　one！〃　shouted　the　infuriated　painter；　〃and　go　to　the　devil

for　a　fool〃



〃One　moment！〃　Sarelli　murmured：　〃I　will　load　them；　they　are　more

useful　loaded。〃



Harz　leaned　out　of　the　window；　his　head　was　in　a　whirl。　　'What　on

earth　is　happening？'　he　thought。　　'He's　mador　I　am！　　Confound　him！

I'm　not　going　to　be　killed！'　　He　turned　and　went　towards　the　table。

Sarelli's　head　was　sunk　on　his　arms；　he　was　asleep。　　Harz

methodically　took　up　the　pistols；　and　put　them　back　into　the　drawer。

A　sound　made　him　turn　his　head；　there　stood　a　tall；　strong　young

woman　in　a　loose　gown　caught　together　on　her　chest。　　Her　grey　eyes

glanced　from　the　painter　to　the　bottles；　from　the　bottles　to　the

pistol…case。　　A　simple　reasoning；　which　struck　Harz　as　comic。



〃It　is　often　like　this；〃　she　said　in　the　country　patois；　〃der　Herr

must　not　be　frightened。〃



Lifting　the　motionless　Sarelli　as　if　he　were　a　baby；　she　laid　him　on

a　couch。



〃Ah！〃　she　said；　sitting　down　and　resting　her　elbow　on　the　table；　〃he

will　not　wake！〃



Harz　bowed　to　her；　her　patient　figure；　in　spite　of　its　youth　and

strength；　seemed　to　him　pathetic。　　Taking　up　his　knapsack；　he　went

out。



The　smoke　of　cottages　rose　straight；　wisps　of　mist　were　wandering

about　the　valley；　and　the　songs　of　birds　dropping　like　blessings。

All　over　the　grass　the　spiders　had　spun　a　sea　of　threads　that　bent

and　quivered　to　the　pressure　of　the　air；　like　fairy　tight…ropes。



All　that　day　he　tramped。



Blacksmiths；　tall　stout　men　with　knotted　muscles；　sleepy　eyes；　and

great　fair　beards；　came　out　of　their　forges　to　stretch　and　wipe　their

brows；　and　stare　at　him。



Teams　of　white　oxen；　waiting　to　be　harnessed；　lashed　their　tails

against　their　flanks；　moving　their　heads　slowly　from　side　to　side　in

the　heat。　　Old　women　at　chalet　doors　blinked　and　knitted。



The　white　houses；　with　gaping　caves　of　storage　under　the　roofs；　the

red　church　spire；　the　clinking　of　hammers　in　the　forges；　the　slow

stamping　of　oxen…all　spoke　of　sleepy　toil；　without　ideas　or　ambition。

Harz　knew　it　all　too　well；　like　the　earth's　odour；　it　belonged　to

him；　as　Sarelli　had　said。



Towards　sunset　coming　to　a　copse　of　larches；　he　sat　down　to　rest。　　It

was　very　still；　but　for　the　tinkle　of　cowbells；　and；　from　somewhere

in　the　distance；　the　sound　of　dropping　logs。



Two　barefooted　little　boys　came　from　the　wood；　marching　earnestly

along；　and　looking　at　Harz　as　if　he　were　a　monster。　　Once　past　him；

they　began　to　run。



'At　their　age；'　he　thought；　'I　should　have　done　the　same。'　　A　hundred

memories　rushed　into　his　mind。



He　looked　down　at　the　village　straggling　belowwhite　houses　with

russet　tiles　and　crowns　of　smoke；　vineyards　where　the　young　leaves

were　beginning　to　unfold；　the　red…capped　spire；　a　thread　of　bubbling

stream；　an　old　stone　cross。　　He　had　been　fourteen　years　struggling　up

from　all　this；　and　now　just　as　he　had　breathing　space；　and　the　time

to　give　himself　wholly　to　his　workthis　weakness　was　upon　him！

Better；　a　thousand　times；　to　give　her　up！



In　a　house　or　two　lights　began　to　wink；　the　scent　of　wood　smoke

reached　him；　the　distant　chimes　of　bells；　the　burring　of　a　stream。









IX



Next　day　his　one　thought　was　to　get　back　to　work。　　He　arrived　at　the

studio　in　the　afternoon；　and；　laying　in　provisions；　barricaded　the

lower　door。　　For　three　days　he　did　not　go　out；　on　the　fourth　day　he

went　to　Villa　Rubein。。。。



Schloss　Runkelsteingrey；　blind；　strengthlessstill　keeps　the

valley。　　The　windows　which　once；　like　eyes；　watched　men　and　horses

creeping　through　the　snow；　braved　the　splutter　of　guns　and　the　gleam

of　torches；　are　now　holes　for　the　birds　to　nest　in。　　Tangled　creepers

have　spread　to　the　very　summits　of　the　walls。　　In　the　keep；　instead

of　grim　men　in　armour；　there　is　a　wooden　board　recording　the　history

of　the　castle　and　instructing　visitors　on　the　subject　of

refreshments。　　Only　at　night；　when　the　cold　moon　blanches　everything；

the　castle　stands　like　the　grim　ghost　of　its　old　self；　high　above　the

river。



After　a　long　morning's　sitting　the　girls　had　started　forth　with　Harz

and　Dawney　to　spend　the　afternoon　at　the　ruin；　Miss　Naylor；　kept　at

home　by　headache；　watched　them　depart　with　words　of　caution　against

sunstroke；　stinging　nettles；　and　strange　dogs。



Since　the　painter's　return　Christian　and　he　had　hardly　spoken　to　each

other。　　Below　the　battlement　on　which　they　sat；　in　a　railed　gallery

with　little　tables；　Dawney　and　Greta　were　playing　dominoes；　two

soldiers　drinking　beer；　and　at　the　top　of　a　flight　of　stairs　the

Custodian's　wife　sewing　at　a　garment。　　Christian　said　suddenly：　〃I

thought　we　were　friends。〃



〃Well；　Fraulein　Christian；　aren't　we？〃



〃You　went　away　without　a　word；　friends　don't　do　that。〃



Harz　bit　his　lips。



〃I　don't　think　you　care；〃　she　went　on　with　a　sort　of　desperate　haste；

〃whether　you　hurt　people　or　not。　　You　have　been　here　all　this　time

without　even　going　to　see　your　father　and　mother。〃



〃Do　you　think　they　would　want　to　see　me？〃



Christian　looked　up。



〃It's　all　been　so　soft　for　you；〃　he　said　bitterly；　〃you　don't

understand。〃



He　turned　his　head　away；　and　then　burst　out：　〃I'm　proud　to　come

straight　from　the　soilI　wouldn't　have　it　otherwise；　but　they　are　of

'the　people；'　everything　is　narrow　with　themthey　only　understand

what　they　can　see　and　touch。〃



〃I'm　sorry　I　spoke　like　that；〃　said　Christian　softly；　〃you've　never

told　me　about　yourself。〃



There　was　something　just　a　little　cruel　in　the　way　the　painter　looked

at　her；　then　seeming　to　feel　compunction；　he　said　quickly：　〃I　always

hatedthe　peasant　lifeI　wanted　to　get　away　into　the　world；　I　had　a

feeling　in　hereI　wantedI　don't　know　what　I　wanted！　　I　did　run

away　at　last　to　a　house…painter　at　Meran。　　The　priest　wrote　me　a

letter　from　my　fatherthey　threw　me　off；　that's　all。〃



Christian's　eyes　were　very　bright；　her　lips　moved；　like　the　lips　of　a

child　listening　to　a　story。



〃Go　on；〃　she　said。



〃I　stayed　at　Meran　two　years；　till　I'd　learnt　all　I　could　there；　then

a　brother　of　my　mother'