第4章
加入书架 A- A+
点击下载App,搜索"Saint’s Progress",免费读到尾

  Everycarriagewindowwasfullofthosebrownfiguresandred—brownfaces,handswerewavingvaguely,voicescallingvaguely,hereandthereonecheered;someoneleaningfaroutstartedtosing:\"Ifauldacquaintance——\"ButNoelstoodquitestillintheshadowofthemilk—cans,herlipsdrawnin,herhandshardclenchedinfrontofher;andyoungMorlandathiswindowgazedbackather。

  2

  HowshecametobesittinginTrafalgarSquareshedidnotknow。

  Tearshadformedamistbetweenherandallthatseething,summer—

  eveningcrowd。Hereyesmechanicallyfollowedthewanderingsearch—

  lights,thosenewmilkyways,quarteringtheheavensandleadingnowhere。Allwaswonderfullybeautiful,theskyadeepdarkblue,themoonlightwhiteningthespireofSt。Martin’s,andeverywhereendowingthegreatblacked—outbuildingswithdream—life。Eventhelionshadcometolife,andstaredoutoverthismoonlitdesertoflittlehumanfigurestoosmalltobeworththestretchingoutofapaw。Shesatthere,achingdreadfully,asifthelongingofeverybereavedheartinallthetownhadsettledinher。Shefeltittonightathousandtimesworse;forlastnightshehadbeendruggedonthenewsensationoflovetriumphantlyfulfilled。Nowshefeltasiflifehadplacedherinthecornerofahugesilentroom,blownouttheflameofjoy,andlockedthedoor。Alittledrysobcamefromher。Thehay—fieldsandCyril,withshirtunbuttonedattheneck,pitchinghayandgazingatherwhileshedabbledherforkinthethinleavings。Thebrightriver,andtheirboatgroundedontheshallows,andtheswallowsflittingoverthem。Andthatlongdance,withthefeelofhishandbetweenhershoulder—blades!Memoriessosweetandsharpthatshealmostcriedout。ShesawagaintheirdarkgrassycourtyardintheAbbey,andthewhiteowlflyingoverthem。Thewhiteowl!Flyingthereagainto—night,withnoloversonthegrassbelow!ShecouldonlypictureCyrilnowasabrownatominthatswirlingbrownfloodofmen,flowingtoahugebrownsea。Thosecruelminutesontheplatform,whenshehadsearchedandsearchedthewalkingwoodforher,onetree,seemedtohaveburnedthemselvesintohereyes。Cyrilwaslost,shecouldnotsinglehimout,allblurredamongthosethousandothershapes。Andsuddenlyshethought:’AndI

  ——I’mlosttohim;he’sneverseenmeathome,neverseenmeinLondon;hewon’tbeabletoimagineme。It’sallinthepast,onlythepast——forbothofus。Isthereanybodysounhappy?’Andthetown’svoices—wheels,andpassingfeet,whistles,talk,laughter—

  seemedtoanswercallously:’Notone。’Shelookedatherwrist—

  watch;likehis,ithadluminoushands:’Half—pastten’wasgreenishlyimprintedthere。Shegotupindismay。Theywouldthinkshewaslost,orrunover,orsomethingsilly!Shecouldnotfindanemptytaxi,andbegantowalk,uncertainofherwayatnight。Atlastshestoppedapoliceman,andsaid:

  \"WhichisthewaytowardsBloomsbury,please?Ican’tfindataxi。\"

  Themanlookedather,andtooktimetothinkitover;thenhesaid:

  \"They’relinin’upforthetheatres,\"andlookedatheragain。

  Somethingseemedtomoveinhismechanism:

  \"I’mgoin’thatway,miss。Ifyoulike,youcanstepalongwithme。\"

  Noelsteppedalong。

  \"Thestreetsaren’twhattheyoughttobe,\"thepolicemansaid。

  \"Whatwiththedarkness,andthewarturningthegirlsheads——you’dbesurprisedthenumberofthemthatcomesout。It’sthesoldiers,ofcourse。\"

  Noelfelthercheeksburning。

  \"Idaresayyouwouldn’thavenoticedit,\"thepolicemanwenton:\"butthiswar’safunnything。ThestreetsaregayerandmorecrowdedatnightthanI’veeverseenthem;it’safairpicnicallthetime。

  Whatwe’regoin’tosettledowntowhenpeacecomes,Idon’tknow。I

  supposeyoufinditquietenoughupyourway,miss?\"

  \"Yes,\"saidNoel;\"quitequiet。\"

  \"NosoldiersupinBloomsbury。YougotanyoneintheArmy,miss?\"

  Noelnodded。

  \"Ah!It’sanxioustimesforladies。WhatwiththeZeps,andtheirbrothersandallinFrance,it’s’arassin’。I’velostabrothermeself,andI’vegotaboyoutthereintheGardenofEden;hismothercarriesondreadfulabouthim。Whatweshallthinkofitwhenit’sallover,Ican’ttell。TheseHunsareawickedtoughlot!\"

  Noellookedathim;atallman,regularandorderly,withoneofthoseperfectlydecentfacessooftenseenintheLondonpolice。

  \"I’msorryyou’velostsomeone,\"shesaid。\"Ihaven’tlostanyoneverynear,yet。\"

  \"Well,let’s’opeyouwon’t,miss。Thesetimesmakeyoufeelforothers,an’that’ssomething。I’venoticedagreatchangeinfolksyou’dneverthinkwouldfeelforanyone。AndyetI’veseensomewickedthingstoo;wedo,inthepolice。SomeoftheseEnglishwivesofaliens,and’armlesslittleGermanbakers,an’Austrians,andwhat—not:theygetacrooltime。It’stheirmisfortune,nottheirfault,that’swhatIthink;andthewaytheygetserved——well,itmakesyouashamedo’bein’Englishsometimes——itdoesstraight:Andthewomenaretheworst。Isaidtomywifeonlylastnight,Isaid:

  ’TheycallthemselvesChristians,’Isaid,’butforallthecharitythat’sin’emtheymightaswellbeHuns。’Shecouldn’tseeit—notshe!’Well,whydotheydropbombs?’shesays。’What!’Isaid,’thoseEnglishwivesandbakersdropbombs?Don’tbesilly,’Isaid。

  ’They’reasinnocentaswe。’It’stheinnocentthatgetspunishedfortheguilty。’Butthey’reallspies,’shesays。’Oh!’Isaid,’oldlady!Nowreally!Atyourtimeoflife!’Butthereitis;youcan’tgetawomantoseereason。It’sreadin’thepapers。Ioftenthinktheymustbewrittenbywomen——beggin’yourpardon,miss——butreely,the’ystericsandthe’atred——they’reafairknockout。D’youfindmuchhatredinyourhousehold,miss?\"

  Noelshookherhead。\"No;myfather’saclergyman,yousee。\"

  \"Ah!\"saidthepoliceman。Andintheglancehebestowedonhercouldbeseenanaddedrespect。

  \"Ofcourse,\"hewenton,\"you’reboundtohaveasenseofjusticeagainsttheseHuns;someoftheirwaysofgoin’onhavebeenabovethelimit。ButwhatIalwaysthinkis——ofcourseIdon’tsaythesethings——nousetomakeyourselfunpopular——buttomeselfIoftenthink:Take’emmanforman,andyou’dfind’emmuchthesameasweare,Idaresay。It’stheviciouswaythey’rebroughtup,ofactin’

  inthemass,that’smade’emsuchacroollot。Iseeagoodbitofcrowdsinmyprofession,andI’veaverylowopinionofthem。Crowdsarethemostblunderin’blightedthingsthateverwas。They’relikeanangrywomanwithabandageoverhereyes,an’youcan’thaveanythingmoredangerousthanthat。TheseGermans,itseems,arealwaysinacrowd。Theygetastateo’mindreadouttothembyBillKaserandallthatbloody—mindedlot,an’theyneverstoptothinkforthemselves。\"

  \"Isupposethey’dbeshotiftheydid,\"saidNoel。

  \"Well,thereisthat,\"saidthepolicemanreflectively。\"They’vebroughtdisciplinetoan’ighpitch,nodoubt。An’ifyouaskme,\"——

  heloweredhisvoicetillitwasalmostlostinhischin—strap,\"we’llberunnin’’emagoodsecond’ere,beforelong。Thethingswe’avetoprotectnowaregettin’beyondajoke。There’stheCityagainstlights,there’sthestreetsagainstdarkness,there’sthealiens,there’sthealiens’shops,there’stheBelgians,there’stheBritishwives,there’sthesoldiersagainstthewomen,there’sthewomenagainstthesoldiers,there’sthePeaceParty,there’s’orsesagainstcroolty,there’saCabinetMinistereverynowan’then;andnowwe’vegottheseConchies。And,mindyou,theyhaven’traisedourpay;nowarwagesinthepolice。SofarasIcansee,there’sonlyonegoodresultofthewar——theburglariesareoff。Butthereagain,youwaitabitandseeifwedon’thaveaprizecropof’m,ormyname’snot’Arris。\"

  \"Youmusthaveanawfullyexcitinglife!\"saidNoel。

  Thepolicemanlookeddownathersideways,withoutloweringhisface,asonlyapolicemancan,andsaidindulgently:

  \"We’reusedtoit,yousee;there’snoexcitementinwhatyou’reusedto。Theyfindthatinthetrenches,I’mtold。Takeourseamen——

  there’slotsof’embeenblownupoverandoveragain,andtheretheygoandsignonagainnextday。That’swheretheGermansmaketheirmistake!Englandinwar—time!Ithinkalot,youknow,onmygo;

  youcan’t’elpit——themindwillwork——an’themoreIthink,themoreIseethefightin’spiritinthepeople。Wedon’tmakeafussaboutitlikeBillKaser。Butyouwatchalittleshopman,oneo’thosefellowswho’shadhishousebombed;youwatchthewayhelooksatthemess——sortofdisgusted。Youwatchhisface,andyouseehe’sgothisteethintoit。YouwatchoneofourTommieson’iscrutches,withthesweatpourin’offhisforeheadan’’iseyesallstrainy,stumpin’along——thatgivesyouanidea!IpitythesePeacefellows,reelyIpitythem;theydon’tknowwhatthey’reupagainst。Iexpectthere’stimeswhenyouwishyouwasaman,don’tyou,miss?I’msurethere’stimeswhenIfeelI’dliketogointhetrenches。That’stheworsto’myjob;youcan’tbeahumanbein’——notinthefullsenseoftheword。Youmustn’tletyourpassionsrise,youmustn’tdrink,youmustn’ttalk;it’sanarrowwalko’life。Well,hereyouare,miss;

  yourSquare’sthenextturnin’totheright。Goodnightandthankyouforyourconversation。\"

  Noelheldoutherhand。\"Goodnight!\"shesaid。

  Thepolicemantookherhandwithaqueer,flatteredembarrassment。

  \"Goodnight,miss,\"hesaidagain。\"Iseeyou’vegotatrouble;andI’msureIhopeit’llturnoutforthebest。\"

  Noelgavehishugehandasqueeze;hereyeshadfilledwithtears,andsheturnedquicklyuptowardstheSquare,whereadarkfigurewascomingtowardsher,inwhomsherecognisedherfather。Hisfacewaswornandharassed;hewalkedirresolutely,likeamanwhohaslostsomething。

  \"Nollie!\"hesaid。\"ThankGod!\"Inhisvoicewasaninfiniterelief。\"Mychild,wherehaveyoubeen?\"

  \"It’sallright,Daddy。Cyrilhasjustgonetothefront。I’vebeenseeinghimofffromCharingCross。\"

  Piersonslippedhisarmroundher。Theyenteredthehousewithoutspeaking……

  3

  Bytherailofhistransport,asfar——abouttwofeet——ashecouldgetfromanyone,CyrilMorlandstoodwatchingCalais,adreamcity,brightenoutoftheheatandgrowsolid。Hecouldhearthegunsalready,thevoiceofhisnewlife—talkinginthedistance。Itcamewithitsstrangeexcitementintoabeingheldbysoftandmarvellousmemories,byonelongvisionofNoelandthemoonlitgrass,underthedarkAbbeywall。Thismomentofpassagefromwondertowonderwasquitetoomuchforaboyunusedtointrospection,andhestoodstaringstupidlyatCalais,whilethethunderofhisnewlifecamerollinginonthatpassionatemoonlitdream。

  VII

  AftertheemotionsofthoselastthreedaysPiersonwokewiththefeelingashipmusthavewhenitmakeslandfall。Suchreliefsarenatural,andasaruledelusive;foreventsareasmuchtheparentsofthefutureastheywerethechildrenofthepast。Tobeathomewithbothhisgirls,andresting——forhisholidaywouldnotbeoverfortendays——waslikeoldtimes。NowGeorgewasgoingonsowellGratianwouldbeherselfagain;nowCyrilMorlandwasgoneNoelwouldlosethatsuddenyouthfullovefever。PerhapsintwoorthreedaysifGeorgecontinuedtoprogress,onemightgooffwithNoelsomewhereforone’slastweek。Inthemeantimetheoldhouse,whereinwasgatheredsomuchremembranceofhappinessandpain,wasjustasrestfulasanywhereelse,andthecompanionshipofhisgirlswouldbeassweetasonanyoftheirpastramblingholidaysinWalesorIreland。Andthatfirstmorningofperfectidleness——fornooneknewhewasbackinLondon——pottering,andplayingthepianointhehomelydrawing—roomwherenothingtospeakofwaschangedsincehiswife’sday,wasverypleasant。Hehadnotyetseenthegirls,forNoeldidnotcomedowntobreakfast,andGratianwaswithGeorge。

  Discoverythattherewasstilla,barrierbetweenhimandthemcamebutslowlyinthenexttwodays。Hewouldnotacknowledgeit,yetitwasthere,intheirvoices,intheirmovements——ratheranabsenceofsomethingoldthanthepresenceofsomethingnew。Itwasasifeachhadsaidtohim:\"Weloveyou,butyouarenotinoursecrets——andyoumustnotbe,foryouwouldtrytodestroythem。\"Theyshowednofearofhim,butseemedtobepushinghimunconsciouslyaway,lestheshouldrestrainoralterwhatwasverydeartothem。Theywerebothfondofhim,buttheirnatureshadsetfootondefinitelydivergingpaths。Theclosertheaffection,themorewatchfultheywereagainstinterferencebythataffection。Noelhadalookonherface,halfdazed,halfproud,whichtouched,yetvexedhim。Whathadhedonetoforfeitherconfidence——surelyshemustseehownaturalandrighthisoppositionhadbeen!Hemadeonegreatefforttoshowtherealsympathyhefeltforher。Butsheonlysaid:\"Ican’ttalkofCyril,Daddy;Isimplycan’t!\"Andhe,whoeasilyshrankintohisshell,couldnotbutacquiesceinherreserve。

  WithGratianitwasdifferent。Heknewthatanencounterwasbeforehim;astrugglebetweenhimandherhusband——forcharacteristicallyhesetthechangeinher,thedefectionofherfaith,downtoGeorge,nottospontaneousthoughtandfeelinginherself。Hedreadedandyetlookedforwardtothisencounter。Itcameonthethirdday,whenLairdwasup,lyingonthatverysofawherePiersonhadsatlisteningtoGratian’sconfessionofdisbelief。Exceptforputtinginhisheadtosaygoodmorning,hehadnotyetseenhisson—in—law:Theyoungdoctorcouldnotlookfragile,thebuildofhisface,withthatlawandthoseheavycheekboneswastoomuchagainstit,buttherewasabouthimenoughofthelookofhavingcomethroughahardfighttogivePierson’sheartasqueeze。

  \"Well,George,\"hesaid,\"yougaveusadreadfulfright!IthankGod’smercy。\"Withthathalf—mechanicalphrasehehadflunganunconsciouschallenge。Lairdlookedupwhimsically。

  \"SoyoureallythinkGodmerciful,sir?\"

  \"Don’tletusargue,George;you’renotstrongenough。\"

  \"Oh!I’mpiningforsomethingtobiteon。\"

  PiersonlookedatGratian,andsaidsoftly:

  \"God’smercyisinfinite,andyouknowitis。\"

  LairdalsolookedatGratian,beforeheanswered:

  \"God’smercyissurelytheamountofmercymanhassucceededinarrivingat。Howmuchthatis,thiswartellsyou,sir。\"

  Piersonflushed。\"Idon’tfollowyou,\"hesaidpainfully。\"Howcanyousaysuchthings,whenyouyourselfareonlyjustNo;Irefusetoargue,George;Irefuse。\"

  Lairdstretchedouthishandtohiswife,whocametohim,andstoodclaspingitwithherown。\"Well,I’mgoingtoargue,\"hesaid;\"I’msimplyburstingwithit。Ichallengeyou,sir,toshowmewherethere’sanysignofaltruisticpity,exceptinman。Motherlovedoesn’tcount——motherandchildaretoomuchone。\"

  Thecurioussmilehadcomealready,onboththeirfaces。

  \"MydearGeorge,isnotmanthehighestworkofGod,andmercythehighestqualityinman?\"

  \"Notabit。Ifgeologicaltimebetakenastwenty—fourhours,man’sexistenceonearthsofarequalsjusttwosecondsofit;afterafewmoreseconds,whenmanhasbeenfrozenofftheearth,geologicaltimewillstretchforaslongagain,beforetheearthbumpsintosomething,andbecomesnebulaoncemore。God’shandshaven’tbeenparticularlyfull,sir,havethey——twosecondsoutoftwenty—fourhours——ifmanisHispetconcern?Andastomercybeingthehighestqualityin,man,that’sonlyamodernfashionoftalking。Man’shighestqualityisthesenseofproportion,forthat’swhatkeepshimalive;andmercy,logicallypursued,wouldkillhimoff。It’sasortofaluxuryorby—product。\"

  \"George!Youcanhavenomusicinyoursoul!Scienceissuchalittlething,ifyoucouldonlysee。\"

  \"Showmeabigger,sir。\"

  \"Faith。\"

  \"Inwhat?\"

  \"Inwhathasbeenrevealedtous。\"

  \"Ah!Thereitisagain!Bywhom——how?

  \"ByGodHimself——throughourLord。\"

  AfaintflushroseinLaird’syellowface,andhiseyesbrightened。

  \"Christ,\"hesaid;\"ifHeexisted,whichsomepeople,asyouknow,doubt,wasaverybeautifulcharacter;therehavebeenothers。ButtoaskustobelieveinHissupernaturalnessordivinityatthistimeofdayistoaskustowalkthroughtheworldblindfold。Andthat’swhatyoudo,don’tyou?\"

  AgainPiersonlookedathisdaughter’sface。Shewasstandingquitestill,withhereyesfixedonherhusband。Somehowhewasawarethatallthesewordsofthesickman’swereforherbenefit。Anger,andasortofdespairrosewithinhim,andhesaidpainfully:

  \"Icannotexplain。TherearethingsthatIcan’tmakeclear,becauseyouarewilfullyblindtoallthatIbelievein。Forwhatdoyouimaginewearefightingthisgreatwar,ifitisnottoreestablishthebeliefinloveastheguidingprincipleoflife?\"

  Lairdshookhishead。\"Wearefightingtoredressabalance,whichwasindangerofbeinglost。\"

  \"Thebalanceofpower?\"

  \"Heavens!——no!Thebalanceofphilosophy。\"

  Piersonsmiled。\"Thatsoundsveryclever,George;butagain,Idon’tfollowyou。\"

  \"Thebalancebetweenthesayings:’MightisRight,’and’RightisMight。’They’rebothhalf—truth,butthefirstwasbeatingtheotheroutofthefield。Alltherestofitiscant,youknow。Andbytheway,sir,yourChurchissolidforpunishmentoftheevildoer。

  Where’smercythere?EitheritsGodisnotmerciful,orelseitdoesn’tbelieveinitsGod。\"

  \"Justpunishmentdoesnotprecludemercy,George。\"

  \"ItdoesinNature。\"

  \"Ah!Nature,George——alwaysNature。GodtranscendsNature。\"

  \"ThenwhydoesHegiveitafreerein?Amantoofondofdrink,orwomen——howmuchmercydoeshegetfromNature?Hisoverindulgencebringsitsexactequivalentofpenalty;lethimpraytoGodasmuchashelikes——unlesshealtershiswayshegetsnomercy。Ifhedoesalterhisways,hegetsnomercyeither;hejustgetsNature’sduereward。WeEnglishwhohaveneglectedbrainandeducation——howmuchmercyarewegettinginthiswar?Mercy’saman—madeornament,disease,orluxury——callitwhatyouwill。Exceptthat,I’venothingtosayagainstit。Onthecontrary,Iamallforit。\"

  OncemorePiersonlookedathisdaughter。Somethinginherfacehurthim——thesilentintensitywithwhichshewashangingonherhusband’swords,theeagersearchofhereyes。Andheturnedtothedoor,saying:

  \"Thisisbadforyou,George。\"

  HesawGratianputherhandonherhusband’sforehead,andthought——

  jealously:’HowcanIsavemypoorgirlfromthisinfidelity?Aremytwentyyearsofcaretogofornothing,againstthismodernspirit?’

  Downinhisstudy,thewordswentthroughhismind:\"Holy,holy,holy,MercifulandMighty!\"Andgoingtothelittlepianointhecorner,heopenedit,andbeganplayingthehymn。Heplayeditsoftlyontheshabbykeysofthisthirty—yearoldfriend,whichhadbeenwithhimsinceCollegedays;andsangitsoftlyinhiswornvoice。

  Asoundmadehimlookup。Gratianhadcomein。Sheputherhandonhisshoulder,andsaid:

  \"Iknowithurtsyou,Dad。Butwe’vegottofindoutforourselves,。

  haven’twe?AllthetimeyouandGeorgeweretalking,Ifeltthatyoudidn’tseethatit’sIwho’vechanged。It’snotwhathethinks,butwhatI’vecometothinkofmyownaccord。Iwishyou’dunderstandthatI’vegotamindofmyown,Dad。\"

  Piersonlookedupwithamazement。

  \"Ofcourseyouhaveamind。\"

  Gratianshookherhead。\"No,youthoughtmymindwasyours;andnowyouthinkit’sGeorge’s。Butit’smyown。Whenyouweremyageweren’tyoutryinghardtofindthetruthyourself,anddifferingfromyourfather?\"

  Piersondidnotanswer。Hecouldnotremember。Itwaslikestirringastickamongstadriftoflastyear’sleaves,toawakenbutadryrustling,avaguesenseofunsubstantiality。Searched?Nodoubthehadsearched,buttheprocesshadbroughthimnothing。Knowledgewasallsmoke!Emotionalfaithalonewastruth——reality\"Ah,Gracie!\"hesaid,\"searchifyoumust,butwherewillyoufindbottom?Thewellistoodeepforus。YouwillcomebacktoGod,mychild,whenyou’retiredout;theonlyrestisthere。\"

  \"Idon’twanttorest。Somepeoplesearchalltheirlives,anddiesearching。Whyshouldn’tI。

  \"Youwillbemostunhappy,mychild。\"

  \"IfI’munhappy,Dad,it’llbebecausetheworld’sunhappy。Idon’tbelieveitoughttobe;Ithinkitonlyis,becauseitshutsitseyes。\"

  Piersongotup。\"YouthinkIshutmyeyes?\"

  Gratiannodded。

  \"IfIdo,itisbecausethereisnootherwaytohappiness。\"

  \"Areyouhappy;Dad?\"

  \"Ashappyasmynaturewillletmebe。Imissyourmother。IfI

  loseyouandNoel——\"

  \"Oh,butwewon’tletyou!\"

  Piersonsmiled。\"Mydear,\"hesaid,\"IthinkIhave!\"

  VIII

  1

  Somewag,withabitofchalk,hadwrittentheword\"Peace\"onthreesuccessivedoorsofalittlestreetoppositeBuckinghamPalace。

  ItcaughttheeyeofJimmyFort,limpinghometohisroomsfromaverylatediscussionathisClub,andtwistedhisleanshavenlipsintoasortofsmile。Hewasoneofthoserolling—stoneEnglishmen,whoseearlylivesarespentinallpartsoftheworld,andinallkindsofphysicalconflict——amanlikeahickorystick,tall,thin,bolt—upright,knotty,hardasnails,withacurvedfightingbacktohisheadandastraightfightingfronttohisbrownface。Hiswasthetypewhichbecomes,inagenerationorso,typicallyColonialorAmerican;butnoonecouldpossiblyhavetakenJimmyFortforanythingbutanEnglishman。Thoughhewasnearlyforty,therewasstillsomethingoftheboyinhisface,somethingfrankandcurly—

  headed,gallantandfullofsteam,andhissmallsteadygreyeyeslookedoutonlifewithasortofcombativehumour。Hewasstillinuniform,thoughtheyhadgivenhimupasabadjobafterkeepinghimninemonthstryingtomendawoundedlegwhichwouldneverbesoundagain;andhewasnowintheWarOfficeinconnectionwithhorses,aboutwhichheknew。Hedidnotlikeit,havinglivedtoolongwithallsortsandconditionsofmenwhowereneitherEnglishnorofficial,acombinationwhichhefoundtrying。Hislifeindeed,justnow,boredhimtodistraction,andhewouldtentimesratherhavebeenbackinFrance。Thiswaswhyhefoundtheword\"Peace\"soexceptionallytantalising。

  Reachinghisrooms,hethrewoffhistunic,towhosestiffregularityhestillhadarootedaversion;and,pullingoutapipe,filleditandsatdownathiswindow。

  Moonshinecouldnotcoolthehottown,anditseemedsleepingbadly——thesevenmillionsleepersintheirmillionhomes。Soundlingeredon,neverquiteceased;thestaleodoursclunginthenarrowstreetbelow,thoughalittlewindwascreepingabouttosweetentheair。

  ’Cursethewar!’hethought。’Whatwouldn’tIgivetobesleepingout,insteadofinthisdamnedcity!’Theywhosleptintheopen,neglectingmorality,wouldcertainlyhavethebestofittonight,fornomoredewwasfallingthanfellintoJimmyFort’shearttocoolthefretofthatceaselessthought:’Thewar!Thecursedwar!’Intheunendingrowsoflittlegreyhouses,inhugecaravanserais,andthemansionsofthegreat,invillas,andhighslumtenements;inthegovernmentoffices,andfactories,andrailwaystationswheretheyworkedallnight;inthelonghospitalswheretheylayinrows;inthecampprisonsoftheinterned;inbarracks,work—houses,palaces——nohead,sleepingorwaking,wouldbefreeofthatthought:’The,cursedwar!’Aspirecaughthiseye,risingghostlyovertheroofs。

  Ah!churchesalone,voidofthehumansoul,wouldbeunconscious!

  Butfortherest,evensleepwouldnotfreethem!Hereamotherwouldbewhisperingthenameofherboy;thereamerchantwouldsnoreanddreamhewasdrowning,weightedwithgold;andawifewouldbeturningtostretchoutherarmsto—noone;andawoundedsoldierwakeoutofadreamtrenchwithsweatonhisbrow;andanewsvendorinhisgarretmutterhoarsely。Bythousandsthebereavedwouldbetossing,stiflingtheirmoans;bythousandstheruinedwouldbegazingintothedarkfuture;andhousewivesstrugglingwithsums;andsoldierssleepinglikelogs——fortomorrowtheydied;andchildrendreamingofthem;andprostituteslyinginstalewonderatthebusynessoftheirlives;andjournalistssleepingthesleepofthejust。Andoverthemall,inthemoonlightthatthought’Thecursedwar!’flappeditsblackwings,likeanoldcrow!\"IfChristwerereal,\"hemused,\"He’dreachthatmoondown,andgochalking’Peace’withitoneverydoorofeveryhouse,alloverEurope。ButChrist’snotreal,andHindenburgandHarmsworthare!\"AsrealtheywereastwogreatbullshehadonceseeninSouthAfrica,fighting。Heseemedtohearagainthestampandsnortandcrashofthosethickskulls,toseethebeastsrecoilinganddrivingateachother,andthelittleredeyesofthem。Andpullingaletteroutofhispocket,hereaditagainbythelightofthemoon:

  \"15,CamelotMansions,\"St。John’sWood。

  \"DEARMR。FORT,\"IcameacrossyourClubaddressto—night,lookingatsomeoldletters。DidyouknowthatIwasinLondon?IleftSteenbokwhenmyhusbanddied,fiveyearsago。I’vehadasimplyterrifictimesince。

  WhiletheGermanSouthWestcampaignwasonIwasnursingoutthere,butcamebackaboutayearagotolendahandhere。Itwouldbeawfullynicetomeetyouagain,ifbyanychanceyouareinEngland。

  I’mworkinginaV。A。D。hospitalintheseparts,butmyeveningsareusuallyfree。Doyourememberthatmoonlitnightatgrapeharvest?Thenightsherearen’tscentedquitelikethat。Listerine!

  Oh!Thiswar!

  \"Withallgoodremembrances,\"LEILALYNCH。\"

  Aterrifictime!Ifhedidnotmistake,LeilaLynchhadalwayshadaterrifictime。Andhesmiled,seeingagainthestoepofanoldDutchhouseatHighConstantia,andawomansittingthereunderthewhiteflowersofasweet—scentedcreeper——aprettywoman,witheyeswhichcouldputaspellonyou,awomanhewouldhavegotentangledwithifhehadnotcutandrunforit!Tenyearsago,andhereshewasagain,refreshinghimoutofthepast。Hesniffedthefragranceofthelittleletter。Howeverybodyalwaysmanagedtoworkintoaletterwhattheyweredoinginthewar!Ifheansweredherhewouldbesuretosay:\"SinceIgotlamed,I’vebeenattheWarOffice,workingonremounts,andadulljobitis!\"LeilaLynch!Womendidn’tgetyounger,andhesuspectedherofbeingolderthanhimself。

点击下载App,搜索"Saint’s Progress",免费读到尾