The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第72章

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Winifred　Inger　was　startled　when　he　entered　the　library；　his
coat　fastened　and　correct；　his　head　bald　to　the　crown；　but　not
shiny；　rather　like　something　naked　that　one　is　accustomed　to　see
covered；　and　his　dark　eyes　liquid　and　formless。　He　seemed　to
stand　in　the　shadow；　like　a　thing　ashamed。　And　the　clasp　of　his
hand　was　so　soft　and　yet　so　forceful；　that　it　chilled　the　heart。
She　was　afraid　of　him；　repelled　by　him；　and　yet　attracted。

He　looked　at　the　athletic；　seemingly　fearless　girl；　and　he
detected　in　her　a　kinship　with　his　own　dark　corruption。
Immediately；　he　knew　they　were　akin。

His　manner　was　polite；　almost　foreign；　and　rather　cold。　He
still　laughed　in　his　curious；　animal　fashion；　suddenly　wrinkling
up　his　wide　nose；　and　showing　his　sharp　teeth。　The　fine　beauty
of　his　skin　and　his　plexion；　some　almost　waxen　quality；　hid
the　strange；　repellent　grossness　of　him；　the　slight　sense　of
putrescence；　the　monness　which　revealed　itself　in　his　rather
fat　thighs　and　loins。

Winifred　saw　at　once　the　deferential；　slightly　servile；
slightly　cunning　regard　he　had　for　Ursula；　which　made　the　girl
at　once　so　proud　and　so　perplexed。

〃But　is　this　place　as　awful　as　it　looks？〃　the　young　girl
asked；　a　strain　in　her　eyes。

〃It　is　just　what　it　looks；〃　he　said。　〃It　hides　nothing。〃

〃Why　are　the　men　so　sad？〃

〃Are　they　sad？〃　he　replied。

〃They　seem　unutterably；　unutterably　sad；〃　said　Ursula；　out　of
a　passionate　throat。

〃I　don't　think　they　are　that。　They　just　take　it　for
granted。〃

〃What　do　they　take　for　granted？〃

〃Thisthe　pits　and　the　place　altogether。〃

〃Why　don't　they　alter　it？〃　she　passionately　protested。

〃They　believe　they　must　alter　themselves　to　fit　the　pits　and
the　place；　rather　than　alter　the　pits　and　the　place　to　fit
themselves。　It　is　easier；〃　he　said。

〃And　you　agree　with　them；〃　burst　out　his　niece；　unable　to
bear　it。　〃You　think　like　they　dothat　living　human　beings
must　be　taken　and　adapted　to　all　kinds　of　horrors。　We　could
easily　do　without　the　pits。〃

He　smiled；　unfortably；　cynically。　Ursula　felt　again　the
revolt　of　hatred　from　him。

〃I　suppose　their　lives　are　not　really　so　bad；〃　said　Winifred
Inger；　superior　to　the　Zolaesque　tragedy。

He　turned　with　his　polite；　distant　attention。

〃Yes；　they　are　pretty　bad。　The　pits　are　very　deep；　and　hot；
and　in　some　places　wet。　The　men　die　of　consumption　fairly　often。
But　they　earn　good　wages。〃

〃How　gruesome！〃　said　Winifred　Inger。

〃Yes；〃　he　replied　gravely。　It　was　his　grave；　solid；
selfcontained　manner　which　made　him　so　much　respected　as　a
colliery　manager。

The　servant　came　in　to　ask　where　they　would　have　tea。

〃Put　it　in　the　summerhouse；　Mrs。　Smith；〃　he　said。

The　fairhaired；　goodlooking　young　woman　went　out。

〃Is　she　married　and　in　service？〃　asked　Ursula。

〃She　is　a　widow。　Her　husband　died　of　consumption　a　little
while　ago。〃　Brangwen　gave　a　sinister　little　laugh。　〃He　lay　there
in　the　houseplace　at　her　mother's；　and　five　or　six　other　people
in　the　house；　and　died　very　gradually。　I　asked　her　if　his　death
wasn't　a　great　trouble　to　her。　'Well；'　she　said；　'he　was　very
fretful　towards　the　last；　never　satisfied；　never　easy；　always
fretfretting；　an'　never　knowing　what　would　satisfy　him。　So　in
one　way　it　was　a　relief　when　it　was　overfor　him　and　for
everybody。'　They　had　only　been　married　two　years；　and　she　has
one　boy。　I　asked　her　if　she　hadn't　been　very　happy。　'Oh；　yes；
sir；　we　was　very　fortable　at　first；　till　he　took
badoh；　we　was　very　fortableoh；　yesbut；
you　see；　you　get　used　to　it。　I've　had　my　father　and　two　brothers
go　off　just　the　same。　You　get　used　to　it'。〃

〃It's　a　horrible　thing　to　get　used　to；〃　said　Winifred　Inger；
with　a　shudder。

〃Yes；〃　he　said；　still　smiling。　〃But　that's　how　they　are。
She'll　be　getting　married　again　directly。　One　man　or
anotherit　does　not　matter　very　much。　They're　all
colliers。〃

〃What　do　you　mean？〃　asked　Ursula。　〃They're　all　colliers？〃

〃It　is　with　the　women　as　with　us；〃　he　replied。　〃Her　husband
was　John　Smith；　loader。　We　reckoned　him　as　a　loader；　he　reckoned
himself　as　a　loader；　and　so　she　knew　he　represented　his　job。
Marriage　and　home　is　a　little　sideshow。

〃The　women　know　it　right　enough；　and　take　it　for　what　it's
worth。　One　man　or　another；　it　doesn't　matter　all　the　world。　The
pit　matters。　Round　the　pit　there　will　always　be　the　sideshows；
plenty　of　'em。〃

He　looked　round　at　the　red　chaos；　the　rigid；　amorphous
confusion　of　Wiggiston。

〃Every　man　his　own　little　sideshow；　his　home；　but　the　pit
owns　every　man。　The　women　have　what　is　left。　What's　left　of　this
man；　or　what　is　left　of　thatit　doesn't　matter　altogether。
The　pit　takes　all　that　really　matters。〃

〃It　is　the　same　everywhere；〃　burst　out　Winifred。　〃It　is　the
office；　or　the　shop；　or　the　business　that　gets　the　man；　the
woman　gets　the　bit　the　shop　can't　digest。　What　is　he　at　home；　a
man？　He　is　a　meaningless　lumpa　standing　machine；　a
machine　out　of　work。〃

〃They　know　they　are　sold；〃　said　Tom　Brangwen。　〃That's　where
it　is。　They　know　they　are　sold　to　their　job。　If　a　woman　talks
her　throat　out；　what　difference　can　it　make？　The　man's　sold　to
his　job。　So　the　women　don't　bother。　They　take　what　they　can
catchand　vogue　la　galere。〃

〃Aren't　they　very　strict　here？〃　asked　Miss　Inger。

〃Oh；　no。　Mrs。　Smith　has　two　sisters　who　have　just　changed
husbands。　They're　not　very　particularneither　are　they
very　interested。　They　go　dragging　along　what　is　left　from　the
pits。　They're　not　interested　enough　to　be　very　immoralit
all　amounts　to　the　same　thing；　moral　or　immoraljust　a
question　of　pitwages。　The　most　moral　duke　in　England　makes　two
hundred　thousand　a　year　out　of　these　pits。　He　keeps　the　morality
end　up。〃

Ursula　sat　blacksouled　and　very　bitter；　hearing　the　two　of
them　talk。　There　seemed　something　ghoulish　even　in　their　very
deploring　of　the　state　of　things。　They　seemed　to　take　a　ghoulish
satisfaction　in　it。　The　pit　was　the　great　mistress。　Ursula
looked　out　of　the　window　and　saw　the　proud；　demonlike　colliery
with　her　wheels　twinkling　in　the　heavens；　the　formless；　squalid
mass　of　the　town　lying　aside。　It　was　the　squalid　heap　of
sideshows。　The　pit　was　the　main　show；　the　raison　d'etre
of　all。

How　terrible　it　was！　There　was　a　horrible　fascination
in　ithuman　bodies　and　lives　subjected　in　slavery　to　that
symmetric　monster　of　the　colliery。　There　was　a　swooning；
perverse　satisfaction　in　it。　For　a　moment　she　was　dizzy。

Then　she　recovered；　felt　herself　in　a　great　loneliness；
wherein　she　was　sad　but　free。　She　had　departed。　No　more　would
she　subscribe　to　the　great　colliery；　to　the　great　machine　which
has　taken　us　all　captives。　In　her　soul；　she　was　against　it；　she
disowned　even　its　power。　It　had　only　to　be　forsaken　to　be　inane；
meaningless。　And　she　knew　it　was　meaningless。　But　it　needed　a
great；　passionate　effort　of　will　on　her　part；　seeing　the
colliery；　still　to　maintain　her　knowledge　that　it　was
meaningless。

But　her　Uncle　Tom　and　her　mistress　remained　there　among　the
horde；　cynically　reviling　the　monstrous　state　and　yet　adhering
to　it；　like　a　man　who　reviles　his　mistress；　yet　who　is　in　love
with　her。　She　knew　her　Uncle　Tom　perceived　what　was　going　on。
But　she　knew　moreover　that　in　spite　of　his　criticism　and
condemnation；　he　still　wanted　the　great　machine。　His　only　happy
moments；　his　only　moments　of　pure　freedom　were　when　he　was
serving　the　machine。　Then；　and　then　only；　when　the　machine
caught　him　up；　was　he　free　from　the　hatred　of　himself；　could　he
act　wholely；　without　cynicism　and　unreality。

His　real　mistress　was　the　machine；　and　the　real　mistress　of
Winifred　was　the　machine。　She　too；　Winifred；　worshipped　the
impure　abstraction；　the　mechanisms　of　matter。　There；　there；　in
the　machine；　in　service　of　the　machine；　was　she　free　from　the
clog　and　degradation　of　human　feeling。　There；　in　the　monstrous
mechanism　that　held　all　matter；　living　or　dead；　in　its　service；
did　she　achieve　her　consummation　and　her　perfect　unison；　her
immortality。

Hatred　sprang　up　in　Ursula's　heart。　If　she　could　she　would
smash　the　machine。　Her　soul's　action　should　be　the　smashing　of
the　great　machine。　If　she　could　destroy　the　colliery；　and　make
all　the　men　of　Wiggiston　out　of　work；　she　would　do　it。　Let　them
starve　and　grub　in　the　earth　for　roots；　rather　than　serve　such　a
Moloch　as　this。

She　hated　her　Uncle　Tom；　she　hated　Winifred　Inger。　They　went
down　to　the　summerhouse　for　tea。　It　was　a　pleasant　place　among
a　few　trees；　at　the　end　of　a　tiny　garden；　on　the　edge　of　a
field。　Her　Uncle　Tom　and　Winifred　seemed　to　jeer　at　her；　to
cheapen　her。　She　was　miserable　and　desolate。　But　she　would　never
give　way。

Her　coldness　for　Winifred　should　never　cease。　She　knew　it　was
over　between　them。　She　saw　gross；　ugly　movements　in　her
mistress；　she　saw　a　clayey；　inert；　unquickened　flesh；　that
reminded　her　of　the　great　prehistoric　lizards。　One　day　her　Uncle
Tom　came　in　out　of　the　broiling　sunshine　heated　from　walking。
Then　the　perspiration　stood　out　upon　his　head　and　brow；　his　hand
was　wet　and　hot　and　suffocating　in　its　clasp。　He　too　had
something　marshy　about　himthe　succulent　moistness　and
turgidity；　and　the　same　brackish；　nauseating　effect　of　a　marsh；
where　life　and　decaying　are　one。

He　was　repellent　to　her；　who　was　so　dry　and　fine　in　her　fire。
Her　very　bones　seemed　to　bid　him　keep　his　distance　from　her。

It　was　in　these　weeks　that　Ursula　grew　up。　She　stayed　two
weeks　at　Wiggiston；　and　she　hated　it。　All　was　grey；　dry　ash；
cold　and　dead　and　ugly。　But　she　stayed。　She　stayed　also　to　get
rid　of　Winifred。　The　girl's　hatred　and　her　sense　of
repulsiveness　in　her　mistress　and　in　her　uncle　seemed　to　throw
the　other　two　together。　They　drew　together　as　if　against
her。

In　hardness　and　bitterness　of　soul；　Ursula　knew　that　Winifred
was　bee　her　uncle's　lover。　She　was　glad。　She　had　loved　them
both。　Now　she　wanted　to　be　rid　of　them　both。　Their　marshy；
bittersweet　corruption　came　sick　and　unwholesome　in　her
nostrils。　Anything；　to　get　out　of　the　foetid　air。　She　would
leave　them　both　for　ever；　leave　for　ever　their　strange；　soft；
halfcorrupt　element。　Anything　to　get　away。

One　night　Winifred　came　all　burning　into　Ursula's　bed；　and
put　her　arms　round　the　girl；　holding　her　to　herself　in　spite　of