gs.earthabides-第67节

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ember；　I　am　still…not　quite　myself。〃　
　　Then　suddenly　she　was　kissing　him　through　warm　tears；　and　had　gone　from　the　room。　Again；　he　knew；　she　was　strong。　Again　courage　could　flow　outward　from　her。　Oh；　Mother　of　Nations！　
　　He　also；　as　he　lay　there　still　weak…he　also　felt　courage　again；　whether　he　had　drawn　it　from　her　store　or　whether　her　words　had　merely　caused　him　to　build　up　his　own。　
　　Yes；　he　thought…and　did　not　flee　from　the　thought…yes；　Joey　is　gone。　Joey　is　dead。　He　will　not　be　back。　He　will　not…ever　again…e　running　to　see　what　is　happening。　Yet；　there　will　be　a　future。　Though　I　am　gray…haired　now；　yet　still　there　is　Em…and　the　others…and　I　may　even　be　happy。　It　will　be　nothing　like　the　future　I　planned…now　that　Joey　is　dead。　Still；　I　shall　do　what　I　can。　
　　Again　he　felt　small　and　humble。　He　felt　all　the　great　forces　of　the　world　at　work　against　him；　against　the　only　man　still　alive　who　could　think　and　plan　for　the　future。　He　had　tried　to　face　them　head…on；　and　they　had　rolled　over　him。　Yes；　they　might　well　have　been　too　much；　even　if　Joey　had　lived。　He　must　plan　more　shrewdly　now；　work　more　subtly；　select　smaller　and　more　practical　objectives；　be　the　fox　and　not　the　lion。　
　　But　first　he　must　regain　physical　strength。　Two　or　three　weeks　more；　it　would　take　him。　Even　so；　well　before　the　end　of　the　year；　he　would　be　able　to　do　something。　
　　Immediately　he　felt　his　mind　turn　over　and　start　to　work。　A　good　mind！　He　found　himself　appraising　his　own　brain；　as　if　it　were　a　trusty　instrument　or　machine…old；　but　still　functioning　smoothly。　
　　Yet　he　was　very　weak；　and　before　he　had　done　much　thinking；　he　slept　again。　
　　Perhaps　there　were　too　many　people；　too　many　old　ways　of　thinking；　too　many　books。　Perhaps　the　ruts　of　thinking　had　grown　too　deep　and　the　refuse　of　the　past　lay　too　heavy　around　us；　like　piles　of　garbage　and　old　clothes？　Why　should　not　the　philosopher　wele　the　wiping…out　of　it　all　and　a　new　start　and　men　playing　the　game　with　fresh　rules？　There　would　be；　perhaps；　more　gain　than　loss。　During　the　weeks　of　the　epidemic；　the　few　who　remained　well　had　been　able　to　give　only　hasty　burial　to　those　who　died。　
　　After　the　convalescents　were　again　on　their　feet；　George　and　Maurine　and　Molly　raised　the　question　of　a　funeral　service。　
　　Ish；　and　Em　with　him；　would　have　been　glad　to　let　the　situation　rest　as　it　was。　He　realized；　however；　that　the　others　would　be　happier　if　a　service　should　be　performed。　A　service　might　also　be　of　some　practical　value；　to　mark　a　definite　end　to　this　period　of　emergency　and　fear　and　death；　and　signalize　a　return　to　a　normal　and　forward…looking　life。　Although　he　dreaded　the　renewal　of　grief　for　Joey　that　such　a　service　might　bring　him　personally；　still　he　felt　that　after　it　he　could　move　on　toward　whatever　more　modest　plans　for　the　future　he　could　finally　work　out。　
　　So　he　made　the　suggestion　that　the　services　should　be　held　and　that　on　the　day　following　them　all　normal　activities　should　be　resumed。　Although　he　had　not　given　any　special　thought　to　the　resumption　of　school；　he　found　that　the　others　naturally　assumed　it；　and　he　could　only　acquiesce。　
　　By　mon　consent　Ezra　was　placed　in　charge　of　the　services。　He　chose　to　hold　them　very　early　in　the　morning。　
　　As　in　any　munity　where　artificial　light　was　inadequate；　rising…with…the…sun　was　a　habit；　and　they　did　not　have　to　get　out　of　bed　much　earlier　than　usual　to　be　standing　at　the　little　row　of　mounds　before　the　light　was　yet　full。　The　sky　was　clear；　but　the　western　slope　of　the　hills　was　all　in　shade。　Some　tall　pine　trees　standing　by　the　graves　did　not　yet　cast　shadows。　
　　The　season　was　too　late　for　wild　flowers；　but　the　older　children；　at　Ezra's　direction；　had　cut　green　pine…boughs　and　covered　the　mounds。　Although　there　were　only　five　graves；　this　loss　represented　a　major　catastrophe。　In　parison　with　the　small　numbers　of　The　Tribe；　five　deaths　were　more　than　a　hundred　thousand　would　have　been　in　a　city　of　a　million　people。　
　　The　survivors　were　all　there…babies　in　their　mothers'　arms；　little　boys　or　girls　holding　their　fathers'　hands。　
　　Ish　stood；　feeling　the　weight　of　the　hammer　in　his　right　hand。　It　dragged　him　solidly　down　to　the　earth。　He　had　started　without　it；　but　Josey　had　reminded　him；　assuming　that　he　was　merely　forgetful。　The　hammer；　in　the　minds　of　all　the　younger　ones；　marked　a　formal　occasion。　A　few　months　ago；　Ish　would　not　have　yielded；　and　he　would　have　made　a　point　of　talking　to　Josey　about　superstition。　But　today　he　had　brought　the　hammer。　Actually；　he　was　forced　to　admit；　he　himself　was　drawing　fort　from　it。　He　was　humbler　now；　after　all　that　had　happened。　If　The　Tribe　needed　a　symbol　of　strength　and　unity；　if　they　were　happier　with　the　hammer　as　a　rallying　point…who　was　he　to　enforce　rationalism？　Perhaps　rationalism…like　so　much　else…had　only　been　one　of　the　luxuries　which　men　could　afford　under　civilization。　
　　They　had　now　all　arranged　themselves　in　an　irregular　halfcircle；　facing　the　graves；　each　family　grouped　together。　From　his　position　in　the　center　Ish　looked　first　the　one　way　and　then　the　other。　George　was　wearing　a　conservative…looking　dark…gray　suit；　the　very　one　probably　that　he　used　to　wear　to　funerals　when　he　had　been　a　deacon　in　the　Old　Times…or；　if　not　the　same　one；　its　twin。　Maurine　stood　beside　him　in　solid　black；　with　a　veil。　At　least　while　those　two　lived；　the　ancient　proprieties　would　survive。　But　all　the　others　were　clothed　in　the　haphazard　but　fortable　leavings　of　civilization。　The　men　and　boys　wore　blue　jeans　and　sport　shirts；　with　light　wind…breaker　jackets　over　their　shirts　against　the　early　morning　chill。　A　few　of　the　smaller　girls　were　almost　indistinguishable　from　the　boys；　except　for　their　longer　hair；　but　the　women　and　most　of　the　girls　declared　their　femininity　with　skirts；　and　lent　color　by　means　of　red　or　green　or　blue　shawls　or　scarfs。　
　　Ezra　was　walking　forward　to　the　center；　getting　ready　to　begin。　The　light　of　the　sun　behind　the　hill　was　brighter　gold　now；　the　hush　was　deeper。　Ish　felt　his　throat　full。　He　was　moved；　even　though　he　felt　the　ceremony　to　be　meaningless；　and　talk　in　the　presence　of　death　to　be　almost　an　impertinence。　Yet　also　he　felt　himself　close　to　something　very　ancient　in　humanity；　perhaps　something　also　very　significant　for　the　future。　Suddenly　he　was　imagining　himself　an　anthropologist　of　thousands　of　years　in　the　future；　one　who　was　investigating　the　life　of　people　just　subsequent　to　the　Great　Disaster。　〃Little　is　known　of　their　culture；〃　he　would　write。　〃From　the　discovery　of　certain　graves；　however；　it　is　known　that　they　practiced　inhumation。〃　
　　When　Ezra　began　to　talk；　Ish　became　a　little　fearful；　there　were　many　things　that　might　be　said　wrong　on　the　occasion。　But　as　soon　as　Ezra　was　well　started；　Ish　knew　that　he　should　have　had　more　trust。　Ezra　had　not　looked　up　old　funeral　services。　He　did　not　mouth　traditional　words。　He　did　not　speak　of　a　hope　beyond　the　grave。　Of　all　who　stood　there；　only　George　and　Maurine；　and　perhaps　Molly；　would　have　found　fort　in　such　words。　You　found　it　hard　to　think　of　such　a　thing　when　across　the　tradition　of　the　past　lay　the　broad　black　mark　of　the　Great　Disaster。　
　　So　Ezra；　who　knew　people；　talked　a　little　of　each　of　the　children。　He　told　some　small　pleasing　story　of　each　of　them；　something　which　he　remembered　and　which　the　others　might　like　to　remember。　
　　Last　of　all；　he　began　to　talk　of　Joey；　and　Ish　felt　himself　suddenly　weak。　But　Ezra　did　not　talk　of　any　remarkable　thing　that　Joey　had　done　and　did　not　even　mention　that　a　year　had　been　named　for　him。　Instead；　he　began　to　tell　of　some　little　incident　of　play；　as　with　the　others。　
　　As　Ezra　talked　of　Joey；　Ish　saw　some　of　the　children　begin　to　cast　quick　sidelong　glances　at　him。　They　knew　the　special　bond　that　had　connected　Joey　and　his　father。　Were　they　wondering　whether　he；　Ish；　would　step　forward　at　the　last　moment？　He；　the　Old　One；　the　American；　who　knew　all　that　strange　knowledge…would　he　step　forward　at　the　last　moment；　and　hold　his　hammer　before　him　stiffly；　and　declare　that　Joey　was　not　gone；　that　Joey　still　lived；　that　Joey　would　e　back　to　them？　Would　the　earth　of　that　little　mound　begin　to　stir？　
　　But　Ish　noticed　only　their　quick　glances；　sidelong　and　furtive。　They　said　nothing。　And　whatever　they　thought；　he　knew　that　he　could　work　no　miracle。　
　　When　Ezra　finished　talking　of　Joey；　he　continued　speaking　more　in　general。　Why　did　he　not　stop？　Ish　felt　something　wrong。　This　service　should　not　drag　on！　
　　Then　abruptly　Ezra　brought　himself　to　a　close；　and　at　the　same　moment　Ish　became　conscious　of　another　change。　All　the　world　was　suddenly　brighter。　The　first　edge　of　the　sun　had　risen　above　the　ridge…line！　
　　Ish　suddenly　did　not　know　whether　to　be　pleased　or　dismayed。　〃Well　planned！〃　he　thought。　〃But　a　stage…trick！〃　Then；　looking　around；　he　saw　that　the　others　were　happy。　He　too　relaxed；　and　even　though　he　recognized　the　theatrical　touch；　he　was　forted。　
　　The　return　of　the　sun！　That　age…old　symbol！　Ezra　had　been　too　honest　to　promise　immortality；　but　he　had　chosen　his　timing；　and　had　the　luck　of　a　clear　morning。　Whether　you　thought　of　personal　resurrection　or　merely　of　the　continuance　of　the　rac