messer marco polo-第8节

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They　passed　through　Khotan；　where　the　divers　bring　up　jade　from　the　rivers；　white　jade　and　black　jade；　and　green　jade　veined　with　gold。　They　passed　through　Carnal；　the　shameful　city；　whose　women　are　fair　and　wanton；　whose　men　are　cuckolds。　　And　they　passed　through　the　province　of　Chitingolos；　where　are　the　mountains　of　the　Salamanders。　They　passed　through　the　city　of　Campicha；　where　there　are　more　idols　than　men。　　And　they　passed　through　the　great　city　of　Samarkand；　where　the　Green　Stone　is　on　which　Timur's　throne　was　set。　。　。　And　were　born　and　died。　。　。

They　passed　through　Tangut；　where　the　men　will　not　carry　the　dead　out　through　the　door　of　a　house；　but　must　break　a　hole　in　the　wall。　And　they　passed　through　Kialehta；　where　there　are　snow…white　camels。　And　they　passed　through　the　lands　of　Prester　John。

And　now　they　were　in　the　Tatar　lands。　　There　passed　them　lowing　musk　oxen。　　There　passed　them　the　wild　asses　of　Mongolia。　　There　passed　them　the　barbarians；　with　their　great　tents　on　wheels。　　There　passed　them　the　black…jowled；　savage；　idolaters。　　There　passed　them　the　pretty　white…faced　women。　　There　passed　them　huge；　abominable　dogs。

And　they　came　to　the　town　of　Lob；　and　a　new　moon　arose；　and　they　entered　the　Desert　of　the　Singing　Sands。



CHAPTER　X

Wherever　they　went　now　was　sand；　and　a　dull　haze　that　made　the　sun　look　like　a　copper　coin。　　And　a　great　silence　fell　on　the　caravan；　and　nothing　was　heard　but　the　crunch　of　the　camels'　pads　and　the　tinkle　of　the　camels'　bells。　　And　no　green　thing　was　seen。

And　a　great　terror　fell　on　the　caravan；　so　that　one　night　a　third　of　the　caravan　deserted。　　The　rest　went　on　in　silence　under　the　dull　sun。　　And　now　they　came　across　a　village　of　white　skeletons　grinning　in　the　silent　sand。　　And　at　night　there　was　nothing　heard；　not　even　the　barking　of　a　dog。　　And　others　of　the　caravan　deserted；　and　others　were　lost。

And　now　they　had　come　so　far　into　the　desert　that　they　could　not　return；　but　must　keep　on　their　way；　and　on　the　fifth　day　they　came　to　the　Hill　of　the　Drum。　　And　all　through　the　night　they　could　not　sleep　for　the　booming　of　the　Drum。　　And　some　of　the　caravan　went　mad　there；　and　fled　screaming　into　the　waste。

And　now　there　was　only　a　great　haze　about　them；　and　they　looked　at　one　another　with　terror；　saying：　〃Were　we　ever　any　place　where　green　was；　where　birds　sang；　or　there　was　sweet　water？　　Or　maybe　we　are　dead。　Or　maybe　this　was　all　our　life；　and　the　pleasant　towns；　and　the　lamplight　in　the　villages；　and　the　apricots　in　the　garden；　and　our　wives　and　children；　maybe　they　were　all　a　dream　that　we　woke　in　the　middle　of。　　Let　us　lie　down　and　sleep　that　we　may　dream　again。〃

But　Marco　Polo　would　not　let　them　lie　down；　for　to　lie　down　was　death。　But　he　drove　them　onward。　　And　again　they　complained：　〃Surely　God　never　saw　this　place　that　He　left　it　so　terrible。　　Surely　He　was　never　here。　　He　was　never　here。〃

And　now　that　their　minds　were　pitched　to　the　height　of　madness；　the　warlocks　of　the　desert　took　shape　and　jeered　at　them；　and　the　white…sheeted　ghosts　flitted　alongside　of　them；　and　the　goblins　of　the　Gobi　harried　them　from　behind。　　And　the　sun　was　like　dull　copper　through　the　haze；　and　the　moon　like　a　guttering　candle；　and　stars　there　were　none。

And　when　the　moon　was　at　its　full；　they　came　to　the　Hill　of　the　Bell。　And　through　the　night　the　Bell　went　GONGH；　GONGH；　GONGH；　until　they　could　feel　it　in　every　fiber　of　their　bodies；　and　their　skin　itched　with　it。　　They　would　stop　their　ears。　　But　they　would　hear　it　in　the　palms　of　their　hands　and　the　soles　of　their　feet。　　GONGH；　GONGH；　GONGH。

And　when　they　left　the　Hill　of　the　Bell　there　were　only　six　of　the　caravan　left；　and　a　multitude　of　white…sheeted　ghosts。　　And　the　caravan　plodded　onward　dully。　　And　now　the　warlocks　of　the　desert　played　another　cruelty。　　Afar　off　they　would　put　a　seeming　of　a　lake；　and　the　travelers　would　press　on　gladly；　crying；　〃There　is　water！　Water！　　God　lives！　　God　lives！〃　　But　there　was　only　sand。　　And　now　it　would　be　a　green　vision；　and　they　would　cry：　〃We　have　come　to　the　edge　of　the　desert。　　After　the　long　night；　dawn。　　God　lives！　God　lives！〃　　But　there　would　be　only　sand；　sand。　　And　now　it　would　be　a　city　of　shining　domes　in　the　distance。　　And　they　would　nudge　one　another　and　croak；　〃There　are　men　there；　brother；　secure　streets；　and　merchants　in　their　booths；　people　to　talk　with；　and　water　for　our　poor　throats。〃　　But　there　would　be　only　sand；　sand；　sand。　。　。　And　they　would　cry　like　children。　　〃God　is　dead！　　Haven't　you　heard？　Don't　you　know？　　God　is　dead　in　His　heaven；　and　the　warlocks　are　loosed　on　the　land！〃

And　on　the　last　day　of　the　moon　they　were　all　but　in　sight　of　the　desert's　edge；　though　they　didn't　know。　　And　the　goblins　and　the　warlocks　took　counsel；　for　they　were　now　afraid　Marco　and　his　few　people　would　escape。　　They　gathered　together　and　they　read　the　runes　of　the　Flowing　Sand。

And　suddenly　the　camels　rushed　screaming　into　the　desert　with　sudden　panic；　and　a　burning　wind　came；　and　the　sands　rose；　and　the　desert　heeled　like　a　ship；　and　the　day　became　night。

And　young　Marco　Polo　could　stand　no　more。　　That　was　the　end；　the　end　of　him；　the　end　of　the　world；　the　end　of　everything。　　There　was　red　darkness　every　where；　and　he　could　see　nobody。　　〃O　my　Lord　Jesus！〃　he　cried。　　〃O　little　Golden　Bells！〃　　The　wind　boomed　like　an　organ。　The　sand　screamed。　　〃O　my　Lord　Jesus！　　O　little　Golden　Bells！〃　　And　the　voices　of　his　father　and　uncle　were　like　the　tweeting　birds。　〃Where's　the　lad；　Matthew？　　Where's　our　lad？〃　　〃Mark；　Mark；　where　have　you　got　to？　　Lad　of　our　heart；　where　are　you？〃　　But　they　couldn't　find　each　other。　　The　sand　buffeted　them　like　shuttlecocks。　　〃Boy　Mark！〃　The　sand　snarled　like　a　dog；　the　wind　hammered　like　drums。　　〃Oh；　Golden　Bells！　　O；　little　Golden　Bells！　　O；　my　Lord　Jesus；　must　it　end　here　？〃

And　the　fight　went　out　of　him；　and　a　big　sob　broke　in　him；　and　he　lay　down　to　die。　。　。



CHAPTER　XI

I　shall　now　tell　you　of　Golden　Bells；　and　her　in　the　Chinese　Garden。



CHAPTER　XII

I　would　have　you　now　see　her　as　I　see　her；　standing　before　Li　Po；　the　great　poet；　in　her　green　costume。　　And　Li　Po；　big；　fat；　with　sad　eyes　and　a　twisted　mouth；　uncomfortable　as　be　damned。　　The　sun　shone　in　the　garden；　the　butterflies；　the　red　and　black　and　golden　butterflies；　flitted　from　blossom　to　blossom。　　And　the　bees　droned。　And　on　the　banks　of　the　green　lake　the　kingfisher　tunneled　his　wee　house；　and　the　wind　shook　the　blossoms　of　the　apple…trees。　　And　Li　Po　sat　on　the　marble　slab　and　was　very　uncomfortable。　　And　in　a　dark　bower　was　Sanany；　the　magician；　brooding　like　an　owl。　　And　Golden　Bells　stood　before　Li　Po；　and　there　were　hurt　tears　in　her　eyes。

〃Did　my　father　or　I　ever　do　anything　to　you；　Li　Po；　that　you　should　make　a　song　such　as　they　sing　in　the　market…place？〃

〃What　song？〃

〃The　Song　of　the　Cockatoo。〃

〃I　don't　remember。〃

〃I'll　remind　you；　Li　Po。　　'There　alighted　on　the　balcony　of　the　King　of　Annam；'　the　song　goes；　'a　red　cockatoo。　　It　was　colored　as　a　peach…tree…blossom　and　it　spoke　the　tongue　of　men。　　And　the　King　of　Annam　did　to　it　what　is　always　done　to　the　learned　and　eloquent。　He　took　a　cage　with　stout　bars；　and　shut　up　inside。'　　And　wasn't　that　the　cruel　thing　to　write！　　And　are　you　so　imprisoned　here；　Li　Po？　　Ah；　Li　Po；　I'm　thinking　hard　of　you；　I'm　thinking　hard。〃

〃Well；　now；　Golden　Bells；　to　tell　you　the　truth　there　was　no　excuse　for　it。　　But　often　times　I　do　be　feeling　sad；　and　thinking　of　the　friends　of　my　youth　who　are　gone。　　Yuan　Chen；　who　might　have　been　a　better　poet　nor　me；　if　he　had　been　spared；　and　H'sieng…yang　and　Li　Chien；　too。　　Ah；　they　were　great　poets；　Golden　Bells。　　They　never　sang　a　poor　song；　Golden　Bells；　that　they　might　wear　a　fine　coat。　And　they'd　write　what　was　true；　wee　mistress；　were　all　the　world　to　turn　from　them。　　And　I'm　the　laureate　now；　the　court　singer；　living　in　my　glory；　and　they're　dead　with　their　dreams。　　I'm　the　last　of　the　seven　minstrels。　　And；　wee　Golden　Bells；　I　do　be　thinking　long。

〃And　sometimes　an　old　woman　in　the　street　or　a　man　with　gray　in　his　hair　will　lift　a　song；　and　before　the　words　come　to　me；　there's　a　pain　in　my　heart。

〃And　I　go　down　to　the　drinking　booths；　and　the　passion　of　drinking　comes　on　me　　a　fury　against　myself　and　a　fury　against　the　world。　And　the　folk　do　be　following　me　to　see　will　I　let　drop　one　gem　of　verse　that　they　can　tell　their　grandchildren　they　heard　from　the　lips　of　Li　Po。　　And　when　my　heart　is　high　with　the　drinking；　I　take　a　lute　from　a　traveling　poet；　and　not　knowing　what　I'm　saying；　I　compose　the　song。　　Out　of　fallow　sorrow　bloom　the　little　songs。　You　mustn't　be　hard　on　an　old　man；　wee　Golden　Bells；　and　he　thinking　long　for　his　dead　friends。〃

〃Ah；　poor　Li　Po；〃　she　said；　and　she　had　grown　all　soft　again。　〃Is　it　so　terrible　to　be　old？〃

〃Now　you　ask　me　a　question；　Golden　Bells；　and　I'll　give　you　an　answer。　Besides；　it's　part　of　my　duties　to　teach　you　wisdom。　　Now；　it　is　not　a　terrible　thing；　at　all；　at　all；　to　be　old。　　I　see　the　young　folk　start　out　in　life；　and　before　them；　there's　the　showers　of　April；　there's　wind　and　heat　and　thunder　and　lightning。　　But　I'm　in　warm；　brown　October；　and　all　of　it's　gone　by　me。　　And　in　a　little　while　I'll　sl