the garden of allah-第70节
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would have fitted him for the ascetic； yet impassioned； life of an
ardent and devoted monk。 To defend this consecrated building against
outrage he would； without hesitation； have given his last drop of
blood。 And now he was to perform in it an act against which his whole
nature revolted； he was to join indissolubly the lives of these two
strangers who had come to Beni…MoraDomini Enfilden and Boris
Androvsky。 He was to put on the surplice and white stole； to say the
solemn and irreparable 〃Ego Jungo；〃 to sprinkle the ring with holy
water and bless it。
As he sat there alone； listening to the howling of the storm outside；
he went mentally through the coming ceremony。 He thought of the
wonderful grace and beauty of the prayers of benediction； and it
seemed to him that to pronounce them with his lips； while his nature
revolted against his own utterance； was to perform a shameful act； was
to offer an insult to this little church he loved。
Yet how could he help performing this act？ He knew that he would do
it。 Within a few minutes he would be standing before the altar； he
would be looking into the faces of this man and woman whose love he
was called upon to consecrate。 He would consecrate it； and they would
go out from him into the desert man and wife。 They would be lost to
his sight in the town。
His eye fell upon a silver crucifix that was hanging upon the wall in
front of him。 He was not a very imaginative man； not a man given to
fancies； a dreamer of dreams more real to him than life； or a seer of
visions。 But to…day he was stirred； and perhaps the unwonted turmoil
of his mind acted subtly upon his nervous system。 Afterward he felt
certain that it must have been so； for in no other way could he
account for a fantasy that beset him at this moment。
As he looked at the crucifix there came against the church a more
furious beating of the wind； and it seemed to him that the Christ upon
the crucifix shuddered。
He saw it shudder。 He started； leaned across the table and stared at
the crucifix with eyes that were full of an amazement that was mingled
with horror。 Then he got up； crossed the room and touched the crucifix
with his finger。 As he did so； the acolyte； whose duty it was to help
him to robe； knocked at the sacristy door。 The sharp noise recalled
him to himself。 He knew that for the first time in his life he had
been the slave of an optical delusion。 He knew it； and yet he could
not banish the feeling that God himself was averse from the act that
he was on the point of committing in this church that confronted
Islam； that God himself shuddered as surely even He； the Creator； must
shudder at some of the actions of his creatures。 And this feeling
added immensely to the distress of the priest's mind。 In performing
this ceremony he now had the dreadful sensation that he was putting
himself into direct antagonism with God。 His instinctive horror of
Androvsky had never been so great as it was to…day。 In vain he had
striven to conquer it； to draw near to this man who roused all the
repulsion of his nature。 His efforts had been useless。 He had prayed
to be given the sympathy for this man that the true Christian ought to
feel towards every human being； even the most degraded。 But he felt
that his prayers had not been answered。 With every day his antipathy
for Androvsky increased。 Yet he was entirely unable to ground it upon
any definite fact in Androvsky's character。 He did not know that
character。 The man was as much a mystery to him as on the day when
they first met。 And to this living mystery from which his soul
recoiled he was about to consign； with all the beautiful and solemn
blessings of his Church； a woman whose character he respected； whose
innate purity； strength and nobility he had quickly divined； and no
less quickly learned to love。
It was a bitter； even a horrible； moment to him。
The little acolyte； a French boy； son of the postmaster of Beni…Mora；
was startled by the sight of the Father's face when he opened the
sacristy door。 He had never before seen such an expression of almost
harsh pain in those usually kind eyes； and he drew back from the
threshold like one afraid。 His movement recalled the priest to a sharp
consciousness of the necessities of the moment； and with a strong
effort he conquered his pain sufficiently to conceal all outward
expression of it。 He smiled gently at the little boy and said：
〃Is it time？〃
The child looked reassured。
〃Yes； Father。〃
He came into the sacristy and went towards the cupboard where the
vestments were kept； passing the silver crucifix。 As he did so he
glanced at it。 He opened the cupboard； then stood for a moment and
again turned his eyes to the Christ。 The Father watched him。
〃What are you looking at； Paul？〃 he asked。
〃Nothing； Father；〃 the boy replied； with a sudden expression of
reluctance that was almost obstinate。
And he began to take the priest's robes out of the cupboard。
Just then the wind wailed again furiously about the church； and the
crucifix fell down upon the floor of the sacristy。
The priest started forward； picked it up； and stood with it in his
hand。 He glanced at the wall； and saw at once that the nail to which
the crucifix had been fastened had come out of its hole。 A flake of
plaster had been detached； perhaps some days ago； and the hole had
become too large to retain the nail。 The explanation of the matter was
perfect； simple and comprehensible。 Yet the priest felt as if a
catastrophe had just taken place。 As he stared at the cross he heard a
little noise near him。 The acolyte was crying。
〃Why； Paul； what's the matter？〃 he said。
〃Why did it do that？〃 exclaimed the boy； as if alarmed。 〃Why did it do
that？〃
〃Perhaps it was the wind。 Everything is shaking。 Come； come； my child；
there is nothing to be afraid of。〃
He laid the crucifix on the table。 Paul dried his eyes with his fists。
〃I don't like to…day；〃 he said。 〃I don't like to…day。〃
The priest patted him on the shoulder。
〃The weather has upset you；〃 he said； smiling。
But the nervous behaviour of the child deepened strangely his own
sense of apprehension。 When he had robed he waited for the arrival of
the bride and bridegroom。 There was to be no mass； and no music except
the Wedding March； which the harmonium player； a Marseillais employed
in the date…packing trade； insisted on performing to do honour to
Mademoiselle Enfilden； who had taken such an interest in the music of
the church。 Androvsky； as the priest had ascertained； had been brought
up in the Catholic religion； but； when questioned； he had said quietly
that he was no longer a practising Catholic and that he never went to
confession。 Under these circumstances it was not possible to have a
nuptial mass。 The service would be short and plain； and the priest was
glad that this was so。 Presently the harmonium player came in。
〃I may play my loudest to…day； Father；〃 he said； 〃but no one will hear
me。〃
He laughed； settled the pinJoan of Arc's face in metalin his azure
blue necktie； and added：
〃Nom d'un chien； the wind's a cruel wedding guest！〃
The priest nodded without speaking。
〃Would you believe； Father；〃 the man continued； 〃that Mademoiselle and
her husband are going to start for Arba from the church door in all
this storm！ Batouch is getting the palanquin on to the camel。 How they
will ever〃
〃Hush！〃 said the priest； holding up a warning finger。
This idle chatter displeased him in the church； but he had another
reason for wishing to stop the conversation。 It renewed his dread to
hear of the projected journey； and made him see； as in a shadowy
vision； Domini Enfilden's figure disappearing into the windy
desolation of the desert protected by the living mystery he hated。
Yes； at this moment； he no longer denied it to himself。 There was
something in Androvsky that he actually hated with his whole soul；
hated even in his church； at the very threshold of the altar where
stood the tabernacle containing the sacred Host。 As he thoroughly
realised this for a moment he was shocked at himself； recoiled
mentally from his own feeling。 But then something within him seemed to
rise up and say； 〃Perhaps it is because you are near to the Host that
you hate this man。 Perhaps you are right to hate him when he draws
nigh to the body of Christ。〃
Nevertheless when； some minutes later； he stood within the altar rails
and saw the face of Domini； he was conscious of another thought； that
came through his mind； dark with doubt； like a ray of gold： 〃Can I be
right in hating what this good womanthis woman whose confession I
have received； whose heart I knowcan I be right in hating what she
loves； in fearing what she trusts； in secretly condemning what she
openly enthrones？〃 And almost in despite of himself he felt reassured
for an instant； even happy in the thought of what he was about to do。
Domini's face at all times suggested strength。 The mental and
emotional power of her were forcibly expressed； too； through her tall
and athletic body； which was full of easy grace； but full； too； of
well…knit firmness。 To…day she looked not unlike a splendid Amazon who
could have been a splendid nun had she
