the story of an african farm-第29节

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The　stranger　forced　himself　lower　down　in　the　saddle　and　yawned。　　It　was　a

drowsy　afternoon；　and　he　objected　to　travel　in　these　out…of…the…world

parts。　　He　liked　better　civilised　life；　where　at　every　hour　of　the　day　a

man　may　look　for　his　glass　of　wine；　and　his　easy…chair；　and　paper；　where　at

night　he　may　lock　himself　into　his　room　with　his　books　and　a　bottle　of

brandy；　and　taste　joys　mental　and　physical。　　The　world　said　of　himthe

all…knowing；　omnipotent　world；　whom　no　locks　can　bar；　who　has　the　cat…like

propensity　of　seeing　best　in　the　darkthe　world　said；　that　better　than　the

books　he　loved　the　brandy；　and　better　than　books　or　brandy　that　which　it

had　been　better　had　he　loved　less。　　But　for　the　world　he　cared　nothing；　he

smiled　blandly　in　its　teeth。　　All　life　is　a　dream；　if　wine　and　philosophy

and　women　keep　the　dream　from　becoming　a　nightmare；　so　much　the　better。　　It

is　all　they　are　fit　for；　all　they　can　be　used　for。　　There　was　another　side

to　his　life　and　thought；　but　of　that　the　world　knew　nothing；　and　said

nothing；　as　the　way　of　the　wise　world　is。



The　stranger　looked　from　beneath　his　sleepy　eyelids　at　the　brown　earth　that

stretched　away；　beautiful　in　spite　of　itself　in　that　June　sunshine；　looked

at　the　graves；　the　gables　of　the　farmhouse　showing　over　the　stone　walls　of

the　camps；　at　the　clownish　fellow　at　his　feet；　and　yawned。　　But　he　had

drunk　of　the　hind's　tea；　and　must　say　something。



〃Your　father's　place　I　presume？〃　he　inquired　sleepily。



〃No；　I　am　only　a　servant。〃



〃Dutch　people？〃



〃Yes。〃



〃And　you　like　the　life？〃



The　boy　hesitated。



〃On　days　like　these。〃



〃And　why　on　these？〃



The　boy　waited。



〃They　are　very　beautiful。〃



The　stranger　looked　at　him。　　It　seemed　that　as　the　fellow's　dark　eyes

looked　across　the　brown　earth　they　kindled　with　an　intense　satisfaction；

then　they　looked　back　at　the　carving。



What　had　that　creature；　so　coarse…clad　and　clownish；　to　do　with　the　subtle

joys　of　the　weather？　　Himself；　white…handed　and　delicate；　he　might　hear　the

music　with　shimmering　sunshine　and　solitude　play　on　the　finely…strung

chords　of　nature；　but　that　fellow！　　Was　not　the　ear　in　that　great　body　too

gross　for　such　delicate　mutterings？



Presently　he　said：



〃May　I　see　what　you　work　at？〃



The　fellow　handed　his　wooden　post。　　It　was　by　no　means　lovely。　　The　men　and

birds　were　almost　grotesque　in　their　laboured　resemblance　to　nature；　and

bore　signs　of　patient　thought。　　The　stranger　turned　the　thing　over　on　his

knee。



〃Where　did　you　learn　this　work？〃



〃I　taught　myself。〃



〃And　these　zigzag　lines　represent〃



〃A　mountain。〃



The　stranger　looked。



〃It　has　some　meaning；　has　it　not？〃



The　boy　muttered　confusedly。



〃Only　things。〃



The　questioner　looked　down　at　himthe　huge；　unwieldy　figure；　in　size　a

man's；　in　right　of　his　childlike　features　and　curling　hair　a　child's；　and

it　hurt　himit　attracted　him　and　it　hurt　him。　　It　was　something　between

pity　and　sympathy。



〃How　long　have　you　worked　at　this？〃



〃Nine　months。〃



From　his　pocket　the　stranger　drew　his　pocket…book；　and　took　something　from

it。　　He　could　fasten　the　post　to　his　horse　in　some　way；　and　throw　it　away

in　the　sand　when　at　a　safe　distance。



〃Will　you　take　this　for　your　carving？〃



The　boy　glanced　at　the　five…pound　note　and　shook　his　head。



〃No；　I　cannot。〃



〃You　think　it　is　worth　more？〃　asked　the　stranger　with　a　little　sneer。



He　pointed　with　his　thumb　to　a　grave。



〃No；　it　is　for　him。〃



〃And　who　is　there？〃　asked　the　stranger。



〃My　father。〃



The　man　silently　returned　the　note　to　his　pocket…book；　and　gave　the　carving

to　the　boy；　and；　drawing　his　hat　over　his　eyes；　composed　himself　to　sleep。　

Not　being　able　to　do　so；　after　a　while　he　glanced　over　the　fellow's

shoulder　to　watch　him　work。　　The　boy　carved　letters　into　the　back。



〃If；〃　said　the　stranger；　with　his　melodious　voice；　rich　with　a　sweetness

that　never　showed　itself　in　the　clouded　eyesfor　sweetness　will　linger　on

in　the　voice　long　after　it　has　died　out　in　the　eyes〃if　for　such　a

purpose；　why　write　that　upon　it？〃



The　boy　glanced　round　at　him；　but　made　no　answer。　　He　had　almost　forgotten

his　presence。



〃You　surely　believe；〃　said　the　stranger；　〃that　some　day；　sooner　or　later；

these　graves　will　open；　and　those　Boer…uncles　with　their　wives　walk　about

here　in　the　red　sand；　with　the　very　fleshly　legs　with　which　they　went　to

sleep？　　Then　why　say；　'He　sleeps　forever？'　　You　believe　he　will　stand　up

again？〃



〃Do　you？〃　asked　the　boy；　lifting　for　an　instant　his　heavy　eyes　to　the

stranger's　face。



Half　taken　aback　the　stranger　laughed。　　It　was　as　though　a　curious　little

tadpole　which　he　held　under　his　glass　should　suddenly　lift　its　tail　and

begin　to　question　him。



〃I？no。〃　　He　laughed　his　short　thick　laugh。　　〃I　am　a　man　who　believes

nothing；　hopes　nothing；　fears　nothing；　feels　nothing。　　I　am　beyond　the　pale

of　humanity；　no　criterion　of　what　you　should　be　who　live　here　among　your

ostriches　and　bushes。〃



The　next　moment　the　stranger　was　surprised　by　a　sudden　movement　on　the　part

of　the　fellow；　which　brought　him　close　to　the　stranger's　feet。　　Soon　after

he　raised　his　carving　and　laid　it　across　the　man's　knee。



〃Yes；　I　will　tell　you；〃　he　muttered；　〃I　will　tell　you　all　about　it。〃



He　put　his　finger　on　the　grotesque　little　mannikin　at　the　bottom　（ah！　that

man　who　believed　nothing；　hoped　nothing；　felt　nothing；　how　he　loved　him！）；

and　with　eager　finger　the　fellow　moved　upward；　explaining　over　fantastic

figures　and　mountains；　to　the　crowning　bird　from　whose　wing　dropped　a

feather。　　At　the　end　he　spoke　with　broken　breathshort　words；　like　one　who

utters　things　of　mighty　import。



The　stranger　watched　more　the　face　than　the　carving；　and　there　was　now　and

then　a　show　of　white　teeth　beneath　the　moustaches　as　he　listened。



〃I　think；〃　he　said　blandly；　when　the　boy　had　done；　〃that　I　partly

understand　you。　　It　is　something　after　this　fashion；　is　it　not？〃　　（He

smiled。）　　〃In　certain　valleys　there　was　a　hunter。〃　　（He　touched　the

grotesque　little　figure　at　the　bottom。）　　〃Day　by　day　he　went　to　hunt　for

wild…fowl　in　the　woods；　and　it　chanced　that　once　he　stood　on　the　shores　of

a　large　lake。　　While　he　stood　waiting　in　the　rushes　for　the　coming　of　the

birds；　a　great　shadow　fell　on　him；　and　in　the　water　he　saw　a　reflection。　

He　looked　up　to　the　sky；　but　the　thing　was　gone。　　Then　a　burning　desire

came　over　him　to　see　once　again　that　reflection　in　the　water；　and　all　day

he　watched　and　waited；　but　night　came　and　it　had　not　returned。　　Then　he

went　home　with　his　empty　bag；　moody　and　silent。　　His　comrades　came

questioning　about　him　to　know　the　reason；　but　he　answered　them　nothing；　he

sat　alone　and　brooded。　　Then　his　friend　came　to　him；　and　to　him　he　spoke。



〃'I　have　seen　today；'　he　said；　'that　which　I　never　saw　beforea　vast　white

bird；　with　silver　wings　outstretched；　sailing　in　the　everlasting　blue。　　And

now　it　is　as　though　a　great　fire　burnt　within　my　breast。　　It　was　but　a

sheen；　a　shimmer；　a　reflection　in　the　water；　but　now　I　desire　nothing　more

on　earth　than　to　hold　her。'



〃His　friend　laughed。



〃'It　was　but　a　beam　playing　on　the　water；　or　the　shadow　of　your　own　head。　

Tomorrow　you　will　forget　her；'　he　said。



〃But　tomorrow；　and　tomorrow；　and　tomorrow　the　hunter　walked　alone。　　He

sought　in　the　forest　and　in　the　woods；　by　the　lakes　and　among　the　rushes；

but　he　could　not　find　her。　　He　shot　no　more　wild　fowl；　what　were　they　to

him？



〃'What　ails　him？'　said　his　comrades。



〃'He　is　mad；'　said　one。



〃'No；　but　he　is　worse；'　said　another；　'he　would　see　that　which　none　of　us

have　seen；　and　make　himself　a　wonder。'



〃'Come；　let　us　forswear　his　company；'　said　all。



〃So　the　hunter　walked　alone。



〃One　night；　as　he　wandered　in　the　shade；　very　heartsore　and　weeping；　an　old

man　stood　before　him；　grander　and　taller　than　the　sons　of　men。



〃'Who　are　you？'　asked　the　hunter。



〃'I　am　Wisdom；'　answered　the　old　man；　'but　some　men　call　me　Knowledge。　　All

my　life　I　have　grown　in　these　valleys；　but　no　man　sees　me　till　he　has

sorrowed　much。　　The　eyes　must　be　washed　with　tears　that　are　to　behold　me；

and；　according　as　a　man　has　suffered；　I　speak。'



〃And　the　hunter　cried：



〃'Oh；　you　who　have　lived　here　so　long；　tell　me；　what　is　that　great　wild

bird　I　have　seen　sailing　in　the　blue？　　They　would　have　me　believe　she　is　a

dream；　the　shadow　of　my　own　head。'



〃The　old　man　smiled。



〃'Her　name　is　Truth。　　He　who　has　once　seen　her　never　rests　again。　　Till

death　he　desires　her。'



〃And　the　hunter　cried：



〃'Oh；　tell　me　where　I　may　find　her。'



〃But　the　old　man　said：



〃'You　have　not　suffered　enough；'　and　went。



〃Then　the　hunter　took　from　his　breast　the　shuttle　of　Imagination；　and　wound

on　it　the　thread　of　his　Wishes；　and　all　night　he　sat　and　wove　a　net。



〃In　the　morning