the quest of the golden girl-第11节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


n；　sitting　down　by　the　roadside；　I　opened　the　letter。　　It　proved　to　be　not　a　letter；　but　a　poem；　which　he　had　evidently　written　after　I　had　left　him　for　bed。　　It　was　entitled；　with　twenty's　love　for　a　tag　of　Latin；　Ad　Puellam　Auream；　and　it　ran　thus：


The　Golden　Girl　in　every　place　Hides　and　reveals　her　lovely　face；　Her　neither　skill　nor　strength　may　find　　　　　　'T　is　only　loving　moves　her　mind。　　　　　　　If　but　a　pretty　face　you　seek；　　　　　　　You'll　find　one　any　day　or　week；　　　　　　　But　if　you　look　with　deeper　eyes；　　　　　　　And　seek　her　lovely；　pure；　and　wise；　　　　　　Then　must　you　wear　the　pilgrim's　shoon　　　　　　　For　many　a　weary；　wandering　moon。　

Only　the　pure　in　heart　may　see　　　　　　　That　lily　of　all　purity；　　　　　　　Only　in　clean　unsullied　thought　　　　　　　The　image　of　her　face　is　caught；　　　　　　　And　only　he　her　love　may　hold　　　　　　Who　buys　her　with　the　spirit's　gold。　

Thus　only　shall　you　find　your　pearl；　　　　　　　O　seeker　of　the　Golden　Girl！　　　　　　　She　trod　but　now　the　grassy　way；　　　　　　A　vision　of　eternal　May。　


The　devil　take　his　impudence！　　〃Only　the　pure　in　heart；〃　〃clean；　unsullied　thought。〃　　How　like　the　cheek　of　twenty！　　And　all　the　same　how　true！　　Dear　lad；　how　true！　　Certainly；　the　child　is　father　to　the　man。　　Dirige　nos！　　O　sage　of　the　Golden　Twenties！

As　I　meditatively　folded　up　the　pretty　bit　of　writing；　I　made　a　resolution；　but　it　was　one　of　such　importance　that　not　only　is　another　chapter　needed　to　do　it　honour；　but　it　may　well　inaugurate　another　book　of　this　strange　uneventful　history。




BOOK　II



CHAPTER　I


IN　WHICH　I　DECIDE　TO　BE　YOUNG　AGAIN

Yes；　I　said　to　myself；　the　lad　is　quite　right；　I　will　follow　his　advice。　　I'm　afraid　I　was　in　danger　of　developing　into　a　sad　cynic；　with　a　taste　for　the　humour　of　this　world。　What　should　have　been　a　lofty　high…souled　pilgrimage；　only　less　transcendental　than　that　of　the　Holy　Grail　itself；　has　so　far　failed；　no　doubt；　because　I　have　undertaken　it　too　much　in　the　wanton　spirit　of　a　troubadour。

I　will　grow　young　and　serious　again。　Yes；　why　not？　　I　will　take　a　vow　of　Youth。　One's　age　is　entirely　a　matter　of　the　imagination。　　From　this　moment　I　am　no　longer　thirty。　　Thirty　falls　from　me　like　a　hideous　dream。　　My　back　straightens　again　at　the　thought；　my　silvering　hair　blackens　once　more；　my　eyes；　a　few　moments　ago　lacklustre　and　sunken；　grow　bright　and　full　again；　and　the　whites　are　clear　as　the　finest　porcelain。　　Veni；　veni；　Mephistophile！　your　Faust　is　young　again；young；　young；　and；　with　a　boy's　heart；　open　once　more　to　all　the　influences　of　the　mighty　world。

I　bring　down　my　stick　upon　the　ground　with　a　mighty　ring　of　resolution；　and　the　miracle　is　done。　　Who　would　take　me　for　thirty　now？　　From　this　moment　I　abjure　pessimism　and　cynicism　in　all　their　forms；　put　from　my　mind　all　considerations　of　the　complexities　of　human　life；　unravel　all　by　a　triumphant　optimism　which　no　statistics　can　abash　or　criticism　dishearten。　　I　likewise　undertake　to　divest　myself　entirely　of　any　sense　of　humour　that　may　have　developed　within　me　during　the　baneful　experiences　of　the　last　ten　years；　and；　in　short；　will　consent　for　the　future　to　be　nothing　that　is　not　perfectly　perfect　and　pure。　　These；　I　take　it；　are　the　fundamental　conditions　of　being　young　again。

And　as　for　the　Quest；　it　shall　forthwith　be　undertaken　in　an　entirely　serious　and　high…minded　spirit。　　From　this　moment　I　am　on　the　look…out　for　a　really　transcendental　attachment。　　No　〃bright…eyed　bar…maids；〃　however　〃refined；〃　need　apply。　　Ladies　who　are　prodigal　of　their　white　petticoats　are　no　longer　fit　company　for　me。　　Indeed　I　shall　no　longer　look　upon　a　petticoat；　unless　I　am　able　first　entirely　to　spiritualise　it。　　It　must　first　be　disinfected　of　every　earthly　thought。

Yes；　I　am　once　more　a　young　man；　sound　in　wind　and　limb；　with　not　a　tooth　or　an　illusion　lost；　my　mind　tabula　rasa；　my　heart　to　be　had　for　the　asking。　　Oh；　come；　ye　merry；　merry　maidens！　　The　fairy　prince　is　on　the　fairy　road。

Incipit　vita　nuova！

So　in　the　lovely　rapture　of　a　new…born　resolutionand　is　there　any　rapture　like　it？　nature　has　no　more　intoxicating　illusion　than　that　of　turning　over　a　new　leaf；　or　beginning　a　new　life　from　to…dayI　sprang　along　the　road　with　a　carolling　heart；　quite　forgetting　that　Apuleius　and　Fielding　and　Boccaccio　were　still　in　my　knapsacknot　to　speak　of　the　petticoat。



CHAPTER　II


AT　THE　SIGN　OF　THE　SINGING　STREAM

Apuleius　and　Fielding　and　Boccaccio；　bad　companions　for　a　petticoat；　I'm　afraid；　bad　companions　too　for　so　young　a　man　as　I　had　now　become。　　However；　as　I　say；　I　had　for　the　time　forgotten　that　pagan　company；　or；　in　my　puritanic　zeal；　I　might　have　thrown　them　all　to　be　washed　clean　in　the　upland　stream；　whose　pure　waters　one　might　fancy　were　fragrant　from　their　sunny　day　among　the　ferns　and　the　heather；　fragrant　to　the　eye；　indeed；　if　one　may　so　speak；　with　the　shaken　meal　of　the　meadowsweet。　　This　stream　had　been　the　good　angel　of　my　thoughts　all　the　day；　keeping　them　ever　moving　and　ever　fresh；　cleansing　and　burnishing　them；　quite　an　open…air　laundry　of　the　mind。

We　were　both　making　for　the　same　little　town；　it　appeared；　and　as　the　sun　was　setting　we　reached　it　together。　　I　entered　the　town　over　the　bridge；　and　the　stream　under　it；　washing　the　walls　of　the　high…piled；　many…gabled　old　inn　where　I　proposed　to　pass　the　night。　　I　should　hear　it　still　rippling　on　with　its　gentle　harpsichord　tinkle；　as　I　stretched　myself　down　among　the　cool　lavendered　sheets；　and　little　by　little　let　slip　the　multifarious　world。

The　inn　windows　beamed　cheerily；　a　home　of　ruddy　rest。　　Having　ordered　my　dinner　and　found　my　room；　I　threw　down　my　knapsack　and　then　came　out　again　to　smoke　an　ante…prandial　pipe；　listen　to　the　evensong　of　the　stream；　and　think　great　thoughts。　　The　stream　was　still　there；　and　singing　the　same　sweet　old　song。　　You　could　hear　it　long　after　it　was　out　of　sight；　in　the　gathering　darkness；　like　an　old　nurse　humming　lullabies　in　the　twilight。

The　dinner　was　good；　the　wine　was　old；　and　oh！　the　rest　was　sweet！　　Nothing　fills　one　with　so　exquisite　a　weariness　as　a　day　spent　in　good　resolutions　and　great　thoughts。　There　is　something　perilously　sensuous　in　the　relaxation　of　one's　muscles；　both　of　mind　and　body；　after　a　day　thus　well　spent。

Lighting　up　my　pipe　once　more；　and　drawing　to　the　fire；　I　suddenly　realised　a　sense　of　loneliness。　　Of　course；　I　was　lonely　for　a　book；Apuleius　or　Fielding　or　Boccaccio！

An　hour　ago　they　had　seemed　dangerous　companions　for　so　lofty　a　mood；　but　now；　under　the　gentle　influences　of　dinner；　the　mood　had　not　indeed　changedbut　mellowed。　So　to　say；　we　would　split　the　difference　between　the　ideal　and　the　human；　and　be；　say；　twenty…five。

It　was　in　this　genial　attitude　of　mind　that　I　strode　up　the　quaint　circular　staircase　to　fetch　Fielding　from　my　room；　and；　shade　of　Tom　Jones！　what　should　be　leaving　my　room；　as　I　advanced　to　enter　it；　butwell；　it's　no　use；　resolutions　are　all　very　well；　but　facts　are　facts；　especially　when　they're　natural；　and　here　was　I　face　to　face　with　the　most　natural　little　natural　fact；　and　withal　the　most　charming　and　merry…eyed；　that　well；　in　short；　as　I　came　to　enter　my　room　I　was　confronted　by　the　roundest；　ruddiest　little　chambermaid　ever　created　for　the　trial　of　mortal　frailty。

And　the　worst　of　it　was　that　her　merry　eye　was　in　partnership　with　a　merry　tongue。　Indeed；　for　some　unexplained　reason；　she　was　bubbling　over　with　congested　laughter；　the　reason　for　which　mere　embarrassment　set　one　inquiring。　　At　last；　between　little　gushes　of　laughter　which　shook　her　plump　shoulders　in　a　way　that　aroused　wistful　memories　of　Hebe；　she　archly　asked　me；　with　mock　solemnity；　if　I　should　need　a　lady's　maid。


〃Certainly；〃　I　replied　with　inane　promptitude；　for　I　had　no　notion　of　her　drift；　but　then　she　ran　off　in　a　scurry　of　laughter；　and　still　puzzled　I　turned　into　my　room；　TO　FIND；　neatly　hung　over　the　end　of　the　bed；　nothing　less　than　the　dainty　petticoat　and　silk　stockings　of　Sylvia　Joy。

You　can　imagine　the　colour　of　my　cheeks　at　the　discovery。　　No　doubt　I　was　already　the　laughing…stock　of　the　whole　inn。　　What　folly！　　What　a　young　vixen！　　Oh；　what's　to　be　done？　　Pay　my　bill　and　sneak　off　at　once　to　the　next　town；　but　how　pass　through　the　grinning　line　of　boots；　and　waiter；　and　chambermaid；　and　ironically　respectful　landlord　and　landlady；　in　the　hall　。　。　。

But　while　I　thus　deliberated；　something　soft　pressed　in　at　the　door；　and；　making　a　sudden　dart；　I　had　the　little　baggage　who　had　brought　about　my　dilemma　a　prisoner　in　my　arms。

I　stayed　some　days　at　this　charming　old　inn；　for　Amaryllisoh；　yes；　you　may　be　sure　her　name　was　Amaryllishad　not　betrayed　me；　and　indeed　she　may　have　some　share　in　my　retrospect　of　the　inn　as　one　of　the　most　delightful　which　I　encountered　anywhere　in　my　journeying。　　Would　you　like　to　know　its　name？　　Well；　I　know　it　as　The　Singing　Stream。　　If　you　can　find　it　under　that　name；　you　are　welcome。　　And　should　you　chance　to　be　put　into　bedroom　No。　26；　you　can　think　of　me；　and　how　I　used　to　lie　awake；　listening　to　the　stream　rippling　beneath　the　window；　with　its　gentle　harpsichord　tinkle；　and　little　by　little　letting　slip　the　multifarious　world。

And　if　anything　about　this　chapter　should　seem　to　contradict　the