the ninth vibration-第5节

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ely　better　now；　that　her　constructions　were　wholly　misleading。

Nearly　all　day　she　would　lie　in　her　chair　under　the　deodars　by　the　delicate　splash　and　ripple　of　the　stream。　Living　imprisoned　in　the　crystal　sphere　of　the　intellect　she　saw　the　world　outside；　painted　in　few　but　distinct　colours；　small；　comprehensible；　moving　on　a　logical　orbit。　I　never　knew　her　posed　for　an　explanation。　She　had　the　contented　atheism　of　a　certain　type　of　French　mind　and　found　as　much　ease　in　it　as　another　kind　of　sweet　woman　does　in　her　rosary　and　confessional。

〃I　cannot　interest　Brynhild；〃　she　said；　when　I　knew　her　better。　〃She　has　no　affinity　with　science。　She　is　simply　a　nature　worshipper；　and　in　such　places　as　this　she　seems　to　draw　life　from　the　inanimate　life　about　her。　I　have　sometimes　wondered　whether　she　might　not　be　developed　into　a　kind　of　bridge　between　the　articulate　and　the　inarticulate；　so　well　does　she　understand　trees　and　flowers。　Her　father　was　like　that　…　he　had　all　sorts　of　strange　power　with　animals　and　plants；　and　thought　he　had　more　than　he　had。　He　could　never　realize　that　the　energy　of　nature　is　merely　mechanical。〃

〃You　think　all　energy　is　mechanical？〃

〃Certainly。　We　shall　lay　our　finger　on　the　mainspring　one　day　and　the　mystery　will　disappear。　But　as　for　Brynhild　…　I　gave　her　the　best　education　possible　and　yet　she　has　never　understood　the　conception　of　a　universe　moving　on　mathematical　laws　to　which　we　must　submit　in　body　and　mind。　She　has　the　oddest　ideas。　I　would　not　willingly　say　of　a　child　of　mine　that　she　is　a　mystic；　and　yet　…〃

She　shook　her　head　compassionately。　But　I　scarcely　heard。　My　eyes　were　fixed　on　Brynhild；　who　stood　apart；　looking　steadily　out　over　the　snows。　It　was　a　glorious　sunset；　the　west　vibrating　with　gorgeous　colour　spilt　over　in　torrents　that　flooded　the　sky；　Terrible　splendours　…　hues　for　which　we　have　no　thought　…　no　name。　I　had　not　thought　of　it　as　music　until　I　saw　her　face　but　she　listened　as　well　as　saw；　and　her　expression　changed　as　it　changes　when　the　pomp　of　a　great　orchestra　breaks　upon　the　silence。　It　flashed　to　the　chords　of　blood…red　and　gold　that　was　burning　fire。　It　softened　through　the　fugue　of　woven　crimson　gold　and　flame；　to　the　melancholy　minor　of　ashes…of…roses　and　paling　green；　and　so　through　all　the　dying　glories　that　faded　slowly　to　a　tranquil　grey　and　left　the　world　to　the　silver　melody　of　one　sole　star　that　dawned　above　the　ineffable　heights　of　the　snows。　Then　she　listened　as　a　child　does　to　a　bird；　entranced；　with　a　smile　like　a　butterfly　on　her　parted　lips。　I　never　saw　such　a　power　of　quiet。

She　and　I　were　walking　next　day　among　the　forest　ways；　the　pine…scented　sunshine　dappling　the　dropped　frondage。　We　had　been　speaking　of　her　mother。　〃It　is　such　a　misfortune　for　her；〃　she　said　thoughtfully；　〃that　I　am　not　clever。　She　should　have　had　a　daughter　who　could　have　shared　her　thoughts。　She　analyses　everything；　reasons　about　everything；　and　that　is　quite　out　of　my　reach。〃

She　moved　beside　me　with　her　wonderful　light　step　…　the　poise　and　balance　of　a　nymph　in　the　Parthenon　frieze。

〃How　do　you　see　things？〃

〃See？　That　is　the　right　word。　I　see　things　…　I　never　reason　about　them。　They　are。　For　her　they　move　like　figures　in　a　sum。　For　me　every　one　of　them　is　a　window　through　which　one　may　look　to　what　is　beyond。〃

〃To　where？〃

〃To　what　they　really　are　…　not　what　they　seem。〃

I　looked　at　her　with　interest。

〃Did　you　ever　hear　of　the　double　vision？〃

For　this　is　a　subject　on　which　the　spiritually　learned　men　of　India；　like　the　great　mystics　of　all　the　faiths；　have　much　to　say。　I　had　listened　with　bewilderment　and　doubt　to　the　expositions　of　my　Pandit　on　this　very　head。　Her　simple　words　seemed　for　a　moment　the　echo　of　his　deep　and　searching　thought。　Yet　it　surely　could　not　be。　Impossible。

〃Never。　What　does　it　mean？〃　She　raised　clear　unveiled　eyes。　〃You　must　forgive　me　for　being　so　stupid；　but　it　is　my　mother　who　is　at　home　with　all　these　scientific　phrases。　I　know　none　of　them。〃

〃It　means　that　for　some　people　the　material　universe　…　the　things　we　see　with　our　eyes　…　is　only　a　mirage；　or　say；　a　symbol；　which　either　hides　or　shadows　forth　the　eternal　truth。　And　in　that　sense　they　see　things　as　they　really　are；　not　as　they　seem　to　the　rest　of　us。　And　whether　this　is　the　statement　of　a　truth　or　the　wildest　of　dreams；　I　cannot　tell。〃

She　did　not　answer　for　a　moment；　then　said；

〃Are　there　people　who　believe　this　…　know　it？〃

〃Certainly。　There　are　people　who　believe　that　thought　is　the　only　real　thing　…　that　the　whole　universe　is　thought　made　visible。　That　we　create　with　our　thoughts　the　very　body　by　which　we　shall　re…act　on　the　universe　in　lives　to　be。

〃Do　you　believe　it？〃

〃I　don't　know。　Do　you？〃

She　paused；　looked　at　me；　and　then　went　on：

〃You　see；　I　don't　think　things　out。　I　only　feel。　But　this　cannot　interest　you。〃

I　felt　she　was　eluding　the　question。　She　began　to　interest　me　more　than　any　one　I　had　ever　known。　She　had　extraordinary　power　of　a　sort。　Once；　in　the　woods；　where　I　was　reading　in　so　deep　a　shade　that　she　never　saw　me；　I　had　an　amazing　vision　of　her。　She　stood　in　a　glade　with　the　sunlight　and　shade　about　her；　she　had　no　hat　and　a　sunbeam　turned　her　hair　to　pale　bronze。　A　small　bright　April　shower　was　falling　through　the　sun；　and　she　stood　in　pure　light　that　reflected　itself　in　every　leaf　and　grass…blade。　But　it　was　nothing　of　all　this　that　arrested　me；　beautiful　as　it　was。　She　stood　as　though　life　were　for　the　moment　suspended；…　then；　very　softly；　she　made　a　low　musical　sound；　infinitely　wooing；　from　scarcely　parted　lips；　and　instantly　I　saw　a　bird　of　azure　plumage　flutter　down　and　settle　on　her　shoulder；　pluming　himself　there　in　happy　security。　Again　she　called　softly　and　another　followed　the　first。　Two　flew　to　her　feet；　two　more　to　her　breast　and　hand。　They　caressed　her；　clung　to　her；　drew　some　joyous　influence　from　her　presence。　She　stood　in　the　glittering　rain　like　Spring　with　her　birds　about　her　…　a　wonderful　sight。　Then；　raising　one　hand　gently　with　the　fingers　thrown　back　she　uttered　a　different　note；　perfectly　sweet　and　intimate；　and　the　branches　parted　and　a　young　deer　with　full　bright　eyes　fixed　on　her　advanced　and　pushed　a　soft　muzzle　into　her　hand。

In　my　astonishment　I　moved；　however　slightly；　and　the　picture　broke　up。　The　deer　sprang　back　into　the　trees；　the　birds　fluttered　up　in　a　hurry　of　feathers；　and　she　turned　calm　eyes　upon　me；　as　unstartled　as　if　she　had　known　all　the　time　that　I　was　there。

〃You　should　not　have　breathed；〃　she　said　smiling。　〃They　must　have　utter　quiet。〃

I　rose　up　and　joined　her。

〃It　is　a　marvel。　I　can　scarcely　believe　my　eyes。　How　do　you　do　it？〃

〃My　father　taught　me。　They　come。　How　can　I　tell？〃

She　turned　away　and　left　me。　I　thought　long　over　this　episode。　I　recalled　words　heard　in　the　place　of　my　studies　…　words　I　had　dismissed　without　any　care　at　the　moment。　〃To　those　who　see；　nothing　is　alien。　They　move　in　the　same　vibration　with　all　that　has　life；　be　it　in　bird　or　flower。　And　in　the　Uttermost　also；　for　all　things　are　One。　For　such　there　is　no　death。〃

That　was　beyond　me　still；　but　I　watched　her　with　profound　interest。　She　recalled　also　words　I　had　half　forgotten…

　　〃There　was　nought　above　me　and　nought　below；　　　　My　childhood　had　not　learnt　to　know；　　　　For　what　are　the　voices　of　birds；　　　　Aye；　and　of　beasts；　but　words；　our　words；　…　　　　Only　so　much　more　sweet。〃

That　might　have　been　written　of　her。　And　more。

She　had　found　one　day　in　the　woods　a　flower　of　a　sort　I　had　once　seen　in　the　warm　damp　forests　below　Darjiling　…　ivory　white　and　shaped　like　a　dove　in　flight。　She　wore　it　that　evening　on　her　bosom。　A　week　later　she　wore　what　I　took　to　be　another。

〃You　have　had　luck；〃　I　said；　〃I　never　heard　of　such　a　thing　being　seen　so　high　up；　and　you　have　found　it　twice。〃

〃No；　it　is　the　same。〃

〃The　same？　Impossible。　You　found　it　more　than　a　week　ago。〃　〃I　know。　It　is　ten　days。　Flowers　don't　die　when　one　understands　them　…　not　as　most　people　think。〃

Her　mother　looked　up　and　said　fretfully：

〃Since　she　was　a　child　Brynhild　has　had　that　odd　idea。　That　flower　is　dead　and　withered。　Throw　it　away；　child。　It　looks　hideous。〃

Was　it　glamour？　What　was　it？　I　saw　the　flower　dewy　fresh　in　her　bosom　She　smiled　and　turned　away。

It　was　that　very　evening　she　left　the　veranda　where　we　were　sitting　in　the　subdued　light　of　a　little　lamp　and　passed　beyond　where　the　ray　cut　the　darkness。　She　went　down　the　perspective　of　trees　to　the　edge　of　he　clearing　and　I　rose　to　follow　for　it　seemed　absolutely　unsafe　that　she　should　be　on　the　verge　of　the　panther…haunted　woods　alone。　Mrs。　Ingmar　turned　a　page　of　her　book　serenely；

〃She　will　not　like　it　if　you　go。　I　cannot　imagine　that　she　should　come　to　harm。　She　always　goes　her　own　way　…　light　or　dark。〃

I　returned　to　my　seat　and　watched　steadfastly。　At　first　I　could　see　nothing　but　as　my　sight　adjusted　itself　I　saw　her　a　long　way　down　the　clearing　that　opened　the　snows；　and　quite　certainly　also　I　saw　something　like　a　huge　dog　detach　itself　from　the　woods　and　bound　to　her　feet。　It　mingled　with　her　dark　dress　and　I　lost　it。　Mrs。　Ingmar　said；　seeing　my　anxiety　but　nothing　else；　〃Her　father　was　just　the　same；　…　he　had　no　fear　of　anyt