the new machiavelli-第81节

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people　had　been　to　the　Pagoda　that　day。　　I've　a　curious　impression　

of　greenish　colour；　hot；　moist　air　and　huge　palm　fronds　about　very　

much　of　our　talk；　as　though　we　were　nearly　all　the　time　in　the　

Tropical　House。　　But　I　also　remember　very　vividly　looking　at　certain　

orange　and　red　spray…like　flowers　from　Patagonia；　which　could　not　

have　been　there。　　It　is　a　curious　thing　that　I　do　not　remember　we　

made　any　profession　of　passionate　love　for　one　another；　we　talked　as　

though　the　fact　of　our　intense　love　for　each　other　had　always　been　

patent　between　us。　　There　was　so　long　and　frank　an　intimacy　between　

us　that　we　talked　far　more　like　brother　and　sister　or　husband　and　

wife　than　two　people　engaged　in　the　war　of　the　sexes。　　We　wanted　to　

know　what　we　were　going　to　do；　and　whatever　we　did　we　meant　to　do　in　

the　most　perfect　concert。　　We　both　felt　an　extraordinary　accession　

of　friendship　and　tenderness　then；　and；　what　again　is　curious；　very　

little　passion。　　But　there　was　also；　in　spite　of　the　perplexities　we　

faced；　an　immense　satisfaction　about　that　day。　　It　was　as　if　we　had　

taken　off　something　that　had　hindered　our　view　of　each　other；　like　

people　who　unvizard　to　talk　more　easily　at　a　masked　ball。



I've　had　since　to　view　our　relations　from　the　standpoint　of　the　

ordinary　observer。　　I　find　that　vision　in　the　most　preposterous　

contrast　with　all　that　really　went　on　between　us。　　I　suppose　there　I　

should　figure　as　a　wicked　seducer；　while　an　unprotected　girl　

succumbed　to　my　fascinations。　　As　a　matter　of　fact；　it　didn't　occur　

to　us　that　there　was　any　personal　inequality　between　us。　　I　knew　her　

for　my　equal　mentally；　in　so　many　things　she　was　beyond　comparison　

cleverer　than　I；　her　courage　outwent　mine。　　The　quick　leap　of　her　

mind　evoked　a　flash　of　joy　in　mine　like　the　response　of　an　induction　

wire；　her　way　of　thinking　was　like　watching　sunlight　reflected　from　

little　waves　upon　the　side　of　a　boat；　it　was　so　bright；　so　mobile；　

so　variously　and　easily　true　to　its　law。　　In　the　back　of　our　minds　

we　both　had　a　very　definite　belief　that　making　love　is　full　of　

joyous；　splendid；　tender；　and　exciting　possibilities；　and　we　had　to　

discuss　why　we　shouldn't　be　to　the　last　degree　lovers。



Now；　what　I　should　like　to　print　here；　if　it　were　possible；　in　all　

the　screaming　emphasis　of　red　ink；　is　this：　that　the　circumstances　

of　my　upbringing　and　the　circumstances　of　Isabel's　upbringing　had　

left　not　a　shadow　of　belief　or　feeling　that　the　utmost　passionate　

love　between　us　was　in　itself　intrinsically　WRONG。　　I've　told　with　

the　fullest　particularity　just　all　that　I　was　taught　or　found　out　

for　myself　in　these　matters；　and　Isabel's　reading　and　thinking；　and　

the　fierce　silences　of　her　governesses　and　the　breathless　warnings　

of　teachers；　and　all　the　social　and　religious　influences　that　had　

been　brought　to　bear　upon　her；　had　worked　out　to　the　same　void　of　

conviction。　　The　code　had　failed　with　us　altogether。　　We　didn't　for　

a　moment　consider　anything　but　the　expediency　of　what　we　both；　for　

all　our　quiet　faces　and　steady　eyes；　wanted　most　passionately　to　do。



Well；　here　you　have　the　state　of　mind　of　whole　brigades　of　people；　

and　particularly　of　young　people；　nowadays。　　The　current　morality　

hasn't　gripped　them；　they　don't　really　believe　in　it　at　all。　　They　

may　render　it　lip…service；　but　that　is　quite　another　thing。　　There　

are　scarcely　any　tolerable　novels　to　justify　its　prohibitions；　its　

prohibitions　do；　in　fact；　remain　unjustified　amongst　these　ugly　

suppressions。　　You　may；　if　you　choose；　silence　the　admission　of　this　

in　literature　and　current　discussion；　you　will　not　prevent　it　

working　out　in　lives。　　People　come　up　to　the　great　moments　of　

passion　crudely　unaware；　astoundingly　unprepared　as　no　really　

civilised　and　intelligently　planned　community　would　let　any　one　be　

unprepared。　　They　find　themselves　hedged　about　with　customs　that　

have　no　organic　hold　upon　them；　and　mere　discretions　all　generous　

spirits　are　disposed　to　despise。



Consider　the　infinite　absurdities　of　it！　　Multitudes　of　us　are　

trying　to　run　this　complex　modern　community　on　a　basis　of　〃Hush〃　

without　explaining　to　our　children　or　discussing　with　them　anything　

about　love　and　marriage　at　all。　　Doubt　and　knowledge　creep　about　in　

enforced　darknesses　and　silences。　　We　are　living　upon　an　ancient　

tradition　which　everybody　doubts　and　nobody　has　ever　analysed。　　We　

affect　a　tremendous　and　cultivated　shyness　and　delicacy　about　

imperatives　of　the　most　arbitrary　appearance。　　What　ensues？　　What　

did　ensue　with　us；　for　example？　　On　the　one　hand　was　a　great　desire；　

robbed　of　any　appearance　of　shame　and　grossness　by　the　power　of　

love；　and　on　the　other　hand；　the　possible　jealousy　of　so　and　so；　the　

disapproval　of　so　and　so；　material　risks　and　dangers。　　It　is　only　in　

the　retrospect　that　we　have　been　able　to　grasp　something　of　the　

effectual　case　against　us。　　The　social　prohibition　lit　by　the　

intense　glow　of　our　passion；　presented　itself　as　preposterous；　

irrational；　arbitrary；　and　ugly；　a　monster　fit　only　for　mockery。　　We　

might　be　ruined！　　Well；　there　is　a　phase　in　every　love　affair；　a　

sort　of　heroic　hysteria；　when　death　and　ruin　are　agreeable　additions　

to　the　prospect。　　It　gives　the　business　a　gravity；　a　solemnity。　　

Timid　people　may　hesitate　and　draw　back　with　a　vague　instinctive　

terror　of　the　immensity　of　the　oppositions　they　challenge；　but　

neither　Isabel　nor　I　are　timid　people。



We　weighed　what　was　against　us。　　We　decided　just　exactly　as　scores　

of　thousands　of　people　have　decided　in　this　very　matter；　that　if　it　

were　possible　to　keep　this　thing　to　ourselves；　there　was　nothing　

against　it。　　And　so　we　took　our　first　step。　　With　the　hunger　of　love　

in　us；　it　was　easy　to　conclude　we　might　be　lovers；　and　still　keep　

everything　to　ourselves。　　That　cleared　our　minds　of　the　one　

persistent　obstacle　that　mattered　to　usthe　haunting　presence　of　

Margaret。



And　then　we　found；　as　all　those　scores　of　thousands　of　people　

scattered　about　us　have　found；　that　we　could　not　keep　it　to　

ourselves。　　Love　will　out。　　All　the　rest　of　this　story　is　the　

chronicle　of　that。　　Love　with　sustained　secrecy　cannot　be　love。　　It　

is　just　exactly　the　point　people　do　not　understand。







5





But　before　things　came　to　that　pass；　some　months　and　many　phases　and　

a　sudden　journey　to　America　intervened。



〃This　thing　spells　disaster；〃　I　said。　　〃You　are　too　big　and　I　am　too　

big　to　attempt　this　secrecy。　　Think　of　the　intolerable　possibility　

of　being　found　out！　　At　any　cost　we　have　to　stopeven　at　the　cost　

of　parting。〃



〃Just　because　we　may　be　found　out！〃



〃Just　because　we　may　be　found　out。〃



〃Master；　I　shouldn't　in　the　least　mind　being　found　out　with　you。　　

I'm　afraidI'd　be　proud。〃



〃Wait　till　it　happens。〃



There　followed　a　struggle　of　immense　insincerity　between　us。　　It　is　

hard　to　tell　who　urged　and　who　resisted。



She　came　to　me　one　night　to　the　editorial　room　of　the　BLUE　WEEKLY；　

and　argued　and　kissed　me　with　wet　salt　lips；　and　wept　in　my　arms；　

she　told　me　that　now　passionate　longing　for　me　and　my　intimate　life　

possessed　her；　so　that　she　could　not　work；　could　not　think；　could　

not　endure　other　people　for　the　love　of　me。　。　。　。



I　fled　absurdly。　　That　is　the　secret　of　the　futile　journey　to　

America　that　puzzled　all　my　friends。



I　ran　away　from　Isabel。　　I　took　hold　of　the　situation　with　all　my　

strength；　put　in　Britten　with　sketchy；　hasty　instructions　to　edit　

the　paper；　and　started　headlong　and　with　luggage；　from　which；　among　

other　things；　my　shaving　things　were　omitted；　upon　a　tour　round　the　

world。



Preposterous　flight　that　was！　　I　remember　as　a　thing　almost　farcical　

my　explanations　to　Margaret；　and　how　frantically　anxious　I　was　to　

prevent　the　remote　possibility　of　her　coming　with　me；　and　how　I　

crossed　in　the　TUSCAN；　a　bad；　wet　boat；　and　mixed　seasickness　with　

ungovernable　sorrow。　　I　wepttears。　　It　was　inexpressibly　queer　and　

ridiculousand；　good　God！　how　I　hated　my　fellow…passengers！



New　York　inflamed　and　excited　me　for　a　time；　and　when　things　

slackened；　I　whirled　westward　to　Chicagoeating　and　drinking；　I　

remember；　in　the　train　from　shoals　of　little　dishes；　with　a　sort　of　

desperate　voracity。　　I　did　the　queerest　things　to　distract　myself

no　novelist　would　dare　to　invent　my　mental　and　emotional　muddle。　　

Chicago　also　held　me　at　first；　amazing　lapse　from　civilisation　that　

the　place　is！　and　then　abruptly；　with　hosts　expecting　me；　and　

everything　settled　for　some　days　in　Denver；　I　found　myself　at　the　

end　of　my　renunciations；　and　turned　and　came　back　headlong　to　

London。



Let　me　confess　it　wasn't　any　sense　of　perfect　and　incurable　trust　

and　confidence　that　brought　me　back；　or　any　idea　that　now　I　had　

strength　to　refrain。　　It　was　a　sudden　realisation　that　after　all　the　

separation　might　succeed；　some　careless　phrasing　in　one　o