idle ideas in 1905-第6节

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she　will　be　one　of　the　foolish　crowd；　joining　in　the　foolish
laughter；　in　the　coarse　jests　of　the　work…room：　　but　as　yet　the　hot
day　has　not　claimed　her。　　The　work…room　is　far　beyond；　the　home　of
mean　cares　and　sordid　struggles　far　behind。　　To　her；　also；　in　this
moment　are　the　sweet　thoughts　of　womanhood。　　She　puts　down　her　bag；
rests　herself　upon　a　seat。　　If　all　the　day　were　dawn；　this　city　of
the　morning　always　with　us！　　A　neighbouring　clock　chimes　forth　the
hour。　　She　starts　up　from　her　dream　and　hurries　onto　the　noisy
work…room。

A　pair　of　lovers　cross　the　park；　holding　each　other's　hands。　　They
will　return　later　in　the　day；　but　there　will　be　another　expression　in
their　eyes；　another　meaning　in　the　pressure　of　their　hands。　　Now　the
purity　of　the　morning　is　with　them。

Some　fat；　middle…aged　clerk　comes　puffing　into　view：　　his　ridiculous
little　figure　very　podgy。　　He　stops　to　take　off　his　hat　and　mop　his
bald　head　with　his　handkerchief：　　even　to　him　the　morning　lends
romance。　　His　fleshy　face　changes　almost　as　one　looks　at　him。　　One
sees　again　the　lad　with　his　vague　hopes；　his　absurd　ambitions。

There　is　a　statue　of　Aphrodite　in　one　of　the　smaller　Paris　parks。
Twice　in　the　same　week；　without　particularly　meaning　it；　I　found
myself　early　in　the　morning　standing　in　front　of　this　statue　gazing
listlessly　at　it；　as　one　does　when　in　dreamy　mood；　and　on　both
occasions；　turning　to　go；　I　encountered　the　same　man；　also　gazing　at
it　with；　apparently；　listless　eyes。　　He　was　an　uninteresting　looking
manpossibly　he　thought　the　same　of　me。　　From　his　dress　he　might
have　been　a　well…to…do　tradesman；　a　minor　Government　official；
doctor；　or　lawyer。　　Quite　ten　years　later　I　paid　my　third　visit　to
the　same　statue　at　about　the　same　hour。　　This　time　he　was　there
before　me。　　I　was　hidden　from　him　by　some　bushes。　　He　glanced　round
but　did　not　see　me；　and　then　he　did　a　curious　thing。　　Placing　his
hands　on　the　top　of　the　pedestal；　which　may　have　been　some　seven　feet
in　height；　he　drew　himself　up；　and　kissed　very　gently；　almost
reverentially；　the　foot　of　the　statue；　begrimed　though　it　was　with
the　city's　dirt。　　Had　he　been　some　long…haired　student　of　the　Latin
Quarter　one　would　not　have　been　so　astonished。　　But　he　was　such　a
very　commonplace；　quite　respectable　looking　man。　　Afterwards　he　drew
a　pipe　from　his　pocket；　carefully　filled　and　lighted　it；　took　his
umbrella　from　the　seat　where　it　had　been　lying；　and　walked　away。

Had　it　been　their　meeting…place　long　ago？　　Had　he　been　wont　to　tell
her；　gazing　at　her　with　lover's　eyes；　how　like　she　was　to　the　statue？
The　French　sculptor　has　not　to　consider　Mrs。　Grundy。　　Maybe；　the
lady；　raising　her　eyes；　had　been　confused；　perhaps　for　a　moment
angrysome　little　milliner　or　governess；　one　supposes。　　In　France
the　jeune　fille　of　good　family　does　not　meet　her　lover　unattended。
What　had　happened？　　Or　was　it　but　the　vagrant　fancy　of　a　middle…aged
bourgeois　seeking　in　imagination　the　romance　that　reality　so　rarely
gives　us；　weaving　his　love　dream　round　his　changeless　statue？

In　one　of　Ibsen's　bitter　comedies　the　lovers　agree　to　part　while　they
are　still　young；　never　to　see　each　other　in　the　flesh　again。　　Into
the　future　each　will　bear　away　the　image　of　the　other；　godlike；
radiant　with　the　glory　of　youth　and　love；　each　will　cherish　the
memory　of　a　loved　one　who　shall　be　beautiful　always。　　That　their
parting　may　not　appear　such　wild　nonsense　as　at　first　it　strikes　us；
Ibsen　shows　us　other　lovers　who　have　married　in　the　orthodox　fashion。
She　was　all　that　a　mistress　should　be。　　They　speak　of　her　as　they
first　knew　her　fifteen　years　ago；　when　every　man　was　at　her　feet。　　He
then　was　a　young　student；　burning　with　fine　ideals；　with　enthusiasm
for　all　the　humanities。

They　enter。

What　did　you　expect？　　Fifteen　years　have　passedfifteen　years　of
struggle　with　the　grim　realities。　　He　is　fat　and　bald。　　Eleven
children　have　to　be　provided　for。　　High　ideals　will　not　even　pay　the
bootmaker。　　To　exist　you　have　to　fight　for　mean　ends　with　mean
weapons。　　And　the　sweet　girl　heroine！　　Now　the　worried　mother　of
eleven　brats！　　One　rings　down　the　curtain　amid　Satanic　laughter。

That　is　why；　for　one　reason　among　so　many；　I　love　this　mystic　morning
light。　　It　has　a　strange　power　of　revealing　the　beauty　that　is　hidden
from　us　by　the　coarser　beams　of　the　full　day。　　These　worn　men　and
women；　grown　so　foolish　looking；　so　unromantic；　these　artisans　and
petty　clerks　plodding　to　their　monotonous　day's　work；　these　dull…eyed
women　of　the　people　on　their　way　to　market　to　haggle　over　sous；　to
argue　and　contend　over　paltry　handfuls　of　food。　　In　this　magic
morning　light　the　disguising　body　becomes　transparent。　　They　have
grown　beautiful；　not　ugly；　with　the　years　of　toil　and　hardship；　these
lives；　lived　so　patiently；　are　consecrated　to　the　service　of　the
world。　　Joy；　hope；　pleasurethey　have　done　with　all　such；　life　for
them　is　over。　　Yet　they　labour；　ceaselessly；　uncomplainingly。　　It　is
for　the　children。

One　morning；　near　Brussels；　I　encountered　a　cart　of　faggots；　drawn　by
a　hound　so　lean　that　stroking　him　might　have　hurt　a　dainty　hand。　　I
was　shockedangry；　till　I　noticed　his　fellow　beast　of　burden　pushing
the　cart　from　behind。　　Such　a　scarecrow　of　an　old　woman！　　There　was
little　to　choose　between　them。　　I　walked　with　them　a　little　way。　　She
lived　near　Waterloo。　　All　day　she　gathered　wood　in　the　great　forest；
and　starting　at　three　o'clock　each　morning；　the　two　lean　creatures
between　them　dragged　the　cart　nine　miles　to　Brussels；　returning　when
they　had　sold　their　load。　　With　luck　she　might　reckon　on　a　couple　of
francs。　　I　asked　her　if　she　could　not　find　something　else　to　do。

Yes；　it　was　possible；　but　for　the　little　one；　her　grandchild。　　Folks
will　not　employ　old　women　burdened　with　grandchildren。

You　fair；　dainty　ladies；　who　would　never　know　it　was　morning　if
somebody　did　not　enter　to　pull　up　the　blind　and　tell　you　so！　　You　do
well　not　to　venture　out　in　this　magic　morning　light。　　You　would　look
so　plainalmost　ugly；　by　the　side　of　these　beautiful　women。

It　is　curious　the　attraction　the　Church　has　always　possessed　for　the
marketing　classes。　　Christ　drove　them　from　the　Temple；　but　still；　in
every　continental　city；　they　cluster　round　its　outer　walls。　　It　makes
a　charming　picture　on　a　sunny　morning；　the　great　cathedral　with　its
massive　shadow　forming　the　background；　splashed　about　its　feet；　like
a　parterre　of　gay　flowers　around　the　trunk　of　some　old　tree；　the
women；　young　girls　in　their　many　coloured　costumes；　sitting　before
their　piled…up　baskets　of　green　vegetables；　of　shining　fruits。

In　Brussels　the　chief　market　is　held　on　the　Grande　Place。　　The　great
gilded　houses　have　looked　down　upon　much　the　same　scene　every　morning
these　four　hundred　years。　　In　summer　time　it　commences　about　half…
past　four；　by　five　o'clock　it　is　a　roaring　hive；　the　great　city　round
about　still　sleeping。

Here　comes　the　thrifty　housewife　of　the　poor；　to　whom　the　difference
of　a　tenth　of　a　penny　in　the　price　of　a　cabbage　is　all…important；　and
the　much　harassed　keeper　of　the　petty　pension。　　There　are　houses　in
Brussels　where　they　will　feed　you；　light　you；　sleep　you；　wait　on　you；
for　two　francs　a　day。　　Withered　old　ladies；　ancient　governesses；　who
will　teach　you　for　forty　centimes　an　hour；　gather　round　these
ricketty　tables；　wolf　up　the　thin　soup；　grumble　at　the　watery　coffee；
help　themselves　with　unladylike　greediness　to　the　potato　pie。　　It
must　need　careful　housewifery　to　keep　these　poor　creatures　on　two
francs　a　day　and　make　a　profit　for　yourself。　　So　〃Madame；〃　the　much…
grumbled…at；　who　has　gone　to　bed　about　twelve；　rises　a　little　before
five；　makes　her　way　down　with　her　basket。　　Thus　a　few　sous　may　be
saved　upon　the　day's　economies。

Sometimes　it　is　a　mere　child　who　is　the　little　housekeeper。　　One
thinks　that　perhaps　this　early　training　in　the　art　of　haggling　may
not　be　good　for　her。　　Already　there　is　a　hard　expression　in　the
childish　eyes；　mean　lines　about　the　little　mouth。　　The　finer
qualities　of　humanity　are　expensive　luxuries；　not　to　be　afforded　by
the　poor。

They　overwork　their　patient　dogs；　and　underfeed　them。　　During　the　two
hours'　market　the　poor　beasts；　still　fastened　to　their　little
〃chariots；〃　rest　in　the　open　space　about　the　neighbouring　Bourse。
They　snatch　at　what　you　throw　them；　they　do　not　even　thank　you　with　a
wag　of　the　tail。　　Gratitude！　　Politeness！　　What　mean　you？　　We　have
not　heard　of　such。　　We　only　work。　　Some　of　them　amid　all　the　din　lie
sleeping　between　their　shafts。　　Some　are　licking　one　another's　sores。
One　would　they　were　better　treated；　alas！　their　owners；　likewise；　are
overworked　and　underfed；　housed　in　kennels　no　better。　　But　if　the
majority　in　every　society　were　not　overworked　and　underfed　and　meanly
housed；　why；　then　the　minority　could　not　be　underworked　and　overfed
and　housed　luxuriously。　　But　this　is　talk　to　which　no　respectable
reader　can　be　expected　to　listen。

They　are　one　babel　of　bargaining；　these　markets。　　The　purchaser
selects　a　cauliflower。　　Fortunately；　cauliflowers　have　no　feelings；
or　probably　it　would　burst　into　tears　at　the　expression　with　which　it
is　regarded。　　It　is　impossible　that　any　lad