manalive-第20节

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atrocious　because　it　was　true。　　All　their　universe　was　black　with　white　spots。

〃Smith　looked　up　with　relief　from　the　glittering　pools　below
to　the　glittering　skies　and　the　great　black　bulk　of　the　college。
The　only　light　other　than　stars　glowed　through　one　peacock…green
curtain　in　the　upper　part　of　the　building；　marking　where
Dr。　Emerson　Eames　always　worked　till　morning　and　received
his　friends　and　favourite　pupils　at　any　hour　of　the　night。
Indeed；　it　was　to　his　rooms　that　the　melancholy　Smith　was　bound。
Smith　had　been　at　Dr。　Eames's　lecture　for　the　first　half　of　the　morning；
and　at　pistol　practice　and　fencing　in　a　saloon　for　the　second　half。
He　had　been　sculling　madly　for　the　first　half　of　the　afternoon
and　thinking　idly　（and　still　more　madly）　for　the　second　half。
He　had　gone　to　a　supper　where　he　was　uproarious；　and　on　to　a　debating
club　where　he　was　perfectly　insufferable；　and　the　melancholy
Smith　was　melancholy　still。　　Then；　as　he　was　going　home　to　his
diggings　he　remembered　the　eccentricity　of　his　friend　and　master；
the　Warden　of　Brakespeare；　and　resolved　desperately　to　turn
in　to　that　gentleman's　private　house。

〃Emerson　Eames　was　an　eccentric　in　many　ways；　but　his　throne
in　philosophy　and　metaphysics　was　of　international　eminence；
the　university　could　hardly　have　afforded　to　lose　him；　and；　moreover；
a　don　has　only　to　continue　any　of　his　bad　habits　long　enough
to　make　them　a　part　of　the　British　Constitution。　　The　bad　habits
of　Emerson　Eames　were　to　sit　up　all　night　and　to　be　a　student
of　Schopenhauer。　　Personally；　he　was　a　lean；　lounging　sort　of　man；
with　a　blond　pointed　beard；　not　so　very　much　older　than　his
pupil　Smith　in　the　matter　of　mere　years；　but　older　by　centuries
in　the　two　essential　respects　of　having　a　European　reputation
and　a　bald　head。

〃‘I　came；　against　the　rules；　at　this　unearthly　hour；'　said　Smith；　who　was
nothing　to　the　eye　except　a　very　big　man　trying　to　make　himself　small；
‘because　I　am　coming　to　the　conclusion　that　existence　is　really　too　rotten。
I　know　all　the　arguments　of　the　thinkers　that　think　otherwisebishops；
and　agnostics；　and　those　sort　of　people。　　And　knowing　you　were　the　greatest
living　authority　on　the　pessimist　thinkers'

〃‘All　thinkers；'　said　Eames；　‘are　pessimist　thinkers。'

〃After　a　patch　of　pause；　not　the　firstfor　this　depressing　conversation
had　gone　on　for　some　hours　with　alternations　of　cynicism　and　silence
the　Warden　continued　with　his　air　of　weary　brilliancy：　　‘It's　all　a　question
of　wrong　calculation。　　The　most　flies　into　the　candle　because　he　doesn't
happen　to　know　that　the　game　is　not　worth　the　candle。　　The　wasp　gets
into　the　jam　in　hearty　and　hopeful　efforts　to　get　the　jam　into　him。
IN　the　same　way　the　vulgar　people　want　to　enjoy　life　just　as　they　want
to　enjoy　ginbecause　they　are　too　stupid　to　see　that　they　are　paying　too　big
a　price　for　it。　　That　they　never　find　happinessthat　they　don't　even　know
how　to　look　for　itis　proved　by　the　paralyzing　clumsiness　and　ugliness
of　everything　they　do。　　Their　discordant　colours　are　cries　of　pain。
Look　at　the　brick　villas　beyond　the　college　on　this　side　of　the　river。
There's　one　with　spotted　blinds；　look　at　it！　just　go　and　look　at　it！'

〃‘Of　course；'　he　went　on　dreamily；　‘one　or　two　men　see　the　sober
fact　a　long　way　offthey　go　mad。　　Do　you　notice　that　maniacs　mostly
try　either　to　destroy　other　things；　or　（if　they　are　thoughtful）
to　destroy　themselves？　　The　madman　is　the　man　behind　the　scenes；
like　the　man　that　wanders　about　the　coulisse　of　a　theater。
He　has　only　opened　the　wrong　door　and　come　into　the　right　place。
He　sees　things　at　the　right　angle。　　But　the　common　world'

〃‘Oh；　hang　the　common　world！'　said　the　sullen　Smith；　letting　his　fist
fall　on　the　table　in　an　idle　despair。

〃‘Let's　give　it　a　bad　name　first；'　said　the　Professor　calmly；
‘and　then　hang　it。　　A　puppy　with　hydrophobia　would　probably　struggle
for　life　while　we　killed　it；　but　if　we　were　kind　we　should　kill　it。
So　an　omniscient　god　would　put　us　out　of　our　pain。
He　would　strike　us　dead。'

〃‘Why　doesn't　he　strike　us　dead？'　asked　the　undergraduate　abstractedly；
plunging　his　hands　into　his　pockets。

〃‘He　is　dead　himself；'　said　the　philosopher；　‘that　is　where
he　is　really　enviable。'

〃‘To　any　one　who　thinks；'　proceeded　Eames；　‘the　pleasures　of　life；
trivial　and　soon　tasteless；　and　bribes　to　bring　us　into　a　torture　chamber。
We　all　see　that　for　any　thinking　man　mere　extinction　is　the。。。　What
are　you　doing？。。。　Are　you　mad？。。。　Put　that　thing　down。'

〃Dr。　Eames　had　turned　his　tired　but　still　talkative　head　over　his　shoulder；
and　had　found　himself　looking　into　a　small　round　black　hole；　rimmed　by　a
six…sided　circlet　of　steel；　with　a　sort　of　spike　standing　up　on　the　top。
It　fixed　him　like　an　iron　eye。　　Through　those　eternal　instants　during
which　the　reason　is　stunned　he　did　not　even　know　what　it　was。
Then　he　saw　behind　it　the　chambered　barrel　and　cocked　hammer　of
a　revolver；　and　behind　that　the　flushed　and　rather　heavy　face　of　Smith；
apparently　quite　unchanged；　or　even　more　mild　than　before。

〃‘I'll　help　you　out　of　your　hole；　old　man；'　said　Smith；
with　rough　tenderness。　　‘I'll　put　the　puppy　out　of　his　pain。'

〃Emerson　Eames　retreated　towards　the　window。　　‘Do　you　mean
to　kill　me？'　he　cried。

〃‘It's　not　a　thing　I'd　do　for　every　one；'　said　Smith　with　emotion；
‘but　you　and　I　seem　to　have　got　so　intimate　to…night；　somehow。
I　know　all　your　troubles　now；　and　the　only　cure；　old　chap。'

〃‘Put　that　thing　down；'　shouted　the　Warden。

〃‘It'll　soon　be　over；　you　know；'　said　Smith　with　the　air　of　a
sympathetic　dentist。　　And　as　the　Warden　made　a　run　for　the　window
and　balcony；　his　benefactor　followed　him　with　a　firm　step
and　a　compassionate　expression。

〃Both　men　were　perhaps　surprised　to　see　that　the　gray　and　white
of　early　daybreak　had　already　come。　　One　of　them；　however；
had　emotions　calculated　to　swallow　up　surprise。　　Brakespeare　College
was　one　of　the　few　that　retained　real　traces　of　Gothic　ornament；
and　just　beneath　Dr。　Eames's　balcony　there　ran　out　what　had　perhaps
been　a　flying　buttress；　still　shapelessly　shaped　into　gray　beasts
and　devils；　but　blinded　with　mosses　and　washed　out　with　rains。
With　an　ungainly　and　most　courageous　leap；　Eames　sprang　out　on　this
antique　bridge；　as　the　only　possible　mode　of　escape　from　the　maniac。
He　sat　astride　of　it；　still　in　his　academic　gown；　dangling　his
long　thin　legs；　and　considering　further　chances　of　flight。
The　whitening　daylight　opened　under　as　well　as　over　him　that
impression　of　vertical　infinity　already　remarked　about　the　little
lakes　round　Brakespeare。　　Looking　down　and　seeing　the　spires
and　chimneys　pendent　in　the　pools；　they　felt　alone　in　space。
They　felt　as　if　they　were　looking　over　the　edge　from　the　North　Pole
and　seeing　the　South　Pole　below。

〃‘Hang　the　world；　we　said；'　observed　Smith；　‘and　the　world　is　hanged。
〃He　has　hanged　the　world　upon　nothing；〃　says　the　Bible。　　Do　you　like　being
hanged　upon　nothing？　　I'm　going　to　be　hanged　upon　something　myself。
I'm　going　to　swing　for　you。。。　Dear；　tender　old　phrase；'　he　murmured；
‘never　true　till　this　moment。　　I　am　going　to　swing　for　you。
For　you；　dear　friend。　　For　your　sake。　　At　your　express　desire。'

〃‘Help！'　cried　the　Warden　of　Brakespeare　College；　‘help！'

〃‘The　puppy　struggles；'　said　the　undergraduate；　with　an　eye　of　pity；
‘the　poor　puppy　struggles。　　How　fortunate　it　is　that　I　am　wiser
and　kinder　than　he；'　and　he　sighted　his　weapon　so　as　exactly　to　cover
the　upper　part　of　Eames's　bald　head。

〃‘Smith；'　said　the　philosopher　with　a　sudden　change　to　a　sort
of　ghastly　lucidity；　‘I　shall　go　mad。'

〃‘And　so　look　at　things　from　the　right　angle；'　observed　Smith；
sighing　gently。　　‘Ah；　but　madness　is　only　a　palliative　at　best；
a　drug。　　The　only　cure　is　an　operationan　operation　that　is
always　successful：　　death。'

〃As　he　spoke　the　sun　rose。　　It　seemed　to　put　colour　into　everything；
with　the　rapidity　of　a　lightning　artist。　　A　fleet　of　little
clouds　sailing　across　the　sky　changed　from　pigeon…gray　to　pink。
All　over　the　little　academic　town　the　tops　of　different　buildings
took　on　different　tints：　　here　the　sun　would　pick　out　the　green
enameled　on　a　pinnacle；　there　the　scarlet　tiles　of　a　villa；
here　the　copper　ornament　on　some　artistic　shop；　and　there
the　sea…blue　slates　of　some　old　and　steep　church　roof。
All　these　coloured　crests　seemed　to　have　something　oddly
individual　and　significant　about　them；　like　crests　of　famous
knights　pointed　out　in　a　pageant　or　a　battlefield：　　they　each
arrested　the　eye；　especially　the　rolling　eye　of　Emerson　Eames
as　he　looked　round　on　the　morning　and　accepted　it　as　his　last。
Through　a　narrow　chink　between　a　black　timber　tavern　and　a　big
gray　college　he　could　see　a　clock　with　gilt　hands　which　the
sunshine　set　on　fire。　　He　stared　at　it　as　though　hypnotized；
and　suddenly　the　clock　began　to　strike；　as　if　in　personal　reply。
As　if　at　a　signal；　clock　after　clock　took　up　the　cry：
all　the　churches　awoke　like　chickens　at　cockcrow。
The　birds　were　already　noisy　in　the　trees　behind　the　college。
The　sun　rose；　gathering　glory　that　seemed　too　full　for　the　deep
skies　to　hold；　and　the　shallow　waters　beneath　them　seemed　golden
and　brimming　and　deep　enough　for