winesburg,ohio-第27节
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and her voice trembled with earnestness。 She took hold of George Willard's shoulders and turned him about so that she could look into his eyes。 A passer…by might have thought them about to embrace。 〃If you are to become a writer you'll have to stop fooling with words;〃 she explained。 〃It would be better to give up the notion of writing until you are better prepared。 Now it's time to be living。 I don't want to frighten you; but I would like to make you understand the import of what you think of attempting。 You must not become a mere peddler of words。 The thing to learn is to know what people are thinking about; not what they say。〃
On the evening before that stormy Thursday night when the Reverend Curtis Hartman sat in the bell tower of the church waiting to look at her body; young Willard had gone to visit the teacher and to borrow a book。 It was then the thing happened that confused and puzzled the boy。 He had the book under his arm and was preparing to depart。 Again Kate Swift talked with great earnestness。 Night was coming on and the light in the room grew dim。 As he turned to go she spoke his name softly and with an impulsive movement took hold of his hand。 Be… cause the reporter was rapidly becoming a man something of his man's appeal; combined with the winsomeness of the boy; stirred the heart of the lonely woman。 A passionate desire to have him un… derstand the import of life; to learn to interpret it truly and honestly; swept over her。 Leaning for… ward; her lips brushed his cheek。 At the same mo… ment he for the first time became aware of the marked beauty of her features。 They were both em… barrassed; and to relieve her feeling she became harsh and domineering。 〃What's the use? It will be ten years before you begin to understand what I mean when I talk to you;〃 she cried passionately。
On the night of the storm and while the minister sat in the church waiting for her; Kate Swift went to the office of the Winesburg Eagle; intending to have another talk with the boy。 After the long walk in the snow she was cold; lonely; and tired。 As she came through Main Street she saw the fight from the printshop window shining on the snow and on an impulse opened the door and went in。 For an hour she sat by the stove in the office talking of life。 She talked with passionate earnestness。 The impulse that had driven her out into the snow poured itself out into talk。 She became inspired as she sometimes did in the presence of the children in school。 A great eagerness to open the door of life to the boy; who had been her pupil and who she thought might pos… sess a talent for the understanding of life; had pos… session of her。 So strong was her passion that it became something physical。 Again her hands took hold of his shoulders and she turned him about。 In the dim light her eyes blazed。 She arose and laughed; not sharply as was customary with her; but in a queer; hesitating way。 〃I must be going;〃 she said。 〃In a moment; if I stay; I'll be wanting to kiss you。〃
In the newspaper office a confusion arose。 Kate Swift turned and walked to the door。 She was a teacher but she was also a woman。 As she looked at George Willard; the passionate desire to be loved by a man; that had a thousand times before swept like a storm over her body; took possession of her。 In the lamplight George Willard looked no longer a boy; but a man ready to play the part of a man。
The school teacher let George Willard take her into his arms。 In the warm little office the air became suddenly heavy and the strength went out of her body。 Leaning against a low counter by the door she waited。 When he came and put a hand on her shoul… der she turned and let her body fall heavily against him。 For George Willard the confusion was immedi… ately increased。 For a moment he held the body of the woman tightly against his body and then it stiff… ened。 Two sharp little fists began to beat on his face。 When the school teacher had run away and left him alone; he walked up and down the office swearing furiously。
It was into this confusion that the Reverend Curtis Hartman protruded himself。 When he came in George Willard thought the town had gone mad。 Shaking a bleeding fist in the air; the minister pro… claimed the woman George had only a moment be… fore held in his arms an instrument of God bearing a message of truth。
George blew out the lamp by the window and locking the door of the printshop went home。 Through the hotel office; past Hop Higgins lost in his dream of the raising of ferrets; he went and up into his own room。 The fire in the stove had gone out and he undressed in the cold。 When he got into bed the sheets were like blankets of dry snow。
George Willard rolled about in the bed on which had lain in the afternoon hugging the pillow and thinking thoughts of Kate Swift。 The words of the minister; who he thought had gone suddenly in… sane; rang in his ears。 His eyes stared about the room。 The resentment; natural to the baffled male; passed and he tried to understand what had hap… pened。 He could not make it out。 Over and over he turned the matter in his mind。 Hours passed and he began to think it must be time for another day to come。 At four o'clock he pulled the covers up about his neck and tried to sleep。 When he became drowsy and closed his eyes; he raised a hand and with it groped about in the darkness。 〃I have missed some… thing。 I have missed something Kate Swift was try… ing to tell me;〃 he muttered sleepily。 Then he slept and in all Winesburg he was the last soul on that winter night to go to sleep。
LONELINESS
HE WAS THE son of Mrs。 Al Robinson who once owned a farm on a side road leading off Trunion Pike; east of Winesburg and two miles beyond the town limits。 The farmhouse was painted brown and the blinds to all of the windows facing the road were kept closed。 In the road before the house a flock of chickens; accompanied by two guinea hens; lay in the deep dust。 Enoch lived in the house with his mother in those days and when he was a young boy went to school at the Winesburg High School。 Old citizens remembered him as a quiet; smiling youth inclined to silence。 He walked in the middle of the road when he came into town and sometimes read a book。 Drivers of teams had to shout and swear to make him realize where he was so that he would turn out of the beaten track and let them pass。
When he was twenty…one years old Enoch went to New York City and was a city man for fifteen years。 He studied French and went to an art school; hoping to develop a faculty he had for drawing。 In his own mind he planned to go to Paris and to finish his art education among the masters there; but that never turned out。
Nothing ever turned out for Enoch Robinson。 He could draw well enough and he had many odd deli… cate thoughts hidden away in his brain that might have expressed themselves through the brush of a painter; but he was always a child and that was a handicap to his worldly development。 He never grew up and of course he couldn't understand peo… ple and he couldn't make people understand him。 The child in him kept bumping against things; against actualities like money and sex and opinions。 Once he was hit by a street car and thrown against an iron post。 That made him lame。 It was one of the many things that kept things from turning out for Enoch Robinson
In New York City; when he first went there to live and before he became confused and disconcerted by the facts of life; Enoch went about a good deal with young men。 He got into a group of other young artists; both men and women; and in the evenings they sometimes came to visit him in his room。 Once he got drunk and was taken to a police station where a police magistrate frightened him horribly; and once he tried to have an affair with a woman of the town met on the sidewalk before his lodging house。 The woman and Enoch walked together three blocks and then the young man grew afraid and ran away。 The woman had been drinking and the incident amused her。 She leaned against the wall of a building and laughed so heartily that another man stopped and laughed with her。 The two went away together; still laughing; and Enoch crept off to his room trembling and vexed。
The room in which young Robinson lived in New York faced Washington Square and was long and narrow like a hallway。 It is important to get that fixed in your mind。 The story of Enoch is in fact the story of a room almost more than it is the story of a man。
And so into the room in the evening came young Enoch's friends。 There was nothing particularly striking about them except that they were artists of the kind that talk。 Everyone knows of the talking artists。 Throughout all of the known history of the world they have gathered in rooms and talked。 They talk of art and are passionately; almost feverishly; in earnest about it。 They think it matters much more than it does。
And so these people gathered and smoked ciga… rettes and talked and Enoch Robinson; the boy from the farm near Winesburg; was there。 He stayed in a corner and for the most part said nothing。 How his big blue childlike eyes stared about! On the walls were pictures he had made; crude things; half fin…