the turmoil-第25部分

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it　was　the　Princess　Bedrulbudour　who　had　brought　him　to　the　　enchanted　cave；

and　thatfor　Bibbswas　what　made　its　magic　　dazing。　　It　seemed　to　him　a

long；　long　time　since　he　had　been　walking　　home　drearily　from　Dr。　Gurney's

office；　it　seemed　to　him　that　he　had　　set　out　upon　a　happy　journey　since　then；

and　that　he　had　reached　　another　planet；　where　Mary　Vertrees　and　he　sat　alone

together　listening　　to　a　vast　choiring　of　invisible　soldiers　and　holy　angels。

There　were　　armies　of　voices　about　them　singing　praise　and　thanksgiving；　and

yet　　they　were　alone。　　It　was　incredible　that　the　walls　of　the　church　were

not　the　boundaries　of　the　universe；　to　remain　so　for　ever；　incredible　　that

there　was　a　smoky　street　just　yonder；　where　housemaids　were　　bringing　in

evening　papers　from　front　steps　and　where　children　were　　taking　their　last

spins　on　roller…skates　before　being　haled　indoors　for　　dinner。



He　had　a　curious　sense　of　communication　with　his　new　friend。　　He　knew　it

could　not　be　so；　and　yet　he　felt　as　if　all　the　time　he　spoke　to　her；　　saying：

〃You　hear　this　strain？　　You　hear　that　strain？　　You　know　the　dream　　that　these

sounds　bring　to　me？〃　　And　it　seemed　to　him　as　though　she　　answered

continually：　〃I　hear！　　I　hear　that　strain；　and　I　hear　the　new　　one　that　you

are　hearing　now。　　I　know　the　dream　that　these　sounds　bring　　to　you。　　Yes；　yes；

I　hear　it　all！　　We　heartogether！〃



And　though　the　church　grew　so　dim　that　all　was　mysterious　shadow　except　　the

vague　planes　of　the　windows　and　the　organist's　light；　with　the　white　　head

moving　beneath　it；　Bibbs　had　no　consciousness　that　the　girl　sitting　　beside

him　had　grown　shadowy；　he　seemed　to　see　her　as　plainly　as　ever　in　　the

darkness；　though　he　did　not　look　at　her。　　And　all　the　mighty　chanting　　of　the

organ's　multitudinous　voices　that　afternoon　seemed　to　Bibbs　to　be　　chorusing

of　her　and　interpreting　her；　singing　her　thoughts　and　singing　　for　him　the

world　of　humble　gratitude　that　was　in　his　heart　because　she　　was　so　kind　to

him。　　It　all　meant　Mary。





But　when　she　asked　him　what　it　meant；on　their　homeward　way；　he　was　　silent。

They　had　come　a　few　paces　from　the　church　without　speaking；　　walking　slowly。



〃I'll　tell　you　what　it　meant　to　me；〃　she　said；　as　he　did　not　immediately

reply。　　〃Almost　any　music　of　Handel's　always　means　one　thing　above　all　　others

to　me：　courage！　　That's　it。　　It　makes　cowardice　of　whining　seem　so

infinitesimalit　makes　MOST　things　in　our　hustling　little　lives　seem

infinitesimal。〃



〃Yes；〃　he　said。　　〃It　seems　odd；　doesn't　it；　that　people　down…town　are

hurrying　to　trains　and　hanging　to　straps　in　trolley…cars；　weltering　every　　way

to　get　home　and　feed　and　sleep　so　they　can　get　down…town　to…morrow。　　　And　yet

there　isn't　anything　down　there　worth　getting　to。　　They're　like　　servants

drudging　to　keep　the　house　going；　and　believing　the　drudgery　　itself　is　the

great　thing。　　They　make　so　much　noise　and　fuss　and　dirt　　they　forget　that　the

house　was　meant　to　live　in。　　The　housework　has　to　be　　done；　but　the　people　who

do　it　have　been　so　overpaid　that　they're　　confused　and　worship　the　housework。

They're　overpaid；　and　yet；　poor　　things！　they　haven't　anything　that　a　chicken

can't　have。　　Of　course；　when　　the　world　gets　to　paying　its　wages　sensibly　that

will　be　different。〃



〃Do　you　mean　'communism'？〃　she　asked；　and　she　made　their　slow　pace　a　　little

slowerthey　had　only　three　blocks　to　go。



〃Whatever　the　word　is；　I　only　mean　that　things　don't　look　very　sensible

nowespecially　to　a　man　that　wants　to　keep　out　of　'em　and　can't！

'Communism'？　　Well；　at　least　any　'decent　sport'　would　say　it's　fair　for　　all

the　strong　runners　to　start　from　the　same　mark　and　give　the　weak　ones　　a　fair

distance　ahead；　so　that　all　can　run　something　like　even　on　the　　stretch。　　And

wouldn't　it　be　pleasant；　really；　if　they　could　all　cross　　the　winning…line

together？　　Who　really　enjoys　beating　anybodyif　he　　sees　the　beaten　man's

face？　　The　only　way　we　can　enjoy　getting　ahead　of　　other　people　nowadays　is　by

forgetting　what　the　other　people　feel。　　And　　that；〃　he　added；　〃is　nothing　of

what　the　music　meant　to　me。　　You　see；　if　　I　keep　talking　about　what　it　didn't

mean　I　can　keep　from　telling　you　what　　it　did　mean。〃



〃Didn't　it　mean　courage　to　you；　tooa　little？〃　she　asked。　　〃Triumph　　and

praise　were　in　it；　and　somehow　those　things　mean　courage　to　me。〃



〃Yes；　they　were　all　there；〃　Bibbs　said。　　〃I　don't　know　the　name　of　what　　he

played；　but　I　shouldn't　think　it　would　matter　much。　　The　man　that　　makes　the

music　must　leave　it　to　you　what　it　can　mean　to　you；　and　the　　name　he　puts　to

it　can't　make　much　differenceexcept　to　himself　and　　people　very　much　like

him；　I　suppose。〃



〃I　suppose　that's　true；　though　I'd　never　thought　of　it　like　that。〃



〃I　image　music　must　make　feelings　and　paint　pictures　in　the　minds　of　the

people　who　hear　it；〃　Bibbs　went　on；　musingly；　〃according　to　their　own　　natures

as　much　as　according　to　the　music　itself。　　The　musician　might　　compose

something　and　play　it；　wanting　you　to　think　of　the　Holy　Grail；　　and　some

people　who　heard　it　would　think　of　a　prayer…meeting；　and　some　　would　think　of

how　good　they　were　themselves；　and　a　boy　might　think　of　　himself　at　the　head

of　a　solemn　procession；　carrying　a　banner　and　riding　　a　white　horse。　　And

then；　if　there　were　some　jubilant　passages　in　the　　music；　he'd　think　of　a

circus。〃



They　had　reached　her　gate；　and　she　set　her　hand　upon　it；　but　did　not　open　　it。

Bibbs　felt　that　this　was　almost　the　kindest　of　her　kindnessesnot　　to　be

prompt　in　leaving　him。



〃After　all；〃　she　said；　〃you　didn't　tell　me　whether　you　liked　it。〃



〃No。　　I　didn't　need　to。〃



〃No；　that's　true；　and　I　didn't　need　to　ask。　　I　knew。　　But　you　said　you　　were

trying　to　keep　from　telling　me　what　it　did　mean。〃



〃I　can't　keep　from　telling　it　any　longer；〃　he　said。　　〃The　music　meant　to

meit　meant　the　kindness　ofof　you。〃



〃Kindness？　　How？〃



〃You　thought　I　was　a　sort　of　lonely　trampand　sick〃



〃No；〃　she　said；　decidedly。　　〃I　thought　perhaps　you'd　like　to　hear　Dr。　　Kraft

play。　　And　you　did。〃



〃It's　curious；　sometimes　it　seemed　to　me　that　it　was　you　who　were　playing。〃



Mary　laughed。　　〃I？　　I　strum！　　Piano。　　A　little　ChopinGrieg　Chaminade。　　You

wouldn't　listen！〃



Bibbs　drew　a　deep　breath。　　〃I'm　frightened　again；〃　he　said；　in　an　　unsteady

voice。　　〃I'm　afraid　you'll　think　I'm　pushing；　but〃　　He　　paused；　and　the

words　sank　to　a　murmur。



〃Oh；　if　you　want　ME　to　play　for　you！〃　she　said。　　〃Yes；　gladly。　　It　will　　be

merely　absurd　after　what　you　heard　this　afternoon。　　I　play　like　a　　hundred

thousand　other　girls；　and　I　like　it。　　I'm　glad　when　any　one's　　willing　to

listen；　and　if　you〃　　She　stopped；　checked　by　a　sudden　　recollection；　and

laughed　ruefully。　　〃But　my　piano　won't　be　here　after　　to…night。　　II'm

sending　it　away　to…morrow。　　I'm　afraid　that　if　you'd　　like　me　to　play　to　you

you'd　have　to　come　this　evening。〃



〃You'll　let　me？〃　he　cried。



〃Certainly；　if　you　care　to。〃



〃If　I　could　play〃　he　said；　wistfully；　〃if　I　could　play　like　that　old　　man　in

the　church　I　could　thank　you。〃



〃Ah；　but　you　haven't　heard　me　play。　　I　KNOW　you　liked　this　afternoon；　but〃



〃Yes；〃　said　Bibbs。　　〃It　was　the　greatest　happiness　I've　ever　known。〃



It　was　too　dark　to　see　his　face；　but　his　voice　held　such　plain　honesty；　　and

he　spoke　with　such　complete　unconsciousness　of　saying　anything　　especially

significant；　that　she　knew　it　was　the　truth。　　For　a　moment　she　　was

nonplussed；　then　she　opened　the　gate　and　went　in。　　〃You'll　come　after　　dinner；

then？〃



〃Yes；〃　he　said；　not　moving。　　〃Would　you　mind　if　I　stood　here　until　time　　to

come　in？〃



She　had　reached　the　steps；　and　at　that　she　turned；　offering　him　the　　response

of　laughter　and　a　gay　gesture　of　her　muff　toward　the　lighted　　windows　of　the

New　House；　as　though　bidding　him　to　run　home　to　his　dinner。



That　night；　Bibbs　sat　writing　in　his　note…book。



Music　can　come　into　a　blank　life；　and　fill　it。　　Everything　that　is　　beautiful

is　music；　if　you　can　listen。



There　is　no　gracefulness　like　that　of　a　graceful　woman　at　a　grand　piano。

There　is　a　swimming　loveliness　of　line　that　seems　to　merge　with　the　　running

of　the　sound；　and　you　seem；　as　you　watch　her；　to　see　what　you　are　　hearing　and

to　hear　what　you　are　seeing。



There　are　women　who　make　you　think　of　pine　woods　coming　down　to　a　　sparkling

sea。　　The　air　about　such　a　woman　is　bracing；　and　when　she　is　　near　you；　you

feel　strong　and　ambitious；　you　forget　that　the　world　　doesn't　like　you。　　You

think　that　perhaps　you　are　a　great　fellow；　after　　all。　　Then　you　come　away　and

feel　like　a　boy　who　has　fallen　in　love　with　　his　Sunday…school　teacher。

You'll　be　whipped　for　itand　ought　to　be。



There　are　women　who　make　you　think　of　Diana；　crowned　with　the　moon。　　But　　they

do　not　have　the　〃Greek　profile。〃　　I　do　not　believe　Helen　of　Troy　had　　a　〃Greek

profile〃；　they　would　not　have　fought　about　her　if　her　nose　had　　been　quite

that　long。　　The　Greek　nose　is　not　the　adorable　nose。　　The　　adorable　nose　is

about　an　eighth　of　an　inch　shorter。



Much　of　the　music　of　Wagner；　it　appears；　is　not　suitable　to　the　piano。

Wagner　was　a　composer　who　could　interpret　into　music　such　things　as　the

primitive　impulses　of　humanityhe　could　have　made　a　machine…shop　into　　music。

But　not　if　he　had　to　work　in　it。　　Wagner　was　always　dealing　in　　immensitiesa

machine…shop　would　have　put　a　majestic　lump　in　so　grand　　a　gizzard　as　that。



There　is　a　mystery　about　pianos；　it　seems。　　Sometimes　they　have　to　be　　〃sent

away。〃　　That　is　how　some　people　speak　of　the　penitentiary。　　〃Sent　　away〃　is　a

euphuism　for　〃sent　to　prison。〃　　But　pianos　are　not　sent　to　　prison；　and　they

are　not　sent　to　the　tunerthe　tuner　is　sent　to　them。　　　Why　are　pianos　〃sent

away〃and　where？



Sometimes　a　glorious　day　shines　into　the　most　ordinary　and　useless　life。

Happiness　and　beauty　come　caroling　out　of　the　air　into　the　gloomy　house　　of