the little white bird-第11部分

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was　one　of　the　possibilities　I　put　to　myself　while　seeking　for

the　explanation　of　things；　and　found　to　be　inadmissible。　　Having

failed　in　those　days　to　discover　why　I　was　driven　from　the

garden；　I　suppose　I　ceased　to　be　enamoured　of　myself；　as　of　some

dull　puzzle；　and　then　perhaps　the　whimsicalities　began　to　collect

unnoticed。



It　is　a　painful　thought　to　me　to…night；　that　he　could　wake　up

glorious　once；　this　man　in　the　elbow…chair　by　the　fire；　who　is

humorously　known　at　the　club　as　a　〃confirmed　spinster。〃　　I

remember　him　well　when　his　years　told　four　and　twenty；　on　my　soul

the　proudest　subaltern　of　my　acquaintance；　and　with　the　most

reason　to　be　proud。　　There　was　nothing　he　might　not　do　in　the

future；　having　already　done　the　biggest　thing；　this　toddler　up

club…steps　to…day。



Not；　indeed；　that　I　am　a　knave；　I　am　tolerably　kind；　I　believe；

and　most　inoffensive；　a　gentleman；　I　trust；　even　in　the　eyes　of

the　ladies　who　smile　at　me　as　we　converse；　they　are　an　ever…

increasing　number；　or　so　it　seems　to　me　to…night。　　Ah；　ladies；　I

forget　when　I　first　began　to　notice　that　smile　and　to　be　made

uneasy　by　it。　　I　think　I　understand　it　now；　and　in　some　vague　way

it　hurts　me。　　I　find　that　I　watch　for　it　nowadays；　but　I　hope　I

am　still　your　loyal；　obedient　servant。



You　will　scarcely　credit　it；　but　I　have　just　remembered　that　I

once　had　a　fascinating　smile　of　my　own。　　What　has　become　of　my

smile？　　I　swear　I　have　not　noticed　that　it　was　gone　till　now；　I

am　like　one　who　revisiting　his　school　feels　suddenly　for　his　old

knife。　　I　first　heard　of　my　smile　from　another　boy；　whose　sisters

had　considered　all　the　smiles　they　knew　and　placed　mine　on　top。

My　friend　was　scornful；　and　I　bribed　him　to　mention　the

plebiscite　to　no　one；　but　secretly　I　was　elated　and　amazed。　　I

feel　lost　to…　night　without　my　smiles。　　I　rose　a　moment　ago　to

look　for　it　in　my　mirror。



I　like　to　believe　that　she　has　it　now。　　I　think　she　may　have　some

other　forgotten　trifles　of　mine　with　it　that　make　the　difference

between　that　man　and　this。　　I　remember　her　speaking　of　my　smile；

telling　me　it　was　my　one　adornment；　and　taking　it　from　me；　so　to

speak；　for　a　moment　to　let　me　see　how　she　looked　in　it；　she

delighted　to　make　sport　of　me　when　she　was　in　a　wayward　mood；　and

to　show　me　all　my　ungainly　tricks　of　voice　and　gesture；

exaggerated　and　glorified　in　her　entrancing　self；　like　a　star

calling　to　the　earth：　〃See；　I　will　show　you　how　you　hobble

round；〃　and　always　there　was　a　challenge　to　me　in　her　eyes　to

stop　her　if　I　dared；　and　upon　them；　when　she　was　most　audacious；

lay　a　sweet　mist。



They　all　came　to　her　court；　as　is　the　business　of　young　fellows；

to　tell　her　what　love　is；　and　she　listened　with　a　noble

frankness；　having；　indeed；　the　friendliest　face　for　all　engaged

in　this　pursuit　that　can　ever　have　sat　on　woman。　　I　have　heard

ladies　call　her　coquette；　not　understanding　that　she　shone　softly

upon　all　who　entered　the　lists　because；　with　the　rarest

intuition；　she　foresaw　that　they　must　go　away　broken　men　and

already　sympathised　with　their　dear　wounds。　　All　wounds　incurred

for　love　were　dear　to　her；　at　every　true　utterance　about　love　she

exulted　with　grave　approval；　or　it　might　be　a　with　a　little　〃ah！〃

or　〃oh！〃　like　one　drinking　deliciously。　　Nothing　could　have　been

more　fair；　for　she　was　for　the　first　comer　who　could　hit　the

target；　which　was　her　heart。



She　adored　all　beautiful　things　in　their　every　curve　and

fragrance；　so　that　they　became　part　of　her。　　Day　by　day；　she

gathered　beauty；　had　she　had　no　heart　（she　who　was　the　bosom　of

womanhood）　her　thoughts　would　still　have　been　as　lilies；　because

the　good　is　the　beautiful。



And　they　all　forgave　her；　I　never　knew　of　one　who　did　not　forgive

her；　I　think　had　there　been　one　it　would　have　proved　that　there

was　a　flaw　in　her。　　Perhaps；　when　good…bye　came　she　was　weeping

because　all　the　pretty　things　were　said　and　done　with；　or　she　was

making　doleful　confessions　about　herself；　so　impulsive　and

generous　and　confidential；　and　so　devoid　of　humour；　that　they

compelled　even　a　tragic　swain　to　laugh。　　She　made　a　looking…glass

of　his　face　to　seek　wofully　in　it　whether　she　was　at　all　to

blame；　and　when　his　arms　went　out　for　her；　and　she　stepped　back

so　that　they　fell　empty；　she　mourned；　with　dear　sympathy；　his

lack　of　skill　to　seize　her。　　For　what　her　soft　eyes　said　was　that

she　was　always　waiting　tremulously　to　be　won。　　They　all　forgave

her；　because　there　was　nothing　to　forgive；　or　very　little；　just

the　little　that　makes　a　dear　girl　dearer；　and　often　afterward；　I

believe；　they　have　laughed　fondly　when　thinking　of　her；　like　boys

brought　back。　　You　ladies　who　are　everything　to　your　husbands

save　a　girl　from　the　dream　of　youth；　have　you　never　known　that

double…　chinned　industrious　man　laugh　suddenly　in　a　reverie　and

start　up；　as　if　he　fancied　he　were　being　hailed　from　far…away？



I　hear　her　hailing　me　now。　　She　was　so　light…hearted　that　her

laugh　is　what　comes　first　across　the　years；　so　high…spirited　that

she　would　have　wept　like　Mary　of　Scots　because　she　could　not　lie

on　the　bare　plains　like　the　men。　　I　hear　her；　but　it　is　only　as

an　echo；　I　see　her；　but　it　is　as　a　light　among　distant　trees；　and

the　middle…aged　man　can　draw　no　nearer；　she　was　only　for　the

boys。　There　was　a　month　when　I　could　have　shown　her　to　you　in　all

her　bravery；　but　then　the　veil　fell；　and　from　that　moment　I

understood　her　not。　　For　long　I　watched　her；　but　she　was　never

clear　to　me　again；　and　for　long　she　hovered　round　me；　like　a　dear

heart　willing　to　give　me　a　thousand　chances　to　regain　her　love。　

She　was　so　picturesque　that　she　was　the　last　word　of　art；　but　she

was　as　young　as　if　she　were　the　first　woman。　　The　world　must　have

rung　with　gallant　deeds　and　grown　lovely　thoughts　for　numberless

centuries　before　she　could　be；　she　was　the　child　of　all　the　brave

and　wistful　imaginings　of　men。　　She　was　as　mysterious　as　night

when　it　fell　for　the　first　time　upon　the　earth。　　She　was　the

thing　we　call　romance；　which　lives　in　the　little　hut　beyond　the

blue　haze　of　the　pine…woods。



No　one　could　have　looked　less　elfish。　　She　was　all　on　a　noble

scale；　her　attributes　were　so　generous；　her　manner　unconquerably

gracious；　her　movements　indolently　active；　her　face　so　candid

that　you　must　swear　her　every　thought　lived　always　in　the　open。

Yet；　with　it　all；　she　was　a　wild　thing；　alert；　suspicious　of　the

lasso；　nosing　it　in　every　man's　hand；　more　curious　about　it　than

about　aught　else　in　the　world；　her　quivering　delight　was　to　see

it　cast　for　her；　her　game　to　elude　it；　so　mettlesome　was　she　that

she　loved　it　to　be　cast　fair　that　she　might　escape　as　it　was

closing　round　her；　she　scorned；　however　her　heart　might　be

beating；　to　run　from　her　pursuers；　she　took　only　the　one　step

backward；　which　still　left　her　near　them　but　always　out　of　reach；

her　head　on　high　now；　but　her　face　as　friendly；　her　manner　as

gracious　as　before；　she　is　yours　for　the　catching。　　That　was　ever

the　unspoken　compact　between　her　and　the　huntsmen。



It　may　be　but　an　old　trick　come　back　to　me　with　these　memories；

but　again　I　clasp　my　hands　to　my　brows　in　amaze　at　the　thought

that　all　this　was　for　me　could　I　retain　her　love。　　For　I　won　it；

wonder　of　the　gods；　but　I　won　it。　　I　found　myself　with　one　foot

across　the　magic　circle　wherein　she　moved；　and　which　none　but　I

had　entered；　and　so；　I　think；　I　saw　her　in　revelation；　not　as　the

wild　thing　they　had　all　conceived　her；　but　as　she　really　was。　　I

saw　no　tameless　creature；　nothing　wild　or　strange。　　I　saw　my

sweet　love　placid　as　a　young　cow　browsing。　　As　I　brushed　aside

the　haze　and　she　was　truly　seen　for　the　first　time；　she　raised

her　head；　like　one　caught；　and　gazed　at　me　with　meek　affrighted

eyes。　　I　told　her　what　had　been　revealed　to　me　as　I　looked　upon

her；　and　she　trembled；　knowing　she　was　at　last　found；　and　fain

would　she　have　fled　away；　but　that　her　fear　was　less　than　her

gladness。　　She　came　to　me　slowly；　no　incomprehensible　thing　to　me

now；　but　transparent　as　a　pool；　and　so　restful　to　look　upon　that

she　was　a　bath　to　the　eyes；　like　banks　of　moss。



Because　I　knew　the　maid；　she　was　mine。　　Every　maid；　I　say；　is　for

him　who　can　know　her。　　The　others　had　but　followed　the　glamour　in

which　she　walked；　but　I　had　pierced　it　and　found　the　woman。　　I

could　anticipate　her　every　thought　and　gesture；　I　could　have

flashed　and　rippled　and　mocked　for　her；　and　melted　for　her　and

been　dear　disdain　for　her。　　She　would　forget　this　and　be　suddenly

conscious　of　it　as　she　began　to　speak；　when　she　gave　me　a　look

with　a　shy　smile　in　it　which　meant　that　she　knew　I　was　already

waiting　at　the　end　of　what　she　had　to　say。　　I　call　this　the　blush

of　the　eye。　　She　had　a　look　and　a　voice　that　were　for　me　alone；

her　very　finger…tips　were　charged　with　caresses　for　me。　　And　I

loved　even　her　naughtinesses；　as　when　she　stamped　her　foot　at　me；

which　she　could　not　do　without　also　gnashing　her　teeth；　like　a

child　trying　to　look　fearsome。　　How　pretty　was　that　gnashing　of

her　teeth！　　All　her　tormentings　of　me　turned　suddenly　into

sweetnesses；　and　who　could　torment　like　this　exquisite　fury；

wondering　in　sudden　flame　why　she　could　give　herself　to　anyone；

while　I　wondered　only　why　she　could　give　herself　to　me。　　It　may

be　that　I　wondered　over…much。　　Perhaps　that　was　why　I　lost　her。



It　was　in　the　full　of　the　moon　that　she　was　most　restive；　but　I

brought　her　back；　and　at　first　she　could　have　bit　my　hand；　but

then　she　came　willingly。　　Never；　I　thought；　shall　she　be　wholly

tamed；　but　he　who　knows　her　will　always　be　able　to　bring　her

back。



I　am　not　that　man；　for　mystery　of　mysteries；　I　lost　her。　　I　know

not　how　it　was；　though　in　the　twilight　of　my　life　that　then　began

I　groped　for　reasons　until　I　wearied　of　myself；　all　I　know　is

that　she　had　ceased　to　love　me；　I　had　won　her　love；　but　I　could

not　keep　it。　　The　discovery　came　to　me　slowly；　as