the man who was thursday-第31部分

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CHAPTER　XV

THE　ACCUSER

AS　Syme　strode　along　the　corridor　he　saw　the　Secretary　standing　at　the　top　of　a　great　flight　of　stairs。　The　man　had　never　looked　so　noble。　He　was　draped　in　a　long　robe　of　starless　black；　down　the　centre　of　which　fell　a　band　or　broad　stripe　of　pure　white；　like　a　single　shaft　of　light。　The　whole　looked　like　some　very　severe　ecclesiastical　vestment。　There　was　no　need　for　Syme　to　search　his　memory　or　the　Bible　in　order　to　remember　that　the　first　day　of　creation　marked　the　mere　creation　of　light　out　of　darkness。　The　vestment　itself　would　alone　have　suggested　the　symbol；　and　Syme　felt　also　how　perfectly　this　pattern　of　pure　white　and　black　expressed　the　soul　of　the　pale　and　austere　Secretary；　with　his　inhuman　veracity　and　his　cold　frenzy；　which　made　him　so　easily　make　war　on　the　anarchists；　and　yet　so　easily　pass　for　one　of　them。　Syme　was　scarcely　surprised　to　notice　that；　amid　all　the　ease　and　hospitality　of　their　new　surroundings；　this　man's　eyes　were　still　stern。　No　smell　of　ale　or　orchards　could　make　the　Secretary　cease　to　ask　a　reasonable　question。

If　Syme　had　been　able　to　see　himself；　he　would　have　realised　that　he；　too；　seemed　to　be　for　the　first　time　himself　and　no　one　else。　For　if　the　Secretary　stood　for　that　philosopher　who　loves　the　original　and　formless　light；　Syme　was　a　type　of　the　poet　who　seeks　always　to　make　the　light　in　special　shapes；　to　split　it　up　into　sun　and　star。　The　philosopher　may　sometimes　love　the　infinite；　the　poet　always　loves　the　finite。　For　him　the　great　moment　is　not　the　creation　of　light；　but　the　creation　of　the　sun　and　moon。

As　they　descended　the　broad　stairs　together　they　overtook　Ratcliffe；　who　was　clad　in　spring　green　like　a　huntsman；　and　the　pattern　upon　whose　garment　was　a　green　tangle　of　trees。　For　he　stood　for　that　third　day　on　which　the　earth　and　green　things　were　made；　and　his　square；　sensible　face；　with　its　not　unfriendly　cynicism；　seemed　appropriate　enough　to　it。

They　were　led　out　of　another　broad　and　low　gateway　into　a　very　large　old　English　garden；　full　of　torches　and　bonfires；　by　the　broken　light　of　which　a　vast　carnival　of　people　were　dancing　in　motley　dress。　Syme　seemed　to　see　every　shape　in　Nature　imitated　in　some　crazy　costume。　There　was　a　man　dressed　as　a　windmill　with　enormous　sails；　a　man　dressed　as　an　elephant；　a　man　dressed　as　a　balloon；　the　two　last；　together；　seemed　to　keep　the　thread　of　their　farcical　adventures。　Syme　even　saw；　with　a　queer　thrill；　one　dancer　dressed　like　an　enormous　hornbill；　with　a　beak　twice　as　big　as　himselfthe　queer　bird　which　had　fixed　itself　on　his　fancy　like　a　living　question　while　he　was　rushing　down　the　long　road　at　the　Zoological　Gardens。　There　were　a　thousand　other　such　objects；　however。　There　was　a　dancing　lamp…post；　a　dancing　apple　tree；　a　dancing　ship。　One　would　have　thought　that　the　untamable　tune　of　some　mad　musician　had　set　all　the　common　objects　of　field　and　street　dancing　an　eternal　jig。　And　long　afterwards；　when　Syme　was　middle…aged　and　at　rest；　he　could　never　see　one　of　those　particular　objectsa　lamppost；　or　an　apple　tree；　or　a　windmill　without　thinking　that　it　was　a　strayed　reveller　from　that　revel　of　masquerade。

On　one　side　of　this　lawn；　alive　with　dancers；　was　a　sort　of　green　bank；　like　the　terrace　in　such　old…fashioned　gardens。

Along　this；　in　a　kind　of　crescent；　stood　seven　great　chairs；　the　thrones　of　the　seven　days。　Gogol　and　Dr。　Bull　were　already　in　their　seats；　the　Professor　was　just　mounting　to　his。　Gogol；　or　Tuesday；　had　his　simplicity　well　symbolised　by　a　dress　designed　upon　the　division　of　the　waters；　a　dress　that　separated　upon　his　forehead　and　fell　to　his　feet；　grey　and　silver；　like　a　sheet　of　rain。　The　Professor；　whose　day　was　that　on　which　the　birds　and　fishesthe　ruder　forms　of　lifewere　created；　had　a　dress　of　dim　purple；　over　which　sprawled　goggle…eyed　fishes　and　outrageous　tropical　birds；　the　union　in　him　of　unfathomable　fancy　and　of　doubt。　Dr。　Bull；　the　last　day　of　Creation；　wore　a　coat　covered　with　heraldic　animals　in　red　and　gold；　and　on　his　crest　a　man　rampant。　He　lay　back　in　his　chair　with　a　broad　smile；　the　picture　of　an　optimist　in　his　element。

One　by　one　the　wanderers　ascended　the　bank　and　sat　in　their　strange　seats。　As　each　of　them　sat　down　a　roar　of　enthusiasm　rose　from　the　carnival；　such　as　that　with　which　crowds　receive　kings。　Cups　were　clashed　and　torches　shaken；　and　feathered　hats　flung　in　the　air。　The　men　for　whom　these　thrones　were　reserved　were　men　crowned　with　some　extraordinary　laurels。　But　the　central　chair　was　empty。

Syme　was　on　the　left　hand　of　it　and　the　Secretary　on　the　right。　The　Secretary　looked　across　the　empty　throne　at　Syme；　and　said；　compressing　his　lips

〃We　do　not　know　yet　that　he　is　not　dead　in　a　field。〃

Almost　as　Syme　heard　the　words；　he　saw　on　the　sea　of　human　faces　in　front　of　him　a　frightful　and　beautiful　alteration；　as　if　heaven　had　opened　behind　his　head。　But　Sunday　had　only　passed　silently　along　the　front　like　a　shadow；　and　had　sat　in　the　central　seat。　He　was　draped　plainly；　in　a　pure　and　terrible　white；　and　his　hair　was　like　a　silver　flame　on　his　forehead。

For　a　long　timeit　seemed　for　hoursthat　huge　masquerade　of　mankind　swayed　and　stamped　in　front　of　them　to　marching　and　exultant　music。　Every　couple　dancing　seemed　a　separate　romance；　it　might　be　a　fairy　dancing　with　a　pillar…box；　or　a　peasant　girl　dancing　with　the　moon；　but　in　each　case　it　was；　somehow；　as　absurd　as　Alice　in　Wonderland；　yet　as　grave　and　kind　as　a　love　story。　At　last；　however；　the　thick　crowd　began　to　thin　itself。　Couples　strolled　away　into　the　garden…walks；　or　began　to　drift　towards　that　end　of　the　building　where　stood　smoking；　in　huge　pots　like　fish…kettles；　some　hot　and　scented　mixtures　of　old　ale　or　wine。　Above　all　these；　upon　a　sort　of　black　framework　on　the　roof　of　the　house；　roared　in　its　iron　basket　a　gigantic　bonfire；　which　lit　up　the　land　for　miles。　It　flung　the　homely　effect　of　firelight　over　the　face　of　vast　forests　of　grey　or　brown；　and　it　seemed　to　fill　with　warmth　even　the　emptiness　of　upper　night。　Yet　this　also；　after　a　time；　was　allowed　to　grow　fainter；　the　dim　groups　gathered　more　and　more　round　the　great　cauldrons；　or　passed；　laughing　and　clattering；　into　the　inner　passages　of　that　ancient　house。　Soon　there　were　only　some　ten　loiterers　in　the　garden；　soon　only　four。　Finally　the　last　stray　merry…maker　ran　into　the　house　whooping　to　his　companions。　The　fire　faded；　and　the　slow；　strong　stars　came　out。　And　the　seven　strange　men　were　left　alone；　like　seven　stone　statues　on　their　chairs　of　stone。　Not　one　of　them　had　spoken　a　word。

They　seemed　in　no　haste　to　do　so；　but　heard　in　silence　the　hum　of　insects　and　the　distant　song　of　one　bird。　Then　Sunday　spoke；　but　so　dreamily　that　he　might　have　been　continuing　a　conversation　rather　than　beginning　one。

〃We　will　eat　and　drink　later；〃　he　said。　〃Let　us　remain　together　a　little；　we　who　have　loved　each　other　so　sadly；　and　have　fought　so　long。　I　seem　to　remember　only　centuries　of　heroic　war；　in　which　you　were　always　heroesepic　on　epic；　iliad　on　iliad；　and　you　always　brothers　in　arms。　Whether　it　was　but　recently　（for　time　is　nothing）；　or　at　the　beginning　of　the　world；　I　sent　you　out　to　war。　I　sat　in　the　darkness；　where　there　is　not　any　created　thing；　and　to　you　I　was　only　a　voice　commanding　valour　and　an　unnatural　virtue。　You　heard　the　voice　in　the　dark；　and　you　never　heard　it　again。　The　sun　in　heaven　denied　it；　the　earth　and　sky　denied　it；　all　human　wisdom　denied　it。　And　when　I　met　you　in　the　daylight　I　denied　it　myself。〃

Syme　stirred　sharply　in　his　seat；　but　otherwise　there　was　silence；　and　the　incomprehensible　went　on。

〃But　you　were　men。　You　did　not　forget　your　secret　honour；　though　the　whole　cosmos　turned　an　engine　of　torture　to　tear　it　out　of　you。　I　knew　how　near　you　were　to　hell。　I　know　how　you；　Thursday；　crossed　swords　with　King　Satan；　and　how　you；　Wednesday；　named　me　in　the　hour　without　hope。〃

There　was　complete　silence　in　the　starlit　garden；　and　then　the　black…browed　Secretary；　implacable；　turned　in　his　chair　towards　Sunday；　and　said　in　a　harsh　voice

〃Who　and　what　are　you？〃

〃I　am　the　Sabbath；〃　said　the　other　without　moving。　〃I　am　the　peace　of　God。〃

The　Secretary　started　up；　and　stood　crushing　his　costly　robe　in　his　hand。

〃I　know　what　you　mean；〃　he　cried；　〃and　it　is　exactly　that　that　I　cannot　forgive　you。　I　know　you　are　contentment；　optimism；　what　do　they　call　the　thing；　an　ultimate　reconciliation。　Well；　I　am　not　reconciled。　If　you　were　the　man　in　the　dark　room；　why　were　you　also　Sunday；　an　offense　to　the　sunlight？　If　you　were　from　the　first　our　father　and　our　friend；　why　were　you　also　our　greatest　enemy？　We　wept；　we　fled　in　terror；　the　iron　entered　into　our　soulsand　you　are　the　peace　of　God！　Oh；　I　can　forgive　God　His　anger；　though　it　destroyed　nations；　but　I　cannot　forgive　Him　His　peace。〃

Sunday　answered　not　a　word；　but　very　slowly　he　turned　his　face　of　stone　upon　Syme　as　if　asking　a　question。

〃No；〃　said　Syme；　〃I　do　not　feel　fierce　like　that。　I　am　grateful　to　you；　not　only　for　wine　and　hospitality　here；　but　for　many　a　fine　scamper　and　free　fight。　But　I　should　like　to　know。　My　soul　and　heart　are　as　happy　and　quiet　here　as　this　old　garden；　but　my　reason　is　still　crying　out。　I　should　like　to　know。〃

Sunday　looked　at　Ratcliffe；　whose　clear　voice　said

〃It　seems　so　silly　that　you　should　have　been　on　both　sides　and　fought　yourself。〃

Bull　said

〃l　understand　nothing；　but　I　am　happy。　In　fact；　I　am　going　to　sleep。〃

〃I　am　not　happy；〃　said　the　Professor　with　his　head　in　his　hands；　〃because　I　do　not　understand。　You　let　me　stray　a　little　too　near　to　hell。〃

And　then　Gogol　said；　with　the　absolute　simplicity　of　a　child

〃I　wish　I　knew　why　I　was　hurt　so　much。〃

Still　Sunday　said　nothing；　but　only　sat　with　his　mighty　chin　upon　his　hand；　and　gazed　at　the　distance。　Then　at　last　he　said

〃I　have　heard　your　complaints　in　order。　And　here；　I　think；　comes　another　to　complain；　and　we　will　hear　him　also。〃

The　falling　fire　in　the　great　cresset　threw　a　last　long　gleam；　like　a　bar　of　burning　gold；　across　the　dim　grass。　Against　this　fiery　band　was　outlined　in　utter　black　the　advancing　legs　of　a　black…clad　figure。　He　seemed　to　have　a　fine　close　suit　with　knee…breeches　such　as　that