the new machiavelli-第26部分

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going　to　do　for　the　world？　　What　are　you　going　to　do　with　yourself？　

and　with　an　increasing　strength　and　persistence　Nature　in　spite　of　

my　averted　attention　was　asking　me　in　penetrating　undertones：　what　

are　you　going　to　do　about　this　other　fundamental　matter；　the　beauty　

of　girls　and　women　and　your　desire　for　them？



I　have　told　of　my　sisterless　youth　and　the　narrow　circumstances　of　

my　upbringing。　　It　made　all　women…kind　mysterious　to　me。　　If　it　had　

not　been　for　my　Staffordshire　cousins　I　do　not　think　I　should　have　

known　any　girls　at　all　until　I　was　twenty。　　Of　Staffordshire　I　will　

tell　a　little　later。　　But　I　can　remember　still　how　through　all　those　

ripening　years；　the　thought　of　women's　beauty；　their　magic　presence　

in　the　world　beside　me　and　the　unknown；　untried　reactions　of　their　

intercourse；　grew　upon　me　and　grew；　as　a　strange　presence　grows　in　a　

room　when　one　is　occupied　by　other　things。　　I　busied　myself　and　

pretended　to　be　wholly　occupied；　and　there　the　woman　stood；　full　

half　of　life　neglected；　and　it　seemed　to　my　averted　mind　sometimes　

that　she　was　there　clad　and　dignified　and　divine；　and　sometimes　

Aphrodite　shining　and　commanding；　and　sometimes　that　Venus　who　

stoops　and　allures。



This　travel　abroad　seemed　to　have　released　a　multitude　of　things　in　

my　mind；　the　clear　air；　the　beauty　of　the　sunshine；　the　very　blue　of　

the　glaciers　made　me　feel　my　body　and　quickened　all　those　

disregarded　dreams。　　I　saw　the　sheathed　beauty　of　women's　forms　all　

about　me；　in　the　cheerful　waitresses　at　the　inns；　in　the　pedestrians　

one　encountered　in　the　tracks；　in　the　chance　fellow　travellers　at　

the　hotel　tables。　　〃Confound　it！〃　said　I；　and　talked　all　the　more　

zealously　of　that　greater　England　that　was　calling　us。



I　remember　that　we　passed　two　Germans；　an　old　man　and　a　tall　fair　

girl；　father　and　daughter；　who　were　walking　down　from　Saas。　　　She　

came　swinging　and　shining　towards　us；　easy　and　strong。　　I　worshipped　

her　as　she　approached。



〃Gut　Tag！〃　said　Willersley；　removing　his　hat。



〃Morgen！〃　said　the　old　man；　saluting。



I　stared　stockishly　at　the　girl；　who　passed　with　an　indifferent　

face。



That　sticks　in　my　mind　as　a　picture　remains　in　a　room；　it　has　kept　

there　bright　and　fresh　as　a　thing　seen　yesterday；　for　twenty　

years。　。　。　。



I　flirted　hesitatingly　once　or　twice　with　comely　serving　girls；　and　

was　a　little　ashamed　lest　Willersley　should　detect　the　keen　interest　

I　took　in　them；　and　then　as　we　came　over　the　pass　from　Santa　Maria　

Maggiore　to　Cannobio；　my　secret　preoccupation　took　me　by　surprise　

and　flooded　me　and　broke　down　my　pretences。



The　women　in　that　valley　are　very　beautifulwomen　vary　from　valley　

to　valley　in　the　Alps　and　are　plain　and　squat　here　and　divinities　

five　miles　awayand　as　we　came　down　we　passed　a　group　of　five　or　

six　of　them　resting　by　the　wayside。　　Their　burthens　were　beside　

them；　and　one　like　Ceres　held　a　reaping　hook　in　her　brown　hand。　　She　

watched　us　approaching　and　smiled　faintly；　her　eyes　at　mine。



There　was　some　greeting；　and　two　of　them　laughed　together。



We　passed。



〃Glorious　girls　they　were；〃　said　Willersley；　and　suddenly　an　immense　

sense　of　boredom　enveloped　me。　　I　saw　myself　striding　on　down　that　

winding　road；　talking　of　politics　and　parties　and　bills　of　

parliament　and　all　sorts　of　dessicated　things。　　That　road　seemed　to　

me　to　wind　on　for　ever　down　to　dust　and　infinite　dreariness。　　I　knew　

it　for　a　way　of　death。　　Reality　was　behind　us。



Willersley　set　himself　to　draw　a　sociological　moral。　　〃I'm　not　so　

sure；〃　he　said　in　a　voice　of　intense　discriminations；　〃after　all；　

that　agricultural　work　isn't　good　for　women。〃



〃Damn　agricultural　work！〃　I　said；　and　broke　out　into　a　vigorous　

cursing　of　all　I　held　dear。　　〃Fettered　things　we　are！〃　I　cried。　　〃I　

wonder　why　I　stand　it！〃



〃Stand　what？〃



〃Why　don't　I　go　back　and　make　love　to　those　girls　and　let　the　world　

and　you　and　everything　go　hang？　　Deep　breasts　and　rounded　limbsand　

we　poor　emasculated　devils　go　tramping　by　with　the　blood　of　youth　in　

us！　。　。　。〃



〃I'm　not　quite　sure；　Remington；〃　said　Willersley；　looking　at　me　with　

a　deliberately　quaint　expression　over　his　glasses；　〃that　picturesque　

scenery　is　altogether　good　for　your　morals。〃



That　fever　was　still　in　my　blood　when　we　came　to　Locarno。







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Along　the　hot　and　dusty　lower　road　between　the　Orrido　of　Traffiume　

and　Cannobio　Willersley　had　developed　his　first　blister。　　And　partly　

because　of　that　and　partly　because　there　was　a　bag　at　the　station　

that　gave　us　the　refreshment　of　clean　linen　and　partly　because　of　

the　lazy　lower　air　into　which　we　had　come；　we　decided　upon　three　or　

four　days'　sojourn　in　the　Empress　Hotel。



We　dined　that　night　at　a　table…d'hote；　and　I　found　myself　next　to　an　

Englishwoman　who　began　a　conversation　that　was　resumed　presently　in　

the　hotel　lounge。　　She　was　a　woman　of　perhaps　thirty…three　or　

thirty…four；　slenderly　built；　with　a　warm　reddish　skin　and　very　

abundant　fair　golden　hair；　the　wife　of　a　petulant…looking　heavy…

faced　man　of　perhaps　fifty…three；　who　smoked　a　cigar　and　dozed　over　

his　coffee　and　presently　went　to　bed。　　〃He　always　goes　to　bed　like　

that；〃　she　confided　startlingly。　　〃He　sleeps　after　all　his　meals。　　I　

never　knew　such　a　man　to　sleep。〃



Then　she　returned　to　our　talk；　whatever　it　was。



We　had　begun　at　the　dinner　table　with　itineraries　and　the　usual　

topographical　talk；　and　she　had　envied　our　pedestrian　travel。　　〃My　

husband　doesn't　walk；〃　she　said。　　〃His　heart　is　weak　and　he　cannot　

manage　the　hills。〃



There　was　something　friendly　and　adventurous　in　her　manner；　she　

conveyed　she　liked　me；　and　when　presently　Willersley　drifted　off　to　

write　letters　our　talk　sank　at　once　to　easy　confidential　undertones。　　

I　felt　enterprising；　and　indeed　it　is　easy　to　be　daring　with　people　

one　has　never　seen　before　and　may　never　see　again。　　I　said　I　loved　

beautiful　scenery　and　all　beautiful　things；　and　the　pointing　note　in　

my　voice　made　her　laugh。　　She　told　me　I　had　bold　eyes；　and　so　far　as　

I　can　remember　I　said　she　made　them　bold。　　〃Blue　they　are；〃　she　

remarked；　smiling　archly。　　〃I　like　blue　eyes。〃　　Then　I　think　we　

compared　ages；　and　she　said　she　was　the　Woman　of　Thirty；　〃George　

Moore's　Woman　of　Thirty。〃



I　had　not　read　George　Moore　at　the　time；　but　I　pretended　to　

understand。



That；　I　think；　was　our　limit　that　evening。　　She　went　to　bed；　smiling　

good…night　quite　prettily　down　the　big　staircase；　and　I　and　

Willersley　went　out　to　smoke　in　the　garden。　　My　head　was　full　of　

her；　and　I　found　it　necessary　to　talk　about　her。　　So　I　made　her　a　

problem　in　sociology。　　〃Who　the　deuce　are　these　people？〃　I　said；　and　

how　do　they　get　a　living？　　They　seem　to　have　plenty　of　money。　　He　

strikes　me　as　beingWillersley；　what　is　a　drysalter？　　I　think　he's　

a　retired　drysalter。〃



Willersley　theorised　while　I　thought　of　the　woman　and　that　

provocative　quality　of　dash　she　had　displayed。　　The　next　day　at　

lunch　she　and　I　met　like　old　friends。　　A　huge　mass　of　private　

thinking　during　the　interval　had　been　added　to　our　effect　upon　one　

another。　　We　talked　for　a　time　of　insignificant　things。



〃What　do　you　do；〃　she　asked　rather　quickly；　〃after　lunch？　　Take　a　

siesta？〃



〃Sometimes；〃　I　said；　and　hung　for　a　moment　eye　to　eye。



We　hadn't　a　doubt　of　each　other；　but　my　heart　was　beating　like　a　

steamer　propeller　when　it　lifts　out　of　the　water。



〃Do　you　get　a　view　from　your　room？〃　she　asked　after　a　pause。



〃It's　on　the　third　floor；　Number　seventeen；　near　the　staircase。　　My　

friend's　next　door。〃



She　began　to　talk　of　books。　　She　was　interested　in　Christian　

Science；　she　said；　and　spoke　of　a　book。　　I　forget　altogether　what　

that　book　was　called；　though　I　remember　to　this　day　with　the　utmost　

exactness　the　purplish　magenta　of　its　cover。　　She　said　she　would　

lend　it　to　me　and　hesitated。



Wlllersley　wanted　to　go　for　an　expedition　across　the　lake　that　

afternoon；　but　I　refused。　　He　made　some　other　proposals　that　I　

rejected　abruptly。　　〃　I　shall　write　in　my　room；〃　I　said。



〃Why　not　write　down　here？〃



〃I　shall　write　in　my　room；〃　I　snarled　like　a　thwarted　animal；　and　he　

looked　at　me　curiously。　　〃Very　well；〃　he　said；　〃then　I'll　make　some　

notes　and　think　about　that　order　of　ours　out　under　the　magnolias。〃



I　hovered　about　the　lounge　for　a　time　buying　postcards　and　

feverishly　restless；　watching　the　movements　of　the　other　people。　　

Finally　I　went　up　to　my　room　and　sat　down　by　the　windows；　staring　

out。　　There　came　a　little　tap　at　the　unlocked　door　and　in　an　

instant；　like　the　go　of　a　taut　bowstring；　I　was　up　and　had　it　open。



〃Here　is　that　book；〃　she　said；　and　we　hesitated。



〃COME　IN！〃　I　whispered；　trembling　from　head　to　foot。



〃You're　just　a　boy；〃　she　said　in　a　low　tone。



I　did　not　feel　a　bit　like　a　lover；　I　felt　like　a　burglar　with　the　

safe…door　nearly　opened。　　〃Come　in；〃　I　said　almost　impatiently；　for　

anyone　might　be　in　the　passage；　and　I　gripped　her　wrist　and　drew　her　

towards　me。



〃What　do　you　mean？〃　she　answered　with　a　faint　smile　on　her　lips；　and　

awkward　and　yielding。



I　shut　the　door　behind　her；　still　holding　her　with　one　hand；　then　

turned　upon　hershe　was　laughing　nervouslyand　without　a　word　drew　

her　to　me　and　kissed　her。　　And　I　remember　that　as　I　kissed　her　she　

made　a　little　noise　almost　like　the　purring　miaow　with　which　a　cat　

will　greet　one　and　her　face；　close　to　mine；　became　solemn　and　

tender。



She　was　suddenly　a　different　being　from　the　discontented　wife　who　

had　tapped　a　moment　since　on　my　door；　a　woman　transfigured。　。　。　。



That　evening　I　came　down　to　dinner　a　monster　of　pride；　for　behold！　I　

was　a　man。　　I　felt　myself　the　most　wonderful　and　unprecedented　of　

adventurers。　　It　was　hard　to　believe　that　any　one　in　the　world　

before　had　done　as　much。　　My　mistress