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Предыдущая страница

I

fill

my

glass

again

.

I

drink

.

The

veil

drops

between

us

.

I

am

admitted

to

the

warmth

and

privacy

of

another

soul

.

We

are

together

,

high

up

,

on

some

Alpine

pass

.

He

stands

melancholy

on

the

crest

of

the

road

.

I

stoop

.

I

pick

a

blue

flower

and

fix

it

,

standing

on

tiptoe

to

reach

him

,

in

his

coat

.

There

!

That

is

my

moment

of

ecstasy

.

Now

it

is

over

.

'N

ow

slackness

and

indifference

invade

us

.

Other

people

brush

past

.

We

have

lost

consciousness

of

our

bodies

uniting

under

the

table

.

I

also

like

fair-haired

men

with

blue

eyes

.

The

door

opens

.

The

door

goes

on

opening

.

Now

I

think

,

next

time

it

opens

the

whole

of

my

life

will

be

changed

.

Who

comes

?

But

it

is

only

a

servant

,

bringing

glasses

.

That

is

an

old

man

--

I

should

be

a

child

with

him

.

That

is

a

great

lady

--

with

her

I

should

dissemble

.

There

are

girls

of

my

own

age

,

for

whom

I

feel

the

drawn

swords

of

an

honourable

antagonism

.

For

these

are

my

peers

.

I

am

a

native

of

this

world

.

Here

is

my

risk

,

here

is

my

adventure

.

The

door

opens

.

O

come

,

I

say

to

this

one

,

rippling

gold

from

head

to

heels

.

"

Come

,

"

and

he

comes

towards

me

.

'

'

I

shall

edge

behind

them

,

'

said

Rhoda

,

'

as

if

I

saw

someone

I

know

.

But

I

know

no

one

.

I

shall

twitch

the

curtain

and

look

at

the

moon

.

Draughts

of

oblivion

shall

quench

my

agitation

.

The

door

opens

;

the

tiger

leaps

.

The

door

opens

;

terror

rushes

in

;

terror

upon

terror

,

pursuing

me

.

Let

me

visit

furtively

the

treasures

I

have

laid

apart

.

Pools

lie

on

the

other

side

of

the

world

reflecting

marble

columns

.

The

swallow

dips

her

wing

in

dark

pools

.

But

here

the

door

opens

and

people

come

;

they

come

towards

me

.

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Throwing

faint

smiles

to

mask

their

cruelty

,

their

indifference

,

they

seize

me

.

The

swallow

dips

her

wings

;

the

moon

rides

through

the

blue

seas

alone

.

I

must

take

his

hand

;

I

must

answer

.

But

what

answer

shall

I

give

?

I

am

thrust

back

to

stand

burning

in

this

clumsy

,

this

ill-fitting

body

,

to

receive

the

shafts

of

his

indifference

and

his

scorn

,

I

who

long

for

marble

columns

and

pools

on

the

other

side

of

the

world

where

the

swallow

dips

her

wings

.

'N

ight

has

wheeled

a

little

further

over

the

chimney-pots

.

I

see

out

of

the

window

over

his

shoulder

some

unembarrassed

cat

,

not

drowned

in

light

,

not

trapped

in

silk

,

free

to

pause

,

to

stretch

,

and

to

move

again

.

I

hate

all

details

of

the

individual

life

.

But

I

am

fixed

here

to

listen

.

An

immense

pressure

is

on

me

.

I

can

not

move

without

dislodging

the

weight

of

centuries

.

A

million

arrows

pierce

me

.

Scorn

and

ridicule

pierce

me

.

I

,

who

could

beat

my

breast

against

the

storm

and

let

the

hail

choke

me

joyfully

,

am

pinned

down

here

;

am

exposed

.

The

tiger

leaps

.

Tongues

with

their

whips

are

upon

me

.

Mobile

,

incessant

,

they

flicker

over

me

.

I

must

prevaricate

and

fence

them

off

with

lies

.

What

amulet

is

there

against

this

disaster

?

What

face

can

I

summon

to

lay

cool

upon

this

heat

?

I

think

of

names

on

boxes

;

of

mothers

from

whose

wide

knees

skirts

descend

;

of

glades

where

the

many-backed

steep

hills

come

down

.

Hide

me

,

I

cry

,

protect

me

,

for

I

am

the

youngest

,

the

most

naked

of

you

all

.

Jinny

rides

like

a

gull

on

the

wave

,

dealing

her

looks

adroitly

here

and

there

,

saying

this

,

saying

that

,

with

truth

.

But

I

lie

;

I

prevaricate

.

'

Alone

,

I

rock

my

basins

;

I

am

mistress

of

my

fleet

of

ships

.

But

here

,

twisting

the

tassels

of

this

brocaded

curtain

in

my

hostess

's

window

,

I

am

broken

into

separate

pieces

;

I

am

no

longer

one

.

What

then

is

the

knowledge

that

Jinny

has

as

she

dances

;

the

assurance

that

Susan

has

as

,

stooping

quietly

beneath

the

lamplight

,

she

draws

the

white

cotton

through

the

eye

of

her

needle

?

They

say

,

Yes

;

they

say

,

No

;

they

bring

their

fists

down

with

a

bang

on

the

table

.

But

I

doubt

;

I

tremble

;

I

see

the

wild

thorn

tree

shake

its

shadow

in

the

desert

.

'N

ow

I

will

walk

,

as

if

I

had

an

end

in

view

,

across

the

room

,

to

the

balcony

under

the

awning

.

I

see

the

sky

,

softly

feathered

with

its

sudden

effulgence

of

moon

.

I

also

see

the

railings

of

the

square

,

and

two

people

without

faces

,

leaning

like

statues

against

the

sky

.

There

is

,

then

,

a

world

immune

from

change

.

When

I

have

passed

through

this

drawing-room

flickering

with

tongues

that

cut

me

like

knives

,

making

me

stammer

,

making

me

lie

,

I

find

faces

rid

of

features

,

robed

in

beauty

.

The

lovers

crouch

under

the

plane

tree

.

The

policeman

stands

sentinel

at

the

corner

.

A

man

passes

.

There

is

,

then

,

a

world

immune

from

change

.

But

I

am

not

composed

enough

,

standing

on

tiptoe

on

the

verge

of

fire

,

still

scorched

by

the

hot

breath

,

afraid

of

the

door

opening

and

the

leap

of

the

tiger

,

to

make

even

one

sentence

.

What

I

say

is

perpetually

contradicted

.

Each

time

the

door

opens

I

am

interrupted

.

I

am

not

yet

twenty-one

.

I

am

to

be

broken

.

I

am

to

be

derided

all

my

life

.

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I

am

to

be

cast

up

and

down

among

these

men

and

women

,

with

their

twitching

faces

,

with

their

lying

tongues

,

like

a

cork

on

a

rough

sea

.

Like

a

ribbon

of

weed

I

am

flung

far

every

time

the

door

opens

.

I

am

the

foam

that

sweeps

and

fills

the

uttermost

rims

of

the

rocks

with

whiteness

;

I

am

also

a

girl

,

here

in

this

room

.

'

The

sun

,

risen

,

no

longer

couched

on

a

green

mattress

darting

a

fitful

glance

through

watery

jewels

,

bared

its

face

and

looked

straight

over

the

waves

.

They

fell

with

a

regular

thud

.

They

fell

with

the

concussion

of

horses

'

hooves

on

the

turf

.

Their

spray

rose

like

the

tossing

of

lances

and

assegais

over

the

riders

'

heads

.

They

swept

the

beach

with

steel

blue

and

diamond-tipped

water

.

They

drew

in

and

out

with

the

energy

,

the

muscularity

,

of

an

engine

which

sweeps

its

force

out

and

in

again

.

The

sun

fell

on

cornfields

and

woods

,

rivers

became

blue

and

many-plaited

,

lawns

that

sloped

down

to

the

water

's

edge

became

green

as

birds

'

feathers

softly

ruffling

their

plumes

.

The

hills

,

curved

and

controlled

,

seemed

bound

back

by

thongs

,

as

a

limb

is

laced

by

muscles

;

and

the

woods

which

bristled

proudly

on

their

flanks

were

like

the

curt

,

clipped

mane

on

the

neck

of

a

horse

.

In

the

garden

where

the

trees

stood

,

thick

over

flowerbeds

,

ponds

,

and

greenhouses

the

birds

sang

in

the

hot

sunshine

,

each

alone

.

One

sang

under

the

bedroom

window

;

another

on

the

topmost

twig

of

the

lilac

bush

;

another

on

the

edge

of

the

wall

.

Each

sang

stridently

,

with

passion

,

with

vehemence

,

as

if

to

let

the

song

burst

out

of

it

,

no

matter

if

it

shattered

the

song

of

another

bird

with

harsh

discord

.

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