the research magnificent-第69部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


　and　the　alternative　was　for　me　to　give　myself　to　her　in　the　ancient　way；　to　serve　her　happiness；　to　control　her　and　delight　and　companion　her；　or　to　let　her　go。　〃The　normal　woman　centres　upon　herself；　her　mission　is　her　own　charm　and　her　own　beauty　and　her　own　setting；　her　place　is　her　home。　　She　demands　the　concentration　of　a　man。　　Not　to　be　able　to　command　that　is　her　failure。　　Not　to　give　her　that　is　to　shame　her。　　As　I　had　shamed　Amanda。　。　。　。〃

22

〃There　are　no　such　women。〃　　He　had　written　this　in　and　struck　it　out；　and　then　at　some　later　time　written　it　in　again。　　There　it　stayed　now　as　his　last　persuasion；　but　it　set　White　thinking　and　doubting。　　And；　indeed；　there　was　another　sheet　of　pencilled　broken　stuff　that　seemed　to　glance　at　quite　another　type　of　womanhood。

23

〃It　is　clear　that　the　women　aristocrats　who　must　come　to　the　remaking　of　the　world　will　do　so　in　spite　of　limitations　at　least　as　great　as　those　from　which　the　aristocratic　spirit　of　man　escapes。　These　women　must　become　aristocratic　through　their　own　innate　impulse；　they　must　be　self…called　to　their　lives；　exactly　as　men　must　be；　there　is　no　making　an　aristocrat　without　a　predisposition　for　rule　and　nobility。　　And　they　have　to　discover　and　struggle　against　just　exactly　the　limitations　that　we　have　to　struggle　against。　　They　have　to　conquer　not　only　fear　but　indulgence；　indulgence　of　a　softer；　more　insidious　quality；　and　jealousy　proprietorship。　。　。　。　〃It　is　as　natural　to　want　a　mate　as　to　want　bread；　and　a　thousand　times　in　my　work　and　in　my　wanderings　I　have　thought　of　a　mate　and　desired　a　mate。　　A　matenot　a　possession。　　It　is　a　need　almost　naively　simple。　　If　only　one　could　have　a　woman　who　thought　of　one　and　with　one！　　Though　she　were　on　the　other　side　of　the　world　and　busied　about　a　thousand　things。　。　。　。　〃‘WITH　one；'　I　see　it　must　be　rather　than　‘OF　one。'　　That　‘of　one'　is　just　the　unexpurgated　egotistical　demand　coming　back　again。　。　。　。　〃Man　is　a　mating　creature。　　It　is　not　good　to　be　alone。　　But　mating　means　a　mate。　。　。　。　〃We　should　be　lovers；　of　course；　that　goes　without　saying。　。　。　。　〃And　yet　not　specialized　lovers；　not　devoted；　ATTENDING　lovers。　‘Dancing　attendance'as　they　used　to　say。　　We　should　meet　upon　our　ways　as　the　great　carnivores　do。　。　。　。　〃That　at　any　rate　was　a　sound　idea。　　Though　we　only　played　with　it。　〃But　that　mate　desire　is　just　a　longing　that　can　have　no　possible　satisfaction　now　for　me。　　What　is　the　good　of　dreaming？　　Life　and　chance　have　played　a　trick　upon　my　body　and　soul。　　I　am　mated；　though　I　am　mated　to　a　phantom。　　I　loved　and　I　love　Arnanda；　not　Easton's　Amanda；　but　Amanda　in　armour；　the　Amanda　of　my　dreams。　Sense；　and　particularly　the　sense　of　beauty；　lies　deeper　than　reason　in　us。　　There　can　be　no　mate　for　me　now　unless　she　comes　with　Amanda's　voice　and　Amanda's　face　and　Amanda's　quick　movements　and　her　clever　hands。　。　。　。〃

24

〃Why　am　I　so　ungrateful　to　her　still　for　all　the　happiness　she　gave　me？　〃There　were　things　between　us　two　as　lovers；love；　things　more　beautiful　than　anything　else　in　the　world；　things　that　set　the　mind　hunting　among　ineffectual　images　in　a　search　for　impossible　expression；　images　of　sunlight　shining　through　blood…red　petals；　images　of　moonlight　in　a　scented　garden；　of　marble　gleaming　in　the　shade；　of　far…off　wonderful　music　heard　at　dusk　in　a　great　stillness；　of　fairies　dancing　softly；　of　floating　happiness　and　stirring　delights；　of　joys　as　keen　and　sudden　as　the　knife　of　an　assassin；　assassin's　knives　made　out　of　tears；　tears　that　are　happiness；　wordless　things；　and　surprises；　expectations；　gratitudes；　sudden　moments　of　contemplation；　the　sight　of　a　soft　eyelid　closed　in　sleep；　shadowy　tones　in　the　sound　of　a　voice　heard　unexpectedly；　sweet；　dear　magical　things　that　I　can　find　no　words　for。　。　。　。　〃If　she　was　a　goddess　to　me；　should　it　be　any　affair　of　mine　that　she　was　not　a　goddess　to　herself；　that　she　could　hold　all　this　that　has　been　between　us　more　cheaply　than　I　did？　　It　does　not　change　one　jot　of　it　for　me。　　At　the　time　she　did　not　hold　it　cheaply。　　She　forgets　where　I　do　not　forget。　。　。　。〃

25

Such　were　the　things　that　Benham　could　think　and　set　down。　Yet　for　whole　days　he　was　possessed　by　the　thought　of　killing　Amanda　and　himself。　He　did　not　at　once　turn　homeward。　　It　was　in　Ceylon　that　he　dropped　his　work　and　came　home。　　At　Colombo　he　found　a　heap　of　letters　awaiting　him；　and　there　were　two　of　these　that　had　started　at　the　same　time。　　They　had　been　posted　in　London　on　one　eventful　afternoon。　　Lady　Marayne　and　Amanda　had　quarrelled　violently。　　Two　earnest；　flushed；　quick…breathing　women；　full　of　neat　but　belated　repartee；　separated　to　write　their　simultaneous　letters。　　Each　letter　trailed　the　atmosphere　of　that　truncated　encounter。　　Lady　Marayne　told　her　story　ruthlessly。　　Amanda；　on　the　other　hand；　generalized；　and　explained。　　Sir　Philip's　adoration　of　her　was　a　love…friendship；　it　was　beautiful；　it　was　pure。　　Was　there　no　trust　nor　courage　in　the　world？　　She　would　defy　all　jealous　scandal。　　She　would　not　even　banish　him　from　her　side。　　Surely　the　Cheetah　could　trust　her。　　But　the　pitiless　facts　of　Lady　Marayne　went　beyond　Amanda's　explaining。　　The　little　lady's　dignity　had　been　stricken。　〃I　have　been　used　as　a　cloak；〃　she　wrote。　Her　phrases　were　vivid。　　She　quoted　the　very　words　of　Amanda；　words　she　had　overheard　at　Chexington　in　the　twilight。　　They　were　no　invention。　　They　were　the　very　essence　of　Amanda；　the　lover。　　It　was　as　sure　as　if　Benham　had　heard　the　sound　of　her　voice；　as　if　he　had　peeped　and　seen；　as　if　she　had　crept　by　him；　stooping　and　rustling　softly。　　It　brought　back　the　living　sense　of　her；　excited；　flushed；　reckless；　his　wild…haired　Amanda　of　infinite　delight。　。　。　。　　All　day　those　words　of　hers　pursued　him。　　All　night　they　flared　across　the　black　universe。　　He　buried　his　face　in　the　pillows　and　they　whispered　softly　in　his　ear。　He　walked　his　room　in　the　darkness　longing　to　smash　and　tear。　He　went　out　from　the　house　and　shook　his　ineffectual　fists　at　the　stirring　quiet　of　the　stars。　He　sent　no　notice　of　his　coming　back。　　Nor　did　he　come　back　with　a　definite　plan。　　But　he　wanted　to　get　at　Amanda。

26

It　was　with　Amanda　he　had　to　reckon。　　Towards　Easton　he　felt　scarcely　any　anger　at　all。　　Easton　he　felt　only　existed　for　him　because　Amanda　willed　to　have　it　so。　Such　anger　as　Easton　did　arouse　in　him　was　a　contemptuous　anger。　His　devotion　filled　Benham　with　scorn。　　His　determination　to　serve　Amanda　at　any　price；　to　bear　the　grossest　humiliations　and　slights　for　her；　his　humility；　his　service　and　tenderness；　his　care　for　her　moods　and　happiness；　seemed　to　Benham　a　treachery　to　human　nobility。　That　rage　against　Easton　was　like　the　rage　of　a　trade…unionist　against　a　blackleg。　　Are　all　the　women　to　fall　to　the　men　who　will　be　their　master…slaves　and　keepers？　　But　it　was　not　simply　that　Benham　felt　men　must　be　freed　from　this　incessant　attendance；　women　too　must　free　themselves　from　their　almost　instinctive　demand　for　an　attendant。　。　。　。　His　innate　disposition　was　to　treat　women　as　responsible　beings。　Never　in　his　life　had　he　thought　of　a　woman　as　a　pretty　thing　to　be　fooled　and　won　and　competed　for　and　fought　over。　　So　that　it　was　Amanda　he　wanted　to