小说园

第81部分（第4页）

Here；　within　the　great；　whispering　sea…shell；　that　whispered

all　the　while　with　reminiscence　of　all　the　centuries；　time　faded

away；　and　the　echo　of　knowledge　filled　the　timeless　silence。

She　listened；　she　scribbled　her　notes　with　joy；　almost　with

ecstasy；　never　for　a　moment　criticizing　what　she　heard。　The

lecturer　was　a　mouth…piece；　a　priest。　As　he　stood；　black…gowned；

on　the　rostrum；　some　strands　of　the　whispering　confusion　of

knowledge　that　filled　the　whole　place　seemed　to　be　singled　out

and　woven　together　by　him；　till　they　became　a　lecture。

At　first；　she　preserved　herself　from　criticism。　She　would　not

consider　the　professors　as　men；　ordinary　men　who　ate　bacon；　and

pulled　on　their　boots　before　ing　to　college。　They　were　the

black…gowned　priests　of　knowledge；　serving　for　ever　in　a　remote；

hushed　temple。　They　were　the　initiated；　and　the　beginning　and

the　end　of　the　mystery　was　in　their　keeping。

Curious　joy　she　had　of　the　lectures。　It　was　a　joy　to　hear　the

theory　of　education；　there　was　such　freedom　and　pleasure　in

ranging　over　the　very　stuff　of　knowledge；　and　seeing　how　it

moved　and　lived　and　had　its　being。　How　happy　Racine　made　her！

She　did　not　know　why。　But　as　the　big　lines　of　the　drama　unfolded

themselves；　so　steady；　so　measured；　she　felt　a　thrill　as　of

being　in　the　realm　of　the　reality。　Of　Latin；　she　was　doing　Livy

and　Horace。　The　curious；　intimate；　gossiping　tone　of　the　Latin

class　suited　Horace。　Yet　she　never　cared　for　him；　nor　even　Livy。

There　was　an　entire　lack　of　sternness　in　the　gossipy　class…room。

She　tried　hard　to　keep　her　old　grasp　of　the　Roman　spirit。　But

gradually　the　Latin　became　mere　gossip…stuff　and　artificiality

to　her；　a　question　of　manners　and　verbosities。

Her　terror　was　the　mathematics　class。　The　lecturer　went　so

fast；　her　heart　beat　excitedly；　she　seemed　to　be　straining　every

nerve。　And　she　struggled　hard；　during　private　study；　to　get　the

stuff　into　control。

Then　came　the　lovely；　peaceful　afternoons　in　the　botany

laboratory。　There　were　few　students。　How　she　loved　to　sit　on　her

high　stool　before　the　bench；　with　her　pith　and　her　razor　and　her

material；　carefully　mounting　her　slides；　carefully　bringing　her

microscope　into　focus；　then　turning　with　joy　to　record　her

observation；　drawing　joyfully　in　her　book；　if　the　slide　were

good。

She　soon　made　a　college　friend；　a　girl　who　had　lived　in