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第14部分(第1页)

She suffered; but he was out of doors; full in life; and it

would be ridiculous; indecent; to pull a long face and to insist

on being miserable。 He was happy; this morning; driving to town;

with the hoofs of the horse spanking the hard earth。 Well he was

happy; if half the world were weeping at the funeral of the

other half。 And it was a jolly girl sitting beside him。 And

Woman was immortal; whatever happened; whoever turned towards

death。 Let the misery e when it could not be resisted。

The evening arrived later very beautiful; with a rosy flush

hovering above the sunset; and passing away into violet and

lavender; with turquoise green north and south in the sky; and

in the east; a great; yellow moon hanging heavy and radiant。 It

was magnificent to walk between the sunset and the moon; on a

road where little holly trees thrust black into the rose and

lavender; and starlings flickered in droves across the light。

But what was the end of the journey? The pain came right enough;

later on; when his heart and his feet were heavy; his brain

dead; his life stopped。

One afternoon; the pains began; Mrs。 Brangwen was put to bed;

the midwife came。 Night fell; the shutters were closed; Brangwen

came in to tea; to the loaf and the pewter teapot; the child;

silent and quivering; playing with glass beads; the house;

empty; it seemed; or exposed to the winter night; as if it had

no walls。

Sometimes there sounded; long and remote in the house;

vibrating through everything; the moaning cry of a woman in

labour。 Brangwen; sitting downstairs; was divided。 His lower;

deeper self was with her; bound to her; suffering。 But the big

shell of his body remembered the sound of owls that used to fly

round the farmstead when he was a boy。 He was back in his youth;

a boy; haunted by the sound of the owls; waking up his brother

to speak to him。 And his mind drifted away to the birds; their

solemn; dignified faces; their flight so soft and broad…winged。

And then to the birds his brother had shot; fluffy;

dust…coloured; dead heaps of softness with faces absurdly

asleep。 It was a queer thing; a dead owl。

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