小说园

第12部分（第3页）

his　heart　seemed　under　the　millstone　of　it；　she　became　herself

like　the　upper　millstone　lying　on　him；　crushing　him；　as

sometimes　a　heavy　sky　lies　on　the　earth。

Yet　he　knew　he　could　not　tear　her　away　from　the　heavy

obscurity　into　which　she　was　merged。　He　must　not　try　to　tear　her

into　recognition　of　himself；　and　agreement　with　himself。　It　were

disastrous；　impious。　So；　let　him　rage　as　he　might；　he　must

withhold　himself。　But　his　wrists　trembled　and　seemed　mad；　seemed

as　if　they　would　burst。

When；　in　November；　the　leaves　came　beating　against　the　window

shutters；　with　a　lashing　sound；　he　started；　and　his　eyes

flickered　with　flame。　The　dog　looked　up　at　him；　he　sunk　his　head

to　the　fire。　But　his　wife　was　startled。　He　was　aware　of　her

listening。

〃They　blow　up　with　a　rattle；〃　he　said。

〃What？〃　she　asked。

〃The　leaves。〃

She　sank　away　again。　The　strange　leaves　beating　in　the　wind

on　the　wood　had　e　nearer　than　she。　The　tension　in　the　room

was　overpowering；　it　was　difficult　for　him　to　move　his　head。　He

sat　with　every　nerve；　every　vein；　every　fibre　of　muscle　in　his

body　stretched　on　a　tension。　He　felt　like　a　broken　arch　thrust

sickeningly　out　from　support。　For　her　response　was　gone；　he

thrust　at　nothing。　And　he　remained　himself；　he　saved　himself

from　crashing　down　into　nothingness；　from　being　squandered　into

fragments；　by　sheer　tension；　sheer　backward　resistance。

During　the　last　months　of　her　pregnancy；　he　went　about　in　a

surcharged；　imminent　state　that　did　not　exhaust　itself。　She　was

also　depressed；　and　sometimes　she　cried。　It　needed　so　much　life

to　begin　afresh；　after　she　had　lost　so　lavishly。　Sometimes　she

cried。　Then　he　stood　stiff；　feeling　his　heart　would　burst。　For

she　did　not　want　him；　she　did　not　want　even　to　be　made　aware　of

him。　By　the　very　puckering　of　her　face　he　knew　that　he　must

stand　back；　leave　her　intact；　alone。　For　it　was　the　old　grief

e　back　in　her；　the　old　loss；　the　pain　of　the　old　life；　the

dead　husband；　the　dead　children。　This　was　sacred　to　her；　and　he