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第53部分(第2页)

a feast of sweetmeats and toys! Why did not the grown…ups also

change their everyday hearts; and give way to ecstasy? Where was

the ecstasy?

How passionately the Brangwens craved for it; the ecstasy。

The father was troubled; dark…faced and disconsolate; on

Christmas night; because the passion was not there; because the

day was bee as every day; and hearts were not aflame。 Upon

the mother was a kind of absentness; as ever; as if she were

exiled for all her life。 Where was the fiery heart of joy; now

the ing was fulfilled; where was the star; the Magis

transport; the thrill of new being that shook the earth?

Still it was there; even if it were faint and inadequate。 The

cycle of creation still wheeled in the Church year。 After

Christmas; the ecstasy slowly sank and changed。 Sunday followed

Sunday; trailing a fine movement; a finely developed

transformation over the heart of the family。 The heart that was

big with joy; that had seen the star and had followed to the

inner walls of the Nativity; that there had swooned in the great

light; must now feel the light slowly withdrawing; a shadow

falling; darkening。 The chill crept in; silence came over the

earth; and then all was darkness。 The veil of the temple was

rent; each heart gave up the ghost; and sank dead。

They moved quietly; a little wanness on the lips of the

children; at Good Friday; feeling the shadow upon their hearts。

Then; pale with a deathly scent; came the lilies of

resurrection; that shone coldly till the forter was

given。

But why the memory of the wounds and the death? Surely Christ

rose with healed hands and feet; sound and strong and glad?

Surely the passage of the cross and the tomb was forgotten? But

no……always the memory of the wounds; always the smell of

grave…clothes? A small thing was Resurrection; pared with the

Cross and the death; in this cycle。

So the children lived the year of christianity; the epic of

the soul of mankind。 Year by year the inner; unknown drama went

on in them; their hearts were born and came to fulness; suffered

on the cross; gave up the ghost; and rose again to unnumbered

days; untired; having at least this rhythm of eternity in a

ragged; inconsequential life。

But it was being a mechanical action now; this drama:

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