their silver wedding journey v3-第13章

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he　was　a　little　too　self…conscious　to　be　very　up　and　down　about　Burnamy。〃

〃Then　you　think　he　was　really　serious　about　her？〃

〃Now　my　dear！　　He　was　so　serious　that　I　suppose　he　was　never　so
completely　taken　aback　in　his　life　as　when　he　met　Kenby　in　Wurzburg　and
saw　how　she　received　him。　　Of　course；　that　put　an　end　to　the　fight。〃

〃The　fight？〃

〃Yesthat　Mrs。　Adding　and　Agatha　were　keeping　up　to　prevent　his　offering
himself。〃

〃Oh！　And　how　do　you　know　that　they　were　keeping　up　the　fight　together？〃

〃How　do　I？　　Didn't　you　see　yourself　what　friends　they　were？　　Did　you　tell
him　what　Stoller　had；　said　about　Burnamy？〃

〃I　had　no　chance。　　I　don't　know　that　I　should　have　done　it；　anyway。　　It
wasn't　my　affair。〃

〃Well；　then；　I　think　you　might。　　It　would　have　been　everything　for　that
poor　child；　it　would　have　completely　justified　her　in　her　own　eyes。〃

〃Perhaps　your　telling　her　will　serve　the　same　purpose。〃

〃Yes；　I　did　tell　her；　and　I　am　glad　of　it。　　She　had　a　right　to　know　it。〃

〃Did　she　think　Stoller's　willingness　to　overlook　Burnamy's　performance
had　anything　to　do　with　its　moral　quality？〃

Mrs。　March　was　daunted　for　the　moment；　but　she　said；　〃I　told　her　you
thought　that　if　a　person　owned　to　a　fault　they　disowned　it；　and　put　it
away　from　them　just　as　if　it　had　never　been　committed；　and　that　if　a
person　had　taken　their　punishment　for　a　wrong　they　had　done；　they　had
expiated　it　so　far　as　anybody　else　was　concerned。　　And　hasn't　poor
Burnamy　done　both？〃

As　a　moralist　March　was　flattered　to　be　hoist　with　his　own　petard；　but　as
a　husband　he　was　not　going　to　come　down　at　once。　　〃I　thought　probably　you
had　told　her　that。　　You　had　it　pat　from　having　just　been　over　it　with　me。
When　has　she　heard　from　him？〃

〃Why；　that's　the　strangest　thing　about　it。　　She　hasn't　heard　at　all。　　She
doesn't　know　where　he　is。　　She　thought　we　must　know。　　She　was　terribly
broken　up。〃

〃How　did　she　show　it？〃

〃She　didn't　show　it。　　Either　you　want　to　tease；　or　you've　forgotten　how
such　things　are　with　young　peopleor　at　least　girls。〃

〃Yes；　it's　all　a　long　time　ago　with　me；　and　I　never　was　a　girl。　　Besides；
the　frank　and　direct　behavior　of　Kenby　and　Mrs。　Adding　has　been　very
obliterating　to　my　early　impressions　of　love…making。〃

〃It　certainly　hasn't　been　ideal；〃　said　Mrs。　March　with　a　sigh。

〃Why　hasn't　it　been　ideal？〃　he　asked。　　〃Kenby　is　tremendously　in　love
with　her；　and　I　believe　she's　had　a　fancy　for　him　from　the　beginning。
If　it　hadn't　been　for　Rose　she　would　have　accepted　him　at　once；　and　now
he's　essential　to　them　both　in　their　helplessness。　　As　for　Papa　Triscoe
and　his　Europeanized　scruples；　if　they　have　any　reality　at　all　they're
the　residuum　of　his　personal　resentment；　and　Kenby　and　Mrs。　Adding　have
nothing　to　do　with　their　unreality。　　His　being　in　love　with　her　is　no
reason　why　he　shouldn't　be　helpful　to　her　when　she　needs　him；　and　every
reason　why　he　should。　　I　call　it　a　poem；　such　as　very　few　people　have　the
luck　to　live　out　together。〃

Mrs。　March　listened　with　mounting　fervor；　and　when　he　stopped；　she　cried
out；　〃Well；　my　dear；　I　do　believe　you　are　right！　　It　is　ideal；　as　you
say；　it's　a　perfect　poem。　　And　I　shall　always　say〃

She　stopped　at　the　mocking　light　which　she　caught　in　his　look；　and
perceived　that　he　had　been　amusing　himself　with　her　perennial　enthusiasm
for　all　sorts　of　love…affairs。　　But　she　averred　that　she　did　not　care；
what　he　had　said　was　true；　and　she　should　always　hold　him　to　it。

They　were　again　in　the　wedding…journey　sentiment　in　which　they　had　left
Carlsbad；　when　they　found　themselves　alone　together　after　their　escape
from　the　pressure　of　others'　interests。　　The　tide　of　travel　was　towards
Frankfort；　where　the　grand　parade　was　to　take　place　some　days　later。
They　were　going　to　Weimar；　which　was　so　few　hours　out　of　their　way　that
they　simply　must　not　miss　it；　and　all　the　way　to　the　old　literary　capital
they　were　alone　in　their　compartment；　with　not　even　a　stranger；　much　less
a　friend　to　molest　them。　　The　flying　landscape　without　was　of　their　own
early　autumnal　mood；　and　when　the　vineyards　of　Wurzburg　ceased　to　purple
it；　the　heavy　after…math　of　hay　and　clover；　which　men；　women；　and
children　were　loading　on　heavy　wains；　and　driving　from　the　meadows
everywhere；　offered　a　pastoral　and　pleasing　change。　　It　was　always　the
German　landscape；　sometimes　flat　and　fertile；　sometimes　hilly　and　poor；
often　clothed　with　dense　woods；　but　always　charming；　with　castled　tops　in
ruin　or　repair；　and　with　levels　where　Gothic　villages　drowsed　within
their　walls；　and　dreamed　of　the　mediaeval　past；　silent；　without　apparent
life；　except　for　some　little　goose…girl　driving　her　flock　before　her　as
she　sallied　out　into　the　nineteenth　century　in　search　of　fresh　pasturage。

As　their　train　mounted　among　the　Thuringian　uplands　they　were　aware　of　a
finer；　cooler　air　through　their　open　window。　　The　torrents　foamed　white
out　of　the　black　forests　of　fir　and　pine；　and　brawled　along　the　valleys；
where　the　hamlets　roused　themselves　in　momentary　curiosity　as　the　train
roared　into　them　from　the　many　tunnels。　　The　afternoon　sunshine　had　the
glister　of　mountain　sunshine　everywhere；　and　the　travellers　had　a
pleasant　bewilderment　in　which　their　memories　of　Switzerland　and　the
White　Mountains　mixed　with　long…dormant　emotions　from　Adirondack
sojourns。　　They　chose　this　place　and　that　in　the　lovely　region　where　they
lamented　that　they　had　not　come　at　once　for　the　after…cure；　and　they
appointed　enough　returns　to　it　in　future　years　to　consume　all　the　summers
they　had　left　to　live。



LIX。

It　was　falling　night　when　they　reached　Weimar；　where　they　found　at　the
station　a　provision　of　omnibuses　far　beyond　the　hotel　accommodations。
They　drove　first　to　the　Crown…Prince；　which　was　in　a　promising　state　of
reparation；　but　which　for　the　present　could　only　welcome　them　to　an
apartment　where　a　canvas　curtain　cut　them　off　from　a　freshly　plastered
wall。　　The　landlord　deplored　the　fact；　and　sent　hospitably　out　to　try　and
place　them　at　the　Elephant。　　But　the　Elephant　was　full；　and　the　Russian
Court　was　full　too。　　Then　the　landlord　of　the　Crown…Prince　bethought
himself　of　a　new　hotel；　of　the　second　class；　indeed；　but　very　nice；　where
they　might　get　rooms；　and　after　the　delay　of　an　hour；　they　got　a　carriage
and　drove　away　from　the　Crown…Prince；　where　the　landlord　continued　to　the
last　as　benevolent　as　if　they　had　been　a　profit　instead　of　a　loss　to　him。

The　streets　of　the　town　at　nine　o'clock　were　empty　and　quiet；　and　they
instantly　felt　the　academic　quality　of　the　place。　　Through　the　pale　night
they　could　see　that　the　architecture　was　of　the　classic　sentiment　which
they　were　destined　to　feel　more　and　more；　at　one　point　they　caught　a
fleeting　glimpse　of　two　figures　with　clasped　hands　and　half　embraced；
which　they　knew　for　the　statues　of　Goethe　and　Schiller；　and　when　they
mounted　to　their　rooms　at　the　Grand…Duke　of　Saxe…Weimar；　they　passed
under　a　fresco　representing　Goethe　and　four　other　world…famous　poets；
Shakspere；　Milton；　Tasso；　and　Schiller。　　The　poets　all　looked　like
Germans；　as　was　just；　and　Goethe　was　naturally　chief　among　them；　he
marshalled　the　immortals　on　their　way；　and　Schiller　brought　up　the　rear
and　kept　them　from　going　astray　in　an　Elysium　where　they　did　not　speak
the　language。　　For　the　rest；　the　hotel　was　brand…new；　of　a　quite　American
freshness；　and　was　pervaded　by　a　sweet　smell　as　of　straw　matting；　and
provided　with　steam…radiators。　　In　the　sense　of　its　homelikeness　the
Marches　boasted　that　they　were　never　going　away　from　it。

In　the　morning　they　discovered　that　their　windows　looked　out　on　the
grand…ducal　museum；　with　a　gardened　space　before　and　below　its
classicistic　bulk；　where；　in　a　whim　of　the　weather；　the　gay　flowers　were
full　of　sun。　　In　a　pleasant　illusion　of　taking　it　unawares；　March
strolled　up　through　the　town；　but　Weimar　was　as　much　awake　at　that　hour
as　at　any　of　the　twenty…four；　and　the　tranquillity　of　its　streets；　where
he　encountered　a　few　passers　several　blocks　apart；　was　their　habitual
mood。　　He　came　promptly　upon　two　objects　which　he　would　willingly　have
shunned：　a　'denkmal'　of　the　Franco…German　war；　not　so　furiously　bad　as
most　German　monuments；　but　antipathetic　and　uninteresting；　as　all
patriotic　monuments　are；　and　a　woman…and…dog　team。　　In　the　shock　from
this　he　was　sensible　that　he　had　not　seen　any　woman…and…dog　teams　for
some　time；　and　he　wondered　by　what　civic　or　ethnic　influences　their
distribution　was　so　controlled　that　they　should　have　abounded　in　Hamburg；
Leipsic；　and　Carlsbad；　and　wholly　ceased　in　Nuremberg；　Ansbach；　and
Wurzburg；　to　reappear　again　in　Weimar；　though　they　seemed　as
characteristic　of　all　Germany　as　the　ugly　denkmals　to　her　victories　over
France。

The　Goethe　and　Schiller　monument　which　he　had　glimpsed　the　night　before
was　characteristic　too；　but　less　offensively　so。　　German　statues　at　the
best　are　conscious；　and　the　poet…pair；　as　the　inscription　calls　them；
have　the　air　of　showily　confronting　posterity　with　their　clasped　hands；
and　of　being　only　partially　rapt　from　the　spectators。　　But　they　were　more
unconscious　than　any　other　German　statues　that　March　had　seen；　and　he
quelled　a　desire　to　ask　Goethe；　as　he　stood　with　his　hand　on　Schiller's
shoulder；　and　looked　serenely　into　space　far　above　one　of　the　typical
equipages　of　his　country；　what　he　thought　of　that　sort　of　thing。　　But
upon　reflection　he　did　not　know　why　Goethe　should　be　held　personally
responsible　for　the　existence　of　the　woman…and…dog　team。　　He　felt　that　he
might　more　reasonably　attribute　to　his　taste　the　prevalence　of　classic
profiles　which　he　began　to　note　in　the　Weimar　populace。　　This　could　be　a
sympathetic　effect　of　that　passion　for　the　antique　which　the　poet　brought
back　with　him　from　his　sojourn　in　Italy；　though　many　of　the　people；
especially　the　children；　were　bow…legged。　　Perhaps　the　antique　had：　begun
in　their　faces；　and　had　not　yet　got　down　to　their　legs；　in　any　case　they
were　charming　children；　and　as　a　test　of　their　culture；　he　had　a　mind　to
ask　a　little　girl　if　she　could　tell　him　where　the　statue　of　Herder　was；
which　he　thought　he　might　as　well　take　in　on　his　ramble；　and　so　be　done
with　as　many　statues　as　he　could。　　She　answered　with　a　pretty　regret　in
her　tender　voice；　〃That　I　truly　cannot；〃　and　he　was　more　satisfied　than
if　she　could；　for　he　thought　it　better　to　be　a　child　and　honest；　than　to
know　where　any　German　statue　was。

He　easily　found　it　for　himself　in　the　place　which　is　called　the　Herder
Platz　after　it。　　He　went　into　the　Peter　and　Paul　Church　there；　where
Herder　used　to　preach　sermons；　sometimes　not　at　all　liked　by　the　nobility
and　gentry　for　their　revolutionary　tendency；　the　sovereign　was　shielded
from　the　worst　effects　of　his　doctrine　by　worshipping　apart　from　other
sinners　in　a　glazed　gallery。　　Herder　is　buried　in　the　church；　and　when
you　ask　where；　the　sacristan　lifts　a　wooden　trap…door　in　the　pavement；
and　you　think　you　are　going　down　into　the　crypt；　but　you　are　only　to　see
Herder's　monumental　stone；　which　is　kept　covered　so　to　save　it　from
passing　feet。　　Here　also　is　the　greatest　picture　of　that　great　soul　Luke
Kranach；　who　had　sincerity　enough　in　his　paining　to　atone　for　all　th