fraternity-第1章

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Fraternity

by　John　Galsworthy






CHAPTER　I

THE　SHADOW

In　the　afternoon　of　the　last　day　of　April；　190…；　a　billowy　sea　of　little　broken　clouds　crowned　the　thin　air　above　High　Street；　Kensington。　　This　soft　tumult　of　vapours；　covering　nearly　all　the　firmament；　was　in　onslaught　round　a　patch　of　blue　sky；　shaped　somewhat　like　a　star；　which　still　gleameda　single　gentian　flower　amongst　innumerable　grass。　　Each　of　these　small　clouds　seemed　fitted　with　a　pair　of　unseen　wings；　and；　as　insects　flight　on　their　too　constant　journeys；　they　were　setting　forth　all　ways　round　this　starry　blossom　which　burned　so　clear　with　the　colour　of　its　far　fixity。　　On　one　side　they　were　massed　in　fleecy　congeries；　so　crowding　each　other　that　no　edge　or　outline　was　preserved；　on　the　other；　higher；　stronger；　emergent　from　their　fellow…clouds；　they　seemed　leading　the　attack　on　that　surviving　gleam　of　the　ineffable。　　Infinite　was　the　variety　of　those　million　separate　vapours；　infinite　the　unchanging　unity　of　that　fixed　blue　star。

Down　in　the　street　beneath　this　eternal　warring　of　the　various　soft…　winged　clouds　on　the　unmisted　ether；　men；　women；　children；　and　their　familiarshorses；　dogs；　and　catswere　pursuing　their　occupations　with　the　sweet　zest　of　the　Spring。　　They　streamed　along；　and　the　noise　of　their　frequenting　rose　in　an　unbroken　roar：　〃I；　I…I；　I！〃

The　crowd　was　perhaps　thickest　outside　the　premises　of　Messrs。　Rose　and　Thorn。　　Every　kind　of　being；　from　the　highest　to　the　lowest；　passed　in　front　of　the　hundred　doors　of　this　establishment；　and　before　the　costume　window　a　rather　tall；　slight；　graceful　woman　stood　thinking：　〃It　really　is　gentian　blue！　　But　I　don't　know　whether　I　ought　to　buy　it；　with　all　this　distress　about！〃

Her　eyes；　which　were　greenish…grey；　and　often　ironical　lest　they　should　reveal　her　soul；　seemed　probing　a　blue　gown　displayed　in　that　window；　to　the　very　heart　of　its　desirability。

〃And　suppose　Stephen　doesn't　like　me　in　it！〃　　This　doubt　set　her　gloved　fingers　pleating　the　bosom　of　her　frock。　　Into　that　little　pleat　she　folded　the　essence　of　herself；　the　wish　to　have　and　the　fear　of　having；　the　wish　to　be　and　the　fear　of　being；　and　her　veil；　falling　from　the　edge　of　her　hat；　three　inches　from　her　face；　shrouded　with　its　tissue　her　half…decided　little　features；　her　rather　too　high　cheek…bones；　her　cheeks　which　were　slightly　hollowed；　as　though　Time　had　kissed　them　just　too　much。

The　old　man；　with　a　long　face；　eyes　rimmed　like　a　parrot's；　and　discoloured　nose；　who；　so　long　as　he　did　not　sit　down；　was　permitted　to　frequent　the　pavement　just　there　and　sell　the　'Westminster　Gazette'；　marked　her；　and　took　his　empty　pipe　out　of　his　mouth。

It　was　his　business　to　know　all　the　passers…by；　and　his　pleasure　too；　his　mind　was　thus　distracted　from　the　condition　of　his　feet。　　He　knew　this　particular　lady　with　the　delicate　face；　and　found　her　puzzling；　she　sometimes　bought　the　paper　which　Fate　condemned　him；　against　his　politics；　to　sell。　　The　Tory　journals　were　undoubtedly　those　which　her　class　of　person　ought　to　purchase。　　He　knew　a　lady　when　he　saw　one。　　In　fact；　before　Life　threw　him　into　the　streets；　by　giving　him　a　disease　in　curing　which　his　savings　had　disappeared；　he　had　been　a　butler；　and　for　the　gentry　had　a　respect　as　incurable　as　was　his　distrust　of　〃all　that　class　of　people〃　who　bought　their　things　at　〃these　'ere　large　establishments；〃　and　attended　〃these　'ere　subscription　dances　at　the　Town　'All　over　there。〃　　He　watched　her　with　special　interest；　not；　indeed；　attempting　to　attract　attention；　though　conscious　in　every　fibre　that　he　had　only　sold　five　copies　of　his　early　issues。　　And　he　was　sorry　and　surprised　when　she　passed　from　his　sight　through　one　of　the　hundred　doors。

The　thought　which　spurred　her　into　Messrs。　Rose　and　Thorn's　was　this：　〃I　am　thirty…eight；　I　have　a　daughter　of　seventeen。　　I　cannot　afford　to　lose　my　husband's　admiration。　　The　time　is　on　me　when　I　really　must　make　myself　look　nice！〃

Before　a　long　mirror；　in　whose　bright　pool　there　yearly　bathed　hundreds　of　women's　bodies；　divested　of　skirts　and　bodices；　whose　unruffled　surface　reflected　daily　a　dozen　women's　souls　divested　of　everything；　her　eyes　became　as　bright　as　steel；　but　having　ascertained　the　need　of　taking　two　inches　off　the　chest　of　the　gentian　frock；　one　off　its　waist；　three　off　its　hips；　and　of　adding　one　to　its　skirt；　they　clouded　again　with　doubt；　as　though　prepared　to　fly　from　the　decision　she　had　come　to。　　Resuming　her　bodice；　she　asked：

〃When　could　you　let　me　have　it？〃

〃At　the　end　of　the　week；　madam。〃

〃Not　till　then？〃

〃We　are　very　pressed；　madam。〃

〃Oh；　but　you　must　let　me　have　it　by　Thursday　at　the　latest；　please。〃

The　fitter　sighed：　〃I　will　do　my　best。〃

〃I　shall　rely　on　you。　　Mrs。　　Stephen　Dallison；　76；　The　Old　Square。〃

Going　downstairs　she　thought：　〃That　poor　girl　looked　very　tired；　it's　a　shame　they　give　them　such　long　hours！〃　and　she　passed　into　the　street。

A　voice　said　timidly　behind　her：　〃Westminister；　marm？〃

〃That's　the　poor　old　creature；〃　thought　Cecilia　Dallison；　〃whose　nose　is　so　unpleasant。　　I　don't　really　think　I〃　and　she　felt　for　a　penny　in　her　little　bag。　　Standing　beside　the　〃poor　old　creature〃　was　a　woman　clothed　in　worn　but　neat　black　clothes；　and　an　ancient　toque　which　had　once　known　a　better　head。　　The　wan　remains　of　a　little　bit　of　fur　lay　round　her　throat。　　She　had　a　thin　face；　not　without　refinement；　mild；　very　clear　brown　eyes；　and　a　twist　of　smooth　black　hair。　　Beside　her　was　a　skimpy　little　boy；　and　in　her　arms　a　baby。　Mrs。　　Dallison　held　out　two…pence　for　the　paper；　but　it　was　at　the　woman　that　she　looked。

〃Oh；　Mrs。　Hughs；〃　she　said；　〃we've　been　expecting　you　to　hem　the　curtains！〃

The　woman　slightly　pressed　the　baby。

〃I　am　very　sorry；　ma'am。　　I　knew　I　was　expected；　but　I've　had　such　trouble。〃

Cecilia　winced。　　〃Oh；　really？〃

〃Yes；　m'm；　it's　my　husband。〃

〃Oh；　dear！〃　Cecilia　murmured。　　〃But　why　didn't　you　come　to　us？〃

〃I　didn't　feel　up　to　it；　ma'am；　I　didn't　really〃

A　tear　ran　down　her　cheek；　and　was　caught　in　a　furrow　near　the　mouth。

Mrs。　Dallison　said　hurriedly：　〃Yes；　yes；　I'm　very　sorry。〃

〃This　old　gentleman；　Mr。　Creed；　lives　in　the　same　house　with　us；　and　he　is　going　to　speak　to　my　husband。〃

The　old　man　wagged　his　head　on　its　lean　stalk　of　neck。

〃He　ought　to　know　better　than　be'ave　'imself　so　disrespectable；〃　he　said。

Cecilia　looked　at　him；　and　murmured：　〃I　hope　he　won't　turn　on　you！〃

The　old　man　shuffled　his　feet。

〃I　likes　to　live　at　peace　with　everybody。　　I　shall　have　the　police　to　'im　if　he　misdemeans　hisself　with　me！。。。　　Westminister；　sir？〃　　And；　screening　his　mouth　from　Mrs。　Dallison；　he　added　in　a　loud　whisper：　〃Execution　of　the　Shoreditch　murderer！〃

Cecilia　felt　suddenly　as　though　the　world　were　listening　to　her　conversation　with　these　two　rather　seedy　persons。

〃I　don't　really　know　what　I　can　do　for　you；　Mrs。　Hughs。　　I'll　speak　to　Mr。　Dallison；　and　to　Mr。　Hilary　too。〃

〃Yes；　ma'am；　thank　you；　ma'am。〃

With　a　smile　which　seemed　to　deprecate　its　own　appearance；　Cecilia　grasped　her　skirts　and　crossed　the　road。　　〃I　hope　I　wasn't　unsympathetic；〃　she　thought；　looking　back　at　the　three　figures　on　the　edge　of　the　pavementthe　old　man　with　his　papers；　and　his　discoloured　nose　thrust　upwards　under　iron…rimmed　spectacles；　the　seamstress　in　her　black　dress；　the　skimpy　little　boy。　　Neither　speaking　nor　moving；　they　were　looking　out　before　them　at　the　traffic；　and　something　in　Cecilia　revolted　at　this　sight。　　It　was　lifeless；　hopeless；　unaesthetic。

〃What　can　one　do；〃　she　thought；　〃for　women　like　Mrs。　Hughs；　who　always　look　like　that？　　And　that　poor　old　man！　　I　suppose　I　oughtn't　to　have　bought　that　dress；　but　Stephen　is　tired　of　this。〃

She　turned　out　of　the　main　street　into　a　road　preserved　from　commoner　forms　of　traffic；　and　stopped　at　a　long　low　house　half　hidden　behind　the　trees　of　its　front　garden。

It　was　the　residence　of　Hilary　Dallison；　her　husband's　brother；　and　himself　the　husband　of　Bianca；　her　own　sister。

The　queer　conceit　came　to　Cecilia　that　it　resembled　Hilary。　　Its　look　was　kindly　and　uncertain；　its　colour　a　palish　tan；　the　eyebrows　of　its　windows　rather　straight　than　arched；　and　those　deep…set　eyes；　the　windows；　twinkled　hospitably；　it　had；　as　it　were；　a　sparse　moustache　and　beard　of　creepers；　and　dark　marks　here　and　there；　like　the　lines　and　shadows　on　the　faces　of　those　who　think　too　much。　　Beside　it；　and　apart；　though　connected　by　a　passage；　a　studio　stood；　and　about　that　studioof　white　rough…cast；　with　a　black　oak　door；　and　peacock…blue　paintwas　something　a　little　hard　and　fugitive；　well　suited　to　Bianca；　who　used　it；　indeed；　to　paint　in。　　It　seemed　to　stand；　with　its　eyes　on　the　house；　shrinking　defiantly　from　too　close　company；　as　though　it　could　not　entirely　give　itself　to　anything。　　Cecilia；　who　often　worried　over　the　relations　between　her　sister　and　her　brother…　in…law；　suddenly　felt　how　fitting　and　symbolical　this　was。

But；　mistrusting　inspirations；　which；　experience　told　her；　committed　one　too　much；　she　walked　quickly　up　the　stone…flagged　pathway　to　the　door。　　Lying　in　the　porch　was　a　little　moonlight…coloured　lady　bulldog；　of　toy　breed；　who　gazed　up　with　eyes　like　agates；　delicately　waving　her　bell…rope　tail；　as　it　was　her　habit　to　do　towards　everyone；　for　she　had　been　handed　down　clearer　and　paler　with　each　generation；　till　she　had　at　last　lost　all　the　peculiar　virtues　of　dogs　that　bait　the　bull。

Speaking　the　word　〃Miranda！〃　Mrs。　Stephen　Dallison　tried　to　pat　this　daughter　of　the　house。　　The　little　bulldog　withdrew　from　her　caress；　being　also　unaccustomed　to　commit　herself。。。。

Mondays　were　Blanca's　〃days；〃　and　Cecilia　made　her　way　towards　the　studio。　　It　was　a　large　high　room；　full　of　people。

Motionless；　by　himself；　close　to　the　door；　stood　an　old　man；　very　thin　and　rather　bent；　with　silvery　hair；　and　a　thin　silvery　beard　grasped　in　his　transparent　fingers。　　He　was　dressed　in　a　suit　of　smoke…grey　cottage　tweed；　which　smelt　of　peat；　and　an　Oxford　shirt；　whose　collar；　ceasing　prematurely；　exposed　a　lean　brown　neck；　his　trousers；　too；　ended　very　soon；　and　showed　light　socks。　　In　his　attitude　there　was　something　suggestive　of　the　patience　and　determination　of　a　mule。　　At　Cecilia's　approach　he　raised　his　eyes。　It　was　at　once　apparent　why；　in　so　full　a　room；　he　was　standing　alone。　　Those　blue　eyes　looked　as　if　he　were　about　to　utter　a　prophetic　statement。

〃They　have　been　speaking　to　me　of　an　execution；〃　he　said。

Cecilia　made　a　nervous　movement。

〃Yes；　Father？〃

〃To　take　life；〃　went　on　the　old　man　in　a　voice　which；　though　charged　with　strong　emotion；　seemed　to　be　speaking　to　itself；　〃was　the　chief　mark　of　the　insensate　barbarism　still　prevailing　in　those　days。　　It　sprang　from　that　most　irreligious　fetish；　the　belief　in　the　permanence　of　the　individual　ego　after　death。　　From　the　worship　of　that　fetish　had　come　all　the　sorrows　of　the　human　race。〃

Cecilia；　with　an　involuntary　quiver　of　her　little　bag；　said：

〃Father；　how　can　you？〃

〃They　did　not　stop　to　love　each　other　in　this　life；　they　were　so　sure　they　had　all　eternity　to　do　it　in。　　The　doctrine　was　an　invention　to　enable　men　to　act　like　dogs　with　clear　consciences。　　Love　could　never　come　to　full　fruition　till　it