There was something so touching5 in her attempted resignation that Rhoda, for the first time in her life, felt almost tempted6 to wish she had been born in the old wicked prephalansteric days, when they would have let the poor baby grow up to womanhood as a matter of course, and bear its own burden through life as best it might. Presently, Olive raised her head again from the crimson7 silken pillow. "Clarence," she said, in a trembling voice, pressing the sleeping baby hard against her breast, "when will it be? How long? Is there no hope, no chance of respite8?"
"Not for a long time yet, dearest Olive," Clarence answered through his tears. "The phalanstery will be very gentle and patient with us, we know: and brother Eustace will do everything that lies in his power, though he's afraid he can give us very little hope indeed. In any case, Olive darling, the community waits for four decades before deciding anything: it waits to see whether there is any chance for physiological9 or surgical10 relief: it decides nothing hastily or thoughtlessly: it[Pg 313] waits for every possible improvement, hoping against hope till hope itself is hopeless. And then, if at the end of the quartet, as I fear will be the case—for we must face the worst, darling, we must face the worst—if at the end of the quartet it seems clear to brother Eustace, and the three assessor physiologists11 from the neighbouring phalansteries, that the dear child would be a cripple for life, we're still allowed four decades more to prepare ourselves in: four whole decades more, Olive, to take our leave of the darling baby. You'll have your baby with you for eighty days. And we must wean ourselves from her in that time, darling. We must try to wean ourselves. But oh Olive, oh Rhoda, it's very hard: very, very, very hard."
Olive answered not a word, but lay silently weeping and pressing the baby against her breast, with her large brown eyes fixed12 vacantly upon the fretted13 woodwork of the panelled ceiling.
"You mustn't do like that, Olive dear," sister Rhoda said in a half-frightened voice. "You must cry right out, and sob14, and not restrain yourself, darling, or else you'll break your heart with silence and repression15. Do cry aloud, there's a dear girl: do cry aloud and relieve yourself. A good cry would be the best thing on earth for you. And think, dear, how much happier it will really be for the sweet baby to sink asleep so peacefully than to live a long life of conscious inferiority and felt imperfection! What a blessing16 it is to think you were born in a phalansteric land, where the dear child will be happily and painlessly rid of its poor little unconscious existence, before it has reached the age when it might begin to know its own incurable17 and inevitable18 misfortune. Oh, Olive, what a blessing that is, and how thankful we ought all to be that we live in a world where the sweet pet will be saved so much humiliation19, and mortification20, and misery!"
At that moment, Olive, looking within into her own wicked rebellious[Pg 314] heart, was conscious, with a mingled21 glow, half shame, half indignation, that so far from appreciating the priceless blessings22 of her own situation, she would gladly have changed places then and there with any barbaric woman of the old semi-civilized prephalansteric days. We can so little appreciate our own mercies. It was very wrong and anti-cosmic, she knew; very wrong, indeed, and the hierarch would have told her so at once; but in her own woman's soul she felt she would rather be a miserable23 naked savage24 in a wattled hut, like those one saw in old books about Africa before the illumination, if only she could keep that one little angel of a crippled baby, than dwell among all the enlightenment, and knowledge, and art, and perfected social arrangements of phalansteric England without her child—her dear, helpless, beautiful baby. How truly the Founder25 himself had said, "Think you there will be no more tragedies and dramas in the world when we have reformed it, nothing but one dreary26 dead level of monotonous27 content? Ay, indeed, there will; for that, fear not; while the heart of man remains28, there will be tragedy enough on earth and to spare for a hundred poets to take for their saddest epics29."
Olive looked up at Rhoda wistfully. "Sister Rhoda," she said in a timid tone, "it may be very wicked—I feel sure it is—but do you know, I've read somewhere in old stories of the unenlightened days that a mother always loved the most afflicted30 of her children the best. And I can understand it now, sister Rhoda; I can feel it here," and she put her hand upon her poor still heart. "If only I could keep this one dear crippled baby, I could give up all the world beside—except you, Clarence."
"Oh, hush31, darling!" Rhoda cried in an awed32 voice, stooping down half alarmed to kiss her pale forehead. "You mustn't talk like that, Olive dearest. It's wicked; it's undutiful. I know how hard it is not to[Pg 315] repine and to rebel; but you mustn't, Olive, you mustn't. We must each strive to bear our own burdens (with the help of the community), and not to put any of them off upon a poor, helpless, crippled little baby."
"But our natures," Clarence said, wiping his eyes dreamily; "our natures are only half attuned33 as yet to the necessities of the higher social existence. Of course it's very wrong and very sad, but we can't help feeling it, sister Rhoda, though we try our hardest. Remember, it's not so many generations since our fathers would have reared the child without a thought that they were doing anything wicked—nay, rather, would even have held (so powerful is custom) that it was positively34 wrong to save it by preventive means from a certain life of predestined misery. Our conscience in this matter isn't yet fully2 formed. We feel that it's right, of course; oh yes, we know the phalanstery has ordered everything for the best; but we can't help grieving over it; the human heart within us is too unregenerate still to acquiesce35 without a struggle in the dictates36 of right and reason."
Olive again said nothing, but fixed her eyes silently upon the grave, earnest portrait of the Founder over the carved oak mantelpiece, and let the hot tears stream their own way over her cold, white, pallid37, bloodless cheek without reproof38 for many minutes. Her heart was too full for either speech or comfort.
点击收听单词发音
1 mite | |
n.极小的东西;小铜币 | |
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2 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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3 flannel | |
n.法兰绒;法兰绒衣服 | |
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4 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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5 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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6 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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7 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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8 respite | |
n.休息,中止,暂缓 | |
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9 physiological | |
adj.生理学的,生理学上的 | |
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10 surgical | |
adj.外科的,外科医生的,手术上的 | |
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11 physiologists | |
n.生理学者( physiologist的名词复数 );生理学( physiology的名词复数 );生理机能 | |
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12 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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13 fretted | |
焦躁的,附有弦马的,腐蚀的 | |
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14 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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15 repression | |
n.镇压,抑制,抑压 | |
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16 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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17 incurable | |
adj.不能医治的,不能矫正的,无救的;n.不治的病人,无救的人 | |
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18 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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19 humiliation | |
n.羞辱 | |
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20 mortification | |
n.耻辱,屈辱 | |
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21 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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22 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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23 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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24 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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25 Founder | |
n.创始者,缔造者 | |
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26 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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27 monotonous | |
adj.单调的,一成不变的,使人厌倦的 | |
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28 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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29 epics | |
n.叙事诗( epic的名词复数 );壮举;惊人之举;史诗般的电影(或书籍) | |
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30 afflicted | |
使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 hush | |
int.嘘,别出声;n.沉默,静寂;v.使安静 | |
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32 awed | |
adj.充满敬畏的,表示敬畏的v.使敬畏,使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33 attuned | |
v.使协调( attune的过去式和过去分词 );调音 | |
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34 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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35 acquiesce | |
vi.默许,顺从,同意 | |
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36 dictates | |
n.命令,规定,要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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37 pallid | |
adj.苍白的,呆板的 | |
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38 reproof | |
n.斥责,责备 | |
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