I like to light my candle and watch its warm rays mix with the blue-white beams from without. There would have been a proper employment for a wizard:[Pg 249] to diffuse5 varying insubstantialities, such as these, and to look within them, as within a pool—a pool free of its basin and enjoying the air. Yes, they were an unimaginative race, wizards. When will the era of white art come, with ?sthetic witches and wizards who know our modern magics of colour and form and perception as a mere6 basis for their sorceries? Instead of pottering with thick, slab7 gruel8 and medi?val newts' eyes, think what witches they will be! Sometimes I think that they are already arriving. The New Lady told me the most delightful9 thing about a Thought of hers that she saw ... but it was such an elusive10 thing to tell and so much of it I had to guess, because words have not yet caught up with fancies, that it is hard to write down. Besides, perhaps you know. And if you did not know, you would skip this part anyway. So I merely mention that she mentioned the coming alive of a thought of hers which helped her spirit to grow, quite without her will. Very likely you understand other wizardries. An excellent place to think them out must be the line where candle rays meet moonbeams, but there is no such discoverable line, just as there is no discoverable line between the seeing and the knowing, where the Custodian dwells.... By all of which I am merely showing you what the moon can do to one's head and that it is no great wonder that one cannot sleep.
[Pg 250]
"Ain't the moon kind of like a big, shinin' brain," Calliope said once, "an' moonlight nights it gets in your head and thinks for you."
So last night when I went in my room I did not try to sleep; nor did I even light my candle. I went straight to a window and opened it—the one without a screen. I would not live in a house that did not have certain windows which one could open to let in the moon, or the night, or the living out-of-doors, with no screens to thwart11 their impulse. Suppose that sometime Diana—well, suppose what you will that is sensible, no moon can shine through a screen. Really, it cannot do its best through even an open window. And this was why I gave up trying to make it do so and went downstairs again—which is the earthly and rational of floating out into that utter beauty as I wanted to float.
Of going out into such a night I would like to write for a long time, as I would like to keep on breathing lilies-of-the-valley and never have done. I think, though, that "into" such a night is not the word; to go out upon the night is the essential experience. For, like a June day, a moonlit night of itself will not let us inside. We must know some other way of entrance. And I suspect that some of us never quite find the way—I wonder if we are missed?
I stepped round the house to the open ocean of[Pg 251] light that broke on soft shores of leaf and line, solemnizing, magnifying. It was like a glimpse into something which, afterward12 and afterward, is going to be. The definiteness of its premonitory message was startling. As when on seeing once that something had happened on my birthday, 1500, I felt as if I had heard from a kind of twin-time, so now I understood that this night was the birthday of far-off, immortal13 moments of my own, yet to be lived ... so friendly near we are to the immeasurable kindred.
And there, from the shadow of the flowering currant bush, which just now is out of flower and fallen in meditative14 quiet—a man arose. My sharp fear, as savage15 a thing as if the world were ten thousand years younger, or as if I were a ptarmigan and he a cougar16—was only momentary17. For the cougar began to apologize and I recognized him.
"Why," I said, "Peter."
"Yes'm," said he, "I couldn't help being here—for a little while."
"Neither could I, Peter," I told him.
These were remarkable18 admissions of ours, for a large part of evening in the village is an uninhabitable part of day and, no matter in what splendour of sky it comes, is a thing to be shut outside experience. If we relate being wakened by something that goes bang, we begin it, "In the middle of the[Pg 252] night, about twelve o'clock;" and, "They have a light in their house 'most every night till midnight," is a bit of sharp criticism not lightly to be lived down. But now it was as if Peter were a part of the time itself, and outlaw19 too, if the evening was outlaw. "I'm glad I saw you," Peter said—as if we were here met by chance in the usual manner. "I wanted to see you and tell you: I'm going away—to be gone right along."
"Why," I said again, "Peter!"
"You'd go too," he said simply.
"I should want to go," I told him, "but I doubt if I would go. Where are you going?"
"They want to put in a cannery at Marl. It'd be a branch. I'd run it myself."
I did not miss the implication of the conditional20 mood. And Marl. What wonderful names they give to some of the towns of this world. That word makes a picture all of white cornices and white wings of buildings and bright fa?ades. I dare say from the railroad track the real town of Marl shows an unpainted livery barn and a blue barber shop, but the name sounds like the name of a chapter of travel, beginning: To-day we drove to Marl to see the queen. Or the cataract21. Or the porch of the morning.
"Why are you going, Peter?" I drove in the peg22 for him.
[Pg 253]
"I guess you know," he said. "It's all Miggy with me."
I knew that he wanted before all else to tell somebody, to talk to somebody, to have somebody know.
"Tell me, Peter," I said.
And now Peter told me how things were with him. If I should repeat what he said you would be scornful, for it was so little. It was broken and commonplace and set with repetition. It was halting and unfinished, like the unformed writing of a boy. But in his words I felt the movings of life and destiny and death more than I feel them when I think about the rushing of the stars. He loved her, and for him the world became a transparent23 plane wherein his soul moved as simply as his body. Here was not only a boy longing24 for a girl. Here was not only a man, instinct with the eager hope of establishing a home. Here was something not unlike this very moon-washed area won from the illimitable void, this area where we stood and spoke25 together, this little spot which alone was to us articulate with form and line and night sounds. So Peter, stumbling over his confession26 of love for Miggy, was like the word uttered by destiny to explicate its principle. It mattered not at all what the night said or what Peter said. Both were celestial27.
These moments when the soul presses close to[Pg 254] its windows are to be understood as many another hint at the cosmic—Dawn, May, the firmament28, radio-activity, theistic evolution, a thousand manifestations29 of the supernal30. In this cry of enduring spirit it was as if Peter had some intimacy31 with all that has no boundaries. I hardly heard his stumbling words. I listened to him down some long avenue of hearths32 whose twinkling lights were like a corridor of stars.
And all this bright business was to be set at naught33 because Miggy would have none of it.
"She seems to like me," Peter said miserably34, "but I guess she'd like me just as well if I wasn't me. And if I was right down somebody else, I guess she'd like me a good deal better. She—don't like my hands—nor the way my hair sticks up at the back. She thinks of all such things. I wouldn't care if she said all her words crooked35. I'd know what she meant."
I knew the difference. To him she was Miggy. To her he was an individual. He had never in her eyes graduated from being a person to being himself.
"Calliope says," I told him, "that she likes almond extract better than any other kind, but that she hardly ever gets a bottle of almond with which she does not find fault. She says it's the same way with people one loves."
Peter smiled—he is devoted36 to Calliope, who[Pg 255] alone in the village has been friendly with his father. Friendly. The rest of the village has only been kind.
"Well," he tried to put it, "but Miggy never seems to be thinking of me as me, only when she's finding fault with me. If she'd only think about me, even a little, the way I think about her. If she'd only miss me or want me or wonder how the house would seem if we were married. But she don't care—she don't care."
"She says, you know," I ventured, "that she can't ask you to support Little Child too."
"Can't she see," he cried, "that the little thing only makes me love her more? Don't she know how I felt the other night—when she let me help her that way? She must know. It's just an excuse—"
He broke off and his hands dropped.
"Then there's her other reason," he said, "I guess you know that. I can't blame her for it. But even with that, it kind of seems as if,—if she loved me—"
"Yes," I said, "Peter, it does seem so."
And yet in my heart I am certain that the reason is not at all that Miggy cannot love him—I remember the woman-softening of her face that forenoon when she found the spirit of the old romances in the village. I am not even certain that the reason[Pg 256] is that she does not love Peter now—I remember how tender and feminine she was the other night with Peter and Little Child. I think it is only that the cheap cynicism of the village—which nobody means even when it is said!—has taught her badly; and that Life has not yet touched her hand, has not commanded "Look at me," has not bidden her follow with us all.
I looked into the bright bowl of the night which is alternately with one and against one in one's mood of emprise; the bright bowl of the night inverted37 as if some mighty38 genii were shaking the stars about like tea-leaves to fortune the future. What a pastime that for a wizard!
"Oh, Peter," I said, "if one were a wizard!"
"I didn't understand," said Peter.
"How pleasant it would be to make folk love folk," I put it.
He understood that. "Wouldn't it, though?" he assented39 wistfully. So does everybody understand. Wouldn't it, though! Oh, don't you wish you could?
In the silence which fell I kept on looking at those starry40 tea-leaves until I protest that a thought awoke in my mind as if it wanted to be somebody. Be Somebody. It was as if it came alive, quite without my will, so that almost I could see it. It was a friend conferring in my head. Perhaps it was the[Pg 257] Custodian herself, come outside to that white porch of the moon.
"Peter," I said, "I think I'm going to tell you a story."
For I longed to make him patient with Miggy, as men, who understand these things first, are not always patient with women, who often and often understand too late.
He listened to the story as I am setting it down here—the story of the New Village. But in it I could say nothing of how, besides by these things celestial, cosmic, I was touched by the simple, human entreaty41 of the big, baffled man and that about his hands and the way his hair sticks up at the back.
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1
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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petunia
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| n.矮牵牛花 | |
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petunias
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| n.矮牵牛（花）( petunia的名词复数 ) | |
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custodian
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| n.保管人，监护人；公共建筑看守 | |
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diffuse
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| v.扩散；传播；adj.冗长的；四散的，弥漫的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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7
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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8
gruel
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| n.稀饭，粥 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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10
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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11
thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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12
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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13
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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14
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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15
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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16
cougar
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| n.美洲狮；美洲豹 | |
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17
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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18
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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conditional
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| adj.条件的，带有条件的 | |
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cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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23
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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24
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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29
manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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30
supernal
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| adj.天堂的，天上的；崇高的 | |
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31
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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32
hearths
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| 壁炉前的地板，炉床，壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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33
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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39
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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41
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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