The spring had opened the fountain before the house and he was happy at its rippling2, which never began and never stopped. The red flowers were put out on the balcony: when the wind blew, their petals3 fluttered right over into the basin of the fountain and rocked upon the water. He followed their dance through the air and wondered if they would reach their goal.
His best time was in the evening, when the square shone with a thousand lights.
He loved the dying day.
He knew every light that went out, every sound as it stopped. And he liked[187] the sound best when it stopped and the light when it went out. He thought that the people who moved down below, disguised in the darkness, were of another kind or better than those whom the sun shone upon. He had no more to do with them than with the others; but he liked them better.
Then, when night came and the rippling of the fountain sang louder and louder through the silence and cries sounded from down below, no one knowing what they were, and solitary4 steps were heard, that approached and retreated again, then he lit the candles on the mantelpiece and sat down in one of the old chairs, there where the owners of the house and their wives had sat when the house slept and they had something to say to each other.
He looked round the room, where the things sang in every dark corner, and[188] simply could not conceive that he had not known the old room before.
He was more at home here than anywhere else: here, where he was outside the world, which worried him, because it demanded that of him which he had not; here, where every spot and every object told how all had been said and done and accomplished5 in the old days, so that he had nothing else to do but listen wonderingly and rejoice at its marvellous beauty.
Then he fell a-dreaming and remained sitting till the lights went out.
“He does not sleep enough,” said Fru Adelheid, anxiously.
Cordt crossed the floor with the same thought in his mind. Then he stopped where she was sitting and looked at her:
“I wonder, is he ever awake, Adelheid?” he said.
[189]By day, Finn generally sat at the window and stared out, idly and silently, with his hands open on his knees.
Often, when Cordt was crossing the square, he thought that he could see Finn’s old face behind the window-panes. He would stop and nod and beckon6 to him.
But Finn never saw him. For he saw nothing positively7.
And Cordt went on ... in and out ... constantly longing8 to see the strong air of the old room color his son’s cheeks and rouse his will ... constantly trusting that, sooner or later, this would happen.
He never went up there since the day when he and his old servant had arranged the room as it used to be.
And Finn was glad of this. He was so afraid lest that should happen that a long time passed before he could suppress his[190] terror when he heard any one coming. And, even when he had recovered his composure, he knew that it would happen sooner or later and that the day of its happening would be a gloomy one.
For he well understood the eternal loving question in Cordt’s eyes and it hurt him and frightened him. He dreaded9 the craving10 in his affection, which was greater than a father’s. It was like that of a sovereign for the heir who is to occupy the throne after him.
And Finn could not take the reins11 of empire in his slack hands or bear the pressure of the crown upon his head, which ached at the mere12 thought of it.
But Fru Adelheid often came; and they two were comfortable up there, in the old room.
She came with no craving; and, if she was doubtful and restless, as she often was since Finn had moved up into the[191] old room, then she would be quite silent when the door closed behind her.
Silent like Finn ... and like the big chairs and the jar with the man writhing13 through thorns ... silent like the spinning-wheel, which had whirred merrily every evening for many a good year and stood as it was with thread upon its spindle.
He looked at her and smiled and nodded when she spoke14. He himself talked ... for long at a time and then stopped, without its making any difference, and listened to the rippling of the fountain and the voices in the old room, which always talked to him and plainest when Fru Adelheid was with him.
He told her that, when she came, the room was no longer his own.
For then he felt like a stranger, a man of another period, who should suddenly find himself in an old ruined castle, full[192] of marvellous dangers and adventures, and stand face to face with the last of those who had lived the castle’s rich, wonderful life.
Once he spoke her name aloud just as she was entering at the door. It was dark in the room and his voice and figure were so like Cordt’s that she grew pale and frightened. But he did not see this and she forced a laugh and soon forgot it.
And, gradually, the wonderful solemnity of the old room retreated into the background, when they were both there, for they spent more and more of their time there and at last simply did not think they were together except there. But Finn was always able to summon it up when he wished.
They used to read together.
And that happened in this way, that one of them found a book, a treasure of silence and singing, which was the[193] only sort that they felt equal to, and read it and gave it to the other, who then read it while they were together.
They found most of the books in foreign languages and it seemed as if there were no end of them. Also, the fact that the language was foreign made the book dearer to them, because it carried them farther afield.
When they had read one of these books, they lived in it for a time ... not in its action, among its characters, for there was no action and no characters, but in its music. They tuned16 their thoughts and words in its key.
Then they felt as if they had passed through some experience or as if they were travelling.
“The artist lives,” said Finn. “He makes the sky blue and grey for himself ... for himself and for us all. He wipes everything out with his hand and builds[194] it up again ... greater, ever greater. He is the master. He is God.”
One day, he asked Fru Adelheid to sing.
She had not sung for many years, except in church, and was surprised at his request:
“I have given up singing, Finn.”
He lay down before her and looked up smiling into her face:
“I can remember so well when you used to sing,” he said. “You often sang to me when I was a boy. But one occasion ... one occasion I remember in particular. There were many visitors and I, of course, had long been in bed, but I was not asleep. For old Marie had promised to take me down to the dining-room when the people had got up from dinner and you were to sing. She told me that, when there was company and all the candles were lighted and you were prettiest and brightest, then you sang a[195] thousand times more beautifully than usual.”
She took her eyes from his face and laid her head back in her chair.
“I kept awake till she came and it lasted long. But then I heard you and also saw you for a moment through the door.”
“And was it so nice?”
“I don’t remember,” he said. “But I remember the many faces.... I should know them again if I saw them now, I think. And best of all I remember father’s.”
Fru Adelheid rose:
“What shall I sing?” she asked.
He laughed with content, went to the spinet17 and opened it. Then he took up one of the pieces of music:
“Look what I have found,” he said. “This was sung by the one who put the spinet here. Look, here is her name: she[196] herself wrote both the words and the music.... See how pale the writing is ... and how distinct.”
Fru Adelheid stood with the old, yellow sheet in her hand. She hummed the tune15 and struck the keys.
Then she sat down to the spinet and sang:
Ere thou knowest, comes the night;
Bring cool air and colder light.
We must part: time hastens so!
Day is passing, dew is falling.
Hark! Thy mother’s voice is calling:
Dearest maiden, I must go.
Part we must, dear maid, in sorrow!
Ah, but we shall find to-morrow
Countless words we uttered not,
Hours we robbed of wasted chances,
Countless kisses we forgot.
[197]
Happy smiles will haunt thee dreaming
In my brain thy picture gleaming,
I shall hasten through the night.
Brighter sunshine in thy face is,
Sunshine of remembered places,
Love’s own sunshine in thy heart.
She remained sitting a while with the old music-sheet in her hand. Then Finn said:
“She used to sing that. Do you know if she was happy, mother?”
“She was often sad,” said Fru Adelheid. “And, when she was sad, she sang.”
She put down the sheet and took up the first music-book that came to hand, but threw it aside, as though it had burnt her fingers.
It was the Lenore songs, which she had sung to Cordt.
She rose and went back to her place beside Finn. Then she sprang up and stood with her arms crossed on her breast[198] and sat down again and stared with great eyes through the window:
“Finn ... if I sang it to you ... would you recognize the ... the song you heard when Marie carried you down...?”
He woke from his dream and looked at her in surprise:
“The song ... no ... I should not. Why, do you remember it?”
“No,” said Fru Adelheid.
“Mother,” said Finn, “what are women like?”
She turned her face slowly towards him. He did not look at her. His eyes were far away and she realized that he had forgotten his question or did not know that he had put it.
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1
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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4
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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beckon
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| v.(以点头或打手势)向...示意，召唤 | |
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7
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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12
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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14
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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15
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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tuned
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| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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spinet
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| n.小型立式钢琴 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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balked
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| v.畏缩不前，犹豫( balk的过去式和过去分词 )；（指马）不肯跑 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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