"Shall we sit down a little? We haven't sat here for ages." The plain was spread before her widely; it was tranquil4 and serene5 in the morning light. "It's only a few weeks that I've been here and it seems a lifetime."
He did not answer and for a while she allowed her thoughts to wander. She gave a sigh.
He did not seem surprised at the question.
"How should I know?"
"Just now, when they'd washed Walter, before they put him into the coffin7 I looked at him. He looked very young. Too young to die. Do you remember that beggar that we saw the first time you took me for a walk? I was frightened not because he was dead, but because he looked as though he'd never been a human being. He was just a dead animal. And now again, with Walter, it looked so like a machine that has run down. That's what is so frightening. And if it is only a machine how futile8 is all this suffering and the heart pains and the misery9."
He did not answer, but his eyes travelled over the landscape at their feet. The wide expanse on that gay and sunny morning filled the heart with exultation10. The trim little rice fields stretched as far as the eye could see and in many of them the blue-clad peasants with their buffaloes11 were working industriously12. It was a peaceful and a happy scene. Kitty broke the silence.
"I can't tell you how deeply moved I've been by all I've seen at the convent. They're wonderful, those nuns13, they make me feel utterly14 worthless. They give up everything, their home, their country, love, children, freedom; and all the little things which I sometimes think must be harder still to give up, flowers and green fields, going for a walk on an autumn day, books and music, comfort, everything they give up, everything. And they do it so that they may devote themselves to a life of sacrifice and poverty, obedience15, killing16 work and prayer. To all of them this world is really and truly a place of exile. Life is a cross which they willingly bear, but in their hearts all the time is the desire—oh, it's so much stronger than desire, it's a longing17, an eager, passionate18 longing for the death which shall lead them to life everlasting19."
"Well?"
"Supposing there is no life everlasting? Think what it means if death is really the end of all things. They've given up all for nothing. They've been cheated. They're dupes."
Waddington reflected for a little while.
"I wonder. I wonder if it matters that what they have aimed at is illusion. Their lives are in themselves beautiful. I have an idea that the only thing which makes it possible to regard this world we live in without disgust is the beauty which now and then men create out of the chaos21. The pictures they paint, the music they compose, the books they write, and the lives they lead. Of all these the richest in beauty is the beautiful life. That is the perfect work of art."
Kitty sighed. What he said seemed hard. She wanted more.
"Have you ever been to a symphony concert?" he continued.
"Yes," she smiled. "I know nothing of music, but I'm rather fond of it."
"Each member of the orchestra plays his own little instrument, and what do you think he knows of the complicated harmonies which unroll themselves on the indifferent air? He is concerned only with his own small share. But he knows that the symphony is lovely, and though there's none to hear it, it is lovely still, and he is content to play his part."
Waddington gave her a little look, hesitated an instant, and then with a faint smile on his comic face answered:
"It is the Way and the Waygoer. It is the eternal road along which walk all beings, but no being made it, for itself is being. It is everything and nothing. From it all things spring, all things conform to it, and to it at last all things return. It is a square without angles, a sound which ears cannot hear, and an image without form. It is a vast net and though its meshes23 are as wide as the sea it lets nothing through. It is the sanctuary24 where all things find refuge. It is nowhere, but without looking out of the window you may see it. Desire not to desire, it teaches, and leave all things to take their course. He that humbles25 himself shall be preserved entire. He that bends shall be made straight. Failure is the foundation of success and success is the lurking-place of failure; but who can tell when the turning point will come? He who strives after tenderness can become even as a little child. Gentleness brings victory to him who attacks and safety to him who defends. Mighty26 is he who conquers himself."
"Does it mean anything?"
"Sometimes, when I've had half a dozen whiskies and look at the stars, I think perhaps it does."
Silence fell upon them and when it was broken it was again by Kitty.
Waddington's lips outlined a smile and he was ready with his answer. But perhaps at that moment his sensibilities were abnormally acute. Kitty was not looking at him, but there was something about her expression which made him change his mind.
"Nothing. It crossed my mind. It had a familiar ring."
There was another silence.
"When you were alone with your husband," said Waddington presently, "I had a talk with the regimental surgeon. I thought we ought to have some details."
"Well?"
"He was in a very hysterical29 state. I couldn't really quite understand what he meant. So far as I can make out your husband got infected during the course of experiments he was making."
"He was always experimenting. He wasn't really a doctor, he was a bacteriologist; that is why he was so anxious to come here."
"But I can't quite make out from the surgeon's statements whether he was infected accidentally or whether he was actually experimenting on himself."
"Forgive me for talking about this again," he said gently, "but I thought it might comfort you—I know how frightfully difficult it is on these occasions to say anything that is of the least use—I thought it might mean something to you that Walter died a martyr31 to science and to his duty."
"Walter died of a broken heart," she said.
Waddington did not answer. She turned and looked at him slowly. Her face was white and set.
"What did he mean by saying: the dog it was that died? What is it?"
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1
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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8
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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9
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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11
buffaloes
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| n.水牛（分非洲水牛和亚洲水牛两种）( buffalo的名词复数 )；（南非或北美的）野牛；威胁；恐吓 | |
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industriously
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nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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14
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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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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meshes
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| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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25
humbles
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| v.使谦恭( humble的第三人称单数 )；轻松打败（尤指强大的对手）；低声下气 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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31
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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32
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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elegy
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| n.哀歌，挽歌 | |
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