The Angel and the Vicar sat at dinner. The Vicar, with his napkin tucked in at his neck, watched the Angel struggling with his soup. "You will soon get into the way of it," said the Vicar. The knife and fork business was done awkwardly but with effect. The Angel looked furtively1 at Delia, the little waiting maid. When presently they sat cracking nuts—which the Angel found congenial enough—and the girl had gone, the Angel asked: "Was that a lady, too?"
"Well," said the Vicar (crack). "No—she is not a lady. She is a servant."
"Yes," said the Angel; "she had rather a nicer shape."
"She didn't stick out so much at the shoulders[Pg 77] and hips3, and there was more of her in between. And the colour of her robes was not discordant—simply neutral. And her face——"
"Mrs Mendham and her daughters had been playing tennis," said the Vicar, feeling he ought not to listen to detraction4 even of his mortal enemy. "Do you like these things—these nuts?"
"Very much," said the Angel. Crack.
"You see," said the Vicar (Chum, chum, chum). "For my own part I entirely5 believe you are an angel."
"Yes!" said the Angel.
"I shot you—I saw you flutter. It's beyond dispute. In my own mind. I admit it's curious and against my preconceptions, but—practically—I'm assured, perfectly6 assured in fact, that I saw what I certainly did see. But after the behaviour of these people. (Crack). I really don't see how we are to persuade people. Nowadays people are so very particular about evidence. So that I think there is a great deal to be said for the attitude you assume. Temporarily at least I think it would be best of you[Pg 78] to do as you propose to do, and behave as a man as far as possible. Of course there is no knowing how or when you may go back. After what has happened (Gluck, gluck, gluck—as the Vicar refills his glass)—after what has happened I should not be surprised to see the side of the room fall away, and the hosts of heaven appear to take you away again—take us both away even. You have so far enlarged my imagination. All these years I have been forgetting Wonderland. But still——. It will certainly be wiser to break the thing gently to them."
"This life of yours," said the Angel. "I'm still in the dark about it. How do you begin?"
"Dear me!" said the Vicar. "Fancy having to explain that! We begin existence here, you know, as babies, silly pink helpless things wrapped in white, with goggling7 eyes, that yelp8 dismally9 at the Font. Then these babies grow larger and become even beautiful—when their faces are washed. And they continue to grow to a certain size. They become children, boys and girls, youths and maidens10 (Crack), young men and young women. That is the finest time in life,[Pg 79] according to many—certainly the most beautiful. Full of great hopes and dreams, vague emotions and unexpected dangers."
"Yes," said the Vicar, "that was a maiden." And paused thoughtfully.
"And then?"
"Then," said the Vicar, "the glamour12 fades and life begins in earnest. The young men and young women pair off—most of them. They come to me shy and bashful, in smart ugly dresses, and I marry them. And then little pink babies come to them, and some of the youths and maidens that were, grow fat and vulgar, and some grow thin and shrewish, and their pretty complexions13 go, and they get a queer delusion14 of superiority over the younger people, and all the delight and glory goes out of their lives. So they call the delight and glory of the younger ones, Illusion. And then they begin to drop to pieces."
[Pg 80]
"Their hair comes off and gets dull coloured or ashen16 grey," said the Vicar. "I, for instance." He bowed his head forward to show a circular shining patch the size of a florin. "And their teeth come out. Their faces collapse17 and become as wrinkled and dry as a shrivelled apple. 'Corrugated18' you called mine. They care more and more for what they have to eat and to drink, and less and less for any of the other delights of life. Their limbs get loose in the joints19, and their hearts slack, or little pieces from their lungs come coughing up. Pain...."
"Ah!" said the Angel.
"Pain comes into their lives more and more. And then they go. They do not like to go, but they have to—out of this world, very reluctantly, clutching its pain at last in their eagerness to stop...."
"Where do they go?"
"Once I thought I knew. But now I am older I know I do not know. We have a Legend—perhaps it is not a legend. One may be a churchman and disbelieve. Stokes says there is nothing in it...." The Vicar shook his head at the bananas.
[Pg 81]
"And you?" said the Angel. "Were you a little pink baby?"
"A little while ago I was a little pink baby."
"Were you robed then as you are now?"
"Oh no! Dear me! What a queer idea! Had long white clothes, I suppose, like the rest of them."
"And then you were a little boy?"
"A little boy."
"And then a glorious youth?"
"I was not a very glorious youth, I am afraid. I was sickly, and too poor to be radiant, and with a timid heart. I studied hard and pored over the dying thoughts of men long dead. So I lost the glory, and no maiden came to me, and the dulness of life began too soon."
"And you have your little pink babies?"
"None," said the Vicar with a scarce perceptible pause. "Yet all the same, as you see, I am beginning to drop to pieces. Presently my back will droop20 like a wilting21 flowerstalk. And then, in a few thousand days more I shall be done with, and I shall go out of this world of mine.... Whither I do not know."
[Pg 82]
"And you have to eat like this every day?"
"Eat, and get clothes and keep this roof above me. There are some very disagreeable things in this world called Cold and Rain. And the other people here—how and why is too long a story—have made me a kind of chorus to their lives. They bring their little pink babies to me and I have to say a name and some other things over each new pink baby. And when the children have grown to be youths and maidens, they come again and are confirmed. You will understand that better later. Then before they may join in couples and have pink babies of their own, they must come again and hear me read out of a book. They would be outcast, and no other maiden would speak to the maiden who had a little pink baby without I had read over her for twenty minutes out of my book. It's a necessary thing, as you will see. Odd as it may seem to you. And afterwards when they are falling to pieces, I try and persuade them of a strange world in which I scarcely believe myself, where life is altogether different from what they have[Pg 83] had—or desire. And in the end, I bury them, and read out of my book to those who will presently follow into the unknown land. I stand at the beginning, and at the zenith, and at the setting of their lives. And on every seventh day, I who am a man myself, I who see no further than they do, talk to them of the Life to Come—the life of which we know nothing. If such a life there be. And slowly I drop to pieces amidst my prophesying22."
"What a strange life!" said the Angel.
"Yes," said the Vicar. "What a strange life! But the thing that makes it strange to me is new. I had taken it as a matter of course until you came into my life."
"This life of ours is so insistent," said the Vicar. "It, and its petty needs, its temporary pleasures (Crack) swathe our souls about. While I am preaching to these people of mine of another life, some are ministering to one appetite and eating sweets, others—the old men—are slumbering23, the youths glance at the maidens, the grown men protrude24 white waistcoats and gold chains, pomp and vanity on a substratum of carnal[Pg 84] substance, their wives flaunt25 garish26 bonnets27 at one another. And I go on droning away of the things unseen and unrealised—'Eye hath not seen,' I read, 'nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the imagination of man to conceive,' and I look up to catch an adult male immortal28 admiring the fit of a pair of three and sixpenny gloves. It is damping year after year. When I was ailing29 in my youth I felt almost the assurance of vision that beneath this temporary phantasm world was the real world—the enduring world of the Life Everlasting30. But now——"
He glanced at his chubby31 white hand, fingering the stem of his glass. "I have put on flesh since then," he said. [Pause].
"I have changed and developed very much. The battle of the Flesh and Spirit does not trouble me as it did. Every day I feel less confidence in my beliefs, and more in God. I live, I am afraid, a quiescent32 life, duties fairly done, a little ornithology33 and a little chess, a trifle of mathematical trifling34. My times are in His hands——"
The Vicar sighed and became pensive35. The[Pg 85] Angel watched him, and the Angel's eyes were troubled with the puzzle of him. "Gluck, gluck, gluck," went the decanter as the Vicar refilled his glass.
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1
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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covertly
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| adv.偷偷摸摸地 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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detraction
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| n.减损；诽谤 | |
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5
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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6
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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goggling
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| v.睁大眼睛瞪视， （惊讶的）转动眼珠( goggle的现在分词 ) | |
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yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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10
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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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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12
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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13
complexions
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| 肤色( complexion的名词复数 )； 面色； 局面； 性质 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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16
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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18
corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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19
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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wilting
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| 萎蔫 | |
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prophesying
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的现在分词 ) | |
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23
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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protrude
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| v.使突出，伸出，突出 | |
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25
flaunt
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| vt.夸耀，夸饰 | |
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26
garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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28
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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29
ailing
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| v.生病 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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31
chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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32
quiescent
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| adj.静止的，不活动的，寂静的 | |
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33
ornithology
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| n.鸟类学 | |
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34
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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35
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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