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The Jacket (The Star-Rover)-Part35_JACK LONDON(1876-1916)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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all lives, that woman is ever woman . . . that in great decisive

moments woman does not reason but feels; that the last sanctuary and



innermost pulse to conduct is in woman's heart and not in woman's

head.



Miriam misunderstood my silence, for her body moved softly within my

arms as she added, as if in afterthought:



"Take two spare horses, Lodbrog. I shall ride the other . . . with

you . . . with you, away over the world, wherever you may ride."



It was a bribe of kings; it was an act, paltry and contemptible,

that was demanded of me in return. Still I did not speak. It was



not that I was in confusion or in any doubt. I was merely sad--

greatly and suddenly sad, in that I knew I held in my arms what I



would never hold again.

"There is but one man in Jerusalem this day who can save Him," she



urged, "and that man is you, Lodbrog."

Because I did not immediately reply she shook me, as if in impulse



to clarify wits she considered addled. She shook me till my harness

rattled.



"Speak, Lodbrog, speak!" she commanded. "You are strong and

unafraid. You are all man. I know you despise the vermin who would



destroy Him. You, you alone can save Him. You have but to say the

word and the thing is done; and I will well love you and always love



you for the thing you have done."

"I am a Roman," I said slowly, knowing full well that with the words



I gave up all hope of her.

"You are a man-slave of Tiberius, a hound of Rome," she flamed, "but



you owe Rome nothing, for you are not a Roman. You yellow giants of

the north are not Romans."



"The Romans are the elder brothers of us younglings of the north," I

answered. "Also, I wear the harness and I eat the bread of Rome."



Gently I added: "But why all this fuss and fury for a mere man's

life? All men must die. Simple and easy it is to die. To-day, or



a hundred years, it little matters. Sure we are, all of us, of the

same event in the end."



Quick she was, and alive with passion to save as she thrilled within

my arms.



"You do not understand, Lodbrog. This is no mere man. I tell you

this is a man beyond men--a living God, not of men, but over men."



I held her closely and knew that I was renouncing all the sweet

woman of her as I said:



"We are man and woman, you and I. Our life is of this world. Of

these other worlds is all a madness. Let these mad dreamers go the



way of their dreaming. Deny them not what they desire above all

things, above meat and wine, above song and battle, even above love



of woman. Deny them not their hearts' desires that draw them across

the dark of the grave to their dreams of lives beyond this world.



Let them pass. But you and I abide here in all the sweet we have

discovered of each other. Quickly enough will come the dark, and



you depart for your coasts of sun and flowers, and I for the roaring

table of Valhalla."



"No! no!" she cried, half-tearing herself away. "You do not

understand. All of greatness, all of goodness, all of God are in



this man who is more than man; and it is a shameful death to die.

Only slaves and thieves so die. He is neither slave nor thief. He



is an immortal. He is God. Truly I tell you He is God."

"He is immortal you say," I contended. "Then to die to-day on



Golgotha will not shorten his immortality by a hair's breadth in the

span of time. He is a god you say. Gods cannot die. From all I



have been told of them, it is certain that gods cannot die."

"Oh!" she cried. "You will not understand. You are only a great



giant thing of flesh."

"Is it not said that this event was prophesied of old time?" I



queried, for I had been learning from the Jews what I deemed their

subtleties of thinking.



"Yes, yes," she agreed, "the Messianic prophecies. This is the

Messiah."



"Then who am I," I asked, "to make liars of the prophets? to make of

the Messiah a false Messiah? Is the prophecy of your people so



feeble a thing that I, a stupid stranger, a yellow northling in the

Roman harness, can give the lie to prophecy and compel to be



unfulfilled--the very thing willed by the gods and foretold by the

wise men?"



"You do not understand," she repeated.

"I understand too well," I replied. "Am I greater than the gods



that I may thwart the will of the gods? Then are gods vain things

and the playthings of men. I am a man. I, too, bow to the gods, to






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