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Within the Tides-Part10_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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carried his parasol, but had neither his book nor his pipe with

him. Amiably serious he laid his hand on his "dear young friend's"



arm.

"We are all of us a little strung up," he said. "For my part I



have been like sister Anne in the story. But I cannot see anything

coming. Anything that would be the least good for anybody - I



mean."

Renouard had recovered sufficiently to murmur coldly his regret of



this waste of time. For that was what, he supposed, the professor

had in his mind.



"Time," mused Professor Moorsom. "I don't know that time can be

wasted. But I will tell you, my dear friend, what this is: it is



an awful waste of life. I mean for all of us. Even for my sister,

who has got a headache and is gone to lie down."



He shook gently Renouard's arm. "Yes, for all of us! One may

meditate on life endlessly, one may even have a poor opinion of it



- but the fact remains that we have only one life to live. And it

is short. Think of that, my young friend."



He released Renouard's arm and stepped out of the shade opening his

parasol. It was clear that there was something more in his mind



than mere anxiety about the date of his lectures for fashionable

audiences. What did the man mean by his confounded platitudes? To



Renouard, scared by Luiz in the morning (for he felt that nothing

could be more fatal than to have his deception unveiled otherwise



than by personal confession), this talk sounded like encouragement

or a warning from that man who seemed to him to be very brazen and



very subtle. It was like being bullied by the dead and cajoled by

the living into a throw of dice for a supreme stake.



Renouard went away to some distance from the house and threw

himself down in the shade of a tree. He lay there perfectly still



with his forehead resting on his folded arms, light-headed and

thinking. It seemed to him that he must be on fire, then that he



had fallen into a cool whirlpool, a smooth funnel of water swirling

about with nauseating rapidity. And then (it must have been a



reminiscence of his boyhood) he was walking on the dangerous thin

ice of a river, unable to turn back. . . . Suddenly it parted from



shore to shore with a loud crack like the report of a gun.

With one leap he found himself on his feet. All was peace,



stillness, sunshine. He walked away from there slowly. Had he

been a gambler he would have perhaps been supported in a measure by



the mere excitement. But he was not a gambler. He had always

disdained that artificial manner of challenging the fates. The



bungalow came into view, bright and pretty, and all about

everything was peace, stillness, sunshine. . . .



While he was plodding towards it he had a disagreeable sense of the

dead man's company at his elbow. The ghost! He seemed to be



everywhere but in his grave. Could one ever shake him off? he

wondered. At that moment Miss Moorsom came out on the verandah;



and at once, as if by a mystery of radiating waves, she roused a

great tumult in his heart, shook earth and sky together - but he



plodded on. Then like a grave song-note in the storm her voice

came to him ominously.



"Ah! Mr. Renouard. . . " He came up and smiled, but she was very

serious. "I can't keep still any longer. Is there time to walk up



this headland and back before dark?"

The shadows were lying lengthened on the ground; all was stillness



and peace. "No," said Renouard, feeling suddenly as steady as a

rock. "But I can show you a view from the central hill which your



father has not seen. A view of reefs and of broken water without

end, and of great wheeling clouds of sea-birds."



She came down the verandah steps at once and they moved off. "You

go first," he proposed, "and I'll direct you. To the left."



She was wearing a short nankin skirt, a muslinblouse; he could see

through the thin stuff the skin of her shoulders, of her arms. The



noble delicacy of her neck caused him a sort of transport. "The

path begins where these three palms are. The only palms on the



island."

"I see."



She never turned her head. After a while she observed: "This path

looks as if it had been made recently."



"Quite recently," he assented very low.




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