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In a German Pension-Part3_Katherine Mansfield(1888-1923)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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sought after--so admired. It was just the same with my dear husband. He



was a tall, beautiful man, and sometimes in the evening he would come down

into the kitchen and say: 'Wife, I would like to be stupid for two



minutes.' Nothing rested him so much then as for me to stroke his head."

The Herr Rat's bald pate glistening in the sunlight seemed symbolical of



the sad absence of a wife.

I began to wonder as to the nature of these quiet little after-supper



talks. How could one play Delilah to so shorn a Samson?

"Herr Hoffmann from Berlin arrived yesterday," said the Herr Rat.



"That young man I refuse to converse with. He told me last year that he

had stayed in France in an hotel where they did not have serviettes; what a



place it must have been! In Austria even the cabmen have serviettes. Also

I have heard that he discussed 'free love' with Bertha as she was sweeping



his room. I am not accustomed to such company. I had suspected him for a

long time."



"Young blood," answered the Herr Rat genially. "I have had several

disputes with him--you have heard them--is it not so?" turning to me.



"A great many," I said, smiling.

"Doubtless you too consider me behind the times. I make no secret of my



age; I am sixty-nine; but you must have surely observed how impossible it

was for him to speak at all when I raised my voice."



I replied with the utmostconviction, and, catching Frau Fischer's eye,

suddenly realised I had better go back to the house and write some letters.



It was dark and cool in my room. A chestnut tree pushed green boughs

against the window. I looked down at the horsehair sofa so openly flouting



the idea of curling up as immoral, pulled the red pillow on to the floor

and lay down. And barely had I got comfortable when the door opened and



Frau Fischer entered.

"The Herr Rat had a bathing appointment," she said, shutting the door after



her. "May I come in? Pray do not move. You look like a little Persian

kitten. Now, tell me something really interesting about your life. When I



meet new people I squeeze them dry like a sponge. To begin with--you are

married."



I admit the fact.

"Then, dear child, where is your husband?"



I said he was a sea-captain on a long and perilous voyage.

"What a position to leave you in--so young and so unprotected."



She sat down on the sofa and shook her finger at me playfully.

"Admit, now, that you keep your journeys secret from him. For what man



would think of allowing a woman with such a wealth of hair to go wandering

in foreign countries? Now, supposing that you lost your purse at midnight



in a snowbound train in North Russia?"

"But I haven't the slightest intention--" I began.



"I don't say that you have. But when you said good-bye to your dear man I

am positive that you had no intention of coming here. My dear, I am a



woman of experience, and I know the world. While he is away you have a

fever in your blood. Your sad heart flies for comfort to these foreign



lands. At home you cannot bear the sight of that empty bed---it is like

widowhood. Since the death of my dear husband I have never known an hour's



peace."

"I like empty beds," I protested sleepily, thumping the pillow.



"That cannot be true because it is not natural. Every wife ought to feel

that her place is by her husband's side--sleeping or waking. It is plain



to see that the strongest tie of all does not yet bind you. Wait until a

little pair of hands stretches across the water--wait until he comes into



harbour and sees you with the child at your breast."

I sat up stiffly.



"But I consider child-bearing the most ignominious of all professions," I

said.



For a moment there was silence. Then Frau Fischer reached down and caught

my hand.



"So young and yet to suffer so cruelly," she murmured. "There is nothing

that sours a woman so terribly as to be left alone without a man,



especially if she is married, for then it is impossible for her to accept

the attention of others--unless she is unfortunately a widow. Of course, I



know that sea-captains are subject to terrible temptations, and they are as

inflammable as tenor singers--that is why you must present a bright and



energetic appearance, and try and make him proud of you when his ship

reaches port."



This husband that I had created for the benefit of Frau Fischer became in

her hands so substantial a figure that I could no longer see myself sitting






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