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The Wind in the Willows-Part9_Kenneth Grahame(1859-1932)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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they had heard the sheep and had made for them; and now, leading

from the sheep-pen, they found a beaten track that made walking a



lighter business, and responded, moreover, to that small

inquiring something which all animals carry inside them, saying



unmistakably, `Yes, quite right; THIS leads home!'

`It looks as if we were coming to a village,' said the Mole



somewhat dubiously, slackening his pace, as the track, that had

in time become a path and then had developed into a lane, now



handed them over to the charge of a well-metalled road. The

animals did not hold with villages, and their own highways,



thickly frequented as they were, took an independent course,

regardless of church, post office, or public-house.



`Oh, never mind!' said the Rat. `At this season of the year

they're all safe indoors by this time, sitting round the fire;



men, women, and children, dogs and cats and all. We shall slip

through all right, without any bother or unpleasantness, and we



can have a look at them through their windows if you like, and

see what they're doing.'



The rapid nightfall of mid-December had quite beset the little

village as they approached it on soft feet over a first thin fall



of powdery snow. Little was visible but squares of a dusky

orange-red on either side of the street, where the firelight



or lamplight of each cottage overflowed through the casements

into the dark world without. Most of the low latticed windows



were innocent of blinds, and to the lookers-in from outside, the

inmates, gathered round the tea-table, absorbed in handiwork, or



talking with laughter and gesture, had each that happy grace

which is the last thing the skilled actor shall capture--the



natural grace which goes with perfect unconsciousness of

observation. Moving at will from one theatre to another, the two



spectators, so far from home themselves, had something of

wistfulness in their eyes as they watched a cat being stroked, a



sleepy child picked up and huddled off to bed, or a tired man

stretch and knock out his pipe on the end of a smouldering log.



But it was from one little window, with its blind drawn down, a

mere blank transparency on the night, that the sense of home and



the little curtained world within walls--the larger stressful

world of outside Nature shut out and forgotten--most pulsated.



Close against the white blind hung a bird-cage, clearly

silhouetted, every wire, perch, and appurtenance distinct and



recognisable, even to yesterday's dull-edged lump of sugar. On

the middle perch the fluffyoccupant, head tucked well into



feathers, seemed so near to them as to be easily stroked, had

they tried; even the delicate tips of his plumped-out plumage



pencilled plainly on the illuminated screen. As they looked, the

sleepy little fellow stirred uneasily, woke, shook himself, and



raised his head. They could see the gape of his tiny beak as he

yawned in a bored sort of way, looked round, and then settled his



head into his back again, while the ruffled feathers gradually

subsided into perfect stillness. Then a gust of bitter wind took



them in the back of the neck, a small sting of frozen sleet on

the skin woke them as from a dream, and they knew their toes to



be cold and their legs tired, and their own home distant a weary

way.



Once beyond the village, where the cottages ceased abruptly, on

either side of the road they could smell through the darkness the



friendly fields again; and they braced themselves for the last

long stretch, the home stretch, the stretch that we know is bound



to end, some time, in the rattle of the door-latch, the sudden

firelight, and the sight of familiar things greeting us as



long-absent travellers from far over-sea. They plodded along

steadily and silently, each of them thinking his own thoughts.



The Mole's ran a good deal on supper, as it was pitch-dark, and

it was all a strange country for him as far as he knew, and he



was following obediently in the wake of the Rat, leaving the

guidance entirely to him. As for the Rat, he was walking a



little way ahead, as his habit was, his shoulders humped, his

eyes fixed on the straight grey road in front of him; so he did



not notice poor Mole when suddenly the summons reached him, and

took him like an electric shock.



We others, who have long lost the more subtle of the physical

senses, have not even proper terms to express an animal's inter-



communications with his surroundings, living or otherwise, and

have only the word `smell,' for instance, to include the whole






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