第44章BOOKTHESECOND：THEGOLDENTHREAD(27)

第44章bookthesecond：thegoldenthread(27)

'totheeyeitisfairenough，here；butseeninitsintegrity，underthesky，andbythedaylight，itisacrumblingtowerofwaste，mismanagement，extortion，debt，mortgage，oppression，hunger，nakedness，andsuffering.'

'hah！'saidthemarquisagain，inawell-satisfiedmanner.

'ifiteverbecomesmine，itshallbeputintosomehandsbetterqualifiedtofreeitslowly（ifsuchathingispossible）fromtheweightthatdragsitdown，sothatthemiserablepeoplewhocannotleaveitandwhohavebeenlongwrungtothelastpointofendurance，may，inanothergeneration，sufferless；butitisnotforme.thereisacurseonit，andonallthisland.'

'andyou？'saidtheuncle.'forgivemycuriosity；doyou，underyournewphilosophy，graciouslyintendtolive？'

'imustdo，tolive，whatothersofmycountrymen，evenwithnobilityattheirbacks，mayhavetodosomeday—work.'

'inengland，forexample？'

'yes.thefamilyhonour，sir，issafefrommeinthiscountry.thefamilynamecansufferfrommeinnoother，foribearitinnoother.'

theringingofthebellhadcausedtheadjoiningbed-chambertobelighted.itnowshonebrightly，throughthedoorofcommunication.themarquislookedthatway，andlistenedfortheretreatingstepofhisvalet.

'englandisveryattractivetoyou，seeinghowindifferentlyyouhaveprosperedthere，'heobservedthen，turninghiscalmfacetohisnephewwithasmile.

'ihavealreadysaid，thatformyprosperingthere，iamsensibleimaybeindebtedtoyou，sir.fortherest，itismyrefuge.'

'theysay，thoseboastfulenglish，thatitistherefugeofmany.youknowacompatriotwhohasfoundarefugethere？adoctor？'

'yes.'

'withadaughter？'

'yes.'

'yes，'saidthemarquis.'youarefatigued.goodnight！'

ashebenthisheadinhismostcourtlymanner，therewasasecrecyinhissmilingface，andheconveyedanairofmysterytothosewords，whichstrucktheeyesandearsofhisnephewforcibly.atthesametime，thethinstraightlinesofthesettingoftheeyes，andthethinstraightlips，andthemarkingsinthenose，curvedwithasarcasmthatlookedhandsomelydiabolic.

'yes，'repeatedthemarquis.'adoctorwithadaughter.yes.socommencesthenewphilosophy！youarefatigued.goodnight！'

itwouldhavebeenofasmuchavailtointerrogateanystonefaceoutsidethechateauastointerrogatethatfaceofhis.thenephewlookedathim，invain，inpassingontothedoor.

'goodnight！'saidtheuncle.'ilooktothepleasureofseeingyouagaininthemorning.goodrepose！lightmonsieurmynephewtohischamberthere！—andburnmonsieurmynephewinhisbed，ifyouwill，'headdedtohimself，beforeheranghislittlebellagain，andsummonedhisvalettohisownbedroom.

thevaletcomeandgone，monsieurthemarquiswalkedtoandfroinhisloosechamber-robe，topreparehimselfgentlyforsleep，thathotstillnight.rustlingabouttheroom，hissoftly-slipperedfeetmakingnonoiseonthefloor，hemovedlikearefinedtiger：—lookedlikesomeenchantedmarquisoftheimpenitentlywickedsort，instory，whoseperiodicalchangeintotigerformwaseitherjustgoingoff，orjustcomingon.

hemovedfromendtoendofhisvoluptuousbedroom，lookingagainatthescrapsoftheday'sjourneythatcameunbiddenintohismind；theslowtoilupthehillatsunset，thesettingsun，thedescent，themill，theprisononthecrag，thelittlevillageinthehollow，thepeasantsatthefountain，andthemenderofroadswithhisbluecappointingoutthechainunderthecarriage.thatfountainestedtheparisfountain，thelittlebundlelyingonthestep，thewomanbendingoverit，andthetallmanwithhisarmsup，crying，'dead！'

'iamcoolnow，'saidmonsieurthemarquis，'andmaygotobed.'

so，leavingonlyonelightburningonthelargehearth，helethisthingauzecurtainsfallaroundhim，andheardthenightbreakitssilencewithalongsighashecomposedhimselftosleep.

thestonefacesontheouterwallsstaredblindlyattheblacknightforthreeheavyhours；forthreeheavyhours，thehorsesinthestablesrattledattheirracks，thedogsbarked，andtheowlmadeanoisewithverylittleresemblanceinittothenoiseconventionallyassignedtotheowlbymen-poets.butitistheobstinatecustomofsuchcreatureshardlyevertosaywhatissetdownforthem.

forthreeheavyhours，thestonefacesofthechateau，lionandhuman，staredblindlyatthenight.deaddarknesslayonallthelandscape，deaddarknessaddeditsownhushtothehushingdustonalltheroads.theburial-placehadgottothepassthatitslittleheapsofpoorgrasswereundistinguishablefromoneanother；thefigureonthecrossmighthavecomedown，foranythingthatcouldbeseenofit.inthevillage：taxersandtaxedwerefastasleep.dreaming，perhaps，ofbanquets，asthestarvedusuallydo，andofeaseandrest，asthedrivenslaveandtheyokedoxmay，itsleaninhabitantssleptsoundly，andwerefedandfreed.

thefountaininthevillageflowedunseenandunheard，andthefountainatthechateaudroppedunseenandunheard—bothmeltingaway，liketheminutesthatwerefallingfromthespringoftime—throughthreedarkhours.then，thegreywaterofbothbegantobeghostlyinthelight，andtheeyesofthestonefacesofthechateauwereopened.

lighterandlighter，untilatlastthesuntouchedthetopsofthestilltrees，andpoureditsradianceoverthehill.intheglow，thewaterofthechateaufountainseemedtoturntoblood，andthestonefacescrimsoned.thecarolofthebirdswasloudandhigh，and，ontheweather-beatensillofthegreatwindowofthebed-chamberofmonsieurthemarquis，onelittlebirdsangitssweetestsongwithallitsmight.atthis，theneareststonefaceseemedtostareamazed，and，withopenmouthanddroppedunder-jaw，lookedawe-stricken.