第237章 - 战争与和平 - 佚名 - 都市言情小说 - 30读书
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第237章

第237章warmedbythespringsunshinehesatinthecarriage,lookingatthefirstgrass,thefirstbirchleavesandthefirstflecksofwhitespringcloudsfloatingoverthebrightblueofthesky.hewasthinkingofnothing,butlookingabouthim,light-heartedandthoughtless.

theycrossedthefordwherehehadtalkedwithpierreayearbefore.theydrovethroughamuddyvillage,bythreshingfloors,andpatchesofgreencorn;downhillbyadriftofsnowstilllyingnearthebridge,uphillalongaclayroadhollowedoutbytherain,bystripsofstubble-field,withcopseturninggreenhereandthere;anddroveatlastintoabirchforestthatlayonbothsidesoftheroad.intheforestitwasalmosthot,thewindcouldnotbefelt.thebirches,allstuddedwithsticky,greenleaves,didnotstir,andlilac-colouredflowersandthefirstgrassliftedthelastyear’sleavesandpeepedoutgreenfromunderthem.tinyfir-trees,dottedhereandthereamongthebirches,broughtajarringreminderofwinterwiththeircoarse,unchanginggreen.thehorsesneighedastheyenteredtheforestandwerevisiblyheated.

pyotrthefootmansaidsomethingtothecoachman;thecoachmanassented.butapparentlythecoachman’ssympathywasnotenoughforpyotr.heturnedroundontheboxtohismaster.

“yourexcellency,howsoftitis!”hesaid,smilingrespectfully.

“eh?”

“itissoft,yourexcellency.”

“whatdoeshemean?”wonderedprinceandrey.“oh,theweather,mostlikely,”hethought,lookingfromsidetoside.“and,indeed,everything’sgreenalready…howsoon!andthebirchandthewildcherryandthealderbeginningtocomeout.…butihaven’tnoticedtheoak.yes,hereheis,theoak!”

attheedgeofthewoodstoodanoak.probablytentimestheageofthebirch-treesthatformedthebulkoftheforest,itwastentimesthethicknessandtwicetheheightofanybirch-tree.itwasahugeoak,doubleaman’sspan,withbranchesbrokenoff,longagoitseemed,andwithbarktornoff,andsearedwitholdscars.withitshuge,uncouth,gnarledarmsandfingerssprawlingunsymmetrically,itstoodanaged,angry,andscornfulmonsteramongthesmilingbirches.onlythefewdead-looking,evergreenfirsdottedabouttheforest,andthisoak,refusedtoyieldtothespellofspring,andwouldseeneitherspringnorsunshine.

“springandloveandhappiness!”thatoakseemedtosay.“areyounotsickofthatever-same,stupid,andmeaninglesscheat?alwaysthesame,andalwaysacheat!thereisnospring,norsunshine,norhappiness.seeyonderstandthecramped,deadfir-trees,everthesame,andhereihaveflungmytornandbrokenfingerswherevertheyhavegrownoutofmybackormysides.astheyhavegrown,soistand,andiputnofaithinyourhopesanddeceptions.”

princeandreylookedroundseveraltimesatthatoakasthoughheexpectedsomethingfromit.therewereflowersandgrassundertheoaktoo,butstillitstood,scowling,rigid,weirdandgrim,amongthem.

“yes,he’sright,athousandtimesright,theoldoak,”thoughtprinceandrey.“others,youngcreatures,maybecaughtanewbythatdeception,butweknowlife—ourlifeisover!”awholefreshtrainofideas,hopeless,butmournfullysweet,stirredupinprinceandrey’ssoulinconnectionwiththatoak.duringthisjourneyhethoughtoverhiswholelifeasitwereanew,andcametothesamehopelessbutcalmingconclusion,thatitwasnotforhimtobeginanythingfresh,thathemustlivehislife,contenttodonoharm,dreadingnothinganddesiringnothing.

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