按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
acquaintance with。
It had been going on in all its trifling detail； all its serious
intensity； when his father and his grandfather in their day had
been little boys at school； it would go on just as intently as ever
long after Comus and his generation had passed away； just as the
shadows would lengthen and fade under the mulberry trees in that
far away English garden； round the old stone fountain where a
leaden otter for ever preyed on a leaden salmon。
Comus rose impatiently from his seat； and walked wearily across the
hut to another window…opening which commanded a broad view of the
river。 There was something which fascinated and then depressed one
in its ceaseless hurrying onward sweep； its tons of water rushing
on for all time； as long as the face of the earth should remain
unchanged。 On its further shore could be seen spread out at
intervals other teeming villages； with their cultivated plots and
pasture clearings； their moving dots which meant cattle and goats
and dogs and children。 And far up its course； lost in the forest
growth that fringed its banks； were hidden away yet more villages；
human herding…grounds where men dwelt and worked and bartered；
squabbled and worshipped； sickened and perished； while the river
went by with its endless swirl and rush of gleaming waters。 One
could well understand primitive early races making propitiatory
sacrifices to the spirit of a great river on whose shores they
dwelt。 Time and the river were the two great forces that seemed to
matter here。
It was almost a relief to turn back to that other outlook and watch
the village life that was now beginning to wake in earnest。 The
procession of water…fetchers had formed itself in a long chattering
line that stretched river…wards。 Comus wondered how many tens of
thousands of times that procession had been formed since first the
village came into existence。 They had been doing it while he was
playing in the cricket…fields at school； while he was spending
Christmas holidays in Paris； while he was going his careless round
of theatres； dances； suppers and card…parties； just as they were
doing it now； they would be doing it when there was no one alive
who remembered Comus Bassington。 This thought recurred again and
again with painful persistence； a morbid growth arising in part
from his loneliness。
Staring dumbly out at the toiling sweltering human ant…hill Comus
marvelled how missionary enthusiasts could labour hopefully at the
work of transplanting their religion； with its homegrown accretions
of fatherly parochial benevolence； in this heat…blistered； fever…
scourged wilderness； where men lived like groundbait and died like
flies。 Demons one might believe in； if one did not hold one's
imagination in healthy check； but a kindly all…managing God； never。
Somewhere in the west country of England Comus had an uncle who
lived in a rose…smothered rectory and taught a wholesome gentle…
hearted creed that expressed itself in the spirit of 〃Little lamb；
who made thee？〃 and faithfully reflected the beautiful homely
Christ…child sentiment of Saxon Europe。 What a far away； unreal
fairy story it all seemed here in this West African land； where the
bodies of men were of as little account as the bubbles that floated
on the oily froth of the great flowing river； and where it required
a stretch of wild profitless imagination to credit them with
undying souls。 In the life he had come from Comus had been
accustomed to think of individuals as definite masterful
personalities； making their several marks on the circumstances that
revolved around them； they did well or ill； or in most cases
indifferently； and were criticised； praised； blamed； thwarted or
tolerated； or given way to。 In any case； humdrum or outstanding；
they had their spheres of importance； little or big。 They
dominated a breakfast table or harassed a Government； according to
their capabilities or opportunities； or perhaps they merely had
irritating mannerisms。 At any rate it seemed highly probable that
they had souls。 Here a man simply made a unit in an unnumbered
population； an inconsequent dot in a loosely…compiled deathroll。
Even his own position as a white man exalted conspicuously above a
horde of black natives did not save Comus from the depressing sense
of nothingness which his first experience of fever had thrown over
him。 He was a lost； soulless body in this great uncaring land； if
he died another would take his place； his few effects would be
inventoried and sent down to the coast； someone else would finish
off any tea or whisky that he left behind … that would be all。
It was nearly time to be starting towards the next halting place
where he would dine or at any rate eat something。 But the
lassitude which the fever had bequeathed him made the tedium of
travelling through interminable forest…tracks a weariness to be
deferred as long as possible。 The bearers were nothing loth to let
another half…hour or so slip by； and Comus dragged a battered
paper…covered novel from the pocket of his coat。 It was a story
dealing with the elaborately tangled love affairs of a surpassingly
uninteresting couple； and even in his almost bookless state Comus
had not been able to plough his way through more than two…thirds of
its dull length； bound up with the cover； however； were some pages
of advertisement； and these the exile scanned with a hungry
intentness that the romance itself could never have commanded。 The
name of a shop； of a street； the address of a restaurant； came to
him as a bitter reminder of the world he had lost； a world that ate
and drank and flirted； gambled and made merry； a world that debated
and intrigued and wire…pulled； fought or compromised political
battles … and recked nothing of its outcasts wandering through
forest paths and steamy swamps or lying in the grip of fever。
Comus read and re…read those few lines of advertisement； just as he
treasured a much…crumpled programme of a first…night performance at
the Straw Exchange Theatre； they seemed to make a little more real
the past that was already so shadowy and so utterly remote。 For a
moment he could almost capture the sensation of being once again in
those haunts that he loved； then he looked round and pushed the
book wearily from him。 The steaming heat； the forest； the rushing
river hemmed him in on all sides。
The two boys who had been splitting wood ceased from their labours
and straightened their backs； suddenly the smaller of the two gave
the other a resounding whack with a split lath that he still held
in his hand； and flew up the hillside with a scream of laughter and
simulated terror； the bigger lad following in hot pursuit。 Up and
down the steep bush…grown slope they raced and twisted and dodged；
coming sometimes to close quarters in a hurricane of squeals and
smacks； rolling over and over like fighting kittens； and breaking
away again to start fresh provocation and fresh pursuit。 Now and
again they would lie for a time panting in what seemed the last
stage of exhaustion； and then they would be off in another wild
scamper； their dusky bodies flitting through the bushes；
disappearing and reappearing with equal suddenness。 Presently two
girls of their own age； who had returned from the water…fetching；
sprang out on them from ambush； and the four joined in one joyous
gambol that lit up the hillside with shrill echoes and glimpses of
flying limbs。 Comus sat and watched； at first with an amused
interest； then with a returning flood of depression and heart…ache。
Those wild young human kittens represented the joy of life； he was
the outsider； the lonely alien； watching something in which he
could not join； a happiness in which he had no part or lot。 He
would pass presently out of the village and his bearers' feet would
leave their indentations in the dust； that would be his most
permanent memorial in this little oasis of teeming life。 And that
other life； in which he once moved with such confident sense of his
own necessary participation in it； how completely he had passed out
of it。 Amid all its laughing throngs； its card parties and race…
meetings and country…house gatherings； he was just a mere name；
remembered or forgotten； Comus Bassington； the boy who went away。
He had loved himself very well and never troubled greatly whether
anyone else really loved him； and now he realised what he had made
of his life。 And at the same time he knew that if his chance were
to come again he would throw it away just as surely； just as
perversely。 Fate played with him with loaded dice； he would lose
always。
One person in the whole world had cared for him； for longer than he
could remember； cared for him perhaps more than he knew； cared for
him perhaps now。 But a wall o