第9部分(第6/7 页)

sband　with　his　tortured　eyes　and　the　skin

drawn　tight　over　his　face；　he　was　as　a　vision　to　her；　not　a

reality。　In　a　vision　he　was　buried　and　put　away。　Then　the　vision

ceased；　she　was　untroubled；　time　went　on　grey；　uncoloured；　like

a　long　journey　where　she　sat　unconscious　as　the　landscape

unrolled　beside　her。　When　she　rocked　her　baby　at　evening；　maybe

she　fell　into　a　Polish　slumber　song；　or　she　talked　sometimes　to

herself　in　Polish。　Otherwise　she　did　not　think　of　Poland；　nor　of

that　life　to　which　she　had　belonged。　It　was　a　great　blot　looming

blank　in　its　darkness。　In　the　superficial　activity　of　her　life；

she　was　all　English。　She　even　thought　in　English。　But　her　long

blanks　and　darknesses　of　abstraction　were　Polish。

So　she　lived　for　some　time。　Then；　with　slight　uneasiness；　she

used　half　to　awake　to　the　streets　of　London。　She　realized　that

there　was　something　around　her；　very　foreign；　she　realized　she

was　in　a　strange　place。　And　then；　she　was　sent　away　into　the

country。　There　came　into　her　mind　now　the　memory　of　her　home

where　she　had　been　a　child；　the　big　house　among　the　land；　the

peasants　of　the　village。

She　was　sent　to　Yorkshire；　to　nurse　an　old　rector　in　his

rectory　by　the　sea。　This　was　the　first　shake　of　the　kaleidoscope

that　brought　in　front　of　her　eyes　something　she　must　see。　It

hurt　her　brain；　the　open　country　and　the　moors。　It　hurt　her　and

hurt　her。　Yet　it　forced　itself　upon　her　as　something　living；　it

roused　some　potency　of　her　childhood　in　her；　it　had　some

relation　to　her。

There　was　green　and　silver　and　blue　in　the　air　about　her　now。

And　there　was　a　strange　insistence　of　light