第12部分(第3/7 頁)

exist；　as　one　is　quiet　and　polite　to　a

servant。

Nevertheless　she　was　great　with　his　child；　it　was　his　turn　to

submit。　She　sat　opposite　him；　sewing；　her　foreign　face

inscrutable　and　indifferent。　He　felt　he　wanted　to　break　her　into

acknowledgment　of　him；　into　awareness　of　him。　It　was

insufferable　that　she　had　so　obliterated　him。　He　would　smash　her

into　regarding　him。　He　had　a　raging　agony　of　desire　to　do

so。

But　something　bigger　in　him　withheld　him；　kept　him

motionless。　So　he　went　out　of　the　house　for　relief。　Or　he　turned

to　the　little　girl　for　her　sympathy　and　her　love；　he　appealed

with　all　his　power　to　the　small　Anna。　So　soon　they　were　like

lovers；　father　and　child。

For　he　was　afraid　of　his　wife。　As　she　sat　there　with　bent

head；　silent；　working　or　reading；　but　so　unutterably　silent　that

his　heart　seemed　under　the　millstone　of　it；　she　became　herself

like　the　upper　millstone　lying　on　him；　crushing　him；　as

sometimes　a　heavy　sky　lies　on　the　earth。

Yet　he　knew　he　could　not　tear　her　away　from　the　heavy

obscurity　into　which　she　was　merged。　He　must　not　try　to　tear　her

into　recognition　of　himself；　and　agreement　with　himself。　It　were

disastrous；　impious。　So；　let　him　rage　as　he　might；　he　must

withhold　himself。　But　his　wrists　trembled　and　seemed　mad；　seemed

as　if　they　would　burst。

When；　in　November；　the　leaves　came　beating　against　the　window

shutters；　with　a　lashing　sound；　he　started；　and　his　eyes

flickered　with　flame。　The　dog　looked　up　at　him；　he　sunk　his　head

to　the　fire。　But　his　wife　was　startled。　He　was　aware　of　her

listening。

〃They　blow　up　with　a　rattle；〃　he　said。