第48部分(第7/7 頁)

　was　married；　in　Warsaw。

Then　the　rebellion　broke　out；　and　she　was　inspired　too。　She

would　go　as　a　nurse　at　her　husband's　side。　He　worked　like　a

lion；　he　wore　his　life　out。　And　she　followed　him　helplessly。　But

she　disbelieved　in　him。　He　was　so　separate；　he　ignored　so　much。

He　counted　too　much　on　himself。　His　work；　his　ideas；……did

nothing　else　matter？

Then　the　children　were　dead；　and　for　her；　everything　became

remote。　He　became　remote。　She　saw　him；　she　saw　him　go　white　when

he　heard　the　news；　then　frown；　as　if　he　thought；　〃Why

have　they　died　now；　when　I　have　no　time　to　grieve？〃

〃He　has　no　time　to　grieve；〃　she　had　said；　in　her　remote；

awful　soul。　〃He　has　no　time。　It　is　so　important；　what　he　does！

He　is　then　so　self…important；　this　half…frenzied　man！　Nothing

matters；　but　this　work　of　rebellion！　He　has　not　time　to　grieve；

nor　to　think　of　his　children！　He　had　not　time　even　to　beget

them；　really。〃

She　had　let　him　go　on　alone。　But；　in　the　chaos；　she　had

worked　by　his　side　again。　And　out　of　the　chaos；　she　had　fled

with　him　to　London。

He　was　a　broken；　cold　man。　He　had　no　affection　for　her；　nor

for　anyone。　He　had　failed　in　his　work；　so　everything　had　failed。

He　stiffened；　and　died。

She　could　not　subscribe。　He　had　failed；　everything　had

failed；　yet　behind　the　failure　was　the　unyielding　passion　of

life。　The　individual　effort　might　fail；　but　not　the　human　joy。

She　belonged　to　the　human　joy。

He　died　and　went　his　way；　but　not　before　there　was　another

child。　And　this　little　Ursula　was　his　grandchild。