第94部分(第3/7 頁)

tter　of　the　rain—a　part　of　my　mind　sensed　that　these　were

not the things I was actually crying about。 To what extent were the others

aware of this？ I felt vaguely guilty for my tears； which were at once genuine

and　false。

Butterfly　came　up　beside　me；　placed　his　arm　upon　my　shoulder；　stroked　my

hair； kissed my cheek and forted me with honeyed words。 This show of

friendship　made　me　cry　with　even　more　sincerity　and　guilt。　I　couldn’t　see　his

face but； for some reason； I incorrectly thought he too was crying。 We sat

down。

We recalled how we’d started our workshop apprenticeships in the same

year； the strange sadness of being torn away from our mothers to suddenly

begin　a　new　life；　the　pain　of　beatings　we　received　from　the　first　day；　the　joy　of

the first gifts from the Head Treasurer； and the days we went back home；

running　the　whole　way。　At　first；　only　he　talked　while　I　listened　sorrowfully；　but

later； when Stork and； sometime afterward； Black—who came to the

workshop　for　a　time　and　left　it；　during　our　early　apprenticeship　years—joined

our　mournful　conversation；　I　forgot　that　I’d　just　been　crying　and　began　to　talk

and　laugh　freely　with　them。

We　reminisced　about　winter　mornings　when　we　would　wake　early；　light　the

stove　in　the　largest　room　of　the　workshop　and　mop　the　floors　with　hot　water。

We　recalled　an　old　“master；”　may　he　rest　in　peace；　who　was　so　uninspired　and

cautious　that　he　could　draw　only　a　single　leaf　of　a　single　tree　during　the　span

of　a　single　day　and　who；　when　he　saw　that　we　were　again　looking　at　the　lush