第6部分(第4/7 頁)

rningsof　that　far…off　country　when　his　father　turned　on　his　bed　and　opened　his　eyes；　and　she　had　lookedinto　those　eyes；　seeing　what　they　held；　and　she　had　not　been　afraid。　She　had　seen　him　baptized；kicking　like　a　mule　and　howling；　and　she　had　seen　him　weep　when　his　mother　died；　he　was　a　rightyoung　man　then；　Florence　said。　Because　she　had　looked　into　those　eyes　before　they　had　looked　onJohn；　she　knew　that　John　would　never　know—the　purity　of　his　father’s　eyes　when　John　was　notreflected　in　their　depths。　She　could　have　told　him—had　he　but　been　able　form　his　hiding…place　toask！–how　to　make　his　father　love　him。　But　now　it　was　too　late。　She　would　not　speak　before　thejudgment　day。　And　among　those　many　voices；　the　stammering　with　his　own；　John　would　care　nolonger　for　her　testimony。

When　he　had　finished　and　the　room　was　ready　for　Sunday；　John　felt　dusty　and　weary　andsat　down　beside　the　window　in　his　father’s　easy　chair。　A　glacial　sun　filled　the　streets；　and　a　highwind　filled　the　air　with　scraps　of　paper　and　frost　dust；　and　banged　the　hanging　signs　of　stores　andstore…front　churches。　It　was　the　end　of　winter；　and　the　garbage…filled　snow　that　had　been　bankedalong　the　edges　of　pavements　was　melting　now　and　filling　the　gutters。　Boys　were　playing　stickballin　the　damp；　cold　streets；　dressed　in　heavy　woolen　sweaters　and　heavy　trousers；　they　danced　and　shouted；　and　the　ball　went　crack　as　the　stick　struck　it　and　sent　I　speeding　through　the　air。　One　ofthem　wore　a　bright…red　stocking　cap　with　a　great　ball　of　wool　hanging　down　behind　that　bouncedas　he　jumped；　like　a　bright　omen　above　his　head。　The　cold　sun　made　their　faces　like　copper　andbrass；　and　through　the　closed　window　John　heard　their　coarse；　irreverent　voices。　And　he　wanted　tobe　one　of　them；　playing　in　the　streets；　unfrightened；