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  ThedayGoldmundcouldnhimselftogotowork.Asonmanyotherjoylessdays,heroamedaboutthecity.Hesawhousewivesandservantsgotomarket.Heloiteredaroundthefountainatthefishmarketandwatchedthefishvendersandtheirburlywivespraisetheirwares,watchedthempullthecoolsilveryfishoutofthebarrelsandofferthemforsale,sawthefishopentheirmouthsinpain,theirgoldeyesrigidwithfearastheyquietlygaveih,orresisteditwithfuriousdesperation.Hewasgrippedbypityfortheseanimalsandbyasadannoyahhumanbeings.Whywerepeoplesonumbandcrude,sounthinkablystupidandiive?Howcouldthosefishermenandfishwives,thosehagglingshoppershesemouths,thedeathlyfrightenedeyesandwildlyflailingtails,thegruesome,useless,desperatebattle,thisunbearabletransformationfrommysterious,miraculouslybeautifulanimals—thequietlastshiverthatranacrossthedyingskinbeforetheylaydeada—intoflattened,miserableslabsofmeatforthetablesofthosejovialpauhesepeoplesawnothing,khing,andnotiothing;nothingtouchedthem.Apracefulanimalcouldexpireuheirveryeyes,oramastercouldexpressallthehope,nobility,andsuffering,allthedarktenseanguishofhumahestatueofasaintwithshudder-indugtangibility—theysawnothing,nothingmovedthem!Theyweregay;theywerebusy,important,inahurry;theyshouted,laughed,bumpedintoeachother,madeoldjokes,screamedovertwopennies,feltfine,wereorderlycitizens,highlysatisfiedwiththemselvesandtheworld.Pigs,thatswhattheywere,filthierandvilerthanpigs!Ofcoursehehadonlytoooftenbeehem,hadfelthappyamongthem,hadpursuedtheirgirls,hadgailyeatenbakedfishfromhisplatewithoutbeinghorrified.Butsoonerorlater,asthoughbymagic,joyandcalmwouldsuddehim;allfatplumpillusions,allhisself-satisfaandself-importandidlepeaindfellaway.Somethingplungedhimintosolitudeandbrooding,madehimplatesufferingah,thevanityofalluaking,ashestaredintotheabyss.Atothertimesasuddenjoyblossomedfromthehopelessdepthofuselessnessandhorror,aviolentinfatuation,thedesiretosiifulsong,todraw.Hehadonlytosmellaflowerorplaywithacat,andhischildlikeagreementwithlifecameba.Thistime,too,itwouldebaorroworthedayafter,theworldwouldbegoodagain,itwouldbewonderful.Atleastitwassountilthesadnessreturhebrooding,theremorsefordyingfishandwiltingflowers,thehorrorofiive,piglike,staring-but-not-seeinghumaewasatsuentsthatViktoralwayscametohismind.Withtcuriosityanddeepanguish,hewouldthinkofthelankywayfarerwhomhehadstabbedbetweentheribsalyingonpineboughscoveredwithblood.AndhewonderedwhathadbeeofViktor.Hadtheanimalseatenhimpletely,hadanythingremainedofhim?Thebonesprobably,andperhapsafewhandfulsofhair.Andwhatwouldbeeofthebones?Howlongwasit,decadesorjustyears,untilboneslosttheirshapeandcrumbledintotheearth?

  Ashewatchedthegoings-oninthemarketplace,feelingpityforthefishanddisgustforthepeople,anguishedbythemelancholyinhisheartandabitterhatredagainsttheworldandhimself,heoncemorethoughtofViktor.Perhapssomeonehadfoundandburiedhim?Andinthatcase,hadallthefleshfallenfromthebones,haditallrottedoff,hadthewormsdevouredeverything?Wastherestillhairontheskull,andbrowsabovethehollowsoftheeyes?AndwhathadremainedofViktorslife,whichhadbeensofullofadventuresandstories,thefantasticplayfulnessofhisoddjests?Wastherenothingelseleftaliveofthishumaence,whichhad,afterall,notbeenordinary,otherthanthefewstraymemorieshismurdererhadofhim?WastherestillaViktorinthedreamsofwomenwhohadoncelovedhim?Orhadeveryvestigeofhimdisappearedanddissolved?Thusithappeoeveryoneahing:abriefflthatsoonwiltedandwassooncoveredbysnow.Allthethingsthathadfloweredinhimwhenhearrivedinthiscityafewyearsagwithdesireforart,withdeepanxiousrespeasterNiklaus—whatwasstillaliveofthem?Nothing,nothingmorethanwasleftofpoorlankyViktorsboastfulsilhouette.IfsomebodyhadtoldhimafewyearsagothatthedaywouldewhenNiklauswnizehimasanequalanddemandhismasterslitheguild,hewouldhavebelievedallthehappinessintheworldwasinhishands.Andnowthisachievementwasnothingbutafadedflower,adried-up,joylessthing.

  InthemiddleofthesethoughtsGoldmundsuddenlyhadavision.Itlastedonlyaninstant,alightningflash:hesawthefaceoftheuniversalmother,leaniheabyssoflife,withalostsmilethatwasbothbeautifulandgruesome.Shewaslookingatbirthah,atflowers,atrustlingautumnleaves,atart,atdecay.

  Everythinghadthesamemeaningtotheuniversalmother.Herchillingsmilehungaboveeverythinglikeamoon,sadandpehedyingcarponthecobblestohefishmarketwasasdeartoldmund;shewasasfondofthescatteredboheViktorwhohadoriedtostealhisgoldasshewasofhismastersproudcoolyoungdaughterLisbeth.

  Thelightningflashwasgohemysteriousmotherfacehadvanished.ButthepaleglowtirembledeepinGoldmundssoul,thebeatoflife,ofpain,oflongingagitatedhisheart.No,no,hedidnotwaiatedhappinessoftheothers,offishvenders,hers,ofbusypeople.Letthemgotohell.Oh,hertwitgpaleface,herfullyripelate-summermouth,herheavylipsonwhichtheimmealsmiletrembledlikewindandmoonlight!

  Goldmuothemastershouse.Itwastowardnoon,aeduntilheheardNiklausleavehisworkandgotowashhishands.Thein.

  "MayIsayafewwordstoyou,Master,whileyourewashingyourhandsandputtingonyourjacket?Imstarvingforamouthfuloftruth.IwanttosaysomethingtoyouthatImightperhapsbeablethtnowandneveragain.Imustspeaktoahumanbeingandperhapsyouaretheonlyonewhoderstand.Imnotspeakingtothemanwiththefamousworkshopwhoishonoredbysomanyassigsfromgreatcitiesandcloisters,whohastwoassistantsandarich,beautifulhouse.Imspeakingtothemasterwhomadethemadonnainthecloisteroutsidethecity,themostbeautifulstatueIknow.Ihavelovedandveedthisman;tobeelikehimseemedtomethehighestgoaloh.NowIhavemadeastatue,mystatueofSt.John.Itsnotmadeasperfectlyasyourmadonna;butthattbehelped.Ihavenoplansforotherstatues,hatdemandsexecution.Orrather,thereisoheremoteimageofasaintthatIllhavetomakesomeday,butnotjustyet.Iobeabletomakeit,Imustseeandexperiencemuch,muchmore.PerhapsIllbeabletomakeitinthreeorfouryears,orintenyears,orlater,ornever.Butuntilthen,Master,Idontwanttoworkasanartisan,lacqueringstatuesandcarvingpulpitsandleadinganartisanslifeintheworkshop.Idontwanttoearnmoneyandbeelikeotherartisans.Idontwantthat.Iwanttoliveandroam,tofeelsummerandwinter,experieheworld,tasteitsbeautyanditshorrors.Iwanttosufferhungerandthirst,andtoridandpurgemyselfofallIhavelivedandlearnedherewithyou.OnedayIwouldliketomakesomethingasbeautifulanddeeplymovingasyourmadonna—butIdontwanttobeelikeyouandleadyourkindoflife."

  Themasterhadwashedanddriedhishands.HeturnedandlookedatGoldmund.Hisfacewasstern,butnotangry.

  "Youhavespoken,"hesaid,"andIhavelistened.Dontworrynow.Imnotexpegyoutoetowork,althoughthereismuchtobedone.Idontsideryouanassistant;youneedfreedom.Idliketodiscussafewthingswithyou,dearGoldmund;notnoleofdays.Inthemeantime,youmayspendyourhoursasyouplease.Yousee,Iammucholderthanyouandhavelearnedafewthings.Ithinkdifferentlythanyoudo,butIuandyouandwhatgoesoninyourmind.InafewdaysIllsendforyou.Welltalkaboutyourfuture;Ihaveallkindsofplans.Untiltheient!Iknowonlytoowellhowonefeelswhenonehasfinishedapieceofworkthatortanttoone;Iknowthisemptiness.Itpasses,believeme."

  Goldmu,dissatisfied.Themastermeantwell,buthowcouldhebeofhelp?Goldmundkneotalongtheriverwherethewaterwasnotdeep;itsbedwascoveredwithshardsandallkindsofrubbishthatfishermenhadthrownthere.Hesatdownontheembawallandlookedintothewater.Helovedwaterverymuch;allwaterattractedhim.Fromthisspot,onecouldlohthestreaming,crystal-threadedwaterahedarkvaguebottom,seeavaguegoldenglitterhereandthere,aigsparkle,bitsofabrokenplateperhapsoraworn-outsickle,orasmoothflatstoneorapolishedtile,oritmightbeamudfish,afatturbotorredeyeturningarounddownthere,arayoflightcatgforaninstantthebrightfinsofitsscalesandbelly—onecouldnevermakeoutreciselywasthere,buttherewerealwaysentinglybeautiful,entig,briefvagueglintsofdrownedgoldentreasureiblackground.Alltruemysteries,itseemedtohim,werejustlikethismysteriouswater;alltrueimagesofthesoulwerelikethis:theyhadnoprecisetourorshape:theyonlycouldbeguessedat,abeautifuldistantpossibilitythatwasveiledinmanymeanings.Justassomethinginexpressiblygoldenorsilveryblinkedforaquiveringinstantiwilightofthegreenriverdepths,anillusionthattained,heless,themostblissfulpromise,sothefleetingprofileofaperson,seenhalffromtheback,couldsometimespromisesomethinginfinitelybeautiful,somethingunbearablysad.Inthesamewayalanternhungunderacartatnight,paintinggiantspinningshadowsofwheelspokesonwalls,couldforamomeeashadowplaythatseemedasfullofisandstoriesastheworkofHomer.Andonesnightlydreamswerewovenofthesameunreal,magicstuff,anothingthattainedalltheimagesintheworld,anoinwhosecrystaltheformsofallhumanbeings,animals,angels,anddemonslivedaseverreadypossibilities.

  Hewasabsorbedinthegame.Withlosteyeshestaredintothedriftingriver,saelessshimmeringsatthebottom,kingssandwomensbareshoulders.OnedayinMariabronn,herecalled,hehadseensimilarshape-dreamsandmagicaltransformationsinGreekandLatiers.HadntheoalkedaboutitwithNarcissus?Whenhadthatbeen,howmanyhundredyearsago?Oh,Narcissus!Tobeabletoseehim,tospeakwithhimforanhour,holdhishand,hearhiscalm,intelligentvoice,hewouldgladlyhavegivenhistwogoldpieces.

  Howcouldthesethingsbesobeautiful,thisgoldenglowunderhewater,theseshadowsandinsinuations,alltheseunreal,fairylikeapparitions—soinexpressiblybeautifulanddelightful,whentheyweretheexactoppositeofthebeautyanartistmightcreate?Thebeautyofthoseundistinguishableobjectswaswithoutformandsistedofnothingbutmystery.Thiswastheveryoppositeoftheformandabsoluteprecisionofworksofart.Nothingwasasmercilesslyclearanddefihelineofadrawnmouthoraheadcarvedinwood.Preciselytothefraofaninch,hecouldhaveretracedtheunderliportheeyelidsofNiklaussmadonnastatue;nothingwasindefihere,nothiive,nothingvague.

  Goldmundwasabsorbedinhisthoughts.Hecouldnotuandhowthatwhichwassodefiniteandformalcouldaffectthesoulinthesamemahatwhichwasintangibleandformless.Ohing,however,didbeecleartohim—whysomanyperfectworksofartdidnotpleasehimatall,whytheywerealmosthatefulandbtohim,inspiteofacertainundeniablebeauty.Workshops,churches,andpalaceswerefullofthesefatalworksofart;hehadevenhelpedwithafewhimself.Theyweredeeplydisappointingbecausetheyarousedthedesireforthehighestanddidnotfulfillit.Theylackedthemostessentialthing—mystery.Thatwaswhatdreamsandtrulygreatworksofarthadinystery.

  Goldmundtinuedhisthought:ItismysteryIloveandpursue.SeveraltimesIhaveseenitbeginningtotakeshape;asanartist,Iwouldliketocaptureandexpressit.Someday,perhaps,Illbeableto.Thefigureoftheuniversalmother,thegreatbirthgiver,forexample.Uherfigures,hermysterydoesnotsistofthisorthatdetail,ofaparticularvoluptuousnessorsparseness,coarsenessordelicacy,pracefulness.Itsistsofafusionofthegreatesttrastsoftheworld,thosethatototherwisebebihathavemadepealyinthisfigure.Theyliveinittogether:birthah,tendernessandcruelty,lifearu.IfIonlyimagihisfigure,andwereshemerelytheplayofmythoughts,itwouldnotmatterabouther,Icoulddismissherasamistakeandfetabouther.Buttheuniversalmotherisnotanideaofmine;Ididnotthinkherup,Isawher!Shelivesinsideme.Ivemetheragainandagain.SheappearedtomeoernightinavillagewhenIwasaskedtoholdalightoverthebedofapeasantwomangivingbirth:thatswhentheimagecametolifewithinme.Iofte;fperiodsitremaie;butsuddenlyitflashesclearagain,asitdidtoday.Theimageofmyownmother,whomIlovedmostofall,hastransformeditselfintothisnewimage,andliesehinthenewonelikethepitinthecherry.

  Ashispresentsituationbecamecleartohim,Goldmundwasafraidtomakeadecision.ItwasasdifficultaswhenhehadsaidfarewelltoNarcissusandtothecloister.Oncemorehewasonanimportantroad:theroadtohismother.Wouldthismother-imageoakeshape,aworkofhishands,andbeevisibletoall?Perhapsthatwashisgoal,thehiddenmeaningofhislife.Perhaps;hedidntknow.Butohinghedidknow:itwasgoodtotraveltowardhismother,tobedrawnandcalledbyher.Hefeltalive.Perhapshedneverbeabletoshapeherimage,perhapsshedalwaysremainadream,anintuition,agoldenshimmer,asacredmystery.Atanyrate,hehadtofollowherandsubmithisfatetoher.Shewashisstar.

  Andnowthedecisionwasathisfiips;everythinghadbeeclear.Artwasabeautifulthing,butitwasnogoddess,nogoal—notforhim.Hewasnottofollowart,butonlythecallofhismother.Whytioperfecttheabilityofhishands?MasterNiklauswasanexampleofsuchperfe,andwherediditlead?Itledtofameaation,tomoneyaledlife,andtupanddwarfingofonesinnerseowhichaloerywasaccessible.Itledtomakiy,precioustoys,allkindsoforarsandpulpits,St.Sebastiansandcute,curlyangelsheadsatfuildersapiece.Oh,thegoldintheeyeofacarp,thesweetthinsilverydownattheedgeofabutterflyswingwereinfinitelymorebeautiful,alive,andpreciousthanawholeroomfulofsuchworksofart.

  Aboycamesingingdowntheriverroad.Sometimeshissingingwasinterruptedbyabiteintoabigpieceofwhitebreadhewascarryinginhishand.Goldmundsawhimandaskedhimforasmallpieceofbread,scratchedoutsomeofthesoftcrumbwithtwofingers,andformedtinyballswithit.Heleanedovertheembarailingandthrewthebreadballsslowly,onebyoothewater,sawthewhiteballsinkintothedarkness,sawpushingfishheadsswarmaroundituntilitdisappearedintoohemouths.Withdeepsatisfahesawballafterballgounderanddisappear.Thehungryaoseeoneofhisloveswhoservedasamaidinabutchershouseandwhomhecalled"MyLadyofSausagesandHams."Withtheusualwhistlehecalledhertothewindowofherkit,expeghertogivehimalittlenourishingsomethingtoslipinhispocketsaoutdoors,highabovetheriverohevine-coveredhillswherethickredsoilglistehilyuhefullgrapeleaves,wheresmallbluehyathswiththedelicatestoffruitblossomedinthespring.

  Butthisseemedtobehisdayofdecisionsandrealizations.AsKathrineappearedatthewindow,smilingdowntohimoutofhercoarsenedface,ashestretchedouthishandtomakethehabitualsignal,hesuddenlyrememberedalltheothertimeshehadstoodwaitinginthesamemanner.Withbprecisionheforesaweverythingthatwouldhappenifewminutes:shewnizehissignal,stepback,reappearpromptlyatthebackdoorwithamorselinherhand,smokedsausagesperhaps,whichhewouldaccept,arokeheralittleandpresshertohimassheexpe.Suddenlyitseemedinfiupidanduglytoprovokethiswholemeicalsequenceofoftenexperiehingsandplayhispartinit,toreceivethesausage,tofeelhersturdybreastspressagainsthim,andsqueezeheralittleasthoughinpayment.Suddehoughthesawatraitofsoul-lesshabitinherdearcoarsefaethingmeidunmysteriousinherfriendlysmile,somethingunworthyofhim.Hisgesturefrozeinmid-air;thesmilefrozeonhisface.Washestillihher,didhereallystilldesireher?No,hehadbeeoooften.Alltoooftenhehadseenthisselfsamesmileandsmiledbackwithoutapromptingfromhisheart.Whathadstillbeenallrightyesterdaywassuddenlynolongerpossibletoday.Thegirlwasstillstandingthere,looking,buthehadturnedaway,vanishedfromthestreet,determiogobackthereagaisomeoneelsestrokethosebreasts!Letsomeoneelseeatthosedelicioussausages!Howthisfat,happycitystuffedandsquandereddayin,dayout!Howlazy,spoiled,andfastidiousthesefatburgherswere,forwhomsomanysowsandcalveswerekilledeveryday,somanypoor,beautifulfishpulledfromtheriver!Andhe—howspoiledandrottenhehadbee,howdisgustinglylikethefatburghers!Toawandererinasnow-coveredfield,adried-uppruneoranoldcrustofbreadtastedmoredeliciousthanawholemealherewiththepruildsmen.Oh,theroaminglife,freedom,theheathinthemoonlight,theanimaltrackspeeredatattentivelyinthegray-dewedmgrass!Hereiy,amongthewell-establishedburghers,everythingwassoeasyandcostsolittle,evenlove.Hehadhadenoughofit.Suddeonit.Lifeherehadlostitsmeaning;itwasamarrowlessbone.AslongasthemasterhadbeenanexampleandLisbethaprincess,ithadbeeiful,ithadmadesehadbeenbearableaslongashewaswonhisSt.John.Nowthatitwasover,theperfumewasgoheflowerhadwilted.Hewassweptupinaviolentwave.Asuddenawarenessofimpermanencewashedoverhim,afeelingthatofteorturedandintoxicatedhim.Everythingwassoonwilted,everydesirequicklyexhausted;nothingremaibonesanddust.Butohingdidremaiernalmother,basit,foreveryoung,withhersad,cruelsmileoflove.Againhesawherforaninstant:agiantfigurewithstarsinherhair.Dreamilyshesatontheedgeoftheworld,plugflowerafterflower,lifeafterlife,layfulhand,slowlydroppiothebottomlessvoid.

  Duringthesedays,whileGoldmundfloatedthroughthefamiliarcityinadrunkendepressionofbiddingfarewell,watgawiltedpieceoflifefadeawaybehindhim,MasterNiklaustookgreatpainstoprovideforhisfutureandtriedtomakehisrestlessguestsettledownforever.HepersuadedtheguildtoissueGoldmundamastersdiplomaandceivedaplantotieGoldmundtohimforever,notasasubordiasanassociate,withwhomhewoulddiscussaeallimportantordersandshareintheearnings.Itmightbearisk,becauseofLisbeth,becausetheyoungmanwouldofcoursesoonbeehisson-in-law.ButeveassistantNiklaushadeverpaidwagestocouldnothavemadeastatuelikeGoldmundsSt.John.Besides,hewasgrowingold;hadfewerideasandlesscreativefordhedidnotwanttoseehisfamousworkshopsinktothelevelofordinarycraftsmanship.Goldmundwouldnotbeeasytohahehadtotaketherisk.

  Themasterworriedandspeculated.Hewouldenlargethebackworkrooldmund,givehimtheroomiidpresenthimwithbeautifulnewclothesforhisacceptaheguild.CarefullyhesouLisbethsfeelings.Shehadbeeingsomethingofthesortsihemealthatnoon.AndLisbethwasnotopposedtoit.Ifthefellowcouldbepersuadedtosettledownandbeasterofhiscraft,shehadnoobje.Therewerenoobstaclesonherside.AndifMasterNiklausandhiscraftdidnotfullysucceedintamingthisgypsy,Lisbethwassureshecouldachievetherest.

  Everythingwasready,thebaithadbeenlaidappetizinglybeforethetrapforthebirdtowalkiersentfoldmund,whohadnotshownhimselfoflate.Oncemorehewasiodinner.Againheappearedbrushedandpressed;agaiinthebeautiful,somewhatoversolemnroom;againhedranktoaststomasteranddaughter,untilfinallythedaughterlefttheroomandNiklausbroughtforthhisgreatplanandmadehisoffer.

  "Ithinkyouveuoodme,"hesaid,cludinghissurprisingdisclosure,"andItellyouthatprobablynoyoungmanhaseverbeenpromotedtomasterasrapidly,withoutevenservingtherequiredapprenticeship,andthenplasuchawarm.Yourfortuneismade,Goldmund."

  Goldmundlookedathismasterwithembarrassedsurprise,pushedthemugawayalthoughitwasstillhalffull.HehadexpectedthatNiklauswouldscoldhimalittlebecauseofthedayshehadlostloafing,andthenproposethathestaywithhimashisassistant.Andnowthis.Hefeltsadandstrained,sittingacrossthetablefromthisman.Hecouldnotfindareadyanswer.

  Themastersfacegrewslightlytenseanddisappointedwhenhishonorableofferwasnotacceptedimmediatelywithjoyfulmodesty.Hestoodupandsaid:"Well,myproposalesuedly.Perhapsyoudliketothinkaboutit.Itdoesoffetlethatitshouldbethisway;IhadthoughtIwasgivingyouagreatjoy.Butnevermind,takeyourtimeandthinkitover."

  "Master,"Goldmundsaid,fightingforwords,"dontbeangrywithme!Ithankyouwithallmyheartforyoodwill,andevehepatiehwhichyouhavetaughtme.IllneverfethowdeeplyiedIamtoyou.ButIimetothinkitover,Ihavelongsincedecided."

  "Decidedwhat?"

  "IhadmademydecisionbeforeIacceptedyourinvitationandbeforeIhadanyideaofyourhonorableoffer.Imnotgoingtoremainhereanyloingbatheroad."

  Niklausturnedpaleandlookedathimdarkly.

  "Master,"beggedGoldmund,"Idonotwishtooffendyou,believeme.Ihavetoldyoumydecision.Nothinggeit.Imustleave,Imusttravel,Imustbefree.Letmethankyoucordiallyonceagain,ausbideachotherafriendlyfarewell."

  Heheldouthishand;hewasclosetotears.Niklausdidnottakehishand.Hisfacehadturnedwhite;heagtheroom,fasterandfaster,hisstepsegwithrage.NeverhadGoldmundseenhimlikethat.

  Suddenlythemasterstopped,madeadreadfulefforttotrolhimself,andsaid,lookingpastGoldmund,throughchedteeth:"Allright,gothenifyoumust!Butgoatonce!Donotforcemeevertoseeyouagain!IdontwanttodoorsayanythingthatImightregretlater.Go!"

  Oncemoldmundheldouthishand.Themasterlookedasthoughheweregoingtospitatit.Goldmundturned,noale,andwalkedsoftlyoutoftheroom.Outsideheputonhisdcreptdowairs,lettinghishandbrushoverthecarvedheads;downstairsheehesmallworkshopinthecourtyard,stoodforawhileinfarewellinfrontofhisSt.John,ahehouseaininhisheartthatwasdeeperthanwheheknightscastleandpoorLydia.

  Atleastithadgonequickly!Atleastnothingunnecessaryhadbeensaid!Thatwashisonlysolationashecrossedthethreshold.Suddenlystreetandcitybecametransformed,hadtheunfamiliarfacethatfamiliarthingstakeonwhenourhearthastakenleaveofthem.Helookedbackatthedoorofthehouse:ithadbeethedoortehousethatwasnowclosedtohim.

  BahisroomGoldmuoprepareforhisdeparture.Notmuchpreparationwasnecessary;hemerelyhadtosayfarewell.Thereictureonthewallthathehadpainted,agentlemadonna,ariflesthathehadacquired:aSundayhat,apairofdangshoes,arollofdrawings,asmalllute,anumberofsmallclayfigureshehadmodeled;afewpresentsfromwomen:abunchofartificialflowers,arubyreddrinkingglass,ahardoldheart-shapedcookie,andsimilaroddsandends.Eachpiecehadameaningandastory,hadbeeohimandwasnowonlycumbersomeclutter,ofwhichhecouldtakenothingaloradedtherubyglassforhislandlohuntingknife,whichhesharpehewhettingstohecourtyard.Hecrumbledupthecookieaothechisintheyarddavethepaintingofthemadonnatohislandladyandwasgivenausefulgiftinexge:anoldleathersatchelandampleprovisionsfortheroad.Hepackedhisfewshirtsichelleofsmalldrawingsrolledoverapieceofbroomstidputinthefood.Everythingelsehadtostaybehind.

  Therewereseveralwomeniytowhomheshouldhavesaidfarewell;hehadsleptwithohemoerday,withouttellingherofhisplans.Romanticsouvenirshadawayofattagthemselvestoonewheedtomoveon,buttheywerenottobetakenseriously.Hesaidfarewelltoheownersofthehouse.Hedidthatintheevening,sohecouldleaveveryearlythem.

  Aherewassomeonewhogotupinthemandaskedhimintothekitforacupofhotmilkjustashewasabouttosneakout.Itwasthedaughterofthehouse,achildoffifteen,aquietsicklycreaturewithbeautifuleyeswhohadadefectofthehipthatmadeherlimp.HernamewasMarie.Withasleeplessfapletelypalebutcarefullydressedandbed,sheservedhimhotmilkandbreadiandseemedverysadtoseehimleave.Hethankedherandoutofpitykissedhergoodbyeonhernarrowmouth.Reverently,withclosedeyes,shereceivedhiskiss.松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读

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