高山上的呼喊-go tell it on the mountain-第5章

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　　‘I　got　the　woodwork　in　the　dining…room　for　you　to　do。　And　you　going　to　do　it；　too；　beforeyou　set　foot　out　of　this　house。’
　　‘Now；　why　you　want　to　talk　like　that；　Ma？　Is　I　said　I　wouldn’t　do　it？　You　know　I’m　a　rightgood　worker　when　I　got　a　mind。　After　I　do　it；　can　I　go？’
　　‘You　go　ahead　and　do　it；　and　we’ll　see。　You　better　do　it　right。’
　　‘I　always　do　it　right；’　said　Roy。　‘You　won’t　know　your　old　woodwork　when　I　get　through。’
　　‘John；’　said　his　mother；　‘you　sweep　the　front　room　for　me　like　a　good　boy；　and　dust　thefurniture。　I’m　going　to　clean　up　in　here。’
　　‘Yes’m；’　he　said；　and　rose。　She　had　forgotten　about　his　birthday。　He　swore　he　would　notmention　it。　He　would　not　think　about　it　any　more。
　　To　sweep　the　front　room　meant；　principally；　to　sweep　the　heavy　red　and　green　and　purpleOriental…style　carpet　that　had　once　been　that　room’s　glory；　but　was　now　so　faded　that　it　was　all　oneswimming　color；　and　so　frayed　in　places　that　it　tangled　with　the　broom。　John　hated　sweeping　thiscarpet；　for　dust　rose；　clogging　his　nose　and　sticking　to　his　sweaty　skin；　and　he　felt　that　should　besweep　it　for　ever；　the　clouds　of　dust　would　not　diminish；　the　rug　would　not　be　clean。　It　became　inhis　imagination　his　impossible；　lifelong　task；　his　hard　trial；　like　that　of　a　man　he　had　read　aboutsomewhere；　whose　curse　it　was　to　push　a　boulder　up　a　steep　hill；　only　to　have　the　giant　whoguarded　the　hill　roll　the　boulder　down　again—and　so　on；　for　ever；　throughout　eternity；　he　was　stillout　there；　that　hapless　man；　somewhere　at　the　other　end　of　the　earth；　pushing　his　boulder　up　thehill。　He　had　John’s　entire　sympathy；　for　the　longest　and　hardest　part　of　his　Saturday　mornings　washis　voyage　with　the　broom　across　this　endless　rug；　and　ing　to　the　French　doors　that　ended　theliving…room　and　stopped　the　rug；　he　felt　like　an　indescribably　weary　traveler　who　sees　his　home　atlast。　Yet　for　each　dustpan　he　so　laboriously　filled　at　the　door…still　demons　added　to　the　rug　twentymore；　he　saw　in　the　expanse　behind　him　the　dust　that　he　had　raised　settling　again　into　the　carpet；and　he　gritted　his　teeth；　already　on　edge　because　of　the　dust　that　filled　his　mouth；　and　nearly　weptto　thinl　that　so　much　labor　brought　so　little　reward。
　　Nor　was　this　the　end　of　John’s　Labor；　for；　having　put　away　the　broom　and　the　dustpan；　hetook　from　the　small　bucket　under　the　sink　the　dust　rag　and　the　furniture　oil　and　a　damp　cloth；　andreturned　to　the　living…room　to　excavate；　as　it　were；　from　the　dust　that　threatened　to　bury　them；　hisfamily’s　goods　and　gear。　Thinking　bitterly　of　his　birthday；　he　attacked　the　mirror　with　the　cloth；watching　his　face　appear　as　out　of　a　cloud。　With　a　shock　he　saw　that　his　face　had　not　changed；　thatthe　hand　of　Satan　was　as　yet　invisible。　His　father　had　always　said　that　his　face　was　the　face　ofSatan—and　was　there　not　something—in　the　lift　of　the　eyebrow；　in　the　way　his　rough　hair　formed　a　V　on　his　brow—that　bore　witness　to　his　father’s　words？　In　the　eye　there　was　a　light　that　was　notthe　light　of　Heaven；　and　the　mouth　trembled；　lustful　and　lewd；　to　drink　deep　of　the　wines　of　Hell。
　　He　stared　at　his　face　as　though　it　were；　as　indeed　it　soon　appeared　to　be；　the　face　of　a　stranger；　astranger　who　held　secrets　that　John　could　never　know。　And；　having　thought　of　it　as　the　face　of　astranger；　he　tried　to　look　at　it　as　a　stranger　might；　and　tried　to　discover　what　other　people　saw。　Buthe　saw　only　details：　two　great　eyes；　and　a　broad；　low　forehead；　and　the　triangle　of　his　nose；　and　hisenormous　mouth；　and　the　barely　perceptible　cleft　in　his　chin；　which　was；　his　father　said；　the　markof　the　devil’s　little　finger。　These　details　did　not　help　him；　for　the　principle　of　their　unity　wasundiscoverable；　and　he　could　not　tell　what　he　most　passionately　desired　to　know：　whether　his　facewas　ugly　or　not。
　　And　he　dropped　his　eyes　to　the　mantelpiece；　lifting　one　by　one　the　objects　that　adorned　it。
　　The　mantelpiece　held；　in　brave　confusion；　photographs；　greeting　cards；　flowered　mottoes；　twosilver　candlesticks　that　held　no　candles；　and　a　green　metal　serpent；　poised　to　strike。　To…day　in　hisapathy　John　stared　at　them；　not　seeing；　he　began　to　dust　them　with　exaggerated　care　of　theprofoundly　preoccupied。　One　of　the　mottoes　was　pink　and　blue；　and　proclaimed　in　raised　letters；which　made　the　work　of　dusting　harder：
　　e　in　the　evening；　or　e　in　the　morning；e　when　you’re　looked　for；　or　e　without　warning；A　thousand　weles　you’ll　find　here　before　youAnd　the　oftener　you　e　here；　the　more　we’ll　adore　you。
　　And　the　other；　in　letters　of　fire　against　a　background　of　gold；　stated：
　　For　God　so　loved　the　world；　that　He　gave　His　only　begotten　Son；　that　whosoevershould　believe　in　Him　should　not　perish；　but　have　everlasting　life。
　　John　iii；　16These　somewhat　unrelated　sentiments　decorated　either　side　of　the　mantelpiece；　obscured　alittle　by　the　silver　candlesticks。　Between　these　two　extremes；　the　greeting　cards；　received　year　afteryear；　on　Christmas；　or　Easter；　or　birthdays；　trumpeted　their　glad　tidings；　while　the　green　metalserpent；　perpetually　malevolent；　raised　its　head　proudly　in　the　midst　of　these　trophies；　biding　thetime　to　strike。　Against　the　mirror；　like　a　procession；　the　photographs　were　arranged。
　　These　photographs　ily；　which　seemed　to　feel　that　aphotograph　should　memorate　only　the　most　distant　past。　The　photographs　of　John　and　Roy；and　of　the　two　girls；　which　seemed　to　violate　this　unspoken　law；　served　only　in　fact　to　prove　itmost　iron…hard：　they　had　all　been　taken　in　infancy；　a　time　and　a　condition　that　the　children　couldnot　remember。　John　in　this　photograph　lat　naked　on　a　white　counterpane；　and　people　laughed　andsaid　that　it　was　cunning。　But　John　could　never　look　at　it　without　feeling　shame　and　anger　that　hisnakedness　should　be　here　so　unkindly　revealed。　None　of　the　other　children　was　naked；　no；　Roy　lay　in　the　crib　in　a　white　gown　and　grinned　toothlessly　into　the　camera；　and　Sarah；　somber　at　the　ageof　six　months；　wore　a　white　bon；　and　Ruth　was　held　in　her　mother’s　arms。　When　people　lookedat　these　photograph　and　laughed；　their　laughter　differ　from　the　laughter　with　which　they　greetedthe　naked　John。　For　this　reason；　when　visitors　tried　to　make　advances　to　John　he　was　sullen；　andthey；　feeling　that　for　some　reason　he　disliked　them；　retaliated　by　deciding　that　he　was　a　‘funny’
　　child。
　　Among　the　other　photographs　there　was　one　of　Aunt　Florence；　his　father’s　sister；　in　whichher　hair；　in　the　old…fashioned　way；　was　worn　high　and　tied　with　a　ribbon；　she　had　been　very　youngwhen　his　photograph　was　taken；　and　had　just　e　North。　Sometimes；　when　she　came　to　visit；　shecalled　the　photograph　to　witness　that　she　had　indeed　been　beautiful　in　her　youth。　There　was　aphotograph　of　his　mother；　not　the　John　liked　and　had　only　once；　but　taken　immediatelyafterhermarriage。Andthere（one）　wasaphotographofhisfat（seen）　her；　dressed　in　black；（one）　sittingon　a　country　porch　with　his　hands　folded　heavily　in　his　lap。　The　photograph　had　been　taken　on　asunny　day；　and　the　sunlight　brutally　exaggerated　the　planes　of　his　father’s　face。　He　stared　into　thesun；　head　raised；　unbearable；　and　though　it　had　been　taken　when　he　was　young；　it　was　not　the　faceof　a　young　man；　only　something　archaic　in　the　dress　indicated　that　this　photograph　had　been　takenlong　ago。　At　the　time　this　picture　was　taken；　Aunt　Florence　said；　he　was　already　a　preacher；　andhad　a　wife　who　was　now　in　Heaven。　That　he　had　been　a　preacher　at　that　time　was　not　astonishing；for　it　was　impossible　to　imagine　that　he　had　ever　been　anything　else；　but　that　he　had　had　a　wife　inthe　so　distant　past　who　was　now　dead　filled　John　with　wonder　by　no　means　pleasant。　If　she　hadlived；　John　thought；　then　he　would　never　have　e　North　and　met　his　mother。　And　this　shadowywoman；　dead　so　many　years；　whose　name　he　knew　had　been　Deborah；　held　in　the　fastness　of　hertomb；　it　seemed　to　John；　the　key　to　all　those　mysteries　he　so　longed　to　unlock。　It　was　she　who　hadknown　his　father　in　a　life　where　John　was　not；　and　in　a　country　John　had　never　seen。　When　he　wasnothing；　nowhere；　dust；　cloud；　air；　and　sun；　and　falling　rain；　not　even　thought　of；　said　his　mother；in　Heaven　with　the　angels；　said　his　aunt；　she　had　known　his　father；　and　shared　his　father’s　house。
　　She　had　loved　his　father。　She　had　known　his　father　when　lightning　flashed　and　thunder　rolledthrough　Heaven；　and　his　father　said：　‘Listen。　God　is　talking。’　She　had　known　him　in　the　morningsof　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；　moving　with　such　grace　and　power；　but　heknew　this　could　not　be。　Yet；　if　he　could　not　play　their　games；　he　could　do　something　they　could　notdo；　he　was　able；　as　one　of　his　teachers　said；　to　think。　But　this　brought　him　little　in　the　way　ofconsolation；　for　to…day　he　was　terrified　of　his　thoughts。　He　wanted　to　be　with　these　boys　in　thestreet；　headless　and　thoughtless；　wearing　out　his　treacherous　and　bewildering　body。
　　But　now　it　was　eleven　o’clock；　and　in　two　hours　his　father　would　be　home。　And　then　theymight　eat；　and　then　his　father　would　lead　them　in　prayer；　and　then　he　would　give　them　a　Biblelesson。　By　and　by　it　would　be　evening　and　he　would　go　to　clean　the　church；　and　remained　for　tarryservice。　Suddenly；　sitting　at　the　window；　and　with　a　violence　unprecedented；　there　arose　in　John　aflood　of　fury　and　tears；　and　he　bowed　his　head；　fists　clenched　against　the　window…pane；　crying；with　teeth　on　edge：　‘What　shall　I　do？　What　shall　I　do？’
　　Then　his　mother　called　him；　and　he　remembered　that　she　was　in　the　kitchen　washingclothes　and　probably　had　something　for　him　to　do。　He　rose　sullenly　and　walked　into　the　kitchen。
　　She　stood　over　the　wash…tub；　her　arms　wet　and　soapy　to　the　elbows　and　sweat　standing　on　herbrow。　Her　apron；　improvised　from　an　old　sheet；　was　wet　where　she　had　been　leaning　over　thescrubbing…board。　As　he　came　in；　she　straightened；　drying　her　hands　on　the　edge　of　the　apron。
　　‘You　finish　your　work；　John？’　she　askedHe　said：　‘Yes’m；’　and　thought　how　oddly　she　looked　at　him；　as　though　she　were　looking　atsomeone　else’s　child。
　　‘That’s　a　good　boy；’　she　said。　She　smiled　a　shy；　strained　smile。　‘You　know　you’re　yourmother’s　right…hand　man？’
　　He　said　nothing；　and　he　did　not　smile；　but　watched　her；　wandering　to　what　task　thispreamble　led。
　　She　turned　away；　passing　one　damp　hand　across　her　forehead；　and　went　to　the　cupboard。
　　Her　back　was　to　him；　and　he　watched　her　while　she　took　down　a　bright；　figured　vase；　filled　withflowers　only　on　the　most　special　occasions；　and　emptied　the　contents　into　her　palm。　He　heard　thechink　of　money；　which　meant　that　she　was　going　to　send　him　to　the　store。　She　put　the　vase　backand　turned　to　face　him；　her　palm　loosely　folded　before　her。
　　‘I　didn’t　never　ask　you；’　she　said；　‘what　you　wanted　for　your　birthday。　But　you　take　this；son；　and　go　out　and　get　yourself　something　you　think　you　want。’
　　And　she　opened　his　palm　and　put　the　money　into　it；　warm　and　wet　from　her　hand。　In　themoment　that　he　felt　the　warm；　smooth　coins　and　her　hand　on　his；　John　stared　blindly　at　her　face；　sofar　above　him。　His　heart　broke　and　he　wanted　to　put　his　head　on　her　belly　where　the　wet　spot　was；and　cry。　But　he　dropped　his　eyes　and　looked　at　his　palm；　at　the　small　pile　of　coins。
　　‘It　ain’t　much　there；’　she　said。
　　　‘That’s　all　right。’　Then　he　looked　up；　and　she　bent　down　and　kissed　him　on　the　forehead。
　　‘You　getting　to　be；’　she　said；　putting　her　hand　beneath　his　chin　and　holding　his　face　awayfrom　her；　‘a　right　big　boy。　You　going　to　be　a　mighty　fine　man；　you　know　what？　Your　mama’scounting　on　you。’