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some reminiscences-第8部分

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the oppressive shadow of the great Russian Empirethe shadow



lowering with the darkness of a new…born national hatred fostered



by the Moscow school of journalists against the Poles after the



ill…omened rising of 1863。







This is a far cry back from the MS。 of 〃Almayer's Folly;〃 but the



public record of these formative impressions is not the whim of



an uneasy egotism。  These; too; are things human; already distant



in their appeal。  It is meet that something more should be left



for the novelist's children than the colours and figures of his



own hard…won creation。  That which in their grown…up years may



appear to the world about them as the most enigmatic side of



their natures and perhaps must remain for ever obscure even to



themselves; will be their unconscious response to the still voice



of that inexorable past from which his work of fiction and their



personalities are remotely derived。







Only in men's imagination does every truth find an effective and



undeniable existence。  Imagination; not invention; is the supreme



master of art as of life。  An imaginative and exact rendering of



authentic memories may serve worthily that spirit of piety



towards all things human which sanctions the conceptions of a



writer of tales; and the emotions of the man reviewing his own



experience。















Chapter II。







As I have said; I was unpacking my luggage after a journey from



London into Ukraine。  The MS。 of 〃Almayer's Folly〃my companion



already for some three years or more; and then in the ninth



chapter of its agewas deposited unostentatiously on the



writing…table placed between two windows。  It didn't occur to me



to put it away in the drawer the table was fitted with; but my



eye was attracted by the good form of the same drawer's brass



handles。  Two candelabra with four candles each lighted up



festally the room which had waited so many years for the



wandering nephew。 The blinds were down。







Within five hundred yards of the chair on which I sat stood the



first peasant hut of the villagepart of my maternal



grandfather's estate; the only part remaining in the possession



of a member of the family; and beyond the village in the



limitless blackness of a winter's night there lay the great



unfenced fieldsnot a flat and severe plain; but a kindly bread…



giving land of low rounded ridges; all white now; with the black



patches of timber nestling in the hollows。  The road by which I



had come ran through the village with a turn just outside the



gates closing the short drive。  Somebody was abroad on the deep



snowtrack; a quick tinkle of bells stole gradually into the



stillness of the room like a tuneful whisper。







My unpacking had been watched over by the servant who had come to



help me; and; for the most part; had been standing attentive but



unnecessary at the door of the room。  I did not want him in the



least; but I did not like to tell him to go away。  He was a young



fellow; certainly more than ten years younger than myself; I had



not beenI won't say in that place but within sixty miles of it;



ever since the year '67; yet his guileless physiognomy of the



open peasant type seemed strangely familiar。  It was quite



possible that he might have been a descendant; a son or even a



grandson; of the servants whose friendly faces had been familiar



to me in my early childhood。  As a matter of fact he had no such



claim on my consideration。  He was the product of some village



near by and was there on his promotion; having learned the



service in one or two houses as pantry…boy。  I know this because



I asked the worthy V next day。  I might well have spared the



question。  I discovered before long that all the faces about the



house and all the faces in the village:  the grave faces with



long moustaches of the heads of families; the downy faces of the



young men; the faces of the little fair…haired children; the



handsome; tanned; wide…browed faces of the mothers seen at the



doors of the huts were as familiar to me as though I had known



them all from childhood; and my childhood were a matter of the



day before yesterday。







The tinkle of the traveller's bels; after growing louder; had



faded away quickly; and the tumult of barking dogs in the village



had calmed down at last。  My uncle; lounging in the corner of a



small couch; smoked his long Turkish chibouk in silence。







〃This is an extremely nice writing…table you have got for my



room;〃 I remarked。







〃It is really your property;〃 he said; keeping his eyes on me;



with an interested and wistful expression as he had done ever



since I had entered the house。  〃Forty years ago your mother used



to write at this very table。 In our house in Oratow it stood in



the little sitting…room which; by a tacit arrangement; was given



up to the girlsI mean to your mother and her sister who died so



young。  It was a present to them jointly from our uncle Nicholas



B。 when your mother was seventeen and your aunt two years



younger。  She was a very dear; delightful girl; that aunt of



yours; of whom I suppose you know nothing more than the name。



She did not shine so much by personal beauty and a cultivated



mind; in which your mother was far superior。  It was her good



sense; the admirable sweetness of her nature; her exceptional



facility and ease in daily relations that endeared her to



everybody。  Her death was a terrible grief and a serious moral



loss for us all。  Had she lived she would have brought the



greatest blessings to the house it would have been her lot to



enter; as wife; mother and mistress of a household。  She would



have created round herself an atmosphere of peace and content



which only those who can love unselfishly are able to evoke。



Your motherof far greater beauty; exceptionally distinguished



in person; manner and intellecthad a less easy disposition。



Being more brilliantly gifted she also expected more from life。



At that trying time especially; we were greatly concerned about



her state。  Suffering in her health from the shock of her



father's death (she was alone in the house with him when he died



suddenly); she was torn by the inward struggle between her love



for the man whom she was to marry in the end and her knowledge of



her dead father's declared objection to that match。  Unable to



bring herself to disregard that cherished memory and that



judgment she had always respected and trusted; and; on the other



hand; feeling the impossibility to resist a sentiment so deep and



so true; she could not have been expected to preserve her mental



and moral balance。  At war with herself; she could not give to



others that feeling of peace which was not her own。  It was only



later; when united at last with the man of her choice that she



developed those uncommon gifts of mind and heart which compelled



the respect and admiration even of our foes。  Meeting with calm



fortitude the cruel trials of a life reflecting all the national



and social misfortunes of the community; she realised the highest



conceptions of duty as a wife; a mother and a patriot; sharing



the exile of her husband and representing nobly the ideal of



Polish womanhood。  Our Uncle Nicholas was not a man very



accessible to feelings of affection。  Apart from his worship for



Napoleon the Great; he loved really; I believe; only three people



in the world:  his motheryour great…grandmother; whom you have



seen but cannot possibly remember; his brother; our father; in



whose house he lived for so many years; and of all of us; his



nephews and nieces grown up round him; your mother alone。  The



modest; lovable qualities of the youngest sister he did not seem



able to see。  It was I who felt most profoundly this unexpected



stroke of death falling upon the family less than a year after I



had become its head。  It was terribly unexpected。  Driving home



one wintry afternoon to keep me company in our empty house; where



I had to remain permanently administering the estate and



attending to the complicated affairs(the girls took it in turn



week and week about)driving; as I said; from the house of the



Countess Tekla Potochka; where our invalid mother was staying



then to be near a doctor; they lost the road and got stuck in a



snowdrift。  She was alone with the coachman and old Valery; the



personal servant of our late father。  Impatient of delay while



they were trying to dig themselves out; she jumped out of the



sledge and went 
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