按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
When my aunt appeared on the morning after her arrival she
was still in a semi…somnambulant state。 She seemed not to realize
that she was in the city where she had spent her youth； the place
longed for hungrily half a lifetime。 She had been so wretchedly
train…sick throughout the journey that she bad no recollection of
anything but her discomfort； and； to all intents and purposes；
there were but a few hours of nightmare between the farm in Red
Willow County and my study on Newbury Street。 I had planned a
little pleasure for her that afternoon； to repay her for some of
the glorious moments she had given me when we used to milk
together in the straw…thatched cowshed and she； because I was
more than usually tired； or because her husband had spoken
sharply to me； would tell me of the splendid performance of the
Huguenots she had seen in Paris； in her youth。 At two
o'clock the Symphony Orchestra was to give a Wagner program； and I
intended to take my aunt； though； as I conversed with her I grew
doubtful about her enjoyment of it。 Indeed； for her own sake； I
could only wish her taste for such things quite dead； and the
long struggle mercifully ended at last。 I suggested our visiting
the Conservatory and the Common before lunch； but she seemed
altogether too timid to wish to venture out。 She questioned me
absently about various changes in the city； but she was chiefly
concerned that she had forgotten to leave instructions about
feeding half…skimmed milk to a certain weakling calf； 〃old
Maggie's calf； you know； Clark；〃 she explained； evidently having
forgotten how long I had been away。 She was further troubled
because she had neglected to tell her daughter about the freshly
opened kit of mackerel in the cellar； which would spoil if it
were not used directly。
I asked her whether she had ever heard any of the Wagnerian
operas and found that she had not； though she was perfectly
familiar with their respective situations； and had once possessed
the piano score of The Flying Dutchman。 I began to think it
would have been best to get her back to Red Willow County without
waking her； and regretted having suggested the concert。
From the time we entered the concert hall； however； she was
a trifle less passive and inert； and for the first time seemed to
perceive her surroundings。 I had felt some trepidation lest she
might become aware of the absurdities of her attire； or might
experience some painful embarrassment at stepping suddenly into
the world to which she had been dead for a quarter of a century。
But； again； I found how superficially I had judged her。 She sat
looking about her with eyes as impersonal； almost as stony； as
those with which the granite Rameses in a museum watches the
froth and fret that ebbs and flows about his pedestal…separated
from it by the lonely stretch of centuries。 I have seen this
same aloofness in old miners who drift into the Brown Hotel at
Denver； their pockets full of bullion； their linen soiled； their
haggard faces unshaven； standing in the thronged corridors as
solitary as though they were still in a frozen camp on the Yukon；
conscious that certain experiences have isolated them from their
fellows by a gulf no haberdasher could bridge。
We sat at the extreme left of the first balcony； facing the
arc of our own and the balcony above us； veritable hanging
gardens； brilliant as tulip beds。 The matinee audience was made
up chiefly of women。 One lost the contour of faces and figures
indeed； any effect of line whatever…and there was only the color
of bodices past counting； the shimmer of fabrics soft and firm；
silky and sheer： red； mauve； pink； blue； lilac； purple； ecru；
rose； yellow； cream； and white； all the colors that an
impressionist finds in a sunlit landscape； with here and there
the dead shadow of a frock coat。 My Aunt Georgiana regarded them
as though they had been so many daubs of tube…paint on a palette。
When the musicians came out and took their places； she gave
a little stir of anticipation and looked with quickening interest
down over the rail at that invariable grouping； perhaps the first
wholly familiar thing that had greeted her eye since she had left
old Maggie and her weakling calf。 I could feel how all those
details sank into her soul； for I had not forgotten how they had
sunk into mine when。 I came fresh from plowing forever and
forever between green aisles of corn； where； as in a treadmill；
one might walk from daybreak to dusk without perceiving a shadow
of change。 The clean profiles of the musicians； the gloss of
their linen； the dull black of their coats； the beloved shapes of
the instruments； the patches of yellow light thrown by the green…
shaded lamps on the smooth； varnished bellies of the cellos and
the bass viols in the rear； the restless； wind…tossed forest of
fiddle necks and bows…I recalled how； in the first orchestra I
had ever heard； those long bow strokes seemed to draw the heart
out of me； as a conjurer's stick reels out yards of paper ribbon
from a hat。
The first number was the Tannhauser overture。 When the
horns drew out the first strain of the Pilgrim's chorus my Aunt
Georgiana clutched my coat sleeve。 Then it was I first realized
that for her this broke a silence of thirty years； the
inconceivable silence of the plains。 With the battle between the
two motives； with the frenzy of the Venusberg theme and its
ripping of strings； there came to me an overwhelming sense of the
waste and wear we are so powerless to combat； and I saw again the
tall； naked house on the prairie； black and grim as a wooden
fortress； the black pond where I had learned to swim； its margin
pitted with sun…dried cattle tracks； the rain…gullied clay banks
about the naked house； the four dwarf ash seedlings where the
dishcloths were always hung to dry before the kitchen door。 The
world there was the flat world of the ancients； to the east； a
cornfield that stretched to daybreak； to the west； a corral that
reached to sunset； between； the conquests of peace； dearer bought
than those of war。
The overture closed； my aunt released my coat sleeve； but
she said nothing。 She sat staring at the orchestra through a
dullness of thirty years； through the films made little by little
by each of the three hundred and sixty…five days in every one of
them。 What； I wondered； did she get from it？ She had been a good
pianist in her day I knew； and her musical education had been
broader than that of most music tea