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第14部分（第1页）

She　suffered；　but　he　was　out　of　doors；　full　in　life；　and　it

would　be　ridiculous；　indecent；　to　pull　a　long　face　and　to　insist

on　being　miserable。　He　was　happy；　this　morning；　driving　to　town；

with　the　hoofs　of　the　horse　spanking　the　hard　earth。　Well　he　was

happy；　if　half　the　world　were　weeping　at　the　funeral　of　the

other　half。　And　it　was　a　jolly　girl　sitting　beside　him。　And

Woman　was　immortal；　whatever　happened；　whoever　turned　towards

death。　Let　the　misery　e　when　it　could　not　be　resisted。

The　evening　arrived　later　very　beautiful；　with　a　rosy　flush

hovering　above　the　sunset；　and　passing　away　into　violet　and

lavender；　with　turquoise　green　north　and　south　in　the　sky；　and

in　the　east；　a　great；　yellow　moon　hanging　heavy　and　radiant。　It

was　magnificent　to　walk　between　the　sunset　and　the　moon；　on　a

road　where　little　holly　trees　thrust　black　into　the　rose　and

lavender；　and　starlings　flickered　in　droves　across　the　light。

But　what　was　the　end　of　the　journey？　The　pain　came　right　enough；

later　on；　when　his　heart　and　his　feet　were　heavy；　his　brain

dead；　his　life　stopped。

One　afternoon；　the　pains　began；　Mrs。　Brangwen　was　put　to　bed；

the　midwife　came。　Night　fell；　the　shutters　were　closed；　Brangwen

came　in　to　tea；　to　the　loaf　and　the　pewter　teapot；　the　child；

silent　and　quivering；　playing　with　glass　beads；　the　house；

empty；　it　seemed；　or　exposed　to　the　winter　night；　as　if　it　had

no　walls。

Sometimes　there　sounded；　long　and　remote　in　the　house；

vibrating　through　everything；　the　moaning　cry　of　a　woman　in

labour。　Brangwen；　sitting　downstairs；　was　divided。　His　lower；

deeper　self　was　with　her；　bound　to　her；　suffering。　But　the　big

shell　of　his　body　remembered　the　sound　of　owls　that　used　to　fly

round　the　farmstead　when　he　was　a　boy。　He　was　back　in　his　youth；

a　boy；　haunted　by　the　sound　of　the　owls；　waking　up　his　brother

to　speak　to　him。　And　his　mind　drifted　away　to　the　birds；　their

solemn；　dignified　faces；　their　flight　so　soft　and　broad…winged。

And　then　to　the　birds　his　brother　had　shot；　fluffy；

dust…coloured；　dead　heaps　of　softness　with　faces　absurdly

asleep。　It　was　a　queer　thing；　a　dead　owl。

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