gs.earthabides-第66章

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sees；　or　even　believes　he　dimly　sees；　the　farther　shore。　
　　After　that；　Ish　was　not　sure　of　anything　again　until　at　last　he　realized　that　he　was　sitting　on　something　hard　and　leaning　against　something　hard；　and　that　his　feet　were　very　cold。　Next　he　knew　that　somebody　was　chafing　his　hands；　and　then　slowly　he　came　into　consciousness。　
　　He　found　that　he　was　sitting　on　the　pavement　at　the　edge　of　the　bridge；　propped　against　the　railing。　The　first　thing　that　he　really　noticed　was　his　hammer　on　the　pavement　in　front　of　him；　the　handle　pointing　stiffly　in　the　air。　On　each　side　of　him；　a　young　man　was　chafing　one　of　his　hands；　as　if　trying　to　get　some　blood　back　into　them。　The　other　two　young　men　were　near　also；　and　they　all　seemed　greatly　disturbed。　
　　Ish　realized　that　his　feet　and　even　his　lower　legs　were　cold；　or　perhaps　they　had　really　lost　all　feeling　in　a　kind　of　cold　that　might　be　called　deathly。　He　knew　then；　his　mind　again　being　clearer；　that　he　had　not　been　merely　passing　through　one　of　his　lapses　of　old　age　but　that　he　must　actually　have　suffered　some　kind　of　seizure…a　stroke　or　a　heart　attack…and　that　the　others　were　frightened。　
　　He　saw　Jack　moving　his　lips　as　if　he　were　talking；　and　yet　making　no　noise。　A　strange　thing　to　do！　The　lips　moved　more　and　more　vigorously；　as　if　Jack　were　shouting。　Then　Ish　realized　that　he　himself　was　not　hearing。　This　thought　did　not　pain　him；　but　rather　pleased　him；　because　he　knew　that　he　would　now　not　have　the　world　press　in　upon　him；　as　it　must　always　upon　a　man　who　can　hear。　
　　The　others　began　talking；　that　is；　moving　their　lips　in　the　same　way；　and　Ish　saw　that　they　were　trying　definitely；　even　desperately；　to　tell　him　something。　He　shook　his　head；　puzzled。　Then　he　tried　to　tell　them　that　he　could　not　hear；　but　he　realized　that　he　did　not　have　control　over　his　speech。　This　disturbed　him；　for　he　realized　that　it　would　be　a　nuisance　to　live　in　the　world　when　he　could　not　municate　by　talking　and　when　nobody　could　understand　what　he　wrote。　
　　The　young　men　had　been　very　respectful　and　friendly　all　day。　But　now　they　became　irritated。　They　gesticulated；　and　Ish　could　see　they　were　insistent　that　he　should　do　something；　and　were　even　frightened　that　he　might　not　be　able　to　do　it。　They　made　gestures　toward　the　hammer；　but　Ish　did　not　feel　it　worthwhile　to　try　very　hard　to　understand。　
　　Soon；　however；　the　young　men　were　even　more　insistent；　and　then　they　began　to　pinch　him。　Ish　felt　the　pain　because　his　body　was　still　sensitive；　and　he　cried　out；　and　tears　even　came　to　his　eyes；　though　he　was　ashamed　of　that；　and　felt　that　it　was　not　fitting　for　the　last　American。　
　　〃It　is　a　strange　thing；〃　he　thought；　〃to　be　an　old　god。　They　worship　you；　and　yet　they　mistreat　you。　If　you　do　not　want　to　do　what　they　wish；　they　make　you。　It　is　not　fair。〃　
　　Then；　by　thinking　hard　and　by　watching　their　gestures；　he　thought　that　they　wanted　him　to　indicate　one　of　them　to　whom　the　hammer　should　be　given。　The　hammer　had　been　Ish's　own　for　a　long　time；　and　no　one　had　ever　suggested　that　he　should　give　it　to　anyone　else；　but　he　did　not　care；　besides　he　wished　them　to　stop　pinching　him。　He　could　still　move　his　arms；　and　so　with　a　gesture　he　indicated　that　the　young　man　called　Jack　should　have　the　hammer。　
　　Jack　picked　up　the　hammer；　and　stood　with　it　dangling　from　his　right　hand。　The　other　three　then　drew　off　a　little；　and　Ish　felt　within　himself　a　strange　pang　of　sorrow　for　the　young　man　to　whom　the　hammer　had　descended。　
　　But　at　least　they　all　seemed　to　be　relieved；　now　that　the　inheritance　of　the　hammer　was　settled；　and　they　did　not　bother　Ish　any　more。　
　　He　rested　there　quietly　then；　as　if　he　had　done　all　in　this　world　that　he　needed　to　do；　and　had　made　his　peace。　He　was　dying　on　the　bridge；　and　he　knew　it　now。　Many　others；　he　remembered；　had　died　on　that　bridge。　He　might　have　died　there　many　years　before　in　some　mere　crash　of　automobiles。　Now　he　had　lived　clear　out　of　his　own　world；　and　still　he　was　dying　there。　One　way　or　another；　he　now　was　contented。　He　half…remembered　a　line　which　he　had　read　in　some　book　at　some　time　during　all　those　years　when　he　had　read　so　many　books。　〃Men　go　and　e。。。〃　But　that　was　trite　and　meaningless　without　its　other　half。　
　　He　looked　now　at　the　others；　although　there　was　a　little　mist　before　his　eyes　and　he　could　not　see　very　well。　Yet　he　noticed　the　two　dogs　lying　quietly；　and　the　four　young　men…three　of　them　apart　from　the　other　one　now…who　squatted　on　the　bridge　in　a　half　circle　around　him；　watching。　They　were　very　young　in　age；　at　least　by　parison　with　him；　and　in　the　cycle　of　mankind　they　were　many　thousands　of　years　younger　than　he。　He　was　the　last　of　the　old；　they　were　the　first　of　the　new。　But　whether　the　new　would　follow　the　course　which　the　old　had　followed；　that　he　did　not　know；　and　now　at　last　he　was　almost　certain　that　he　did　not　even　desire　that　the　cycle　should　be　repeated。　He　suddenly　thought　of　all　that　had　gone　to　build　civilization…of　slavery　and　conquest　and　war　and　oppression。　
　　But　now　he　looked　beyond　the　young　men；　toward　the　bridge　itself。　Now　that　he　would　soon　be　dead；　he　felt　himself　more　a　panion　of　the　bridge　than　of　the　men。　It　too　had　been　part　of　civilization。　
　　A　little　distance　off；　he　was　surprised　to　see　a　car　standing；　or　what　was　left　of　a　car。　Then　he　remembered　the　little　coupé　which　had　been　parked　there　during　all　those　years。　Now　the　paint　had　weathered　off　almost　entirely；　not　only　were　the　tires　flat　but　also　the　springs　had　grown　weak；　so　that　the　whole　car　had　settled　downwards。　All　its　upper　parts　were　white　with　bird…droppings。　Curiously；　although　it　was　a　matter　of　no　importance；　he　could　still　remember　that　the　owner　of　the　car　had　been　John　Robertson　（with　a　middle　initial　which　was　E。　or　T。　or　P。；　or　something　like　that）　and　that　he　had　lived　on　one　of　the　numbered　streets　in　Oakland。　
　　But　Ish　let　his　gaze　rest　upon　the　little　coupé　only　for　a　moment。　Then　his　eyes　moved　higher；　and　he　saw　the　tall　towers　and　the　great　cables；　still　dipping　in　perfect　curves。　This　part　of　the　bridge　seemed　to　be　in　a　good　state　of　preservation。　It　would　apparently　stand　for　a　long　time　still；　perhaps　during　the　lives　of　many　generations　of　men。　The　railings；　the　towers；　and　the　cables…all　were　rusted　red。　But　he　knew　that　that　rust　must　be　superficial。　The　tops　of　the　towers；　however；　were　not　red；　but　were　shining　white　with　the　droppings　of　generations　of　seagulls。　
　　Yet　though　the　bridge　might　last　still　for　many　years；　the　rust　would　eat　deeper　and　deeper。　The　earthquake　would　shake　the　foundations；　and　then　on　some　stormy　day　a　span　would　go　down。　Like　the　man；　so　the　creation　of　man　would　not　last　forever。　
　　He　shut　his　eyes　for　a　moment；　and　imagined　the　whole　sweep　of　the　hills　around　the　bay；　though　he　could　not　turn　his　head　to　see　them。　They　had　not　changed　their　profile　since　the　destruction　of　civilization；　as　measured　by　man's　time；　they　would　not　change。　As　far　as　the　bay　and　the　hills　went；　he　was　still　dying　in　the　same　world　to　which　he　had　been　born。　
　　Opening　his　eyes；　he　now　looked　and　was　able　to　see　the　two　pointed　peaks　at　the　crest　of　the　ridge。　〃Twin　Breasts〃　they　had　once　been　called；　and　the　sight　of　them　made　him　think　of　Em；　and　even　further　back；　of　his　own　mother。　The　earth　and　Em　and　the　mother　all　mingled　in　his　dying　mind；　and　he　felt　glad　to　return。　
　　〃But；　no；〃　he　thought；　after　a　moment；　〃I　must　die　as　I　have　lived…by　the　light　of　my　own　mind；　by　what　light　it　gives　me。　Those　hills；　though　they　may　take　the　shape　of　breasts；　they　are　not　like　Em　or　like　my　mother。　They　will　receive　me…they　will　receive　my　body…but　they　will　not　love　me。　They　do　not　care。　And　also　I　am　one　who　has　studied　the　ways　of　the　earth；　and　I　know　that　the　hills　themselves；　though　men　call　them　eternal…they　too　are　changing　always。　〃　
　　Yet　as　a　weary　and　dying　old　man；　he　needed　something　toward　which　he　could　look　and　from　which　he　could　expect　no　change。　He　was　cold　now　around　the　waist；　and　his　fingers　were　numb。　His　sight　was　fading。　
　　He　fixed　his　eyes　on　the　distant　hills。　He　had　tried　very　hard。　He　had　struggled。　He　had　looked　to　the　past　and　to　the　future。　What　did　it　matter？　What　had　he　acplished？　
　　Now　certainly　it　made　no　difference。　He　would　rest；　and　he　would　return　to　the　hills。　And　they…in　parison　at　least　with　the　passing　of　man's　generations…remained　without　changing。　And　if　the　shape　of　the　hills　was　like　the　shape　of　a　woman's　breasts；　perhaps　that　too　was　not　without　its　meaning　and　fort。　
　　Then；　though　his　sight　was　now　very　dim；　he　looked　again　at　the　young　men。　〃They　will　mit　me　to　the　earth；〃　he　thought。　〃Yet　I　also　mit　them　to　the　earth。　There　is　nothing　else　by　which　men　live。　Men　go　and　e；　but　earth　abides。〃
　　



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