第63部分(第1/7 页)

was　as　if　some　disillusion　had　frozen　upon　her；　a　hard

disbelief。　Part　of　her　had　gone　cold；　apathetic。　She　was　too

young；　too　baffled　to　understand；　or　even　to　know　that　she

suffered　much。　And　she　was　too　deeply　hurt　to　submit。

She　had　her　blind　agonies；　when　she　wanted　him；　she　wanted

him。　But　from　the　moment　of　his　departure；　he　had　bee　a

visionary　thing　of　her　own。　All　her　roused　torment　and　passion

and　yearning　she　turned　to　him。

She　kept　a　diary；　in　which　she　wrote　impulsive　thoughts。

Seeing　the　moon　in　the　sky；　her　own　heart　surcharged；　she　went

and　wrote：

〃If　I　were　the　moon；　I　know　where　I　would　fall　down。〃

It　meant　so　much　to　her；　that　sentence……she　put　into　it

all　the　anguish　of　her　youth　and　her　young　passion　and　yearning。

She　called　to　him　from　her　heart　wherever　she　went；　her　limbs

vibrated　with　anguish　towards　him　wherever　she　was；　the

radiating　force　of　her　soul　seemed　to　travel　to　him；　endlessly；

endlessly；　and　in　her　soul's　own　creation；　find　him。

But　who　was　he；　and　where　did　he　exist？　In　her　own　desire

only。

She　received　a　post…card　from　him；　and　she　put　it　in　her

bosom。　It　did　not　mean　much　to　her；　really。　The　second　day；　she

lost　it；　and　never　even　remembered　she　had　had　it；　till　some

days　afterwards。

The　long　weeks　went　by。　There　came　the　constant　bad　news　of

the　war。　And　she　felt　as　if　all；　outside　there　in　the　world；

were　a　hurt；　a　hurt　against　her。　And　something　in　her　soul

remained　cold；　apathetic；　unchanging。

Her　life　was　always　only　partial　at　this　time；　never　did　she

live　pletely。　There　was　the　cold；　unliving　part　of　her。　Yet

she