the story of an african farm-第14部分

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stuffed　the　book　into　the　pocket　of　the　greatcoat；　〃very　good　reading。〃　　He

nodded　his　head　and　lay　down。　　He　thought　a　little　of　his　own　troubles；　a

good　deal　of　the　two　little　girls　he　was　leaving；　of　the　earl；　of　Emilina；

of　the　baron；　but　he　was　soon　asleepsleeping　as　peacefully　as　a　little

child；　upon　whose　innocent　soul　sorrow　and　care　cannot　rest。



It　was　very　quiet　in　the　room。　　The　coals　in　the　fireplace　threw　a　dull　red

light　across　the　floor　upon　the　red　lions　on　the　quilt。　　Eleven　o'clock

came；　and　the　room　was　very　still。



One　o'clock　came。　　The　glimmer　had　died　out；　though　the　ashes　were　still

warm；　and　the　room　was　very　dark。　　The　grey　mouse；　who　had　his　hole　under

the　toolbox；　came　out　and　sat　on　the　sacks　in　the　corner；　then；　growing

bolder；　the　room　was　so　dark；　it　climbed　the　chair　at　the　bedside；　nibbled

at　the　roaster…cake；　took　one　bite　quickly　at　the　candle；　and　then　sat　on

his　haunches　listening。　　It　heard　the　even　breathing　of　the　old　man；　and

the　steps　of　the　hungry　Kaffer　dog　going　his　last　round　in　search　of　a　bone

or　a　skin　that　had　been　forgotten；　and　it　heard　the　white　hen　call　out　as

the　wild　cat　ran　away　with　one　of　her　brood；　and　it　heard　the　chicken　cry。　

Then　the　grey　mouse　went　back　to　its　hole　under　the　toolbox；　and　the　room

was　quiet。　　And　two　o'clock　came。　　By　that　time　the　night　was　grown　dull

and　cloudy。　　The　wild　cat　had　gone　to　its　home　on　the　kopje；　the　Kaffer　dog

had　found　a　bone；　and　lay　gnawing　it。



An　intense　quiet　reigned　everywhere。　　Only　in　her　room　the　Boer…woman

tossed　her　great　arms　in　her　sleep；　for　she　dreamed　that　a　dark　shadow　with

outstretched　wings　fled　slowly　over　her　house；　and　she　moaned　and　shivered。　

And　the　night　was　very　still。



But；　quiet　as　all　places　were；　there　was　a　quite　peculiar　quiet　in　the

German's　room。　　Though　you　strained　your　ear　most　carefully　you　caught　no

sound　of　breathing。



He　was　not　gone；　for　the　old　coat　still　hung　on　the　chairthe　coat　that

was　to　be　put　on　when　he　met　any　one；　and　the　bundle　and　stick　were　ready

for　tomorrow's　long　march。　　The　old　German　himself　lay　there；　his　wavy

black　hair　just　touched　with　grey　thrown　back　upon　the　pillow。　　The　old

face　was　lying　there　alone　in　the　dark；　smiling　like　a　little　child'soh；

so　peacefully。　　There　is　a　stranger　whose　coming；　they　say；　is　worse　than

all　the　ills　of　life；　from　whose　presence　we　flee　away　trembling；　but　he

comes　very　tenderly　sometimes。　　And　it　seemed　almost　as　though　Death　had

known　and　loved　the　old　man；　so　gently　it　touched　him。　　And　how　could　it

deal　hardly　with　himthe　loving；　simple；　childlike　old　man？



So　it　smoothed　out　the　wrinkles　that　were　in　the　old　forehead；　and　fixed

the　passing　smile；　and　sealed　the　eyes　that　they　might　not　weep　again；　and

then　the　short　sleep　of　time　was　melted　into　the　long；　long　sleep　of

eternity。



〃How　has　he　grown　so　young　in　this　one　night？〃　they　said　when　they　found

him　in　the　morning。



Yes；　dear　old　man；　to　such　as　you　time　brings　no　age。　　You　die　with　the

purity　and　innocence　of　your　childhood　upon　you；　though　you　die　in　your

grey　hairs。





Chapter　1。IX。　　He　Sees　A　Ghost。



Bonaparte　stood　on　the　ash…heap。　　He　espied　across　the　plain　a　moving　speck

and　he　chucked　his　coat…tails　up　and　down　in　expectancy　of　a　scene。



The　wagon　came　on　slowly。　　Waldo　laid　curled　among　the　sacks　at　the　back　of

the　wagon；　the　hand　in　his　breast　resting　on　the　sheep…shearing　machine。　

It　was　finished　now。　　The　right　thought　had　struck　him　the　day　before　as　he

sat；　half　asleep；　watching　the　water　go　over　the　mill…wheel。　　He　muttered

to　himself　with　half…closed　eyes：



〃Tomorrow　smooth　the　cogstighten　the　screws　a　littleshow　it　to　them。〃　

Then　after　a　pause〃Over　the　whole　worldthe　whole　worldmine；　that　I

have　made！〃　　He　pressed　the　little　wheels　and　pulleys　in　his　pocket　till

they　cracked。　　Presently　his　muttering　became　louder〃And　fifty　poundsa

black　hat　for　my　daddafor　Lyndall　a　blue　silk；　very　light；　and　one　purple

like　the　earth…bells；　and　white　shoes。〃　　He　muttered　on〃A　box　full；　full

of　books。　　They　shall　tell　me　all；　all；　all；〃　he　added；　moving　his　fingers

desiringly：　　〃why　the　crystals　grow　in　such　beautiful　shapes；　why　lightning

runs　to　the　iron；　why　black　people　are　black；　why　the　sunlight　makes　things

warm。　　I　shall　read；　read；　read；〃　he　muttered　slowly。　　Then　came　over　him

suddenly　what　he　called　〃The　presence　of　God〃；　a　sense　of　a　good；　strong

something　folding　him　round。　　He　smiled　through　his　half…shut　eyes。　　〃Ah；

Father；　my　own　Father；　it　is　so　sweet　to　feel　you；　like　the　warm　sunshine。

The　Bibles　and　books　cannot　tell　of　you　and　all　I　feel　you。　　They　are　mixed

with　men's　words；　but　you〃



His　muttering　sank　into　inaudible　confusion；　till；　opening　his　eyes　wide；

it　struck　him　that　the　brown　plain　he　looked　at　was　the　old　home　farm。　　For

half　an　hour　they　had　been　riding　in　it；　and　he　had　not　known　it。　　He

roused　the　leader；　who　sat　nodding　on　the　front　of　the　wagon　in　the　early

morning　sunlight。　　They　were　within　half　a　mile　of　the　homestead。　　It

seemed　to　him　that　he　had　been　gone　from　them　all　a　year。　　He　fancied　he

could　see　Lyndall　standing　on　the　brick　wall　to　watch　for　him；　his　father；

passing　from　one　house　to　the　other；　stopping　to　look。



He　called　aloud　to　the　oxen。　　For　each　one　at　home　he　had　brought

something。　　For　his　father　a　piece　of　tobacco；　bought　at　the　shop　by　the

mill；　for　Em　a　thimble；　for　Lyndall　a　beautiful　flower　dug　out　by　the

roots；　at　a　place　where　they　had　outspanned；　for　Tant　Sannie　a

handkerchief。　　When　they　drew　near　the　house　he　threw　the　whip　to　the

Kaffer　leader；　and　sprung　from　the　side　of　the　wagon　to　run　on。　　Bonaparte

stopped　him　as　he　ran　past　the　ash…heap。



〃Good　morning；　my　dear　boy。　　Where　are　you　running　to　so　fast　with　your

rosy　cheeks？〃



The　boy　looked　up　at　him；　glad　even　to　see　Bonaparte。



〃I　am　going　to　the　cabin；〃　he　said；　out　of　breath。



〃You　won't　find　them　in　just　nownot　your　good　old　father；〃　said

Bonaparte。



〃Where　is　he？〃　asked　the　lad。



〃There；　beyond　the　camps；〃　said　Bonaparte；　waving　his　hand　oratorically

toward　the　stone…walled　ostrich…camps。



〃What　is　he　doing　there？〃　asked　the　boy。



Bonaparte　patted　him　on　the　cheek　kindly。



〃We　could　not　keep　him　any　more；　it　was　too　hot。　　We've　buried　him；　my

boy；〃　said　Bonaparte；　touching　with　his　finger　the　boy's　cheek。　　We

couldn't　keep　him　any　more。　　He；　he；　he！〃　laughed　Bonaparte；　as　the　boy

fled　away　along　the　low　stone　wall；　almost　furtively；　as　one　in　fear。



。。。



At　five　o'clock　Bonaparte　knelt　before　a　box　in　the　German's　room。　　He　was

busily　unpacking　it。



It　had　been　agreed　upon　between　Tant　Sannie　and　himself；　that　now　the

German　was　gone　he；　Bonaparte；　was　to　be　no　longer　schoolmaster；　but

overseer　of　the　farm。　　In　return　for　his　past　scholastic　labours　he　had

expressed　himself　willing　to　take　possession　of　the　dead　man's　goods　and

room。　　Tant　Sannie　hardly　liked　the　arrangement。　　She　had　a　great　deal　more

respect　for　the　German　dead　than　the　German　living；　and　would　rather　his

goods　had　been　allowed　to　descend　peacefully　to　his　son。　　For　she　was　a

firm　believer　in　the　chinks　in　the　world　above；　where　not　only　ears；　but

eyes　might　be　applied　to　see　how　things　went　on　in　this　world　below。　　She

never　felt　sure　how　far　the　spirit…world　might　overlap　this　world　of　sense；

and；　as　a　rule；　prudently　abstained　from　doing　anything　which　might　offend

unseen　auditors。　　For　this　reason　she　abstained　from　ill…using　the　dead

Englishman's　daughter　and　niece；　and　for　this　reason　she　would　rather　the

boy　had　had　his　father's　goods。　　But　it　was　hard　to　refuse　Bonaparte

anything　when　she　and　he　sat　so　happily　together　in　the　evening　drinking

coffee；　Bonaparte　telling　her　in　the　broken　Dutch　he　was　fast　learning　how

he　adored　fat　women；　and　what　a　splendid　farmer　he　was。



So　at　five　o'clock　on　this　afternoon　Bonaparte　knelt　in　the　German's　room。



〃Somewhere；　here　it　is；〃　he　said；　as　he　packed　the　old　clothes　carefully

out　of　the　box；　and；　finding　nothing；　packed　them　in　again。　　〃Somewhere　in

this　room　it　is；　and　if　it's　here　Bonaparte　finds　it；〃　he　repeated。　　〃You

didn't　stay　here　all　these　years　without　making　a　little　pile　somewhere；　my

lamb。　　You　weren't　such　a　fool　as　you　looked。　　Oh；　no！〃　said　Bonaparte。



He　now　walked　about　the　room；　diving　his　fingers　in　everywhere：　　sticking

them　into　the　great　crevices　in　the　wall　and　frightening　out　the　spiders；

rapping　them　against　the　old　plaster　till　it　cracked　and　fell　in　pieces；

peering　up　the　chimney；　till　the　soot　dropped　on　his　bald　head　and

blackened　it。　　He　felt　in　little　blue　bags；　he　tried　to　raise　the　hearth…

stone；　he　shook　each　book；　till　the　old　leaves　fell　down　in　showers　on　the

floor。



It　was　getting　dark；　and　Bonaparte　stood　with　his　finger　on　his　nose

reflecting。　　Finally　he　walked　to　the　door；　behind　which　hung　the　trousers

and　waistcoat　the　dead　man　had　last　worn。　　He　had　felt　in　them；　but


hurriedly；　just　after　the　funeral　the　day　before；　he　would　examine　them

again。　　Sticking　his　fingers　into　the　waistcoat　pockets；　he　found　in　one

corner　a　hole。　　Pressing　his　hand　through　it；　between　the　lining　and　the

cloth；　he　presently　came　into　contact　with　something。　　Bonaparte　drew　it

fortha　small；　square　parcel；　sewed　up　in　sail…cloth。　　He　gazed　at　it；

squeezed　it；　it　cracked；　as　though　full　of　bank…notes。　　He　put　it　quickly

into　his　own　waistcoat　pocket；　and　peeped　over　the　half…door　to　see　if

there　was　any　one　coming。　　There　was　nothing　to　be　seen　but　the　last　rays

of　yellow　sunset　light；　painting　the　karoo　bushes　in　the　plain；　and　shining

on　the　ash…heap；　where　the　fowls　were　pecking。　　He　turned　and　sat　down　on

the　nearest　chair；　and；　taking　out　his　pen…knife；　ripped　the　parcel　open。　

The　first　thing　that　fell　was　a　shower　of　yellow　faded　papers。　　Bonaparte

opened　them　carefully　one　by　o