内河航程 英文版 An Inland Voyage
罗伯特.路易斯.史蒂文森 Robert Louis Stevenson
BACK TO THE WORLD
Of the next two days' sail little remains in my mind, and nothingwhatever in my note-book. The river streamed on steadily throughpleasant river-side landscapes. Washerwomen in blue dresses,fishers in blue blouses, diversified the green banks; and therelation of the two colours was like that of the flower and theleaf in the forget-me-not. A symphony in forget-me-not; I thinkTheophile Gautier might thus have characterised that two days'panorama. The sky was blue and cloudless; and the sliding surfaceof the river held up, in smooth places, a mirror to the heaven andthe shores. The washerwomen hailed us laughingly; and the noise oftrees and water made an accompaniment to our dozing thoughts, as wefleeted down the stream.
The great volume, the indefatigable purpose of the river, held themind in chain. It seemed now so sure of its end, so strong andeasy in its gait, like a grown man full of determination. The surfwas roaring for it on the sands of Havre.
For my own part, slipping along this moving thoroughfare in myfiddle-case of a canoe, I also was beginning to grow aweary for myocean. To the civilised man, there must come, sooner or later, adesire for civilisation. I was weary of dipping the paddle; I wasweary of living on the skirts of life; I wished to be in the thickof it once more; I wished to get to work; I wished to meet peoplewho understood my own speech, and could meet with me on equalterms, as a man, and no longer as a curiosity.
And so a letter at Pontoise decided us, and we drew up our keelsfor the last time out of that river of Oise that had faithfullypiloted them, through rain and sunshine, for so long. For so manymiles had this fleet and footless beast of burthen charioted ourfortunes, that we turned our back upon it with a sense ofseparation. We had made a long detour out of the world, but now wewere back in the familiar places, where life itself makes all therunning, and we are carried to meet adventure without a stroke ofthe paddle. Now we were to return, like the voyager in the play,and see what rearrangements fortune had perfected the while in oursurroundings; what surprises stood ready made for us at home; andwhither and how far the world had voyaged in our absence. You maypaddle all day long; but it is when you come back at nightfall, andlook in at the familiar room, that you find Love or Death awaitingyou beside the stove; and the most beautiful adventures are notthose we go to seek.