第74章

ItwasdarknightwhenIlefthisdeathbedandwentbacktomyowninndownthestragglingstreetofLuzon。

Thatreturntomyinnsticksinmymemoryalsoasathingapart，asanexperienceapart。Withinwasasubduedbustleofwomen，aflittingoflights，andthedoingofpettyofficestothatqueer，exhaustedthingthathadoncebeenmyactiveandurgentlittleuncle。Formethoseofficeswereirksomeandimpertinent。I

slammedthedoor，andwentoutintothewarm，foggydrizzleofthevillagestreetlitbyblurredspecksoflightingreatvoidsofdarkness，andneverasoulabroad。Thatwarmveiloffogproducedaneffectofvastseclusion。Theveryhousesbytheroadsidepeeredthroughitasiffromanotherworld。Thestillnessofthenightwasmarkedbyanoccasionalremotebayingofdogs；allthesepeoplekeptdogsbecauseofthenearneighbourhoodofthefrontier。

Death！

Itwasoneofthoserareseasonsofrelief，whenforalittletimeonewalksalittleoutsideofandbesidelife。IfeltasI

sometimesfeelaftertheendofaplay。Isawthewholebusinessofmyuncle’slifeassomethingfamiliarandcompleted。Itwasdone，likeaplayoneleaves，likeabookonecloses。Ithoughtofthepushandthepromotions，thenoiseofLondon，thecrowded，variouscompanyofpeoplethroughwhichourliveshadgone，thepublicmeetings，theexcitements，thedinnersanddisputations，andsuddenlyitappearedtomethatnoneofthesethingsexisted。

Itcametomelikeadiscoverythatnoneofthesethingsexisted。

BeforeandafterIhavethoughtandcalledlifeaphantasmagoria，butneverhaveIfeltitstruthasIdidthatnight。Wehadparted；wetwowhohadkeptcompanysolonghadparted。Buttherewas，Iknew，noendtohimorme。Hehaddiedadreamdeath，andendedadream；hispaindreamwasover。ItseemedtomealmostasthoughIhaddied，too。Whatdiditmatter，sinceitwasunreality，allofit，thepainanddesire，thebeginningandtheend？Therewasnorealityexceptthissolitaryroad，thisquitesolitaryroad，alongwhichonewentratherpuzzled，rathertired。

Partofthefogbecameabigmastiffthatcametowardsmeandstoppedandslunkroundme，growling，barkedgruffly，andshortlyandpresentlybecamefogagain。

Mymindswayedbacktotheancientbeliefsandfearsofourrace。

Mydoubtsanddisbeliefsslippedfrommelikealooselyfittinggarment。Iwonderedquitesimplywhatdogsbayedaboutthepathofthatotherwalkerinthedarkness，whatshapes，whatlights，itmightbe，loomedabouthimashewenthiswayfromourlastencounteronearth——alongthepathsthatarereal，andthewaythatenduresforever？

Lastbelatedfigureinthatgroupingroundmyuncle’sdeathbedismyaunt。WhenitwasbeyondallhopethatmyunclecouldliveIthrewasidewhateverconcealmentremainedtousandtelegrapheddirectlytoher。Butshecametoolatetoseehimliving。Shesawhimcalmandstill，strangelyunlikehishabitualgarrulousanimation，anunfamiliarinflexibility。

“Itisn’tlikehim。”shewhispered，awedbythisaliendignity。