Белые люди
Chapter III
Onlyoneincidentmadeitdifferent,andwhenitoccurredthereseemednothingunusualinit.Itwasonlyabitofsad,everydaylifewhichtouchedme.Thereisnothingnewinseeingapoorwomanindeepmourning.
JeanandIhadbeenaloneinourrailwaycarriageforagreatpartofthejourney;butanhourortwobeforewereachedLondonamangotinandtookaseatinacorner.Thetrainhadstoppedataplacewherethereisabeautifulandwell-knowncemetery.Peoplebringtheirfriendsfromlongdistancestolaythemthere.Whenonepassesthestation,onenearlyalwaysseessadfacesandpeopleinmourningontheplatform.
Therewasmorethanonegrouptherethatday,andthemanwhosatinthecornerlookedoutatthemwithgentleeyes.Hehadfine,deepeyesandahandsomemouth.Whenthepoorwomaninmourningalmoststumbledintothecarriage,followedbyherchild,heputouthishandtohelpherandgaveherhisseat.Shehadstumbledbecausehereyesweredimwithdreadfulcrying,andshecouldscarcelysee.Itmadeone’sheartstandstilltoseethewildgriefofher,andherunconsciousnessoftheworldabouther.Theworlddidnotmatter.Therewasnoworld.Ithinktherewasnothingleftanywherebutthegraveshehadjuststaggeredblindlyawayfrom.Ifeltasifshehadbeenlyingsobbingandwrithingandbeatingthenewturfonitwithherpoorhands,andIsomehowknewthatithadbeenachild’sgraveshehadbeentovisitandhadfeltshelefttoutterlonelinesswhensheturnedaway.
