Chapter 8 Chapter VII

She wanted to get rid of the rose, maybe the hat would look better, and she wanted to ask him what he thought.Now she is sitting on the other side of the sofa.Suddenly she threw down her hat and said, Now we are perfectly happy.At this moment, she can chat with him freely and say whatever she wants.In fact, she had felt that way when they first met; that evening, in the café, he came in with his friends (all English), looking a little shy, looking around, trying to hang up their hats, but Dropped on the floor.She remembered that scene.She knew then that he was an Englishman, not the heavy Englishman her sisters adored, for he was always thin, but he had a good complexion and a fresh air; a big nose in his face, and bright eyes; Sitting stooped a little, it reminded her (and told him many times afterwards) of a young eagle; it was the first night they met, when she and her mates were playing dominoes, and he came in— Like a young eagle, but he always treats her tenderly.She never saw him wild or drunk, only sometimes, still suffering from the horrors of the war, but as soon as she came in, all worries were forgotten.She would tell him anything, anything in the world, even a little trouble at work, as long as she wanted to talk, she would tell him, and he would understand immediately.Even her natal relatives are not as good as him.He was a few years older than she, and so clever--how serious he was, to make her read Shakespeare's plays when she couldn't even read fairy tales in English! —his experience was much greater than hers, so he could help her.She, too, could help him.

Now let's talk about the hat.Later (it was getting darker) it was time to deal with Sir William Bradshaw. She rested her head on her hands, waiting for him to say whether she liked the hat or not; and as she sat, expecting, looking down, he could feel her soul, like a bird, darting among the branches. She ran away, always picking a safe branch to perch; she sat there with a natural and unrestrained posture, and he could figure out her mind at this time; as soon as he opened his mouth and said anything, she immediately smiled sweetly, like a bird The bird, with its sharp claws grasping the branch, perched securely.

However, he remembered Bradshaw saying: "When a man is sick, even his dearest is useless, only harmful." Bradshaw also said: They must be separated, and he must be taught how to rest. "Must", "must", why "must"? !With what authority does Bradshaw control him? ! "What right does Bradshaw have to order me to 'must...'?!" he demanded. "Because you said you were going to kill yourself," Rezia replied (fortunately she could say anything to him now). Oh, he's in their hands!Holmes and Bradshaw got him!That brute sticks his scarlet nose into every hidden nook!How dare it say "must"!Where are my manuscripts?Where is my writing?

She showed him the manuscript, and the so-called things he wrote were actually written down by her.She scattered stacks of papers on the sofa.They watched together: all sorts of compositions and patterns, dwarf-like men and women wielding sticks, sort of weapons, with wings (like wings?) on their backs; The circle symbolizes the sun and the stars; the crooked lines depict the cliff, a group of climbers are tied with thick ropes, climbing up like a bunch of knives and forks; the elf in the sea protrudes from the wave-like curve Small faces, laughing; and a map of the world.Burn them all, he cried!Let's look at what's been written: Dead men sing behind rhododendron bushes; Ode to Old Man Time; Talk to Shakespeare; Evans, Evans, Evans - he brings a message from somewhere; Don't cut down trees; Tell the Prime Minister .Fraternity is the true meaning of the world.Burn them all, he cried!

However, Rezia pressed her hand to the paper.She believes that some paintings and words are beautiful.She will tie it with silk thread (because there are no large envelopes). She said that even if they took him, she would go with him; and that they could not force them to be separated. She folded the sheets of paper, folded them, and tied them in place, hardly needing to look at them; she sat close to him, right next to him; he felt as if she were just a budding flower.She is a tree in full bloom, and from among its boughs the face of the lawgiver; she has reached the temple, fearless, neither Holmes, nor Bradshaw; a miracle, a triumph, the last, the greatest victory.He saw her staggering up the dreadfully steep stairs with Holmes and Bradshaw on her back, who often weighed eleven