高山上的呼喊-go tell it on the mountain-第3部分

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　very　fingertips；moved　outward　and　back　against　his　hips；　his　sightless　eyes　looked　upward；　and　he　began　to　dance。
　　Then　his　hands　close　into　fists；　and　his　head　snapped　downward；　his　sweat　loosening　the　greasethat　slicked　down　his　hair；　and　the　rhythm　of　all　the　others　quickened　to　match　Elisha’s　rhythm；　histhighs　moved　terribly　against　the　cloth　of　his　suit；　his　heels　beat　on　the　floor；　and　his　fists　movedbeside　his　body　as　though　he　were　beating　his　own　drum。　And　so；　for　a　while；　in　the　centre　of　thedancers；　head　down；　fists　beating；　on；　on；　unbearably；　until　it　seemed　the　walls　of　the　church　wouldfall　for　very　sound；　and　then；　in　a　moment；　with　a　cry；　head　up；　arms　high　in　the　air；　sweat　pouringfrom　his　forehead；　and　all　his　body　dancing　as　though　it　would　never　stop。　Sometimes　he　did　notstop　until　he　fell—until　he　dropped　like　some　animal　felled　by　a　hammer—moaning；　on　his　face。
　　And　then　a　great　moaning　filled　the　church。
　　There　was　sin　among　them。　One　Sunday；　when　regular　service　was　over；　Father　James　haduncovered　sin　in　the　congregation　of　the　righteous。　He　had　uncovered　Elisha　and　Ella　Mae。　Theyhad　been　‘walking　disorderly’；　they　were　in　danger　of　straying　from　the　truth。　And　as　Father　Jamesspoke　of　the　sin　that　he　knew　they　had　not　mitted　yet；　of　the　unripe　fig　plucked　too　early　fromthe　tree—to　set　the　children’s　teeth　on　edge—John　felt　himself　grow　dizzy　in　his　seat　and　couldnot　look　at　Elisha　where　he　stood；　beside　Ella　Mae；　before　the　altar。　Elisha　hung　his　head　as　FatherJames　spoke；　and　the　congregation　murmured。　And　Ella　Mae　was　not　so　beautiful　now　as　she　waswhen　she　was　singing　and　testifying；　but　looked　like　a　sullen；　ordinary　girl。　Her　full　lips　were　looseand　her　eyes　were　black—with　shame；　or　rage；　or　both。　Her　grandmother；　who　had　raised　her；　satwatching　quietly；　with　folded　hands。　She　of　the　pillars　of　the　church；　a　powerful　evangelistandverywidelyknown。Shesaidnothi（was）　ngin（one）　Ella　Mae’s　defense；　for　she　must　have　felt；as　the　congregation　felt；　that　Father　James　was　only　exercising　his　clear　and　painful　duty；　he　wasresponsible；　after　all；　for　Elisha；　as　Praying　Mother　Washington　was　responsible　for　Ella　Mae。　It　was　not　an　easy　thing；　said　Father　James；　to　be　the　pastor　of　a　flock。　It　might　look　easy　to　just　situp　there　in　the　pulpit　night　after　night；　year　in；　year　out；　but　let　them　remember　the　awfulresponsibility　placed　on　his　shoulders　by　almighty　God—let　them　remember　that　God　would　askan　accounting　of　him　one　day　for　every　soul　in　his　flock。　Let　them　remember　this　when　theythough　he　was　hard；　let　them　remember　that　the　Word　was　hard；　that　the　way　of　holiness　was　ahard　way。　There　was　no　room　in　God’s　army　for　the　coward　heart；　no　crown　awaiting　him　who　putmother；　or　father；　sister；　or　brother；　sweetheart；　or　friend　above　God’s　will。　Let　the　church　cryamen　to　this！　And　they　cried：　‘Amen！　Amen！’
　　The　Lord　had　led　him；　said　Father　James；　looking　down　on　the　boy　and　girl　before　him；　togive　them　a　public　warning　before　it　was　too　late。　For　he　knew　them　to　be　sincere　young　people；dedicate　to　the　service　of　the　Lord—it　was　only　that；　since　they　were　young；　they　did　not　know　thepitfall　Satan　laid　for　the　unwary。　He　knew　that　sin　was　not　in　their　minds—not　yet；　yet　sin　was　inthe　flesh；　and　should　they　continue　with　their　walking　out　alone　together；　their　secrets　andlaughter；　and　touching　of　hands；　they　would　surely　sin　a　sin　beyond　all　forgiveness。　And　Johnwondered　what　Elisha　was　thinking—Elisha　；　who　was　tall　and　handsome；　who　played　basket…ball；and　who　had　been　saved　at　the　age　of　eleven　in　the　improbable　fields　down　south。　Had　he　sinned？
　　Had　he　been　tempted？　And　the　girl　beside　him；　whose　white　robes　now　seemed　the　merest；thinnest　covering　for　the　nakedness　of　breasts　and　insistent　thighs—what　was　her　face　like　whenshe　was　alone　with　Elisha；　with　no　singing；　when　they　were　not　surrounded　by　the　saints？　He　wasafraid　to　think　of　it；　yet　he　could　think　of　nothing　else；　and　the　fever　of　which　they　stood　accusedbegan　also　to　rage　him。
　　After　this　Sunday　Elisha　and　Ella　Mae　no　longer　met　each　other　each　day　after　school；　nolonger　spent　Saturday　afternoons　wandering　through　Central　Park；　or　lying　on　the　beach。　All　thatwas　over　for　them。　If　they　came　together　again　it　would　be　in　wedlock。　They　would　have　childrenand　raise　them　in　the　church。
　　This　was　what　was　meant　by　a　holy　life；　this　was　what　the　way　of　the　cross　demanded。　Itwas　somehow　on　that　Sunday；　a　Sunday　shortly　before　his　birthday；　that　John　first　realized　thatthis　was　the　life　awaiting　him—realized　it　consciously；　as　something　no　longer　far　off；　butimminent；　ing　closer　day　by　day。
　　John’s　birthday　fell　on　a　Sunday　in　March；　in　1935。　He　awoke　on　this　birthday　morning　with　thefeeling　that　there　was　menace　in　the　air　around　him—that　something　irrevocable　had　occurred　inhim。　He　stared　at　a　yellow　stain　on　the　ceiling　just　above　his　head。　Roy　was　still　smothered　in　thebedclothes；　and　his　breath　came　and　went　with　a　small；　whistling　sound。　There　was　no　other　soundanywhere；　no　one　in　the　house　was　up。　The　neighbors’　radios　were　all　silent；　and　his　mother　hadn’tyet　risen　to　fix　his　father’s　breakfast。　John　wondered　at　his　panic；　then　wondered　about　the　time；and　then　（while　the　yellow　stain　on　the　ceiling　slowly　transformed　itself　into　a　woman’snakedness）　he　remembered　that　it　was　his　fourteenth　birthday　and　that　he　had　sinned。
　　His　first　thought；　nevertheless；　was：　‘Will　anyone　remember？’　For　it　had　happened；　once　ortwice；　that　his　birthday　had　passed　entirely　unnoticed；　and　no　one　had　said　‘Happy　Birthday；Johnny；’　or　given　him　anything—not　even　his　mother。
　　　Roy　stirred　again　and　John　pushed　him　away；　listening　to　the　silence。　On　other　mornings　heawoke　hearing　his　mother　singing　in　the　kitchen；　hearing　his　father　in　the　bedroom　behind　himgrunting　and　muttering　prayers　to　himself　as　he　put　on　his　clothes；　hearing；　perhaps；　the　chatter　ofSarah　and　the　squalling　of　Ruth；　and　the　radios；　the　clatter　of　pots　and　pans；　and　the　voices　of　allthe　folk　nearby。　This　morning　not　even　the　cry　of　a　bedspring　disturbed　the　silence；　and　Johnseemed；　therefore；　to　be　listening　to　his　own　unspeaking　doom。　He　could　believe；　almost；　that　hehad　awakened　late　on　that　great　getting…up　morning；　that　all　the　saved　had　been　transformed　in　thetwinkling　of　an　eye；　and　had　risen　to　meet　Jesus　in　the　clouds；　and　that　he　was　left；　with　his　sinfulbody；　to　be　bound　in　hell　a　thousand　years。
　　He　had　sinned。　In　spite　of　the　saints；　his　mother　and　his　father；　the　warning　he　had　heardfrom　his　earliest　beginnings；　he　had　sinned　with　his　hands　a　sin　that　was　hard　to　forgive。　In　theschool　lavatory；　alone；　thinking　of　the　boys；　older；　bigger；　braver；　who　made　bets　with　each　otheras　to　whose　urine　could　arch　higher；　he　had　watched　in　himself　a　transformation　of　which　hewould　never　dare　to　speak。
　　And　the　darkness　of　John’s　sin　was　like　the　darkness　of　the　church　on　Saturday　evenings；like　the　silence　of　the　church　while　he　was　there　alone；　sweeping；　and　running　water　into　the　greatbucket；　and　overturning　chairs；　long　before　the　saints　arrived。　It　was　like　his　thoughts　as　he　movedabout　the　tabernacle　in　which　his　life　had　been　spent；　the　tabernacle　hated；　yet　loved　and　feared。　Itwas　like　Roy’s　curses；　like　the　echoes　these　curses　raised　in　John：　he　remembered　Roy；　on　somerare　Saturday　when　he　had　e　to　help　John　clean　the　church；　cursing　in　the　house　of　God；　andmaking　obscene　gestures　before　the　eyes　of　Jesus。　It　was　like　all　this；　and　it　was　like　the　walls　thatwitnessed　and　the　placards　on　the　walls　which　testified　that　the　wages　of　sin　was　death。　Thedarkness　of　his　sin　was　in　the　hardheartedness　with　which　he　resisted　God’s　power；　in　the　scornthat　was　often　his　while　he　listened　to　the　crying；　breaking　voices；　and　watched　the　black　skinglisten　while　they　lifted　up　their　arms　and　fell　on　their　faces　before　the　Lord。　For　he　had　made　hisdecision。　He　would　not　be　like　his　father；　or　his　father’s　fathers。　He　would　have　another　life。
　　For　John　excelled　in　school；　though　not；　like　Elisha；　in　mathematics　or　basket…ball；　and　itwas　said　that　he　had　a　Great　Future。　He　might　bee　a　Great　Leader　of　His　People。　John　was　notmuch　interested　in　His　people　and　still　less　in　leading　them　anywhere；　but　the　phrase　so　oftenrepeated　rose　in　his　mind　like　a　great　brass　gate；　opening　outward　for　him　on　a　world　where　peopledid　not　live　in　the　darkness　of　his　father’s　house；　did　not　pray　to　Jesus　in　the　darkness　of　hisfather’s　church；　where　he　would　eat　good　food；　and　wear　fine　clothes；　and　go　to　the　movies　asoften　as　he　wished。　In　this　world　John；　who　was；　his　father　said；　ugly；　who　was　always　the　smallestboy　in　his　class；　and　who　had　no　friends；　became　immediately　beautiful；　tall；　and　popular。　Peoplefell　all　over　themselves　to　meet　John　Grimes。　He　was　a　poet；　or　a　college　president；　or　a　moviestar；　he　drank　expensive　whisky；　and　he　smoke　Lucky　Strike　cigarettes　in　the　green　package。
　　It　was　not　only　colored　people　who　praised　John；　since　they　could　not；　John　felt；　in　anycase　really　know；　but　white　people　also　said　it；　in　fact　had　said　it　first　and　said　it　still。　It　was　whenJohn　was　five　years　old　and　in　the　first　grade　that　he　was　first　noticed；　and　since　he　was　noticed　byan　eye　altogether　alien　and　impersonal；　he　began　to　perceive；　in　wild　uneasiness；　his　individualexistence。
　　　They　were　learning　the　alphabet　that　day；　and　six　children　at　a　time　were　sent　to　theblackboard　to　write　the　letters　they　had　memorized。　Six　had　finished　and　were　waiting　for　theteacher’s　judgment　when　the　back　door　opened　and　the　school　principal；　of　whom　everyone　wasterrified；　entered　the　room；　No　one　spoke　or　moved。　In　the　silence　the　principal’s　voice　said：
　　‘Which　child　is　that？’
　　She　was　pointing　to　the　blackboard；　at　John’s　letters。　The　possibility　of　being　distinguishedby　her　notice　did　not　enter　John’s　mind；　and　so　he　simply　stared　at　her。　Then　he　realized；　by　theimmobility　of　the　other　children　and　by　the　way　they　avoided　looking　at　him；　that　it　was　he　whowas　selected　for　punishment。
　　“Speak　up；　John；’　said　the　teacher；　gently。
　　On　the　edge　of　tears；　he　mumbled　his　name　and　waited。　The　principal；　a　woman　with　whitehair　and　an　iron　face；　looked　down　at　him。
　　‘You’re　a　very　bright　boy；　John　Grimes；’　she　said。　‘Keep　up　the　good　work。’
　　Then　she　walked　out　of　the　room。
　　That　moment　gave　him；　from　that　time　on；　if　not　a　weapon　at　least　a　shield；　he　apprehendedtotally；　without　belief　or　understanding；　that　he　had　in　himself　a　power　that　other　people　lacked；that　he　could　use　this　to　save　himself；　to　raise　himself；　and　that；　perhaps；　with　this　power　he　mightone　day　win　that　love　which　he　so　longed　for。　This　was　not；　in　John；　a　faith　subject　to　death　oralteration；　nor　yet　a　hope　subject　to　destruction；　it　was　his　identity；　and　part；　therefore；　of　thatwickedness　for　which　his　father　beat　him　and　to　which　he　clung　in　order　to　withstand　his　father。
　　His　father’s　arm；　rising　and　falling；　might　make　him　cry；　and　that　voice　might　cause　him　totremble；　yet　his　father　could　never　be　entirely　the　victor；　for　John　cherished　something　that　hisfather　could　not　reach。　It　was　his　hatred　and　his　intelligence　that　he　cherished；　the　one　feeding　theother。　He　lived　for　the　day　when　his　father　would　be　dying　and　he；　John；　would　curse　him　on　hisdeath…bed。　And　this　was　why；　though　he　had　been　born　in　faith　and　had　been　surrounded　all　his　lifeby　the　saints　and　by　their　prayers　and　their　rejoicing；　and　though　the　tabernacle　in　which　theyworshipped　was　more　pletely　real　to　him　that　the　several　precarious　homes　in　which　he　and　hisfamily　had　lived；　John’s　heart　was　hardened　against　the　Lord。　His　father　was　God’s　minister；　theambassador　of　the　King　of　Heaven；　and　John　could　not　bow　before　the　throne　of　grace　without　firstkneeling　to　his　father。　On　his　refusal　to　do　this　had　his　life　depended；　and　John’s　secret　heart　hadflourished　in　its　wickedness　until　the　day　his　sin　first　overtook　him。
　　In　the　midst　of　all　his　wonderings　he　fell　asleep　again；　and　when　he　woke　up　this　time　and　got　outof　bed　his　father　had　gone　to　the　factory；　where　he　would　work　for　half　a　day。　Roy　was　sitting　inthe　kitchen；　quarrelling　with　their　mother。　The　baby；　Ruth；　sat　in　her　high　chair　banging　on　the　traywith　an　oatmeal…covered　spoon。　This　meant　that　she　was　in　a　good　mood；　she　would　not　spend　theday　howling；　for　reasons　known　only　to　herself；　allowing　no　one　but　her　mother　to　touch　her。
　　Sarah　was　quiet；　not　chattering　to…day；　or　at　any　rate　not　yet；　and　stood　near　the　stove；　arms　folded；staring　at　Roy　with　the　flat　black　eyes；　her　father’s　eyes；　that　made　her　look　so　old。
　　　Their　mother；　her　head　tied　up　in　an　old　rag；　sipped　black　coffee　and　watched　Roy。　Thepale　end…of…winter　sunlight　filled　the　room　and　yellowed　all　their　faces；　and　John；　drugged　andmorbid　and　wondering　how　it　was　that　he　had　slept　again　and　had　been　allowed　to　sleep　so　long；saw　them　for　a　moment　like　figures　on　a　screen；　an　effect　that　the　yellow　light　intensified。　Theroom　was　narrow　and　dirty；　nothing　could　alter　its　dimensions；　no　labor　could　ever　make　it　clean。
　　Dirt　was　in　the　walls　and　the　floorboards；　and　triumphed　beneath　the　sink　where　the　cockroachesspawned；　was　in　the　fine　ridges　of　the　pots　and　pans；　scoured　daily；　burnt　black　on　the　bottom；hanging　above　the　stove；　was　in　the　wall　against　which　they　hung；　and　revealed　itself　where　thepaint　had　cracked　and　leaned　outents；　the　paper…thin　undersidewebbed　with　black。　Dirt　was　in　every　corner；　angle；　crevice　of　the　monstrous　stove；　and　livedbehind　it　in　delirious　munion　with　the　corrupted　wall。　Dirt　was　in　the　baseboard　that　Johnscrubbed　every　Sunday；　and　roughened　the　cupboard　shelves　that　held　the　cracked　and　gleamingdishes。　Under　this　dark　weight　the　walls　leaned；　under　it　the　ceiling；　with　a　great　crack　likelightning　in　its　center；　sagged。　The　windows　gleamed　like　beaten　gold　or　silver；　but　now　John　saw；in　the　yellow　light；　how　fine　dust　veiled　their　doubtful　glory。　Dirt　crawled　in　the　gray　mop　hungout　of　the　windows　to　dry。　John　thought　with　shame　and　horror；　yet　in　angry　hardness　of　heart：　Hewho　is　filthy；　let　him　be　filthy　still。　Then　he　looked　at　his　mother；　seeing；　as　though　she　weresomeone　else；　the　dark；　hard　lines　running　downward　from　her　eyes；　and　the　deep；　perpetual　scowlin　her　forehead；　and　the　downturned；　tightened　mouth；　and　the　strong；　thin；　brown；　and　bonyhands；　and　the　phrase　turned　against　him　like　a　two…edged　sword；　for　was　it　not　he；　in　his　falsepride　and　his　evil　imagination；　who　was　filthy？　Through　a　storm　of　tears　that　did　not　reach　hiseyes；　he　stared　at　the　yellow　room；　and　the　room　shifted；　the　light　of　the　sun　darkened；　and　hismother’s　face　changed。　He　face　became　the　face　that　he　gave　her　in　his　dreams；　the　face　that　hadbeen　hers　in　a　photograph　he　had　seen　once；　long　ago；　a　photograph　taken　before　he　was　born。　Thisface　was　young　and　proud；　uplifted；　with　a　smile　that　made　the　wide　mouth　beautiful　and　glowedin　the　enormous　eyes。　It　was　the　face　of　a　girl　who　knew　that　no　evikl　could　undo　her；　and　whocould　laugh；　surely；　as　his　mother　did　not　laugh　now。　Between　the　two　faces　there　stretched　adarkness　and　a　mystery　that　John　feared；　and　that　sometimes　caused　him　to　hate　her。
　　Now　she　saw　him　and　she　asked；　breakin