Theywereeagertotalkabouthernow.Ihadsucceededinopeningthelittledoorsdeepwithinthemthatnooneperhapshadevermuchwantedtoseeopened.Theytoldmemovingfactsaboutherbrieflife.「Onedayonherwayhomefromschool—itwasFebruary.」「No,」saidanother,「inMarch—shehadlostherreaderandweptinconsolablyforweeks.Tostudyherlessonafterthat,shehadtoborrowabookfromoneoftheothers,」—andIsawonthefacesofsomeofthemthatthey』dgrudgedlendingtheirreadersandwouldalwaysregretthis.「Nothavingadressforherconf?irmation,shehadpleadedtillhermotherf?inallymadeheronefromtheonlycurtaininthehouse—theonefromthisroomabeautifullacecurtain,mamzelle.」
「AnddidYolandelookprettyinherlace-curtaindress?」Iasked.
Theyallnoddeddeeply,intheireyesthememoryofapleasantimage.
Istudiedthesilentlittleface.Achildwhohadhadlovedbooks,solemnityanddecorousattire.ThenIglancedattheastonishingsplashofpinkinthemelancholylandscapeandrealizedthatitwasamassofwildroses.InJunetheyopeningreatsheetsalloverManitoba,growingfromthepoorestsoil.Ifeltsomeconsolation.
「Let』sgoandpicksomerosesforYolande.」
Onthechildren』sfacesthereappearedthesameslowsmilesofgentlesadnessIhadseenwhenIsuggestedvisitingthebody.
Innotimeweweregatheringroses.Thechildrenwerenotyetcheerful,farfromthat,butIcouldhearthematleasttalkingtooneanother.Asortofrivalry,hadgrippedthem.Eachviedtoseewhocouldpickthemostrosesorthebrightest,thoseofadeepshadethatwasalmostred.
Fromtimetotime,onetuggedatmysleeve.「Mamzelle,seethelovelyoneI』vefound!」
Onourreturnwepulledthemgentlyapartandscatteredpetalsoverthedeadchild.Soononlyherfaceemergedfromthepinkdrift.Then—howcouldthisbe?—itlookedalittlelessforlorn.
Thechildrenformedaringaroundtheirschoolmateandsaidofherwithoutthebittersadnessofthemorning,「Shemusthavegottoheavenbythistime.」
Or.「Shemustbehappynow.」
Ilistenedtothem,alreadyconsolingthemselvesasbesttheycouldforbeingalive
Butwhy,ohwhy,didthememoryofthatdeadchildseekmeouttodayintheverymidstofthesummerthatsang?
Wasitbroughttomejustnowbythewindwiththescentofroses?
AscentIhavenotmuchlikedsincethelongagoJunewhenIwenttothatpoorestofvillages—toacquire,astheysay,experience.
在這個美好的日子裡，不知為什麼，我又想起了那個死去的女孩。而此前，我一直沉浸在夏日璀璨的光輝和歡樂的海洋裡，毫無任何悲傷的徵兆。
事情發生在很多年前，那時，我剛到加拿大曼尼托巴一個小村莊，那裡的一個老師生病了，或許只是氣餒了。我作為代課老師，要教完那個學年。
「當你申請固定教師職位時，」師範學校的校長曾告訴我，「你就可以說有工作經驗了。」
所以，那年春天，我到了那個非常貧窮的小村莊——只有幾間小木屋，周圍除了細長的雲杉樹，什麼都沒有。「一個月，」我問自己，「能讓孩子們喜歡上我嗎？一個月，值得付出努力嗎？」
也許孩子們的心裡也在這樣想，因為我從來未見過如此沮喪、冷漠、或說是哀傷的面孔。我經歷的太少了，幾乎還只是個孩子。
九點鐘，教室熱得像個大烤箱。有時，曼尼托巴異常的燥熱在六月初就會出現。
我簡直不知道從何時開始，我打開花名冊，開始點名。那些名字大多是法文。奇怪的是，今天我居然還能記起來，例如：瑪黛琳·貝魯貝，約瑟法·布裡塞，艾蜜蓮·杜蒙，塞西·勒賓……
但是，當點到他們的名字，他們一個個站起來答「到，老師」時，我看見多數孩子都是細細的眼睛，黝黑的皮膚，烏黑的頭髮，無一不在昭示著他們是有著黑人血統的混血兒。