第15部分(第4/7 页)

ses　of　the　verb　etre；　and　sketched　my　first　cottage　（whose　walls；　by…the…bye；　outrivalled　in　slope　those　of　the　leaning　tower　of　Pisa）；　on　the　same　day。　That　night；　on　going　to　bed；　I　forgot　to　prepare　in　imagination　the　Barmecide　supper　of　hot　roast　potatoes；　or　white　bread　and　new　milk；　with　which　I　was　wont　to　amuse　my　inward　cravings：　I　feasted　instead　on　the　spectacle　of　ideal　drawings；　which　I　saw　in　the　dark；　all　the　work　of　my　own　hands：　freely　pencilled　houses　and　trees；　picturesque　rocks　and　ruins；　Cuyp…like　groups　of　cattle；　sweet　paintings　of　butterflies　hovering　over　unblown　roses；　of　birds　picking　at　ripe　cherries；　of　wren’s　nests　enclosing　pearl…like　eggs；　wreathed　about　with　young　ivy　sprays。　I　examined；　too；　in　thought；　the　possibility　of　my　ever　being　able　to　translate　currently　a　certain　little　French　story　which　Madame　Pierrot　had　that　day　shown　me；　nor　was　that　problem　solved　to　my　satisfaction　ere　I　fell　sweetly　asleep。

Well　has　Solomon　said—“Better　is　a　dinner　of　herbs　where　love　is；　than　a　stalled　ox　and　hatred　therewith。”

I　would　not　now　have　exchanged　Lowood　with　all　its　privations　for　Gateshead　and　its　daily　luxuries。

Chapter　9

But　the　privations；　or　rather　the　hardships；　of　Lowood　lessened。　Spring　drew　on：　she　was　indeed　already　e；　the　frosts　of　winter　had　ceased；　its　snows　were　melted；　its　cutting　winds　ameliorated。　My　wretched　feet；　flayed　and　swollen　to　lameness　by　the　sharp　air　of　January；　began　to　heal　and　subside　under　the　gentler　breathings　of　April；　the　nights　and　mornings　no　longer　by　their　Canadian　temperature　froze　the　very　blood　in　our　veins；　we　could　now　endure　the　play…hour　passed　in　the　garden：　sometimes　on　a　sunny　day　it　began　even　to　be　pleasant　and　genial；　and　a　greenness　grew　over　those　brown　bed