wind sand and stars st.antoine de saint-exupery-第10章

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ur　planet　was　merciful　and　fruitful。　
　　But　a　cruel　light　has　blazed；　and　our　sight　has　been　sharpened。　The　plane　has　taught　us　to　travel　as　the　crow　flies。　Scarcely　have　we　taken　off　when　we　abandon　these　winding　highways　that　slope　down　to　watering　troughs　and　stables　or　run　away　to　towns　dreaming　in　the　shade　of　their　trees。　Freed　henceforth　from　this　happy　servitude；　delivered　from　the　need　of　fountains；　we　set　our　course　for　distant　destinations。　And　then；　only；　from　the　height　of　our　rectilinear　trajectories；　do　we　discover　the　essential　foundation；　the　fundament　of　rock　and　sand　and　salt　in　which　here　and　there　and　from　time　to　time　life　like　a　little　moss　in　the　crevices　of　ruins　has　risked　its　precarious　existence。　
　　We　to　whom　humble　journeyings　were　once　permitted　have　now　been　transformed　into　physicists；　biologists；　students　of　the　civilizations　that　beautify　the　depths　of　valleys　and　now　and　again；　by　some　miracle；　bloom　like　gardens　where　the　climate　allows。　We　are　able　to　judge　man　in　cosmic　terms；　scrutinize　him　through　our　portholes　as　through　instruments　of　the　laboratory。　I　remember　a　few　of　these　scenes。　
　　I　
　　The　pilot　flying　towards　the　Straits　of　Magellan　sees　below　him；　a　little　to　the　south　of　the　Gallegos　River；　an　ancient　lava　flow；　an　erupted　waste　of　a　thickness　of　sixty　feet　that　crushes　down　the　plain　on　which　it　has　congealed。　Farther　south　he　meets　a　second　flow；　then　a　third；　and　thereafter　every　hump　on　the　globe；　every　mound　a　few　hundred　feet　high；　carries　a　crater　in　its　flank。　No　Vesuvius　rises　up　to　reign　in　the　clouds；　merely；　flat　on　the　plain；　a　succession　of　gaping　howitzer　mouths。　
　　This　day；　as　I　fly；　the　lava　world　is　calm。　There　is　something　surprising　in　the　tranquility　of　this　deserted　landscape　where　once　a　thousand　volcanoes　boomed　to　each　other　in　their　great　subterranean　organs　and　spat　forth　their　fire。　I　fly　over　a　world　mute　and　abandoned；　strewn　with　black　glaciers。　
　　South　of　these　glaciers　there　are　yet　older　volcanoes　veiled　with　the　passing　of　time　in　a　golden　sward。　Here　and　there　a　tree　rises　out　of　a　crevice　like　a　plant　out　of　a　cracked　pot。　In　the　soft　and　yellow　light　the　plain　appears　as　luxuriant　as　a　garden；　the　short　grass　seems　to　civilize　it；　and　round　its　giant　throats　there　is　scarcely　a　swelling　to　be　seen。　A　hare　scampers　off；　a　bird　wheels　in　the　air；　life　has　taken　possession　of　a　new　planet　where　the　decent　loam　of　our　earth　has　at　last　spread　over　the　surface　of　the　star。　
　　Finally；　crossing　the　line　into　Chile；　a　little　north　of　Punta　Arenas；　you　e　to　the　last　of　the　craters；　and　here　the　mouths　have　been　stopped　with　earth。　A　silky　turf　lies　snug　over　the　curves　of　the　volcanoes；　and　all　is　suavity　in　the　scene。　Each　fissure　in　the　crust　is　sutured　up　by　this　tender　flax。　The　earth　is　smooth；　the　slopes　are　gentle；　one　forgets　the　travail　that　gave　them　birth。　This　turf　effaces　from　the　flanks　of　the　hillocks　the　sombre　sign　of　their　origin。　
　　We　have　reached　the　most　southerly　habitation　of　the　world；　a　town　born　of　the　chance　presence　of　a　little　mud　between　the　timeless　lava　and　the　austral　ice。　So　near　the　black　scoria；　how　thrilling　it　is　to　feel　the　miraculous　nature　of　man！　What　a　strange　encounter！　Who　knows　how；　or　why；　man　visits　these　gardens　ready　to　hand；　habitable　for　so　short　a　time　…　a　geologic　age　…　for　a　single　day　blessed　among　days？　
　　I　landed　in　the　peace　of　evening。　Punta　Arenas　！　I　leaned　against　a　fountain　and　looked　at　the　girls　in　the　square。　Standing　there　within　a　couple　of　feet　of　their　grace；　I　felt　more　poignantly　than　ever　the　human　mystery。　
　　In　a　world　in　which　life　so　perfectly　responds　to　life；　where　flowers　mingle　with　flowers　in　the　wind's　eye；　where　the　swan　is　the　familiar　of　all　swans；　man　alone　builds　his　isolation。　What　a　space　between　men　their　spiritual　natures　create！　A　girl's　reverie　isolates　her　from　me；　and　how　shall　I　enter　into　it？　What　can　one　know　of　a　girl　who　passes；　walking　with　slow　steps　homeward；　eyes　lowered；　smiling　to　herself；　filled　with　adorable　inventions　and　with　fables？　Out　of　the　thoughts；　the　voice；　the　silences　of　a　lover；　she　can　form　an　empire；　and　thereafter　she　sees　in　all　the　world　but　him　a　people　of　barbarians。　More　surely　than　if　she　were　on　another　planet；　I　feel　her　to　be　locked　up　in　her　language；　in　her　secret；　in　her　habits；　in　the　singing　echoes　of　her　memory。　Born　yesterday　of　the　volcanoes；　of　greenswards；　of　brine　of　the　sea；　she　walks　here　already　half　divine。　
　　Punta　Arenas　！　I　lean　against　a　fountain。　Old　women　e　up　to　draw　water：　of　their　drama　I　shall　know　nothing　but　these　gestures　of　farm　servants。　A　child；　his　head　against　a　wall；　weeps　in　silence：　there　will　remain　of　him　in　my　memory　only　a　beautiful　child　forever　inconsolable。　I　am　a　stranger。　I　know　nothing。　I　do　not　enter　into　their　empires。　Man　in　the　presence　of　man　is　as　solitary　as　in　the　face　of　a　wide　winter　sky　in　which　there　sweeps；　never　to　be　tamed；　a　flight　of　trumpeting　geese。　
　　How　shallow　is　the　stage　on　which　this　vast　drama　of　human　hates　and　joys　and　friendships　is　played！　Whence　do　men　draw　this　passion　for　eternity；　flung　by　chance　as　they　are　upon　a　scarcely　cooled　bed　of　lava；　threatened　from　the　beginning　by　the　deserts　that　are　to　be；　and　under　the　constant　menace　of　the　snows？　Their　civilizations　…are　but　fragile　gildings：　a　volcano　can　blot　them　out；　a　new　sea；　a　sand…storm。　
　　This　town　seemed　to　be　built　upon　a　true　humus；　a　soil　one　might　imagine　to　be　as　rich　as　the　wheatlands　of　the　Beauce。　These　men　live　heedless　of　the　fact　that；　here　as　elsewhere；　life　is　a　luxury；　and　that　nowhere　on　the　globe　is　the　soil　really　rich　beneath　the　feet　of　men。　
　　Yet；　ten　miles　from　Punta　Arenas　there　is　a　lake　that　ought　to　be　reminding　them　of　this。　Surrounded　by　stunted　trees　and　squat　huts；　as　modest　as　a　pool　in　a　farm…yard；　this　lake　is　subject　to　the　preternatural　pull　of　the　tides。　Night　and　day；　among　the　peaceful　realities　of　swaying　reeds　and　playing　children；　it　performs　its　slow　respiration；　obedient　to　unearthly　laws。　Beneath　the　glassy　surface；　beneath　the　motionless　ice；　beneath　the　keel　of　the　single　dilapidated　bark　on　the　waters；　the　energy　of　the　moon　is　at　work。　Ocean　eddies　stir　in　the　depths　of　this　black　mass。　Strange　digestions　take　their　peristaltic　course　there　and　down　as　far　as　the　Straits　of　Magellan；　under　the　thin　layer　of　grasses　and　flowers。　This　lake　that　is　a　hundred　yards　wide；　that　laps　the　threshold　of　a　town　which　seems　to　be　built　on　man's　own　earth　and　where　men　believe　themselves　secure；　beats　with　the　pulse　of　the　sea。　
　　II　
　　But　by　the　grace　of　the　airplane　I　have　known　a　more　extraordinary　experience　than　this；　and　have　been　made　to　ponder　with　even　more　bewilderment　the　fact　that　this　earth　that　is　our　home　is　yet　in　truth　a　wandering　star。　
　　A　minor　accident　had　forced　me　down　in　the　Rio　de　Oro　region；　in　Spanish　Africa。　Landing　on　one　of　those　table…lands　of　the　Sahara　which　fall　away　steeply　at　the　sides；　I　found　myself　on　the　flat　top　of　the　frustum　of　a　cone；　an　isolated　vestige　of　a　plateau　that　had　crumbled　round　the　edges。　In　this　part　of　the　Sahara　such　truncated　cones　are　visible　from　the　air　every　hundred　miles　or　so；　their　smooth　surfaces　always　at　about　the　same　altitude　above　the　desert　and　their　geologic　substance　always　identical。　The　surface　sand　is　posed　of　minute　and　distinct　shells；　but　progressively　as　you　dig　along　a　vertical　section；　the　shells　bee　more　fragmentary；　tend　to　cohere；　and　at　the　base　of　the　cone　form　a　pure　calcareous　deposit。　
　　Without　question；　I　was　the　first　human　being　ever　to　wander　over　this　。　。　。　this　iceberg：　its　sides　were　remarkably　steep；　no　Arab　could　have　climbed　them；　and　no　European　had　as　yet　ventured　into　this　wild　region。　
　　I　was　thrilled　by　the　virginity　of　a　soil　which　no　step　of　man　or　beast　had　sullied。　I　lingered　there；　startled　by　this　silence　that　never　had　been　broken。　The　first　star　began　to　shine；　and　I　said　to　myself　that　this　pure　surface　had　lain　here　thousands　of　years　in　sight　only　of　the　stars。　
　　But　suddenly　my　musings　on　this　white　sheet　and　these　shining　stars　were　endowed　with　a　singular　significance。　I　had　kicked　against　a　hard；　black　stone；　the　size　of　a　man's　fist；　a　sort　of　moulded　rock　of　lava　incredibly　present　on　the　surface　of　a　bed　of　shells　a　thousand　feet　deep。　A　sheet　spread　beneath　an　apple…tree　can　receive　only　apples；　a　sheet　spread　beneath　the　stars　can　receive　only　star…dust。　Never　had　a　stone　fallen　from　the　skies　made　known　its　origin　so　unmistakably。　
　　And　very　naturally；　raising　my　eyes；　I　said　to　myself　that　from　the　height　of　this　celestial　apple…tree　there　must　have　dropped　other　fruits；　and　that　I　should　find　them　exactly　where　they　fell；　since　never　from　the　beginning　of　time　had　anything　been　present　to　displace　them。　
　　Excited　by　my　adventure；　I　picked　up　one　and　then　a　second　and　then　a　third　of　these　stones；　finding　them　at　about　the　rate　of　one　stone　to　the　acre。　And　here　is　where　my　adventure　became　magical；　for　in　a　striking　foreshortening　of　time　that　embraced　thousands　of　years；　I　had　bee　the　witness　of　this　miserly　rain　from　the　stars。　The　marvel　of　mar