wind sand and stars st.antoine de saint-exupery-第3章
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The squall has ceased to be a cause of my plaint。 The magic of the craft has opened for me a world in which I shall confront； within two hours； the black dragons and the crowned crests of a a of blue lightnings； and when night has fallen I； delivered； shall read my course in the stars。
Thus I went through my professional baptism and I began to fly the mails。 For the most part the flights were without incident。 Like sea…divers； we sank peacefully into the depths of our element。
Flying； in general； seemed to us easy。 When the skies are filled with black vapors； when fog and sand and sea are confounded in a brew in which they bee indistinguishable； when gleaming flashes wheel treacherously in these skyey swamps； the pilot purges himself of the phantoms at a single stroke。 He lights his lamps。 He brings sanity into his house as into a lonely cottage on a fearsome heath。 And the crew travel a sort of submarine route in a lighted chamber。
Pilot； mechanic； and radio operator are shut up in what might be a laboratory。 They are obedient to the play of dial…hands； not to the unrolling of the landscape。 Out of doors the mountains are immersed in tenebrous darkness； but they are no longer mountains； they are invisible powers whose approach must be puted。
The operator sits in the light of his lamp； dutifully setting down figures； the mechanic ticks off points on his chart； the pilot swerves in response to the drift of the mountains as quickly as he sees that the summits he intends to pass on the left have deployed straight ahead of him in a silence and secrecy as of military preparations。 And below on the ground the watchful radio men in their shacks take down submissively in their notebooks the dictation of their rade in the air： 〃12：40 a。m。 En route 230。 All well。〃
So the crew fly on with no thought that they are in motion。 Like night over the sea； they are very far from the earth； from towns； from trees。 The motors fill the lighted chamber with a quiver that changes its substance。 The clock ticks on。 The dials； the radio lamps； the various hands and needles go through their invisible alchemy。 From second to second these mysterious stirrings； a few muffled words； a concentrated tenseness； contribute to the end result。 And when the hour is at hand the pilot may glue his forehead to the window with perfect assurance。 Out of oblivion the gold has been smelted： there it gleams in the lights of the airport。
And yet we have all known flights when of a sudden； each for himself； it has seemed to us that we have crossed the border of the world of reality； when； only a couple of hours from port； we have felt ourselves more distant from it than we should feel if we were in India； when there has e a premonition of an incursion into a forbidden world whence it was going to be infinitely difficult to return。
Thus； when Mermoz first crossed the South Atlantic in a hydroplane； as day was dying he ran foul of the Black Hole region； off Africa。 Straight ahead of him were the tails of tornadoes rising minute by minute gradually higher； rising as a wall is built； and then the night came down upon these preliminaries and swallowed them up； and when； an hour later； he slipped under the clouds； he came out into a fantastic kingdom。
Great black waterspouts had reared themselves seemingly in the immobility of temple pillars。 Swollen at their tops； they were supporting the squat and lowering arch of the tempest； but through the rifts in the arch there fell slabs of light and the full moon sent her radiant beams between the pillars down upon the frozen tiles of the sea。 Through these uninhabited ruins Mermoz made his way； gliding slantwise from one channel of light to the next； circling round those giant pillars in which there must have rumbled the upsurge of the sea； flying for four hours through these corridors of moonlight toward the exit from the temple。 And this spectacle was so overwhelming that only after he had got through the Black Hole did Mermoz awaken to the fact I that he had not been afraid。
I remember； for my part； another of those hours in which a pilot finds suddenly that he has slipped beyond the confines of this world。 All that night the radio messages sent from the ports in the Sahara concerning our position had been inaccurate； and my radio operator； Neri； and I had been drawn out of our course。 Suddenly； seeing the gleam of water at the bottom of a crevasse of fog； I tacked sharply in the direction of the coast； but it was by then impossible for us to say how long we had been flying towards the high seas。 Nor were we certain of making the coast； for our fuel was probably low。 And even so； once we had reached it we would still have to make port … after the moon had set。
We had no means of angular orientation； were already deafened； and were bit by bit growing blind。 The moon like a pallid ember began to go out in the banks of fog。 Overhead the sky was filling with clouds； and we flew thenceforth between cloud and fog in a world voided of all substance and all light。 The ports that signaled us ' had given up trying to tell us where we were。 〃No bearings； no bearings；〃 was all their message； for our voice reached them from every…where and nowhere。 With sinking hearts Neri and I leaned out； he on his side and I on mine； to see if anything； anything at all； was distinguishable in this void。 Already our tired eyes were seeing things … errant signs； delusive flashes； phantoms。
And suddenly； when already we were in despair； low on the horizon a brilliant point was un…veiled on our port bow。 A wave of joy went through me。 Neri leaned forward； and I could hear him singing。 It could not but be the beacon of an airport； for after dark the whole Sahara goes black and forms…a great dead expanse。 That light twinkled for a space…and then went out！ We had been steering for a star which was visible for a few minutes only； just before setting on the horizon between the layer of fog and the clouds。
Then other stars took up the game； and with a sort of dogged hope we set our course for each of them in turn。 Each time that a light lingered a while； we performed the same crucial experiment。 Neri would send his message to the airport at Cisneros： 〃Beacon in view。 Put out your light and flash three times。〃 And Cisneros would put out its beacon and flash three times while the hard light at which we gazed would not； incorruptible star； so much as wink。 And despite our dwindling fuel we continued to nibble at the golden bait which each time seemed more surely the true light of a beacon； was each time a promise of a landing and of life…and we had each time to change our star。
And with that we knew ourselves to be lost in interplanetary space among a thousand inaccessible planets； we who sought only the one veritable planet； our own； that planet on which alone we should find our familiar countryside； the houses of our friends； our treasures。
On which alone we should find 。 。 。 Let me draw the picture that took shape before my eyes。 It will seem to you childish； but even in the midst of danger a man retains his human concerns。 I was thirsty and I was hungry。 If we did find Cisneros we should refuel and carry on to Casablanca； and there we should e down in the cool of daybreak； free to idle the hours away。 Neri and I would go into town。 We would go to a little pub already open despite the early hour。 Safe and sound； Neri and I would sit down at table and laugh at the night of danger as we ate our warm rolls and drank our bowls of coffee and hot milk。 We would receive this matutinal gift at the hands of life。 Even as an old peasant woman recognizes her God in a painted image； in a childish medal； in a chaplet； so life would speak to us in its humblest language in order that we understand。 The joy of living； I say； was summed up for me in the remembered sensation of that first burning and aromatic swallow； that mixture of milk and coffee and bread by which men hold munion with tranquil pastures； exotic plantations； and golden harvests； munion with the earth。 Amidst all these stars there was but one that could make itself significant for us by posing this aromatic bowl that was its daily gift at dawn。 And from that earth of men； that earth docile to the reaping of grain and the harvesting of the grape； bearing its rivers asleep in their fields； its villages clinging to their hillsides； our ship was separated by astronomical distances。 All the treasures of the world were summed up in a grain of dust now blown far out of our path by the very destiny itself of dust and of the orbs of night。
And Neri still prayed to the stars。
Suddenly he was pounding my shoulder。 On the bit of paper he held forth impatiently to me I real： 〃All well。 Magnificent news。〃 I waited with beating heart while he scribbled the half…dozen words that were to save us。 At last he put this grace of heaven into my hands。
It was dated from Casablanca； which we had left the night before。 Delayed in transmission； it had suddenly found us more than a thousand miles away； suspended between cloud and fog； lost at sea。 It was sent by the government representative at the airport。 And it said： 〃Monsieur de Saint Exupery； I am o
