按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
was cold！ I had put it down in front of me and had forgotten to pick it up。 The next time it was my watch。 Then my knife。 Then my pass。 Each time I stopped I stripped myself of something vitally important。 I was being my own enemy！ And I can't tell you how it hurt me when I found that out。
〃What saves a man is to take a step。 Then another step。 It is always the same step； but you have to take it。〃
〃I swear that what I went through； no animal would have gone through。〃 This sentence； the noblest ever spoken； this sentence that defines man's place in the universe； that honors him； that re…establishes the true hierarchy； floated back into my thoughts。 Finally you fell asleep。 Your consciousness was abolished； but forth from this dismantled； burnt； and shattered body it was to be born again like a flower put forth gradually by the species which itself is born of the luminous pulp of the stars。 The body； we may say； then； is but an honest tool； the body is but a servant。 And it was in these words； Guillaumet； that you expressed your pride in the honest tool：
〃With nothing to eat； after three days on my feet 。 。 。 well 。 。 。 my heart wasn't going any too well。 I was crawling along the side of a sheer wall； hanging over space； digging and kicking out pockets in the ice so that I could hold on； when all of a sudden my heart conked。 It hesitated。 Started up again。 Beat crazily。 I said to myself； 'If it hesitates a moment too long； I drop。' I stayed still and listened 'to myself。 Never； never in my life have I listened as carefully to a motor as I listened to my heart； me hanging there。 I said to it： 'e on； old boy。 Go to work。 Try beating a little。' That's good stuff my heart is made of。 It hesitated； but it went on。 You don't know how proud I was of that heart。〃
*
As I said； in that room in Mendoza where I sat with you； you fell finally into an exhausted sleep。 And I thought： If we were to talk to him about his courage； Guillaumet would shrug his shoulders。 But it would be just as false to extol his modesty。 His place is far beyond that mediocre virtue。
If he shrugs his shoulders； it is because he is no fool。 He knows that once men are caught up in an event they cease to be afraid。 Only the unknown frightens men。 But once a man has faced the unknown； that terror bees the known。
Especially if it is scrutinized with Guillaumet's lucid gravity。 Guillaumet's courage is in the main the product of his honesty。 But even this is not his fundamental quality。 His moral greatness consists in his sense of responsibility。 He knew that he was responsible for himself； for the mails； for the fulfillment of the hopes of his rades。 He was holding in his hands their sorrow and their joy。 He was responsible for that new element which the living were constructing and in which he was a participant。 Responsible； in as much as his work contributed to it； for the fate of those men。
Guillaumet was one among those bold and generous men who had taken upon themselves the task of spreading their foliage over bold and generous horizons。 To be a man is； precisely； to be responsible。 It is to feel shame at the sight of what seems to be unmerited misery。 It is to take pride in a victory won by one's rades。 It is to feel； when setting one's stone； that one is contributing to the building of the world。
There is a tendency to class such men with。 toreadors and gamblers。 People extol their contempt for death。 But I would not give a fig for anybody's contempt for death。 If its roots are not sunk deep in an acceptance of responsibility； this contempt for death is the sign either of an impoverished soul or of youthful extravagance。
I once knew a young suicide。 I cannot remember what disappointment in love it was which induced him to send a bullet carefully into his heart。 I have no notion what literary temptation he had succumbed to when he drew on a pair of white gloves before the shot。 But I remember having felt； on learning of this sorry show； an impression not of nobility but of lack of dignity。 So！ Behind that attractive face； beneath that skull which should have been a treasure chest； there had been nothing； nothing at all。 Unless it was the vision of some silly little girl indistinguishable from the rest。
And when I heard of this meagre destiny； I remembered the death of a man。 He was a gardener； and he was speaking on his deathbed： 〃You know； I used to sweat sometimes when I was digging。 My rheumatism would pull at my leg； and I would damn myself for a slave。 And now； do you know； I'd like to spade and spade。 It's beautiful work。 A man is free when he is using a spade。 And besides； who is going to prune my trees when I am gone？〃
That man was leaving behind him a fallow field； a fallow planet。 He was bound by ties of love to all cultivable land and to all the trees of the earth。 There was a generous man； a prodigal man； a nobleman！ There was a man who； battling against death in the name of his Creation； could like Guillaumet be called a man of courage！。
Wind； Sand and Stars by Antoine de Saint…Exupery
Chapter 2 … The MenTitle： Wind； Sand； and Stars
Author： Antoine de Saint…Exupery
Translator： Lewis Galantiere
Publisher： Harcourt Brace Javanovich； New York； 1967
Date first posted： February 2000
Date most recently updated： January 2006
XML markup by Wesman 02/23/2000。
Wind Sand and Stars
Antoine de Saint…Exupery
3
The Tool
And now； having spoken of the men born of the pilot's craft； I shall say something about the tool with which they work…the air…plane。 Have you looked at a modern airplane？ Have you followed from year to year the evolution of its lines？ Have you ever thought； not only about the airplane but about whatever man builds； that all of man's industrial efforts； all his putations and calculations； all the nights spent over working draughts and blueprints； invariably culminate in the production of a thing whose sole and guiding principle is the ultimate principle of simplicity？
It is as if there were a natural law which ordained that to achieve this end； to refine the curve of a piece of furniture； or a ship's ke