"Howstrange that you should say that!" I answered. "For long ago I hadthe idea that he was possessed of a devil. ""And thepassion that held Strickland was a passion to create beauty. It gave him nopeace. It urged him hither and thither. He was eternally a pilgrim, haunted bya divine nostalgia, and the demon within him was ruthless. There are men whosedesire for truth is so great that to attain it they will shatter the veryfoundation of their world. Of such was Strickland, only beauty with him tookthe place of truth. I could only feel for him a profound compassion. ""That isstrange also. A man whom he had deeply wronged told me that he felt a greatpity for him. " I was silent for a moment. "I wonder if there youhave found the explanation of a character which has always seemed to meinexplicable. How did you hit on it?"He turned to mewith a smile."Did I nottell you that I, too, in my way was an artist? I realised in myself the samedesire as animated him. But whereas his medium was paint, mine has been life."Then CaptainBrunot told me a story which I must repeat, since, if only by way of contrast,it adds something to my impression of Strickland. It has also to my mind abeauty of its own.Captain Brunotwas a Breton, and had been in the French Navy. He left it on his marriage, andsettled down on a small property he had near Quimper to live for the rest ofhis days in peace; but the failure of an attorney left him suddenly penniless,and neither he nor his wife was willing to live in penury where they had enjoyedconsideration. During his sea faring days he had cruised the South Seas, and hedetermined now to seek his fortune there. He spent some months in Papeete tomake his plans and gain experience; then, on money borrowed from a friend inFrance, he bought an island in the Paumotus. It was a ring of land round a deeplagoon, uninhabited, and covered only with scrub and wild guava. With theintrepid woman who was his wife, and a few natives, he landed there, and setabout building a house, and clearing the scrub so that he could plantcocoa-nuts. That was twenty years before, and now what had been a barren islandwas a garden.“真奇怪，你怎么会也这么说？”我回答道。“很久以前，我正是也有这种想法。我觉得他这个人是被魔鬼抓住了。”“使思特里克兰德着了迷的是一种创作欲，他热切地想创造出美来。这种激情叫他一刻也不能宁静。逼着他东奔西走。他好象是一个终生跋涉的朝香者，永远思慕着一块圣地。盘踞在他心头的魔鬼对他毫无怜悯之情。世上有些人渴望寻获真理，他们的要求非常强烈，为了达到这个目的，就是叫他们把生活的基础完全打翻，也在所不惜。思特里克兰德就是这样一个人；只不过他追求的是美，而不是真理。对于象他这样的人，我从心眼里感到怜悯。”“你说的这一点也很奇怪。有一个他曾经伤害过的人也这样对我说，说他非常可怜思特里克兰德。”我沉默了一会儿。“我很想知道，对于一种我一直感到迷惑不解的性格，你是不是已经找到了答案。你怎么会想到这个道理的？”他对我笑了笑。“我不是告诉你了，从某一个角度讲，我也是个艺术家吗？我在自己身上也深深感到激励着他的那种热望。但是他的手段是绘画，我的却是生活。”布吕诺船长这时给我讲了一个故事，我想我应该在这里说一说。因为即使作为对比，这个故事对我记叙思特里克兰德的生平也能说明一些问题。再说，我认为这个故事本身就是非常美的。布吕诺船长是法国布列塔尼地方的人，年轻时在法国海军里服过役。结婚以后，他退了役，在坎佩尔附近一小份产业上定居下来，准备在恬静的乡居生活中过自己的后半生。但是由于替他料理财务的一位代理人出了差错，一夜之间，他发现自己已经一文不名了。他和他的妻子在当地人们眼目中本来享有一定的地位，他俩绝对不愿意仍然捱在原来的地方过苦日子。早年他在远涉重洋时，曾经到过南太平洋群岛；这时他就打定主意再到南海去闯一条路子。他先在帕皮提住了几个月，一方面规划一下自己的未来，一方面积累一些经验。几个月以后，他从法国一位朋友手里借了一笔钱，在包莫图斯群岛里买下一个很小的岛屿。这是一个环形小岛，中间围着一个咸水湖；岛上长满了灌木和野生的香石榴，从来没有人居住过。他的老婆是个很勇敢的女人，他就带着自己的老婆和几个土人登上这个小岛。他们首先着手盖房子，清理灌木丛，准备种植椰子。这是在我遇到他二十年以前的事，现在这个荒岛已经成了一座整饬的种植园了。