白猿(外研社双语读库)(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)

作者：John Galsworthy 约翰·高尔斯华绥

出版社：外语教学与研究出版社

格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT

白猿(外研社双语读库)试读：

Part I

第一卷

Chapter I Promenade

第一章

散步

Coming down the steps of 'Snooks' Club, so nicknamed by George Forsyte in the late eighties, on that momentous mid-October afternoon of 1922, Sir Lawrence Mont, ninth baronet, set his fine nose towards the east wind, and moved his thin legs with speed. Political by birth rather than by nature, he reviewed the revolution which had restored his Party to power with a detachment not devoid of humour. Passing the Remove Club, he thought: 'Some sweating into shoes, there! No more confectioned dishes. A woodcock—without trimmings, for a change!'

1922年10月中旬的那个重要的下午，第九代准男爵劳伦斯·蒙特爵士迎着东风翘着俊美的鼻子，迈着两条细腿疾步走下“轻蔑”俱乐部的台阶——俱乐部这一绰号出自上世纪80年代末乔治·福赛特之口。他虽出生于政治世家，却对政治不感兴趣，提起他所在的政党重夺政权的那次革命，他只是轻描淡写。路过利姆夫俱乐部时，他想：“这次麻烦啦！再也没有甜点可吃啦。山鹬没有了配料，得变口味喽！”

The captains and the kings had departed from 'Snooks' before he entered it, for he was not of 'that catch-penny crew, now paid off, no sir; fellows who turned their tails on the land the moment the war was over. Pah!' But for an hour he had listened to echoes, and his lively twisting mind, embedded in deposits of the past, sceptical of the present and of all political protestations and pronouncements, had recorded with amusement the confusion of patriotism and personalities left behind by the fateful gathering. Like most landowners, he distrusted doctrine. If he had a political belief, it was a tax on wheat; and so far as he could see, he was now alone in it—but then he was not seeking election; in other words, his principle was not in danger of extinction from the votes of those who had to pay for bread. Principles—he mused—au fond were pocket; and he wished the deuce people wouldn't pretend they weren't! Pocket, in the deep sense of that word, of course, self-interest as member of a definite community. And how the devil was this definite community, the English nation, to exist, when all its land was going out of cultivation, and all its ships and docks in danger of destruction by aeroplanes? He had listened that hour past for a single mention of the land. Not one! It was not practical politics! Confound the fellows! They had to wear their breeches out—keeping seats or getting them. No connection between posteriors and posterity! No, by George! Thus reminded of posterity, it occurred to him rather suddenly that his son's wife showed no signs as yet. Two years! Time they were thinking about children. It was dangerous to get into the habit of not having them, when a title and estate depended. A smile twisted his lips and eyebrows which resembled spinneys of dark pothooks. A pretty young creature, most taking; and knew it, too! Whom was she not getting to know? Lions and tigers, monkeys and cats—her house was becoming quite a menagerie of more or less celebrities. There was a certain unreality about that sort of thing! And opposite a British lion in Trafalgar Square Sir Lawrence thought: 'She'll be getting these to her house next! She's got the collecting habit. Michael must look out—in a collector's house there's always a lumber room for old junk, and husbands are liable to get into it. That reminds me: I promised her a Chinese Minister. Well, she must wait now till after the General Election.'

在他进入“轻蔑”俱乐部之前，那些大老板和王公贵族们早已离开，因为他并不属于“想方设法捞钱，而且已经捞个够本的那帮家伙，他绝不是那种人——那帮家伙在战争刚刚结束时就丢弃家园逃之夭夭了。呸！”可是对过去忘事的回忆，他足足听了一个小时。他的大脑活跃地转动着，牢记往事，怀疑当下，也怀疑一切政治主张和声明。他饶有兴致地记录了这次意义重大的集会上所留下的爱国主义和个体攻击的混乱。和大部分地主一样，他不相信教条。如果非要说他有政治信仰的话，那就是征收小麦税了，并且就他所知，他势单力薄——但是，对他来说，选票不重要；换句话说，平民百姓的选票威胁不到他笃信的原则。原则——他沉思着——就是钱罢了。他真希望人们不要再装作不承认这一点了！当然，从深层含义来讲，钱无非就是特定社会群体成员的个人利益。而当它所有的土地都荒芜，所有的船只和港口都面临被飞机炸毁的危险时，这个特定社会群体——英国民族，倒是有什么办法生存下去啊？在一个小时的倾听中，他希望听到有人谈及土地。竟无一人谈及！这根本不是实用政治！这帮该死的家伙！他们不惜磨破了裤子——就为了保住席位或获得席位。丝毫没考虑过子孙后代！的确没有！说起后代，他突然想起自己的儿媳至今还没有一点点的喜照。两年了！该是要孩子的时候了。不要孩子如果成为一种习惯，对于那些有爵位或是需要产业继承人的家庭来说是相当可怕的。一丝微笑牵动了他的双唇和眉毛，那两道弯眉异常浓密。一个漂亮的小孩，非常可爱，而且她也深知这一点啊！有谁她不想去认识呢？狮子、老虎、猴子和猫——她的家成了这些大小名人的动物园了。这种事情总是有种不真实的感觉！劳伦斯爵士站在特拉法尔加广场上的一只不列颠之狮的对面，心里想：“下次她会把这些都弄到家里去！她染上收藏的嗜好了。迈克尔必须小心了——收藏家的家里肯定有一间专门放置破旧货的储藏室，而丈夫是很容易被关进去的。这倒提醒了我：我曾答应给她介绍一位中国公使。好吧，如今她得等到大选过后了。”

Down Whitehall, under the grey easterly sky, the towers of Westminster came for a second into view. A certain unreality in that, too,' he thought. Michael and his fads! Well, it's the fashion—Socialistic principles and a rich wife. Sacrifice with safety! Peace with plenty! Nostrums—ten a penny!'

沿着白厅大街往南走，在东方灰色的天空下，威斯敏斯特教堂的塔楼瞬间映入眼帘。“那里面似乎也有种不真实的东西，”他想，“迈克尔和他的狂热爱好！哦，这的确是一种时尚——社会主义的原则和一个富有的妻子。有所牺牲但又很安全！和平且富足！万能灵药——一便士十粒！

Passing the newspaper hubbub of Charing Cross, frenzied by the political crisis, he turned up to the left towards Danby and Winter, publishers, where his son was junior partner. A new theme for a book had just begun to bend a mind which had already produced a 'Life of Montrose,' 'Far Cathay,' that work of Eastern travel, and a fanciful conversation between the shades of Gladstone and Disraeli—entitled 'A Duet.' With every step taken, from 'Snooks' eastward, his erect thin figure in Astrakhan-collared coat, his thin grey-moustached face, and tortoise-shell rimmed monocle under the lively dark eyebrow, had seemed more rare. It became almost a phenomenon in this dingy back street, where carts stuck like winter flies, and persons went by with books under their arms, as if educated.

查林十字广场上买卖报纸的喧哗由于这次政治危机变得更加嘈杂。他穿过广场向左拐，朝丹比&温特出版社走去，他的儿子是那里的第二合伙人。他已经出版了《蒙特罗斯传》一书、一部东方游记《遥远的契丹》以及《二重唱》。《二重唱》是描述格莱斯顿和迪斯雷利两个幽灵之间的幻想谈话。如今他又开始专心筹备新书了。他身材挺拔细长，身着阿斯特拉罕皮领外衣，瘦削的脸上留着灰白胡子，生动的浓眉下架着玳瑁边的单片眼镜。他从“轻蔑”俱乐部出来往东走，每走一步，都显得更加与众不同。在这条肮脏的后街上，车辆犹如冬天里的苍蝇一般紧挨着，人们夹着书本穿梭其中，看上去似乎很有学问。像他这样的人出现在这样一个地方实属罕见。

He had nearly reached the door of Danby's when he encountered two young men. One of them was clearly his son, better dressed since his marriage, and smoking a cigar—thank goodness—instead of those eternal cigarettes; the other—ah! yes—Michael's sucking poet and best man, head in air, rather a sleek head under a velour hat! He said:

快到丹比出版社时，他遇到了两位年轻人。其中一位很明显是他的儿子。自从结婚后，他儿子的打扮比以前讲究一些了，这会儿正吸着一支雪茄——谢天谢地——吸的不是那种没完没了的烟卷；另一位——啊，没错——是迈克尔不成气候的诗人朋友和结婚时的男傧相，他头昂得高高的，活像个油头滑脑的家伙！他说道：

"Ha, Michael!"“嗨，迈克尔！”

"HALLO, Bart! You know my governor, Wilfrid? Wilfrid Desert. Copper Coin'—some poet, Bart, I tell you. You must read him. We're going home. Come along!"“你好，准爵爷！威尔弗里德，你认识我爸爸吧？这是威尔弗里德·德赛特。准爵爷，我告诉您，他是位伟大的诗人，也是《铜币》的作者。您一定要读读他的作品。我们准备回家了。一起走吧！”

Sir Lawrence went along.

劳伦斯爵士与他们同行。

"What happened at 'Snooks'?"“‘轻蔑’俱乐部情况如何？”

"Le roi est mort. Labour can start lying, Michael—election next month."“国王去世。工党可以开始编谎话了，迈克尔——下个月要进行大选了。”

"Bart was brought up, Wilfrid, in days that knew not Demos."“威尔弗里德，准爵爷是在不了解民众的时代长大的。”

"Well, Mr. Desert, do you find reality in politics now?"“哦，德赛特先生，您觉得如今的政治现实可行吗？”

"Do you find reality in anything, sir?"“先生，您在哪些方面发现它现实可行呢？”

"In income tax, perhaps."“或许是在所得税方面。”

Michael grinned.

迈克尔咧嘴笑了。

"Above knighthood," he said, "there's no such thing as simple faith."“地位在爵士以上的人，”他说道，“单纯的信仰对他们而言根本不存在。”

"Suppose your friends came into power, Michael—in some ways not a bad thing, help 'em to grow up—what could they do, eh? Could they raise national taste? Abolish the cinema? Teach English people to cook? Prevent other countries from threatening war? Make us grow our own food? Stop the increase of town life? Would they hang dabblers in poison gas? Could they prevent flying in war-time? Could they weaken the possessive instinct—anywhere? Or do anything, in fact, but alter the incidence of possession a little? All party politics are top dressing. We're ruled by the inventors, and human nature; and we live in Queer Street, Mr. Desert."“假设你的朋友掌权，迈克尔——在某些方面，这其实并不是一件坏事，帮助他们发展起来——他们又能干些什么呢？他们能提高国民的品位吗？能取缔电影吗？能教会英国人厨艺吗？能阻止其他国家发动战争吗？能帮我们种出我们自己吃的粮食吗？能控制城市人口增长吗？他们会用毒气杀死那些滥竽充数的人吗？他们能在战时把飞机打下来吗？无论在何处，他们能削弱人们占有欲强的本性吗？或者，除了稍微改变一点儿占有欲的问题，还能做点儿其他的什么吗？一切党派政治都善于浮华的装饰。我们受到制定规则的人和人性的支配，并且我们经济上陷入了困境，德赛特先生。”

"Much my sentiments, sir."“我也深有同感，先生。”

Michael flourished his cigar.

迈克尔晃了晃他手中的雪茄。

"Bad old men, you two!"“难缠的人啊，你们二位呀！”

And removing their hats, they passed the Cenotaph.

经过纪念碑时，他们都脱下帽子。

"Curiously symptomatic—that thing," said Sir Lawrence; "monument to the dread of swank—most characteristic. And the dread of swank—"“非常有代表性——那个东西，”劳伦斯爵士说，“害怕出风头的纪念碑——这说法真准确。说到害怕出风头——”

"Go on, Bart," said Michael.“准爵爷，说下去。”迈克尔说道。

"The fine, the large, the florid—all off! No far-sighted views, no big schemes, no great principles, no great religion, or great art—aestheticism in cliques and backwaters, small men in small hats."“一切优雅、博大、华丽的事物——全都消失了！没有远见的卓识，没有宏伟的规划，没有高尚的原则，没有崇高的信仰，没有伟大的艺术——只有沉湎于小派系和穷乡僻壤里的唯美主义，和一些鼠目寸光的小人物而已。”

"As panteth the heart after Byron, Wilberforce, and the Nelson Monument. My poor old Bart! What about it, Wilfrid?"“所以人心切慕拜伦、威尔伯福斯以及纳尔逊纪念碑。我可怜的准爵爷！威尔弗里德，你的看法呢？”

"Yes, Mr. Desert—what about it?"“是啊，德赛特先生，你是怎么看的呢？”

Desert's dark face contracted.

德赛特皱了皱阴沉的脸。

"It's an age of paradox," he said. "We all kick up for freedom, and the only institutions gaining strength are Socialism and the Roman Catholic Church. We're frightfully self-conscious about art—and the only art development is the cinema. We're nuts on peace—and all we're doing about it is to perfect poison gas."“这是个自相矛盾的时代。”他说，“我们都高喊着要自由，但只有社会主义和罗马天主教会真正受益。我们非常清楚艺术的重要性——而唯一有所发展的艺术却是电影。我们热爱和平——但我们实际为和平所做的却是造出了毒气。”

Sir Lawrence glanced sideways at a young man so bitter.

劳伦斯爵士挖苦地朝那个年轻人斜睨了一眼。

"And how's publishing, Michael?"“迈克尔，出版社情况如何？”

"Well, 'Copper Coin' is selling like hot cakes; and there's quite a movement in 'A Duet.' What about this for a new ad.: 'A Duet, by Sir Lawrence Mont, Bart. The most distinguished Conversation ever held between the Dead.' That ought to get the psychic. Wilfrid suggested 'G.O.M. and Dizzy—broadcasted from Hell.' Which do you like best?"“嗯，《铜币》正在热销，《二重唱》销量也很可观。像这样做个新广告如何：‘《二重唱》——作者：劳伦斯·蒙特爵士，准爵爷。两位逝者之间有史以来最杰出的对话。’这样肯定能够吸引通灵人士的注意。威尔弗里德建议使用‘老夫子和迪齐——来自地狱的广播’。您更喜欢哪一个呢？”

They had come, however, to a policeman holding up his hand against the nose of a van horse, so that everything marked time. The engines of the cars whirred idly, their drivers' faces set towards the space withheld from them; a girl on a bicycle looked vacantly about her, grasping the back of the van, where a youth sat sideways with his legs stretched out towards her. Sir Lawrence glanced again at young Desert. A thin, pale-dark face, good-looking, but a hitch in it, as if not properly timed; nothing outre in dress or manner, and yet socially at large; less vivacious than that lively rascal, his own son, but as anchorless, and more sceptical—might feel things pretty deeply, though! The policeman lowered his arm.

然而此时，他们走到了一位警察身边，警察正举手拦住一辆运货马车，因此所有车辆和行人都停止不前了。汽车的发动机轰轰作响，司机们面目呆滞，凝视着前方被封住的路；一个骑自行车的女孩茫然环顾四周，一手抓住那辆货车的尾部，一个青年侧坐在车上，两条腿直伸着对着她。劳伦斯爵士又朝年轻的德赛特瞥了一眼。一张消瘦、浅黑色的脸庞，外貌英俊，但似乎缺少点儿什么，显得有些美中不足；穿戴和举止还算得体，肯定在社交上游刃有余；不如他那个活泼的儿子那么有生气，但一样不安定，而且更多疑——不过他对事物的看法倒是相当深刻！警察放下了手臂。

"You were in the war, Mr. Desert?"“你参过战吧，德赛特先生？”

"Oh, yes."“是的。”

"Air service?"“空军？”

"And line. Bit of both."“也在陆军干过。两个都干过。”

"Hard on a poet."“成为诗人很困难。”

"Not at all. Poetry's only possible when you may be blown up at any moment, or when you live in Putney."“一点儿也不。你只有在随时有可能被炸死时，或者是住在帕特尼时，才写得出来诗。”

Sir Lawrence's eyebrow rose. "Yes?"

劳伦斯爵士的眉毛扬了扬。“您请讲？”

"Tennyson, Browning, Wordsworth, Swinburne—they could turn it out; ils vivaient, mais si peu."“丁尼生、勃朗宁、华兹华斯、斯温伯恩——他们都能创造出诗歌，但他们却很少经历过你说的那两种生活。”

"Is there not a third condition favourable?"“不是有第三种有利条件吗？”

"And that, sir?"“是什么呢，先生？”

"How shall I express it—a certain cerebral agitation in connection with women?"“怎么说呢——和女人息息相关的大脑的兴奋吧？”

Desert's face twitched, and seemed to darken.

德赛特的脸抽动了一下，似乎变得阴郁起来。

Michael put his latchkey into the lock of his front door.

迈克尔把钥匙插进他家前门的锁孔里。Chapter IIHome

第二章

家

The house in South Square, Westminster, to which the young Monts had come after their Spanish honeymoon two years before, might have been called 'emancipated.' It was the work of an architect whose dream was a new house perfectly old, and an old house perfectly new. It followed, therefore, no recognised style or tradition, and was devoid of structural prejudice; but it soaked up the smuts of the metropolis with such special rapidity that its stone already respectably resembled that of Wren. Its windows and doors had gently rounded tops. The high-sloping roof, of a fine sooty pink, was almost Danish, and two 'ducky little windows' looked out of it, giving an impression that very tall servants lived up there. There were rooms on each side of the front door, which was wide and set off by bay trees in black and gold bindings. The house was thick through, and the staircase, of a broad chastity, began at the far end of a hall which had room for quite a number of hats and coats and cards. There were four bathrooms; and not even a cellar underneath. The Forsyte instinct for a house had co-operated in its acquisition. Soames had picked it up for his daughter, undecorated, at that psychological moment when the bubble of inflation was pricked, and the air escaping from the balloon of the world's trade. Fleur, however, had established immediate contact with the architect—an element which Soames himself had never quite got over—and decided not to have more than three styles in her house: Chinese, Spanish, and her own. The room to the left of the front door, running the breadth of the house, was Chinese, with ivory panels, a copper floor, central heating, and cut glass lustres. It contained four pictures—all Chinese—the only school in which her father had not yet dabbled. The fireplace, wide and open, had Chinese dogs with Chinese tiles for them to stand on. The silk was chiefly of jade green. There were two wonderful old black tea-chests, picked up with Soames' money at Jobson's—not a bargain. There was no piano, partly because pianos were too uncompromisingly occidental, and partly because it would have taken up much room. Fleur aimed at space-collecting people rather than furniture or bibelots. The light, admitted by windows at both ends, was unfortunately not Chinese. She would stand sometimes in the centre of this room, thinking—how to 'bunch' her guests, how to make her room more Chinese without making it uncomfortable; how to seem to know all about literature and politics; how to accept everything her father gave her, without making him aware that his taste had no sense of the future; how to keep hold of Sibley Swan, the new literary star, and to get hold of Gurdon Minho, the old; of how Wilfrid Desert was getting too fond of her; of what was really her style in dress; of why Michael had such funny ears; and sometimes she stood not thinking at all—just aching a little.

坐落在威斯敏斯特南广场的这幢房子是“解放式”的。两年前，年轻的蒙特夫妇在西班牙度完蜜月，回到了这里。设计它的那位建筑师梦想建造一幢完全古式的新房子和一幢全然一新的老房子。因此，这幢房子并不循规蹈矩，也不墨守结构上的陈规，但它却以惊人的速度收集了这个大都市的煤尘，连砖块也已经快赶上雷恩设计的典雅的建筑物砖块了。房子的门窗都有圆润的穹顶。高斜的屋顶刷着雅致的暗红色，很有丹麦的风格，上面的两扇“玲珑小窗”从屋顶往外探，让人以为上面住着一些魁梧的仆人。前门处很宽敞，装饰着金色和黑色的月桂树，门两侧各有几间房间。房子很深，宽大、典雅的楼梯从门厅尽头开始延伸，门厅很宽敞，足可以放下很多的帽子、大衣和卡片。房子里有四间盥洗室，却没有一间地下室。福赛特家族善于甄别房屋的天赋帮助他们买下了这座房子。索姆斯是在极为恰当的时候为女儿挑选了这幢还未装修的房子，当时通货膨胀的气泡刚被戳破，世界贸易的大气球正在漏气。可是，弗勒早已直接跟建筑师联系了——这恰是索姆斯自己不太具备的能力——并且决定在装修她的房子时仅限于三种风格：中国式、西班牙式以及自己独特的风格。前门左侧的房间和房子的跨度一样宽，是中国式的，镶嵌着象牙色的护墙板，铺着红棕色地板，装有中央暖气，还有雕花玻璃吊灯。屋内挂着四幅画——都是中国国画——这是她父亲至今唯一没有尝试的画派。壁炉宽大开阔，底部镶有中国瓷砖，瓷砖上镶着中国狗的图案。丝绸以翠绿色的居多。屋内有两个古色古香的黑色茶柜，它们是索姆斯从乔布森拍卖行花钱买来的——绝不是廉价品。屋内没有钢琴，其一是因为钢琴带有西洋韵味，风格很不协调，其二是由于它占的空间太大。弗勒希望有空间来招待宾客，而不是收纳家具或者装饰品。可惜的是，从屋内两端窗户透进的光线不是中国的。有时她会站在房子中间，思量着——该如何“汇拢”她的那些客人呢；该如何使她的房间更显中国化而又不失舒适呢；该如何显得自己精通文学和政治呢；该如何接纳父亲给予自己的一切，同时还让父亲察觉不到他的兴趣已跟不上潮流呢；该如何同时抓住文坛新秀西布莉·斯旺和文学泰斗格登·明霍呢；威尔弗里德·德赛特是如何越来越迷恋她呢；她的衣着究竟应该是什么风格呢，还有迈克尔为何长着一副如此滑稽的耳朵呢。但有时她站在那里，什么也不想——只是有一点点心痛。

When those three came in she was sitting before a red lacquer tea-table, finishing a very good tea. She always had tea brought in rather early, so that she could have a good quiet preliminary 'tuck-in' all by herself, because she was not quite twenty-one, and this was her hour for remembering her youth. By her side Ting-a-ling was standing on his hind feet, his tawny forepaws on a Chinese footstool, his snubbed black and tawny muzzle turned up towards the fruits of his philosophy.

当那三人走进来时，弗勒正坐在一张红漆茶桌前，刚刚吃完精致的茶点。她总是吩咐仆人把茶点早一些送过来，这样一来，她便可以独自一人悠然自得地享受“一顿美餐”，因为她还未满21岁，而这正是她记住青春岁月的大好时候。小叮铃正踮着后脚站在她身旁，它那黄褐色的前爪搁在一把中国式的脚凳上，那扁平的黑褐色口鼻朝上仰着，望着他眼中的“果子”。

"That'll do, Ting. No more, ducky! NO MORE!"“好了，叮铃。没了，宝贝！一点儿也没有了！”

The expression of Ting-a-ling answered:

小叮铃的表情仿佛回答道：

Well, then, stop, too! Don't subject me to torture!'“哦，那你也别吃了！别再折磨我了！”

A year and three months old, he had been bought by Michael out of a Bond Street shop window on Fleur's twentieth birthday, eleven months ago.

它一岁零三个月，是11个月前，迈克尔在弗勒20岁生日那天，从邦德大街的一家商店橱窗里买来的。

Two years of married life had not lengthened her short dark chestnut hair; had added a little more decision to her quick lips, a little more allurement to her white-lidded, dark-lashed hazel eyes, a little more poise and swing to her carriage, a little more chest and hip measurement; had taken a little from waist and calf measurement, a little colour from cheeks a little less round, and a little sweetness from a voice a little more caressing.

两年的婚姻生活，没有使她深栗色的短发变长，却让她那灵巧的嘴唇多了一份坚决神情，让那双白眼皮、黑睫毛、淡褐色的眼睛更加妩媚，给她的仪态平添了几分端庄和婀娜。她的胸围和臀部愈加丰满，腰身和小腿愈加纤细；她的面庞愈加清瘦，少了几分血色；她嗓音没有以前甜美了，却多了一丝柔情。

She stood up behind the tray, holding out her white round arm without a word. She avoided unnecessary greetings or farewells. She would have had to say them so often, and their purpose was better served by look, pressure, and slight inclination of head to one side.

她从茶盘后面站起来，一语不发地伸出她那白皙而丰润的手臂。她回避了那些不必要的问候和道别。她本该经常说这些话的，但使个眼色、握一下手、微微点头，似乎更能达到目的。

With circular movement of her squeezed hand, she said:

她用那只刚被紧握过的手划了个圆圈，说道：

"Draw up. Cream, sir? Sugar, Wilfrid? Ting has had too much—don't feed him! Hand things, Michael. I've heard all about the meeting at 'Snooks.' You're not going to canvass for Labour, Michael—canvassing's so silly. If any one canvassed me, I should vote the other way at once."“坐下来吧。先生，要奶油吗？威尔弗里德，要糖吗？叮铃吃的够多的了——别再喂它了！迈克尔，递一下。‘轻蔑’俱乐部开会的情况我已经全听说了。迈克尔，你不要再去为工党拉选票了——那太愚蠢了。如果有人来找我拉票，我会毫不犹豫地给另一方投票。”

"Yes, darling; but you're not the average elector."“是呀，亲爱的。不过你可不是普通的选民啊。”

Fleur looked at him. Very sweetly put! Conscious of Wilfrid biting his lips, of Sir Lawrence taking that in, of the amount of silk leg she was showing, of her black and cream teacups, she adjusted these matters. A flutter of her white lids—Desert ceased to bite his lips; a movement of her silk legs—Sir Lawrence ceased to look at him. Holding out her cups, she said:

弗勒看看他。话里有话！弗勒留意到威尔弗里德咬着双唇，而劳伦斯爵士也注意到了威尔弗里德的举动。她知道她露出了一截穿着丝袜的腿，还有她桌上奶油色和黑色相间的茶杯。她对这一切都心中有数。她那白眼皮一翻，德赛特立刻不咬嘴唇了；她那穿丝袜的腿一动，劳伦斯爵士立刻不再看威尔弗里德了。她伸手放下茶杯，说道：

"I suppose I'm not modern enough?"“我想我还不够时髦吧？”

Desert, moving a bright little spoon round in his magpie cup, said without looking up:

德赛特用一把光亮的小勺在他那只绘着喜鹊的茶杯里搅动着，头也不抬地说：

"As much more modern than the moderns, as you are more ancient."“你比现代人更时髦，比时髦的人更复古。”

"'Ware poetry!" said Michael.“注意诗律！”迈克尔说。

But when he had taken his father to see the new cartoons by Aubrey Greene, she said:

待迈克尔带他父亲去参观奥布里·格林新创作的漫画时，她说：

"Kindly tell me what you meant, Wilfrid."“威尔弗里德，你说这话是什么意思。”

Desert's voice seemed to leap from restraint.

德赛特的声音似乎是强挤出来的。

"What does it matter? I don't want to waste time with that."“这话怎么了？我不想为此耽误时间。”

"But I want to know. It sounded like a sneer."“可是我想知道。这话听上去像是在讽刺。”

"A sneer? From me? Fleur!"“讽刺？我说的？弗勒！”

"Then tell me."“那告诉我到底是什么意思。”

"I meant that you have all their restlessness and practical get-thereness; but you have what they haven't, Fleur—power to turn one's head. And mine is turned. You know it."“我的意思是，你具有了他们那种不安分以及务实的定要成功的精神，但弗勒，你还具有他们所没有的东西——使人迷糊的能力。我就是被你弄迷糊的。这点你心里明白。”

"How would Michael like that—from YOU, his best man?"“要是迈克尔听见这话该有何感想——出自你，他的男傧相之口？”

Desert moved quickly to the windows.

德赛特快速走到窗边。

Fleur took Ting-a-ling on her lap. Such things had been said to her before; but from Wilfrid it was serious. Nice to think she had his heart, of course! Only, where on earth could she put it, where it wouldn't be seen except by her? He was incalculable—did strange things! She was a little afraid—not of him, but of that quality in him. He came back to the hearth, and said:

弗勒把小叮铃抱到腿上。类似的话以前也有人对她说过，但出自威尔弗里德之口，事情就变得严重了。但想到她已经占有了他的心，自然值得高兴！只是，她究竟要把这颗心放在哪里呢，一个除她之外别人都不知道的地方？他可是个让人猜不透的人——干些令人费解的古怪事。她有些害怕——不是怕他，而是害怕他那怪脾气。他走回到壁炉前，说：

"Ugly, isn't it? Put that dam' dog down, Fleur; I can't see your face. If you were really fond of Michael—I swear I wouldn't; but you're not, you know."“很丑恶，是不是？弗勒，把那只该死的狗放下去。我看不见你的脸了。你要是真心喜欢迈克尔的话——我发誓我不会这样做。但你并不喜欢他，你心里明白。”

Fleur said coldly:

弗勒冷冷地说：

"You know very little; I AM fond of Michael."“你知道得太少了。我是喜欢迈克尔的。”

Desert gave his little jerky laugh.

德赛特急促地笑笑。

"Oh yes; not the sort that counts."“不错，但算不上爱。”

Fleur looked up.

弗勒抬起头来。

"It counts quite enough to make one safe."“能给人安全感，就算得上了。”

"A flower that I can't pick."“这是一朵我采不到的花。”

Fleur nodded.

弗勒点点头。

"Quite sure, Fleur? Quite, quite sure?"“弗勒，你肯定吗？非常、非常肯定吗？”

Fleur stared; her eyes softened a little, her eyelids, so excessively white, drooped over them; she nodded. Desert said slowly:

弗勒凝视着他。她的眼神变得柔和了一些，她闭上那白得过分的眼皮，点了点头。德赛特慢吞吞地说：

"The moment I believe that, I shall go East."“一旦我相信你说的话，我就去东方。”

"East?"“东方？”

"Not so stale as going West, but much the same—you don't come back."“不像上西天那样乏味，但结果是一样的——一去就再也不回来了。”

Fleur thought: 'The East? I should love to know the East! Pity one can't manage that, too. Pity!'

弗勒心想：“东方？我倒很想去东方看看！遗憾的是，这无法办到。遗憾啊！”

"You won't keep me in your Zoo, my dear. I shan't hang around and feed on crumbs. You know what I feel—it means a smash of some sort."“亲爱的，你不可能把我关在你的动物园里。我也不会在此逗留，并以残羹冷炙为生。你知道我是什么感觉吗——那就意味着决裂。”

"It hasn't been my fault, has it?"“这不是我的过错，是吧？”

"Yes; you've collected me, as you collect everybody that comes near you."“是你的错，是你把我招揽来的，就像你招揽着每个来到你身边的人一样。”

"I don't know what you mean."“我不明白你的意思。”

Desert bent down, and dragged her hand to his lips.

德赛特弯腰，把她的手慢慢拉近自己的唇边。

"Don't be riled with me; I'm too unhappy."“别生我的气，我非常难过。”

Fleur let her hand stay against his hot lips.

弗勒让自己的手贴着他那炽热的嘴唇。

"Sorry, Wilfrid."“对不起，威尔弗里德。”

"All right, dear. I'll go."“好吧，亲爱的。我走了。”

"But you're coming to dinner tomorrow?"“那你明天来吃饭吗？”

Desert said violently:

德赛特激动地说：

"TO-MORROW? Good God—no! What d'you think I'm made of?"“明天？上帝啊——绝不来！在你眼里我算什么？”

He flung her hand away.

他甩开她的手。

"I don't like violence, Wilfrid."“我不喜欢见你如此粗暴，威尔弗里德。”

"Well, good-bye; I'd better go."“好吧，再见。我还是走吧。”

The words "And you'd better not come again" trembled up to her lips, but were not spoken. Part from Wilfrid—life would lose a little warmth! She waved her hand. He was gone. She heard the door closing. Poor Wilfrid!—nice to think of a flame at which to warm her hands! Nice but rather dreadful! And suddenly, dropping Ting-a-ling, she got up and began to walk about the room. To-morrow! Second anniversary of her wedding-day! Still an ache when she thought of what it had not been. But there was little time to think—and she made less. What good in thinking? Only one life, full of people, of things to do and have, of things wanted—a life only void of—one thing, and that—well, if people had it, they never had it long! On her lids two tears, which had gathered, dried without falling. Sentimentalism! No! The last thing in the world—the unforgivable offence! Whom should she put next whom tomorrow? And whom should she get in place of Wilfrid, if Wilfrid wouldn't come—silly boy! One day—one night—what difference? Who should sit on her right, and who on her left? Was Aubrey Greene more distinguished, or Sibley Swan? Were they either as distinguished as Walter Nazing or Charles Upshire? Dinner of twelve, exclusively literary and artistic, except for Michael and Alison Charwell. Ah! Could Alison get her Gurdon Minho—just one writer of the old school, one glass of old wine to mellow effervescence? He didn't publish with Danby and Winter; but he fed out of Alison's hand. She went quickly to one of the old tea chests, and opened it. Inside was a telephone.“你最好再也别来了”这句话已到嘴边，但她还是没说出口。如果和威尔弗里德分手——那么她的生活将失去一丝温暖。她挥挥手。他走了。她听到大门关上的声音。可怜的威尔弗里德！——一想到有一团可以暖手的火焰就令人兴奋！兴奋，却更令人胆战心惊！突然，她放下小叮铃，站起来，在房间里踱起步来。明天！她结婚两周年纪念日！一想到还未实现的事，她心中不免难过。可是没什么时间再去想了——况且她也不愿意再去想了。想了又有什么好处呢？唯一的一种生活，充斥着人、要做的和拥有的事、想要得到的东西——这种生活唯一缺少的——一件东西，而且——对，人们即使得到它，也不会永远拥有它！两滴泪珠凝聚在她的眼睑上，干了，没有掉下来。多愁善感！不！这是世界上最不应该有的东西——是不可饶恕的罪过！明天她该把谁安排坐在谁的身旁呢？最重要的是，她到底找谁来填补威尔弗里德的位置呢？要是他不来的话——这个傻瓜！白天——晚上——有什么区别呢？谁坐在她的右边，谁又该坐在她的左边呢？奥布里·格林和西布莉·斯旺，谁更有名一些呢？他们两个人都像沃尔特·内津一样出名，还是都像查尔斯·厄普夏一样有名呢？晚宴的12人中，除了迈克尔和艾莉森·查韦尔之外，其他都是文学界和艺术界的。啊！艾莉森能帮她请到格登·明霍吗？——一位老派作家，一杯令人兴奋的陈年佳酿。他没有在丹比&温特出版社出过书，但还是很给艾莉森面子的。她迅速走到一个陈旧的茶柜旁，打开它。里面是一部电话。

"Can I speak to Lady Alison—Mrs. Michael Mont... Yes... That you, Alison?... Fleur speaking. Wilfrid has fallen through tomorrow night... Is there any chance of your bringing Gurdon Minho? I don't know him, of course; but he might be interested. You'll try?... That'll be ever so delightful. Isn't the 'Snooks' Club meeting rather exciting? Bart says they'll eat each other now they've split... About Mr. Minho. Could you let me know to-night? Thanks—thanks awfully!... Goodbye!"“我能和艾莉森夫人通话吗——是迈克尔·蒙特夫人……对……是你吗，艾莉森？我是弗勒啊。威尔弗里德明晚不来了……你能邀请格登·明霍来吗？我当然不认识他了，但他也许会感兴趣的。那你试试？……那可真让人兴奋。‘轻蔑’俱乐部的会议是不是很热闹？准爵爷说他们现在已经分裂了，一定要拼个你死我活……说关于明霍先生的事吧。今晚你能给我确切消息吗？谢谢——真是万分感激！……再见！”

Failing Minho, whom? Her mind hovered over the names in her address book. At so late a minute it must be some one who didn't stand on ceremony; but except Alison, none of Michael's relations would be safe from Sibley Swan or Nesta Gorse, and their subversive shafts; as to the Forsytes—out of the question; they had their own sub-acid humour (some of them), but they were not modern, not really modern. Besides, she saw as little of them as she could—they dated, belonged to the dramatic period, had no sense of life without beginning or end. No! If Gurdon Minho was a frost, it would have to be a musician, whose works were hieroglyphical with a dash of surgery; or, better, perhaps, a psycho-analyst. Her fingers turned the pages till she came to those two categories. Hugo Solstis? A possibility; but suppose he wanted to play them something recent? There was only Michael's upright Grand, and that would mean going to his study. Better Gerald Hanks—he and Nesta Gorse would get off together on dreams; still, if they did, there would be no actual loss of life. Yes, failing Gurdon Minho, Gerald Hanks; he would be free—and put him between Alison and Nesta. She closed the book, and, going back to her jade-green settee, sat gazing at Ting-a-ling. The little dog's prominent round eyes gazed back; bright, black, very old. Fleur thought: 'I DON'T want Wilfrid to drop off.' Among all the crowd who came and went, here, there and everywhere, she cared for nobody. Keep up with them, keep up with everything, of course! It was all frightfully amusing, frightfully necessary! Only—only—what?

假如明霍先生邀请不到，那么该请谁好呢？她的脑子里反复思考着通讯录中的人名。剩下的时间不多了，必须找一个不拘礼节的人。除了艾莉森以外，迈克尔的亲戚中还没有一个人能应付西布莉·斯旺或内丝塔·戈斯，并应对他们那些刻薄话；至于福赛特家族——就更不必多说了，他们具有独特的晦涩的幽默（他们中的一些人），但他们绝不是真正时髦的人。此外，她对他们很看不上眼——毕竟他们已经过时了，他们属于戏剧时代，根本不懂得没有开始或结局的人生。不！如果格登·明霍不肯来，那就得邀请一位音乐家，而他们的作品都像外科手术一样晦涩难懂。或许还是邀请一位精神分析学家更好一些。她用手指一页页翻着，直到那两栏，她停了下来。雨果·苏斯迪斯？值得考虑，但是如果他要表演近期的作品，该怎么办？家里只有迈克尔的那架竖式大钢琴，这就意味着大家只能到他书房去了。还是杰拉尔德·汉克斯更适合一些——他会和内丝塔·戈斯一起讨论梦，而且，他们就是那样做了，也没有什么大不了的。对，要是不能邀请格登·明霍，那就邀请杰拉尔德·汉克斯，他应该有空——把他的座位安排在艾莉森和内丝塔两人之间。她合上通讯录，走回到那把翠绿色的长靠椅旁边，坐在那里盯着小叮铃。小狗突出的圆眼睛也盯着她，眼睛明亮、乌黑，是她非常熟悉的眼神。弗勒心想：“我不愿意让威尔弗里德就这么离开了。”在所有来来往往的人中，无论是在此处、他处，或是任何其他地方，她从来没有喜欢上一个人。当然，应该与他们保持联系，与所有的事情保持联系！这一切都非常有趣，非常有必要！只是——只是——又怎么样呢？

Voices! Michael and Bart coming back. Bart had noticed Wilfrid. He WAS a noticing old Bart. She was never very comfortable when he was about—lively and twisting, but with something settled and ancestral in him; a little like Ting-a-ling—something judgmatic, ever telling her that she was fluttering and new. He was anchored, could only move to the length of his old-fashioned cord, but he could drop on to things disconcertingly. Still, he admired her, she felt—oh! yes.

有说话声！迈克尔和准爵爷回来了。准爵爷已经注意到威尔弗里德的神情了。他可是一位洞悉一切的老准爵爷。每当他在身旁，她就感到不大自在——他活泼但又很偏执，在他身上有某种很难改变的遗传的东西。他有点儿像小叮铃——善于识别人，还总是说她不仅情绪不稳定，还不谙世事。他的性格已经固定不变，只能在固有的习惯约束下行动，但是他会对事情刨根问底。但她仍感觉，他是很欣赏她的——对！欣赏。

Well! What had he thought of the cartoons? Ought Michael to publish them, and with letterpress or without? Didn't he think that the cubic called 'Still Life'—of the Government, too frightfully funny—especially the 'old bean' representing the Prime? For answer she was conscious of a twisting, rapid noise; Sir Lawrence was telling her of his father's collection of electioneering cartoons. She did wish Bart would not tell her about his father; he had been so distinguished, and he must have been so dull, paying all his calls on horseback, with trousers strapped under his boots. He and Lord Charles Cariboo and the Marquis of Forfar had been the last three 'callers' of that sort. If only they hadn't, they'd have been clean forgot. She had that dress to try, and fourteen things to see to, and Hugo's concert began at eight-fifteen! Why did people of the last generation always have so much time? And, suddenly, she looked down. Ting-a-ling was licking the copper floor. She took him up: "Not that, darling; nasty!" Ah! the spell was broken! Bart was going, reminiscent to the last. She waited at the foot of the stairs till Michael shut the door on him, then flew. Reaching her room, she turned on all the lights. Here was her own style—a bed which did not look like one, and many mirrors. The couch of Ting-a-ling occupied a corner, whence he could see himself in three. She put him down, and said: "Keep quiet, now!" His attitude to the other dogs in the room had long become indifferent; though of his own breed and precisely his colouring, they had no smell and no licking power in their tongues—nothing to be done with them, imitative creatures, incredibly unresponsive.

哦！他对那些漫画有什么看法呢？迈克尔究竟应该不应该把它们出版呢，是否该配上文字呢？对于这幅叫做“静物画”的立体漫画——它描绘的是政府，他是不是觉得滑稽好笑呢？——尤其是那位影射首相的“老兄”。她得到的答案含糊其辞，劳伦斯爵士正在给她讲他父亲收集选举漫画的事情。她从内心希望准爵爷不要向她诉说他父亲的往事；他曾经是那样高贵，但肯定也很无趣：骑马去会客，裤脚掖在靴筒里。他、查尔斯·卡列布勋爵和福法侯爵可以算得上是这类“访客”中最后的三位了。假如他们没有这些特征，也许早已被人遗忘了。她还要试穿一件衣服，此外还有14件事要处理，而雨果的音乐会在八点一刻就要开始了！为什么上一代人总有那么多空闲时间呢？就在这时，她突然往下望了望。小叮铃正在舔着红棕色的地板。她一把抱起它：“亲爱的，脏啊，别再舔了！”啊！危急解除了！准爵爷要走了，直到最后，他还在回首往事。她在楼梯下面等着，直到迈克尔把他送出门，把门关上后，她才又飞奔回去。回到自己的屋里，她打开了所有的灯。这里是她独有的风格——有一张怎么看都不像床的床，还有很多面镜子。小叮铃的睡椅占据房间一角，在那里它能看见镜子反映出的三个自己。她把它放下来，说：“从现在开始，安静！”对于屋里的其他几条狗，它早已丧失兴趣了；这些狗虽然跟小叮铃是同种，皮毛也一样，但它们全然没有嗅觉，也不会用舌头舔东西——拿它们没辙，他们就会模仿，极其迟钝。

Stripping off her dress, Fleur held the new frock under her chin.

弗勒脱下身上的衣服，用下巴夹着那件新衣服。

"May I kiss you?" said a voice, and there was Michael's image behind her own reflection in the glass.“我可以吻你吗？”一个声音说道，镜中映出了她身后站着的迈克尔。

"My dear boy, there isn't time! Help me with this." She slipped the frock over her head. "Do those three top hooks. How do you like it? Oh! and—Michael! Gurdon Minho may be coming to dinner tomorrow—Wilfrid can't. Have you read his things? Sit down and tell me something about them. All novels, aren't they? What sort?"“亲爱的，没时间啦！帮我穿上它吧。”她赶紧把衣服往头上一套，“把上面的三个挂钩扣上。你觉得这衣服怎样？啊！还有——迈克尔！格登·明霍明天可能要来吃饭——而威尔弗里德不来了。你阅读过他的作品吗？坐下给我讲讲他的作品吧。他的作品都是小说是吗？是哪一类的呢？”

"Well, he's always had something to say. And his cats are good. He's a bit romantic, of course."“嗯，他总是有很多素材。而且他很会描写猫。当然，他还有些浪漫。”

"Oh! Have I made a gaff?"“啊！我是不是说错话了？”

"Not a bit; jolly good shot. The vice of our lot is, they say it pretty well, but they've nothing to say. They won't last."“一点儿也没说错，而且还一针见血。我们这群人的缺点是说起话来冠冕堂皇，但却言之无物。这样的人终究不会太长久。”

"But that's just why they will last. They won't date."“但那反倒是他们能保持长久的方法。他们不会落伍的。”

"Won't they? My gum!"“真的吗？我的天哪！”

"Wilfrid will last."“威尔弗里德会保持长久的。”

"Ah! Wilfrid has emotions, hates, pities, wants; at least, sometimes; when he has, his stuff is jolly good. Otherwise, he just makes a song about nothing—like the rest."“啊！威尔弗里德爱憎分明，有怜悯之心，也有欲望，至少他有时是这样的。当他拥有这些情感时，他的作品就会很精彩。否则，就是无病呻吟，无关痛痒——像其他人一样。”

Fleur tucked in the top of her undergarment.

弗勒把她的内衣上端掖进去。

"But, Michael, if that's so, we—I've got the wrong lot."“但是，迈克尔，如果是这样，我们——我是请错人了。”

Michael grinned.

迈克尔咧嘴笑笑。

"My dear child! The lot of the hour is always right; only you've got to watch it, and change it quick enough."“亲爱的宝贝！一时之选总是对的，但你要时刻关注，及时更新。”

"But d'you mean to say that Sibley isn't going to live?"“那你的意思是说西布莉不会持久存在？”

"Sib? Lord, no!"“茜布？上帝，绝不会的！”

"But he's so perfectly sure that almost everybody else is dead or dying. Surely he has critical genius!"“但他很自信，他相信除他以外所有人都已死去，或正在死去。但他的确是批判的高手！”

"If I hadn't more judgment than Sib, I'd go out of publishing tomorrow."“如果我的判断力不如茜布，那我明天就离开出版社。”

"You—more than Sibley Swan?"“你——比西布莉·斯旺还精明？”

"Of course, I've more judgment than Sib. Why! Sib's judgment is just his opinion of Sib—common or garden impatience of any one else. He doesn't even read them. He'll read one specimen of every author and say: 'Oh! that fellow! He's dull, or he's moral, or he's sentimental, or he dates, or he drivels'—I've heard him dozens of times. That's if they're alive. Of course, if they're dead, it's different. He's always digging up and canonising the dead; that's how he's got his name. There's always a Sib in literature. He's a standing example of how people can get taken at their own valuation. But as to lasting—of course he won't; he's never creative, even by mistake."“当然，我的判断力肯定比茜布强。咳！茜布的判断力只是他自己书里的见解——陈词滥调，对于别人的观点一向不耐烦。他甚至都不读别人的作品。他只是大略读一下每位作家的作品节选，然后说：‘啊！那家伙！他是愚笨的，或者是说教的、多愁善感的、过时的、胡说八道的’——我已经听他这样说过几十遍了。如果那些作家还在世，他就会这样说。当然，如果他们已经去世，情况就不同了。他总是高举和吹捧死者，他就是这样出的名。在文学界，总是有像茜布这样的人。总想凭借对自己的评估来获取公众信任，他就是个典型的例子。但提到持久——他自然是不会的，他自始至终就没有创造才能，哪怕是歪打正着。”

Fleur had lost the thread. Yes! It suited her—quite a nice line! Off with it! Must write those three notes before she dressed.

弗勒已经糊涂了。是的！这席话对她大有益处！记下来吧！她必须在穿好衣服前记下这三条。

Michael had begun again.

迈克尔继续说着。

"Take my tip, Fleur. The really big people don't talk—and don't bunch—they paddle their own canoes in what seem backwaters. But it's the backwaters that make the main stream. By Jove, that's a mot, or is it a bull; and are bulls mots or mots bulls?"“记着我的忠告，弗勒。真正的大人物是不会滔滔不绝的——也不会拉帮结伙的——他们只是独自一人，逆水行舟。但那逆流恰好成为了主流。天啊，真是警世良言，但其实也是自相矛盾；那到底自相矛盾的话就是警世良言呢，还是警世良言就会自相矛盾呢？”

"Michael, if you were me, would you tell Frederic Wilmer that he'll be meeting Hubert Marsland at lunch next week? Would it bring him or would it put him off?"“迈克尔，假如你是我，你会通知弗雷德里克·威尔默下周午餐时他会遇见休伯特·马斯兰德吗？听完这话，他是来还是不来呢？”

"Marsland's rather an old duck, Wilmer's rather an old goose—I don't know."“马斯兰德是个老好人，威尔默是个十足的傻瓜——我也不清楚。”

"Oh! do be serious, Michael—you never give me any help in arranging—No! Don't maul my shoulders please."“啊！严肃点儿，迈克尔——我准备请客的事情，你从来没帮过我——从来都没有！请别弄疼我的肩膀。”

"Well, darling, I DON'T know. I've no genius for such things, like you. Marsland paints windmills, cliffs and things—I doubt if he's heard of the future. He's almost a Mathew Mans for keeping out of the swim. If you think he'd like to meet a Vertiginist—"“哦，亲爱的，我确实不清楚啊。对于这些事情，我可不像你那么有天赋。马斯兰德只画风车、悬崖峭壁和静物——我甚至怀疑他是否听说过未来的事情。他简直就和马修·马里斯一样不入流。如果你以为他愿意见到一位旋转派画家——”

"I didn't ask you if he'd like to meet Wilmer; I asked you if Wilmer would like to meet him."“我并不是问你他是否愿意遇见威尔默，我想问的是威尔默是否愿意遇见他。”

"Wilmer will just say: 'I like little Mrs. Mont, she gives deuced good grub'—and so you do, ducky. A Vertiginist wants nourishing, you know, or it wouldn't go to his head."“威尔默只会说：‘我喜欢娇小的蒙特夫人，她给我们准备美食’——你的确如此，宝贝。你应该清楚旋转派画家是需要营养的，否则他的脑子会生锈。”

Fleur's pen resumed its swift strokes, already becoming slightly illegible. She murmured:

弗勒又开始奋笔疾书，字已经很潦草了。她咕哝着：

"I think Wilfrid would help—you won't be there; one—two—three. What women?"“我想威尔弗里德会帮我的——你不必在那里；一——二——三。女嘉宾是谁呢？”

"For painters—pretty and plump; no intellect."“对画家而言——喜欢既漂亮又丰满的女子，而不喜欢那些有智慧的。”

Fleur said crossly:

弗勒恼怒地说着：

"I can't get them plump; they don't go about now." And her pen flowed on:“我可找不到丰满的女子，现在这种人早就绝种了。”说着，她又继续写着，

"DEAR WILFRID,—Wednesday—lunch; Wilmer, Hubert Marsland, two other women. Do help me live it down.“亲爱的威尔弗里德——周三——午餐；威尔默，休伯特·马斯兰德，还有两位女士。真切恳求你助我渡过难关。

"Yours ever,

你永远的，

"FLEUR."

弗勒。”

"Michael, your chin is like a bootbrush."“迈克尔，你的下巴像一把靴刷子。”

"Sorry, old thing; your shoulders shouldn't be so smooth. Bart gave Wilfrid a tip as we were coming along."“不好意思，亲爱的，你的肩膀不该这么光滑。在我们来时的路上，准爵爷给了威尔弗里德一些提示。”

Fleur stopped writing. "Oh!"

弗勒停下笔来。“哦！”

"Reminded him that the state of love was a good stunt for poets."“爵爷提示他，对于诗人来说，恋爱可是施展才华的绝好机会。”

"A propos of what?"“都说了些什么呢？”

"Wilfrid was complaining that he couldn't turn it out now."“威尔弗里德一直在抱怨现在他创作不出来作品。”

"Nonsense! His last things are his best."“胡说！他最新的作品正是他最好的作品。”

"Well, that's what I think. Perhaps he's forestalled the tip. Has he, d'you know?"“嗯，我也有同感。也许他早就实践过那个提示了。他有没有实践过，你知道吗？”

Fleur turned her eyes towards the face behind her shoulder. No, it had its native look—frank, irresponsible, slightly faun-like, with its pointed ears, quick lips, and nostrils.

弗勒转过头，望着身后的那张脸。还是那张脸——坦率真诚、不负责任，有点儿像尊农牧神像，有着尖尖的耳朵、灵巧的嘴唇和鼻孔。

She said slowly:

她缓缓地说：

"If YOU don't know, nobody does."“如果连你都不知道，那更没有人知道了。”

A snuffle interrupted Michael's answer. Ting-a-ling, long, low, slightly higher at both ends, was standing between them, with black muzzle upturned. My pedigree is long,' he seemed to say; 'but my legs are short—what about it?'

一阵鼻息声打断了迈克尔的回答。是小叮铃——它身子长、个头矮，头和尾巴稍微高一些——正站在他们两个人中间，黑乎乎的脸朝上仰着。它好像在说：“我可是纯种，就是腿短——这又有什么关系呢？”Chapter IIIMusical

第三章

音乐会

According to a great and guiding principle, Fleur and Michael Mont attended the Hugo Solstis concert, not because they anticipated pleasure, but because they knew Hugo. They felt, besides, that Solstis, an Englishman of Russo-Dutch extraction, was one of those who were restoring English music, giving to it a wide and spacious freedom from melody and rhythm, while investing it with literary and mathematical charms. And one never could go to a concert given by any of this school without using the word 'interesting' as one was coming away. To sleep to this restored English music, too, was impossible. Fleur, a sound sleeper, had never even tried. Michael had, and complained afterwards that it had been like a nap in Liege railway station. On this occasion they occupied those gangway seats in the front row of the dress circle of which Fleur had a sort of natural monopoly. There Hugo and the rest could see her taking her place in the English restoration movement. It was easy, too, to escape into the corridor and exchange the word 'interesting' with side-whiskered cognoscenti; or, slipping out a cigarette from the little gold case, wedding present of Cousin Imogen Cardigan, get a whiff or two's repose. To speak quite honestly, Fleur had a natural sense of rhythm which caused her discomfort during those long and 'interesting' passages which evidenced, as it were, the composer's rise and fall from his bed of thorns. She secretly loved a tune, and the impossibility of ever confessing this without losing hold of Solstis, Baff, Birdigal, MacLewis, Clorane, and other English restoration composers, sometimes taxed to its limit a nature which had its Spartan side. Even to Michael she would not 'confess'; and it was additionally trying when, with his native disrespect of persons, accentuated by life in the trenches and a publisher's office, he would mutter: "Gad!Get on with it!" or: "Cripes!Ain't he took bad!" especially as she knew that Michael was really putting up with it better than herself, having a more literary disposition, and a less dancing itch in his toes.

依照一个伟大的并具有指导性的原则，弗勒和迈克尔·蒙特参加了雨果·苏斯迪斯的音乐会。出席这项活动不是为了娱乐，而是因为他们认识雨果。而且，他们认为，苏斯迪斯——这个混有俄罗斯与荷兰血统的英国人——是复兴英国音乐的中坚力量之一。他使英国音乐在节奏和旋律上都获得了充分的自由，又赋予了它文学和数学的魅力。无论是谁参加这一流派中任何一位音乐家的音乐会，在他离开时，总要发出“有趣”的称赞。听这种复兴的英国音乐，也不可能打瞌睡。虽说弗勒是个嗜睡的人，在这种场合却从未试着瞌睡过。迈克尔倒是打过一次瞌睡，事后却抱怨说，这就像在列日火车站打了个盹。这次，他们坐在特等包厢前排靠近通道的位子，这个位子似乎就是弗勒的专座。坐在那里，雨果和其他人都能看见她参加了这次英国复兴运动。而且，在那里也方便她溜到走廊里，和那些留着络腮胡的鉴赏家们互道一声“有趣”；或拿出表姐伊莫金·卡迪根送的结婚礼物——一个小金盒，抽出一支香烟，吸两口休息休息。坦率地说，弗勒的节奏感与生俱来，当演奏到那些冗长而“有趣”的乐章时，她仿佛对作曲家所表现的如坐针毡、坐立不安的情形感同身受，这不免让她十分难受。她默默喜欢一支曲调，为了不失去苏斯迪斯、巴夫、博迪格尔、麦克刘易斯、克罗雷和其他英国复兴派作曲家，她永远不会承认这一点。有时，这使她那具有自虐倾向的性格压抑到了极点。即使对迈克尔，她也不会承认。迈克尔生来不尊重别人，而战场上的生活和出版家的身份使他的这种态度更加严重，因此，每当他咕噜着：“上帝！快点儿过去吧！”或者“天啊！他这下可弄错了！”时，她就感到格外难受，尤其是她知道迈克尔实际比她更能忍耐，更有文学气质，而对舞蹈则没有她那么入迷。

The first movement of the new Solstis composition—'Phantasmagoria Piemontesque'—to which they had especially come to listen, began with some drawn-out chords. "What oh!" said Michael's voice in her ear: "Three pieces of furniture moved simultaneously on a parquet floor!"

他们专程来听苏斯迪斯新乐曲的第一乐章——《皮埃蒙特斯克幻想曲》，该乐章以几个悠长的和弦开始。她耳边传来迈克尔的声音：“哇哦，三件家具同时在一块镶木地板上移动！”

In Fleur's involuntary smile was the whole secret of why her marriage had not been intolerable. After all, Michael was a dear! Devotion and mercury—jesting and loyalty—combined, they piqued and touched even a heart given away before it was bestowed on him. Touch' without 'pique' would have bored; 'pique' without 'touch' would have irritated. At this moment he was at peculiar advantage! Holding on to his knees, with his ears standing up, eyes glassy from loyalty to Hugo, and tongue in cheek, he was listening to that opening in a way which evoked Fleur's admiration. The piece would be 'interesting'—she fell into the state of outer observation and inner calculation very usual with her nowadays. Over there was L.S.D., the greater dramatist; she didn't know him—yet. He looked rather frightening, his hair stood up so straight. And her eye began picturing him on her copper floor against a Chinese picture. And there—yes! Gurdon Minho! Imagine HIS coming to anything so modern! His profile WAS rather Roman—of the Aurelian period! Passing on from that antique, with the pleased thought that by this time tomorrow she might have collected it, she quartered the assembly face by face—she did not want to miss any one important.

弗勒不禁笑了，她的婚姻并非无法忍受，她的笑容把这个秘密完全暴露了。迈克尔毕竟很可爱！他既专一又活泼，既幽默又忠诚——这一切都触动甚至是感动了她，虽然在嫁给他之前她就心有所属了。没有“触动”的“感动”惹人厌恶，而没有“感动”的“触动”又惹人恼怒。此刻，他处于极其有利的地位！为了表示对雨果的尊重，他双手抓牢膝盖，双耳竖起，目光呆滞，装模作样地听着序曲。他做出的这副样子引起了弗勒的钦佩。这段乐曲会很“有趣”——她陷入了一种状态：外表看上去在观察，而内心却在无限遐想，最近她一直这样。那边坐着L. S. D.，一位更加伟大的剧作家，她还不认识他。他看上去相当可怕，头发竖得直直的。于是，她眼前浮现出一个画面：他正站在她家的红棕色地板上，身后是一幅中国画。啊，快看那边！是格登·明霍！想不到他竟会到如此时髦的地方来！他的侧面颇有点儿罗马味道——奥勒利安皇帝时期的味道。她把目光从那个古董身上移开，想到明晚这个时候她准会收罗到这件东西了，心里颇为高兴，一一打量了剧场里的每一个人——她可不想遗漏任何一个重要人物。

"The furniture" had come to a sudden standstill.“那件家具”突然停住了。

"Interesting!" said a voice over her shoulder. Aubrey Greene! Illusive, rather moonlit, with his silky fair hair brushed straight back, and his greenish eyes—his smile always made her feel that he was 'getting' at her. But, after all, he was a cartoonist!“有趣！”声音从她背后传来。是奥布里·格林！好像幻影一般，颇有点儿月朦胧的感觉。他柔亮的金色头发笔直地向后梳着；他淡绿色的眼眸以及他的微笑，总让她有种被“挑逗”的感觉。不管怎么说，毕竟他也是个漫画家！

"Yes, isn't it?"“嗯，可不是吗？”

He curled away. He might have stayed a little longer—there wouldn't be time for any one else before those songs of Birdigal's! Here came the singer Charles Powls! How stout and efficient he looked, dragging little Birdigal to the piano.

他转身走了。他本可以多呆一会儿的。因为在博迪格尔的那几首曲子之前，其他人是不会有时间表演的！现在歌唱家查尔斯·波尔斯出场了！他把个子矮小的博迪格尔拖到钢琴那边，这让他看起来既壮实又能干。

Charming accompaniment—rippling, melodious!

迷人的伴奏——轻轻荡漾着，和谐悦耳！

The stout, efficient man began to sing. How different from the accompaniment! The song hit every note just off the solar plexus. It mathematically prevented her from feeling pleasure. Birdigal must have written it in horror of some one calling it 'vocal.' Vocal! Fleur knew how catching the word was; it would run like a measle round the ring, and Birdigal would be no more! Poor Birdigal! But this was 'interesting.' Only, as Michael was saying: "O, my Gawd!"

这位既壮实又能干的人开始唱了。怎么与伴奏如此不一样呢！这首歌的每个音调都没有打动她的交感神经。精确地讲，没有一个音调让她感到快乐。博迪格尔创作这首歌时，一定害怕有人将之称为“声乐作品”。声乐作品！弗勒知道这个词极具传染性，它会像麻疹一样迅速传遍全场，这样一来，博迪格尔就完蛋了！可怜的博迪格尔！但是这一点很“有趣”。这时，迈克尔也发出感叹：“上帝啊！”

Three songs! Powls was wonderful—so loyal! Never one note hit so that it rang out like music! Her mind fluttered off to Wilfrid. To him, of all the younger poets, people accorded the right to say something; it gave him such a position—made him seem to come out of life, instead of literature. Besides, he had done things in the war, was a son of Lord Mullyon, would get the Mercer Prize probably, for 'Copper Coin.' If Wilfrid abandoned her, a star would fall from the firmament above her copper floor. He had no right to leave her in the lurch. He must learn not to be violent—not to think physically. No! she couldn't let Wilfrid slip away; nor could she have any more sob-stuff in her life, searing passions, cul de sacs, aftermaths. She had tasted of that; a dulled ache still warned her.

三首歌！波尔斯真了不起啊——如此忠诚！没有一个音符听起来像音乐！她的思绪跑到威尔弗里德那里去了。在所有的年轻诗人中，人们给了他话语权；这给他奠定了一种地位——似乎他来自于生活而非来自文学。此外，他参加过战争，是马利昂勋爵的儿子，有望凭《铜币》获得默瑟奖。如果威尔弗里德离她而去的话，那么一颗明星将会从她家的红棕色地板上空落下。他无权让她陷入困境。他必须要学会不粗鲁——不随心所欲。不！她决不能让威尔弗里德溜走，她也不允许自己的生活中再出现任何痛苦的事情、枯萎的感情、走不通的路以及不幸的结果。她曾经尝过这种滋味，旧伤疤还在隐隐作痛，时刻提醒着她。

Birdigal was bowing, Michael saying: "Come out for a whiff! The next thing's a dud!" Oh! ah! Beethoven. Poor old Beethoven! So out of date—one did RATHER enjoy him!

博迪格尔鞠躬致谢，迈克尔说道：“出去吸口烟吧！下一个节目没什么可看的！”哦！啊！贝多芬。可怜的老贝！早就过时了——人们从前确实很欣赏他！

The corridor, and refectory beyond, were swarming with the restoration movement. Young men and women with faces and heads of lively and distorted character, were exchanging the word 'interesting.' Men of more massive type, resembling sedentary matadors, blocked all circulation. Fleur and Michael passed a little way along, stood against the wall, and lighted cigarettes. Fleur smoked hers delicately—a very little one in a tiny amber holder. She had the air of admiring blue smoke rather than of making it; there were spheres to consider beyond this sort of crowd—one never knew who might be about!—the sphere, for instance, in which Alison Charwell moved, politico-literary, catholic in taste, but, as Michael always put it, "Convinced, like a sanitary system, that it's the only sphere in the world; look at the way they all write books of reminiscence about each other!" They might, she always felt, disapprove of women smoking in public halls. Consorting delicately with iconoclasm, Fleur never forgot that her feet were in two worlds at least. Standing there, observant of all to left and right, she noted against the wall one whose face was screened by his programme. Wilfrid,' she thought, 'and doesn't mean to see me!' Mortified, as a child from whom a sixpence is filched, she said:

走廊和那一边的休息室都挤满了参与复兴运动的人。青年们看起来活泼而又偏执，他们彼此交流，互道“有趣”。体态魁梧的男子们，像岿然不动的斗牛士，把过道都堵住了。弗勒和迈克尔向前走了几步就靠墙站住了，点燃了香烟。弗勒的香烟包在琥珀烟嘴里，显得格外小巧玲珑，她优雅地吸着烟。与其说她在吸烟，倒不如说她在欣赏吐出的缕缕青烟；除了这些听众外，她还要考虑其他社会领域的人——具体那个领域里会涉及什么样的人物谁也不清楚！比如，艾莉森·查韦尔的活动领域：层次广泛的政治文学。但是，正如迈克尔常说的：“类似于一种卫生制度，相信自己是世界上仅有的社会领域；可以看看他们在回忆录里是怎么写彼此的！”她始终感觉他们似乎不赞成妇女在公共场合吸烟。弗勒巧妙地同反对传统的人交往，从不忘记她至少同时属于两个世界。站在那里，她观察着周围的一切，突然看到一个人靠墙站着，用节目单挡着脸。她心想：“是威尔弗里德，他还故意装作没看见我！”她像一个被偷走了六便士的小孩一样，感觉十分受辱。她说道：

"There's Wilfrid! Fetch him, Michael!"“那是威尔弗里德！迈克尔，请他过来！”

Michael crossed, and touched his best man's sleeve; Desert's face emerged, frowning. She saw him shrug his shoulders, turn and walk into the throng. Michael came back.

迈克尔走过去，碰碰他的男傧相的袖子。德赛特的脸露了出来，愁容满面。她看见他耸耸肩膀，转身走入人群中去了。迈克尔回来了。

"Wilfrid's got the hump to-night; says he's not fit for human society—queer old son!"“威尔弗里德今晚闷闷不乐，说自己不适合人类社会了，真是个古怪的家伙！”

How obtuse men were! Because Wilfrid was his pal, Michael did not see; and that was lucky! So Wilfrid really meant to avoid her! Well, she would see! And she said:

男人多迟钝啊！因为威尔弗里德是迈克尔的朋友，迈克尔就看不出来，这倒也算幸运！这样看来，威尔弗里德真的打算避开她了！好吧，她倒要瞧瞧！于是她说：

"I'm tired, Michael; let's go home."“迈克尔，我累了，咱们回家吧。”

His hand slid round her arm.

他轻轻挽住她的胳膊。

"Sorry, old thing; come along!"“对不起，宝贝，走吧！”

They stood a moment in a neglected doorway, watching Woomans, the conductor, launched towards his orchestra.

他们在一个无人注意的门口站了一会儿，望着乐队指挥伍曼士朝他的管弦乐队走去。

"Look at him," said Michael; "guy hung out of an Italian window, legs and arms all stuffed and flying! And look at the Frapka and her piano—that's a turbulent union!"“你看他，”迈克尔说，“多像挂在意式小窗上，腿和胳膊把衣服撑得满当当的，还在那儿手舞足蹈着！再看看这位弗莱帕凯和她弹的钢琴曲——真是一团糟！”

There was a strange sound.

突然传来一阵奇怪的声音。

"Melody, by George!" said Michael.“天啊，这旋律真好听！”迈克尔说道。

An attendant muttered in their ears: "Now, sir, I'm going to shut the door." Fleur had a fleeting view of L.S.D. sitting upright as his hair, with closed eyes. The door was shut—they were outside in the hall.

一位服务生在他们耳边低声说：“先生，我要关门了。”弗勒快速瞥了一眼L. S. D.，他坐得和他头发一样笔直，闭着眼睛。门关上了，他们站在了外面的大厅里。

"Wait here, darling; I'll nick a rickshaw."“亲爱的，在这等会儿，我去叫辆人力车。”

Fleur huddled her chin in her fur. It was easterly and cold.

弗勒将下巴缩进毛皮领子里。天刮着东风，很冷。

A voice behind her said:

有个声音在她背后说道：

"Well, Fleur, am I going East?"“喂，弗勒，我该去东方吗？”

Wilfrid! His collar up to his ears, a cigarette between his lips, hands in pockets, eyes devouring.

威尔弗里德！他的衣领竖到耳根，嘴里还叼着烟，双手插兜，眼睛直勾勾地盯着她。

"You're very silly, Wilfrid!"“你真傻，威尔弗里德！”

"Anything you like; am I going East?"“随你怎么想，我该去东方吗？”

"No; Sunday morning—eleven o'clock at the Tate. We'll talk it out."“别去，星期天上午11点，泰特美术馆见。咱俩好好谈谈。”

"Convenu!" And he was gone.“同意！”说完他就走了。

Alone suddenly, like that, Fleur felt the first shock of reality. Was Wilfrid truly going to be unmanageable? A taxicab ground up; Michael beckoned; Fleur stepped in.

突然就这样孤独地一个人呆在那里，弗勒第一次被现实震撼了。难道威尔弗里德真的要变得难以掌控了吗？一辆出租车停了下来，迈克尔招呼她，弗勒跨了进去。

Passing a passionately lighted oasis of young ladies displaying to the interested Londoner the acme of Parisian undress, she felt Michael incline towards her. If she were going to keep Wilfrid, she must be nice to Michael. Only:

他们经过一片灯红酒绿之地，一群年轻女子正向饶有兴致的伦敦人展示巴黎裸体艺术的最高成就，这时，她感觉迈克尔正朝她凑过来。如果想留住威尔弗里德，她就必须对迈克尔亲热些。她只说：

"You needn't kiss me in Piccadilly Circus, Michael!"“迈克尔，你没必要在皮卡迪利广场吻我！”

"Sorry, duckie! It's a little previous—I meant to get you opposite the Partheneum."“对不起，宝贝！我看时间还早，想带你到对面先贤祠去。”

Fleur remembered how he had slept on a Spanish sofa for the first fortnight of their honeymoon; how he always insisted that she must not spend anything on him, but must always let him give her what he liked, though she had three thousand a year and he twelve hundred; how jumpy he was when she had a cold—and how he always came home to tea. Yes, he was a dear! But would she break her heart if he went East or West tomorrow?

弗勒回想起，在他们度蜜月的头两个星期里，他一直睡在西班牙式的沙发上；他一直坚持不让她给他花钱，却总是送她他想送给她的东西，尽管她一年收入3000镑，而他只有1200镑；在她感冒时，他又是多么担心——而且他总是会回家喝下午茶。的确，他真的很可爱！但是，如果明天他打算去东方或者西方的话，她也会伤心吗？

Snuggled against him, she was surprised at her own cynicism.

她依偎在他怀里，不禁为自己的玩世不恭而惊讶。

A telephone message written out, in the hall, ran: "Please tell Mrs. Mont I've got Mr. Gurding Minner. Lady Alisson."

门厅里有一条电话留言，写着：“请转告蒙特太太，我已邀请到格亭·明纳先生。艾莉森夫人。”

It was restful. A real antique! She turned on the lights in her room, and stood for a moment admiring it. Truly pretty! A slight snuffle from the corner—Ting-a-ling, tan on a black cushion, lay like a Chinese lion in miniature; pure, remote, fresh from evening communion with the Square railings.

这让人感觉踏实了。一件真正的古董！她打开房间里的灯，站了一会儿，欣赏着屋子。真美啊！房间的角落里传来一阵轻微的鼻息声——是小叮铃，在黑色垫子上的棕褐色的小家伙，像只小巧的中国狮子躺在那里一样；它纯净、淡漠，刚和广场围栏夜会了一场。

"I see you," said Fleur.“我看到你了。”弗勒说。

Ting-a-ling did not stir; his round black eyes watched his mistress undress. When she returned from the bathroom he was curled into a ball. Fleur thought: 'Queer! How does he know Michael won't be coming?' And slipping into her well warmed bed, she too curled herself up and slept.

小叮铃一动不动，用浑圆的黑眼睛望着女主人脱衣服。当她从浴室出来，它已蜷缩成一团。弗勒心想：“奇怪！它怎么知道迈克尔不会来？”于是它钻进了弗勒那张舒适而温暖的床里，她也蜷起身子睡了。

But in the night, contrary to her custom, she awoke. A cry—long, weird, trailing, from somewhere—the river—the slums at the back—rousing memory—poignant, aching—of her honeymoon—Granada, its roofs below, jet, ivory, gold; the watchman's cry, the lines in Jon's letter:

但是，到了深夜，她反常地醒了。叫喊声——悠长、怪异、拖曳，不知来自何处——可能来自后面河对岸的贫民窟——唤起了她在格拉纳达度蜜月时伤心刺骨的记忆——格拉纳达的屋顶下，泛起黑玉色、象牙白和金黄色；更夫的叫喊声，让她想起了乔恩信中的那些诗句：

"Voice in the night crying, down in the old sleeping Spanish City darkened under her white stars. What says the voice—its clear, lingering anguish? Just the watchman, telling his dateless tale of safety? Just a road-man, flinging to the moon his song? No! Tis one deprived, whose lover's heart is weeping, Just his cry: 'How long?'"“深夜里回荡着哭泣声，从古老的沉睡的西班牙城市下传来，在她银白色的星空下黯淡。这声音在诉说什么——是它切肤的挥之不去的痛苦吗？还是巡夜人报着他那无休止的平安？抑或是筑路人对着明月诉说自己的心声？不！这是一位被剥夺权利的人，他恋人的心正在哭泣。他在叫喊：‘还要多久？’”

A cry, or had she dreamed it? Jon, Wilfrid, Michael! No use to have a heart!

是有人在叫喊，还是她在做梦？乔恩、威尔弗里德、迈克尔！她的心已疲惫不堪！Chapter IVDining

第四章

晚宴

Lady Alison Charwell, born Heathfield, daughter of the first Earl of Campden, and wife to Lionel Charwell, K.C., Michael's somewhat young uncle, was a delightful Englishwoman brought up in a set accepted as the soul of society. Full of brains, energy, taste, money, and tinctured in its politico-legal ancestry by blue blood, this set was linked to, but apart from 'Snooks' and the duller haunts of birth and privilege. It was gay, charming, free-and-easy, and, according to Michael, "Snobbish, old thing, aesthetically and intellectually, but they'll never see it. They think they're the top notch—quick, healthy, up-to-date, well-bred, intelligent; they simply can't imagine their equals. But you see their imagination is deficient. Their really creative energy would go into a pint pot. Look at their books—they're always ON something—philosophy, spiritualism, poetry, fishing, themselves; why, even their sonnets dry up before they're twenty-five. They know everything—except mankind outside their own set. Oh! they work—they run the show—they have to; there's no one else with their brains, and energy, and taste. But they run it round and round in their own blooming circle. It's the world to them—and it might be worse. They've patented their own golden age; but it's a trifle flyblown since the war."

艾莉森·查韦尔夫人出嫁前姓希思菲尔德，是第一代坎普登伯爵之女，是迈克尔的小叔叔、王室法律顾问莱昂内尔·查韦尔之妻。她是个讨人喜欢的英国女士，从小接受的是公认的社会主流思想教育。有这样一群人，他们有智慧、有活力、有品位、有财富，出身贵族并且具有政治法律的家世背景，同“轻蔑”俱乐部有联系却又不是其中的成员，也不去特权阶级常去的沉闷场所。他们快乐、有趣、自由自在，但是据迈克尔所说：“亲爱的，他们在审美和智力上都是自命不凡的，他们自己却永远意识不到。他们自以为是上等人——机敏、健康、时尚、有教养、聪明，根本无法想象谁能比得上他们。可是，他们缺乏想象力。他们把真正的创造力用在钻牛角尖上。看看他们写的书——他们总在高谈阔论——哲学、唯心论、诗歌、垂钓以及他们自己，这就是为什么他们不到25岁就再也写不出什么了。他们事事精通，就是不懂自己圈子之外的世界。哦！他们工作——他们筹划演出——他们不得不这样做，因为没人会比他们更有头脑、精力和情趣了。于是，他们在自己盛大的圈子里没完没了地办演出。对他们而言，这就是世界——而且这个世界以后也许会更不遂人意。他们已经给他们专属的黄金时代申请了专利。不过，自从大战以来，这种专利已经名声败坏了。”

Alison Charwell—in and of this world, so spryly soulful, debonnaire, free, and cosy—lived within a stone's throw of Fleur, in a house pleasant, architecturally, as any in London. Forty years old, she had three children and considerable beauty, wearing a little fine from mental and bodily activity. Something of an enthusiast, she was fond of Michael, in spite of his strange criticisms, so that his matrimonial venture had piqued her from the start. Fleur was dainty, had quick natural intelligence—this new niece was worth cultivation. But, though adaptable and assimilative, Fleur had remained curiously unassimilated; she continued to whet the curiosity of Lady Alison, accustomed to the close borough of choice spirits, and finding a certain poignancy in contact with the New Age on Fleur's copper floor. She met with an irreverence there, which, not taken too seriously, flipped her mind. On that floor she almost felt a back number. It was stimulating.

艾莉森·查韦尔就是这个圈子的一员，她活泼热情、爽朗大方、平易近人。她和弗勒住得很近，她家的建筑风格十分宜人，可以同伦敦任何住宅相媲美。她今年40岁，生过三个孩子，风韵犹存，自内而外的充沛活力让她显得格外年轻。尽管迈克尔好作奇谈怪论，她却很欣赏和喜欢他，因此，从一开始，她就对他在婚姻上的冒险十分好奇。弗勒天生丽质，又生性机敏，所以，她认为这个新侄媳妇值得栽培。可是，虽然弗勒是个“可塑之才”，却很奇怪地一直未被同化，这更加激发了艾莉森夫人的好奇心。夫人习惯了上等人的小圈子，在弗勒家的红棕色地板上，和“新时代”接触，她感觉很不舒服。在那里，她被怠慢了，虽然她不太看重这些，但这却扰乱了她的思绪。站在那块地板上，她几乎觉得自己很落伍。这一切对她来说是一种刺激。

Receiving Fleur's telephonic enquiry about Gurdon Minho, she had rung up the novelist. She knew him, if not well. Nobody seemed to know him well; amiable, polite, silent, rather dull and austere; but with a disconcerting smile, sometimes ironical, sometimes friendly. His books were now caustic, now sentimental. On both counts it was rather the fashion to run him down, though he still seemed to exist.

那天，她一接完弗勒打听格登·明霍的电话，便立刻给这位小说家打电话。她虽然认识他，却不太相熟。似乎谁和他都不太熟，他和蔼可亲、彬彬有礼，却沉默寡言，颇有些沉闷和严肃；最令人不舒服的是他的笑容，有时讥笑嘲讽，有时却又和善亲切。他的作品时而尖酸刻薄，时而多愁善感。就这两种风格，当时颇有一种把他批评得一文不值的趋势，然而他仍旧在文坛占有一席之地。

She rang him up. Would he come to a dinner tomorrow at her young nephew, Michael Mont's, and meet the younger generation? His answer came, rather high-pitched:

她给他打电话。她问他明天能否赏光到她年轻的侄子迈克尔·蒙特家吃饭，和年轻人交流一下。他说当然可以，嗓门还挺高：

"Rather! Full fig, or dinner jacket?"“当然好啦！穿正式礼服，还是一般晚礼服？”

"How awfully nice of you! they'll be ever so pleased. Full fig, I believe. It's the second anniversary of their wedding." She hung up the receiver with the thought: 'He must be writing a book about them!'“您真是太好了！知道您能出席晚宴，他们一定非常高兴。我想，穿正式礼服吧。这也是他们结婚两周年纪念日。”她挂上电话时还在想：“他一定会以他们为原型写本书的！”

Conscious of responsibility, she arrived early.

出于责任感，她很早就到了。

It was a grand night at her husband's Inn, so that she brought nothing with her but the feeling of adventure, pleasant after a day spent in fluttering over the decision at 'Snooks'. She was received only by Ting-a-ling, who had his back to the fire, and took no notice beyond a stare. Sitting down on the jade green settee, she said:

今晚，她丈夫的法律协会有场大应酬，因此她只身前来参加弗勒的晚宴，只想着过来凑凑热闹。在为“轻蔑”的决议忙碌了一整天后，她此时感到轻松愉快。只有小叮铃接待了她。它背对着壁炉，只朝她瞪了一眼，就没再理会她。她在那张翠绿色的长靠椅上坐下，说道：

"Well, you funny little creature, don't you know me after all this time?"“喂，你这滑稽的小家伙，都这么久了，你还不认识我吗？”

Ting-a-ling's black shiny gaze seemed saying: "You recur here, I know; most things recur. There is nothing new about the future."

小叮铃那双黑亮的眼睛似乎在说：“我知道你又来了，绝大多数事情都是这样循环往复的。未来也没什么新鲜可言。”

Lady Alison fell into a train of thought: The new generation! Did she want her own girls to be of it! She would like to talk to Mr. Minho about that—they had had a very nice talk down at Beechgroves before the war. Nine years ago—Sybil only six, Joan only four then! Time went, things changed! A new generation! And what was the difference? "I think we had more tradition!" she said to herself softly.

艾莉森夫人不禁陷入沉思：这就是新的一代啊！她是否希望自己的女儿也属于这一代呢！她想同明霍先生谈谈这个话题——战前，在比奇格罗夫，他们有过一次畅谈。那是九年前了——那时西比尔只有六岁，琼才四岁！光阴似箭，时过境迁！新的一代！他们到底有什么特别的呢？“我想我们更传统些吧！”她轻声自语道。

A slight sound drew her eyes up from contemplation of her feet. Ting-a-ling was moving his tail from side to side on the hearthrug, as if applauding. Fleur's voice, behind her, said:

一阵轻微的声响让她移开了凝视着自己双脚的目光。小叮铃在炉前的地毯上来回摆弄尾巴，仿佛在表示欢迎。这时，她身后传来了弗勒的声音：

"Well, darling, I'm awfully late. It WAS good of you to get me Mr. Minho. I do hope they'll all behave. He'll be between you and me, anyway; I'm sticking him at the top, and Michael at the bottom, between Pauline Upshire and Amabel Nazing. You'll have Sibley on your left, and I'll have Aubrey on my right, then Nesta Gorse and Walter Nazing; opposite them Linda Frewe and Charles Upshire. Twelve. You know them all. Oh! and you mustn't mind if the Nazings and Nesta smoke between the courses. Amabel will do it. She comes from Virginia—it's the reaction. I do hope she'll have some clothes on; Michael always says it's a mistake when she has; but having Mr. Minoho makes one a little nervous. Did you see Nesta's skit in 'The Bouquet'? Oh, too frightfully amusing—clearly meant for L.S.D.! Ting, my Ting, are you going to stay and see all these people? Well, then, get up here or you'll be trodden on. Isn't he Chinese? He does so round off the room."“亲爱的，我来得太迟了。你真是太好了，替我邀请到明霍先生。我希望他们都能遵守常规。不管怎样，他会坐在你和我中间，我把他安排在主座，迈克尔在末座，迈克尔两旁分别是保利娜·厄普夏和阿玛贝尔·内津。西布莉坐在你左边，奥布里坐在我右边，挨着他们的是内丝塔·戈斯和沃尔特·内津，他们对面是琳达·弗鲁和查尔斯·厄普夏。一共12个人。你全都认识。哦！如果内津夫妇和内丝塔在上菜的间歇吸烟，你可别见怪啊。阿玛贝尔可能也抽烟。她来自弗吉尼亚——那里的人都好抽烟。我真希望她穿点儿衣服在身上，迈克尔老是说她穿上衣服是个错误；不过，明霍先生在场，气氛会有点儿紧张。你看过《恭维话》里内丝塔的那篇讽刺短文吗？啊，那真是太有趣了——明明指的就是L. S. D.啊！叮铃，我的叮铃，你想留在这见见所有客人吗？那么，爬上来吧，不然你会被踩到的。看它是不是中国狗？它的确使整个房间熠熠生辉。”

Ting-a-ling laid his nose on his paws, in the centre of a jade green cushion.

小叮铃把鼻子放在爪子上，趴在了翠绿色的靠垫中央。

"Mr. Gurding Minner!"“格亭·明纳先生来了！”

The well-known novelist looked pale and composed. Shaking the two extended hands, he gazed at Ting-a-ling, and said:

这位著名小说家脸色苍白、神态自若。他与两个人握手，眼睛盯着小叮铃，说道：

"How nice! How are YOU, my little man?"“多可爱!你好吗，小家伙？”

Ting-a-ling did not stir. "You take me for a common English dog, sir!" his silence seemed to say.

小叮铃动也不动。它的沉默似乎在说：“你把我当成一只普通的英国狗了，先生！”

"Mr. and Mrs. Walter Nazon, Miss Lende Frow. "“沃尔特·内森夫妇到了，琳达·弗劳小姐到了。”

Amabel Nazing came first, clear alabaster from her fair hair down to the six inches of gleaming back above her waist-line, shrouded alabaster from four inches below the knee to the gleaming toes of her shoes; the eminent novelist mechanically ceased to commune with Ting-a-ling. Walter Nazing, who followed a long way up above his wife, had a tiny line of collar emergent from swathes of black, and a face, cut a hundred years ago, that slightly resembled Shelley's. His literary productions were sometimes felt to be like the poetry of that bard, and sometimes like the prose of Marcel Proust. "What oh!" as Michael said.

阿玛贝尔·内津先走了进来。从她美丽的头发到腰上六寸若隐若现的背部，宛如明净的雪花石膏；从膝盖以下四寸到鞋里微微露出的脚趾，则像是裹着一层布的雪花石膏。这位著名的小说家也不由得停止了与小叮铃的交流。沃尔特·内津一路跟在妻子后面，他身材高大，从黑色的衣服里露出一小截衣领，他的脸像是从一百年前雕刻出来的，有点儿像雪莱。他文学作品的风格有时像雪莱，有时又像马塞尔·普鲁斯特。就像迈克尔所说：“这算什么呀！”

Linda Frewe, whom Fleur at once introduced to Gurdon Minho, was one about whose work no two people in her drawing-room ever agreed. Her works 'Trifles' and 'The Furious Don' had quite divided all opinion. Genius according to some, drivel according to others, those books always roused an interesting debate whether a slight madness enhanced or diminished the value of art. She herself paid little attention to criticism—she produced.

弗勒立刻把琳达·弗鲁介绍给格登·明霍认识。对于琳达的作品，在这个客厅的客人们中，从来没有得到过统一的见解。人们对她的两部作品《琐事》和《狂怒的西班牙绅士》，意见分歧都很大。有些人认为是上乘之作，有些人认为是胡说八道，她的作品总是会引起一场有趣的辩论——小小的疯狂到底是会加强艺术的价值，还是会贬低艺术的价值？她本人对此类评论并不介怀，她只管继续创作。

"THE Mr. Minho? How interesting! I've never read anything of yours."“您就是明霍先生？多有趣啊!我还没读过您的任何一部作品。”

Fleur gave a little gasp.

弗勒微微喘了口气。

"What—don't you know Mr. Minho's cats? But they're wonderful. Mr. Minho, I do want Mrs. Walter Nazing to know you. Amabel—Mr. Gurdon Minho."“什么——你不知道明霍先生写的猫吗？写得好极了。明霍先生，我再介绍你认识沃尔特·内津夫人。这位是阿玛贝尔，这位是格登·明霍先生。”

"Oh! Mr. Minho—how perfectly lovely! I've wanted to know you ever since my cradle."“哦！明霍先生，见到您真荣幸！我老早就想认识您了。”

Fleur heard the novelist say quietly:

弗勒听到这位小说家平静地说：

"I could wish it had been longer;" and passed on in doubt to greet Nesta Gorse and Sibley Swan, who came in, as if they lived together, quarrelling over L.S.D., Nesta upholding him because of his 'panache', Sibley maintaining that wit had died with the Restoration; this fellow was alive!“我也希望更早些认识您。”然后疑惑地走过去和刚进来的内丝塔·戈斯和西布莉·斯旺打招呼。她们两人一同进来，好像住在一起似的，边走边争论着，争论的焦点好像是L. S. D.。内丝塔因为他的作品《羽饰》而拥护他，西布莉则认为，机智已经随着复兴运动而死亡，这个人却还活着！

Michael followed with the Upshires and Aubrey Greene, whom he had encountered in the hall. The party was complete.

迈克尔跟在厄普夏夫妇和奥布里·格林后面一起进来，他在门厅碰见了他们。宴会的客人到齐了。

Fleur loved perfection, and that evening was something of a nightmare. Was it a success? Minho was so clearly the least brilliant person there; even Alison talked better. And yet he had such a fine skull. She did hope he would not go away early. Some one would be almost sure to say 'Dug up!' or 'Thick and bald!' before the door closed behind him. He was pathetically agreeable, as if trying to be liked, or, at least, not despised too much. And there must, of course, be more in him than met the sense of hearing. After the crab souffle he did seem to be talking to Alison, and all about youth. Fleur listened with one ear.

弗勒追求事事完美，而那天晚上有点儿噩梦的感觉。这算成功吗？宴会上，明霍显然是最没意思的人，连艾莉森的谈吐都比他强。不过，他却头脑精明。她真希望他不会过早离开。只要他起身离开，门还没关严，肯定就会有人说：“出土的古董！”或“又呆又秃！”。他忍气吞声地附和别人，试图讨好大家，或者，至少不要太招人鄙视。当然，他脑子里的东西肯定比他讲给大家听的要多。吃过蟹粉蛋奶酥后，他好像确实在和艾莉森聊天，内容全是关于年轻人的。弗勒竖起耳朵听着。

"Youth feels... main stream of life... not giving it what it wants. Past and future getting haloes... Quite! Contemporary life no earthly just now... No... Only comfort for us—we'll be antiquated, some day, like Congreve, Sterne, Defoe... have our chance again... WHY? What IS driving them out of the main current? Oh! Probably surfeit... newspapers... photographs. Don't see life itself, only reports... reproductions of it; all seems shoddy, lurid, commercial... Youth says 'Away with it, let's have the past or the future!'"“青春年少时感觉到……生活的主流……没有得到它所向往的东西。过去和未来获得光荣……的确如此！在当代生活中，已经没有正义可言了……不……对我们只有安慰——总有一天我们都会过时，像康格里夫、斯特恩、笛福……我们还会有机会……为什么？是什么正在把他们赶出主流？哦！可能是暴饮暴食……报纸……照片。不思考生活本身，只看报道……生活的复制品，一切都显得质量低劣、耸人听闻和商业化……年轻人常说：‘管它呢，让我们享受过去或未来！’”

He took some salted almonds, and Fleur saw his eyes stray to the upper part of Amabel Nazing. Down there the conversation was like Association football—no one kept the ball for more than one kick. It shot from head to head. And after every set of passes some one would reach out and take a cigarette, and blow a blue cloud across the unclothed refectory table. Fleur enjoyed the glow of her Spanish room—its tiled floor, richly coloured fruits in porcelain, its tooled leather, copper articles, and Soames' Goya above a Moorish divan. She headed the ball promptly when it came her way, but initiated nothing. Her gift was to be aware of everything at once. "Mrs. Michael Mont presented" the brilliant irrelevancies of Linda Frewe, the pricks and stimulations of Nesta Gorse, the moonlit sliding innuendoes of Aubrey Greene, the upturning strokes of Sibley Swan, Amabel Nazing's little cool American audacities, Charles Upshire's curious bits of lore, Walter Nazing's subversive contradictions, the critical intricacies of Pauline Upshire; Michael's happy-go-lucky slings and arrows, even Alison's knowledgeable quickness, and Gurdon Minho's silences—she presented them all, showed them off, keeping her eyes and ears on the ball of talk lest it should touch earth and rest. Brilliant evening; but—a success?

他吃了几颗盐渍杏仁，弗勒发现他的眼神落到了阿玛贝尔·内津的上半身。宴会进行到这里，谈话就像踢英式足球——没人留住球，每个人只是踢一脚出去。球在大家之间被踢来踢去。而且每传过一圈之后，就有人伸手拿支烟，把一团青烟喷到那张未铺桌布的狭长的餐桌上。弗勒对她这间西班牙式房间的富丽堂皇的装修风格十分欣赏——花砖地面上印着盛满各色水果的瓷器，还有精工细刻的皮革、铜制品以及挂在摩尔式长沙发上的那幅索米斯画的戈雅。她只在球飞到她这里时，才立即用头顶过去，她并不发球。她有眼观六路、耳听八方的本领。在“迈克尔·蒙特夫人呈现”中，她把大家的特点全都展示出来，呈现给大家——琳达·弗鲁的才华横溢与文不对题、内丝塔·戈斯的一针见血与激励刺激，奥布里·格林不动声色的含沙射影、西布莉·斯旺天翻地覆式的出击、阿玛贝尔·内津不顾一切的美国式鲁莽、查尔斯·厄普夏奇特的奇闻轶事、沃尔特·内津颠覆性的矛盾说辞、保利娜·厄普夏批判性的论点、迈克尔心不在焉的讽刺话，还有艾莉森的见识和机敏、格登·明霍的沉默——她时刻关注着那个谈话的“球”，唯恐它落在地上不动了。美好的夜晚，可是——这算成功吗？

On the jade green settee, when the last of them had gone and Michael was seeing Alison home, she thought of Minho's 'Youth—not getting what it wants.' No! Things didn't fit. "They don't fit, do they, Ting!" But Ting-a-ling was tired, only the tip of one ear quivered. Fleur leaned back and sighed. Ting-a-ling uncurled himself, and putting his forepaws on her thigh, looked up in her face. "Look at me," he seemed to say, "I'm all right. I get what I want, and I want what I get. At present I want to go to bed."

等到最后一位客人离去，迈克尔也去送艾莉森回家了，她坐在翠绿长椅上，想起明霍刚才那句话：“青春年少时——没有得到向往的东西。”不！事情不该如此。“现在事情不妥，是吗，叮铃？”但是小叮铃已经累了，只是一只耳尖动了动。弗勒靠在椅背上，叹了口气。小叮铃舒展开身体，前爪趴在她的大腿上，抬头望着她。它似乎在说：“你看看我，我很好。我得到了我所要的，我要我所得到的。现在，我想去睡觉。”

"But I don't," said Fleur, without moving.“但是我不想睡。”弗勒说，一动也不动。

"Just take me up!" said Ting-a-ling.“那就抱我起来吧！”小叮铃说。

"Well," said Fleur, "I suppose—It's a nice person, but not the right person, Ting."

弗勒说：“嗯，我想这个人不错，但不合适，叮铃。”

Ting-a-ling settled himself on her bare arms.

小叮铃在她的怀里安静下来。

"It's all right," he seemed to say. "There's a great deal too much sentiment and all that, out of China. Come on!"“没关系的，”它好像在说，“除了在中国，此类多愁善感的感情事多的是。振作起来吧！”Chapter VEve

第五章

夏娃

The Honourable Wilfrid Desert's rooms were opposite a picture gallery off Cork Street. The only male member of the aristocracy writing verse that any one would print, he had chosen them for seclusion rather than for comfort. His 'junk,' however, was not devoid of the taste and luxury which overflows from the greater houses of England. Furniture from the Hampshire seat of the Cornish nobleman, Lord Mullyon, had oozed into two vans, when Wilfrid settled in. He was seldom to be found, however, in his nest, and was felt to be a rare bird, owing his rather unique position among the younger writers partly to his migratory reputation. He himself hardly, perhaps, knew where he spent his time, or did his work, having a sort of mental claustrophobia, a dread of being hemmed in by people. When the war broke out he had just left Eton; when the war was over he was twenty-three, as old a young man as ever turned a stave. His friendship with Michael, begun in hospital, had languished and renewed itself suddenly, when in 1920 Michael joined Danby and Winter, publishers, of Blake Street, Covent Garden. The scattery enthusiasm of the sucking publisher had been roused by Wilfrid's verse. Hob-nobbing lunches over the poems of one in need of literary anchorage, had been capped by the firm's surrender to Michael's insistence. The mutual intoxication of the first book Wilfrid had written and the first book Michael had sponsored was crowned at Michael's wedding. Best man! Since then, so far as Desert could be tied to anything, he had been tied to those two; nor, to do him justice, had he realised till a month ago that the attraction was not Michael, but Fleur. Desert never spoke of the war, it was not possible to learn from his own mouth an effect which he might have summed up thus: "I lived so long with horror and death; I saw men so in the raw; I put hope of anything out of my mind so utterly, that I can never more have the faintest respect for theories, promises, conventions, moralities, and principles. I have hated too much the men who wallowed in them while I was wallowing in mud and blood. Illusion is off. No religion and no philosophy will satisfy me—words, all words. I have still my senses—no thanks to them; am still capable—I find—of passion; can still grit my teeth and grin; have still some feeling of trench loyalty, but whether real or just a complex, I don't yet know. I am dangerous, but not so dangerous as those who trade in words, principles, theories, and all manner of fanatical idiocy to be worked out in the blood and sweat of other men. The war's done one thing for me—converted life to comedy. Laugh at it—there's nothing else to do!"

尊敬的威尔弗里德·德赛特先生的寓所位于科克大街一家画廊的对面。他出身贵族，是本家族中唯一一位男性诗人，而且很多人都肯为其出版。他选择住在这里，不是为了舒适，而是图其隐蔽。然而，他的那些“破烂”摆设并不缺乏英国上流社会所富有的品位和奢华。威尔弗里德搬进去的时候，曾从康沃尔贵族马利昂勋爵在汉普郡的宅邸悄悄运来了两大车的家具。可是，人们很少能在他家里找到他。多半由于他飘忽不定的行踪，他在年轻一代作家中占据了相当独特的地位，人们都感觉他是稀有物种。因其患有一种精神上的幽闭恐惧症，害怕人们的包围，也许就连他自己也不一定知道是在哪里消磨时间的，或是在什么地方工作的。战争爆发的时候，他刚从伊顿公学毕业；战争结束时，23岁的他已经是一名舞文弄墨的青年诗人了。他和迈克尔的友谊始于一家医院，两人的关系也曾一度转淡，但是在1920年又突然升温了。因为那时，迈克尔加入了位于科芬园布莱克街上的丹比&温特出版社。这位初出茅庐的出版商的沉睡的热情被威尔弗里德的诗句激发了出来。而这位诗人正需要找家出版社当靠山。经过多次共进午餐，两人密切地探讨了这些诗歌，最终在迈克尔的坚持下，出版社做出了让步。两个人都很兴奋：威尔弗里德写成了第一本书，这也是迈克尔资助出版的第一本书。两人的这份兴奋之情在迈克尔的婚礼上达到了顶峰。伴郎！从那时起，威尔弗里德那颗浪子的心便有了羁绊，他开始牵挂这对新人。说句公道话，直到一个月前，他才意识到吸引自己的并非迈克尔，而是弗勒。德赛特从不开口谈论战争，想从他的嘴里得出他对战争的印象是不可能的。这种印象他也许已经总结成这样：“我在恐怖和死亡中生活了那么久；我看到人们过着那种野蛮的、非人的生活；我对任何事都彻底绝望，对各种理论、诺言、协约、道德和原则不会再抱有一丝尊重。当我在泥水和血水中打滚时，我恨透了那些沉湎于这些玩意的人。幻想破灭了。宗教和哲学都无法说服我——空话，全是空话。我仍有感觉——并不是由于上述这些玩意产生的感觉；我发现——我仍有热情，仍旧能够咬紧牙关咧着嘴笑，也还有一些战壕里的忠诚感，但这究竟是真实的反应还是某种情结，我就不得而知了。我是个危险人物，但同那些用别人的血汗来换取各种空话、原则、理论以及具有狂热愚蠢的行为的人相比，我远不及他们危险。那场战争为我做了一件事——把人生变成了滑稽喜剧。对它笑吧——除此以外，别无他法！”

Leaving the concert hall on the Friday night, he had walked straight home to his rooms. And lying down full length on a monk's seat of the fifteenth century, restored with down cushions and silk of the twentieth, he crossed his hands behind his head and delivered himself to these thoughts: 'I am not going on like this. She has bewitched me. It doesn't mean anything to her. But it means hell to me. I'll finish with it on Sunday—Persia's a good place. Arabia's a good place—plenty of blood and sand! She's incapable of giving anything up. How has she hooked herself into me! By trick of eyes, and hair, by her walk, by the sound of her voice—by trick of warmth, scent, colour. Fling her cap over the windmill—not she! What then? Am I to hang about her Chinese fireside and her little Chinese dog; and have this ache and this fever because I can't be kissing her? I'd rather be flying again in the middle of Boche whiz-bangs! Sunday! How women like to drag out agonies! It'll be just this afternoon all over again. "How unkind of you to go, when your friendship is so precious to me! Stay, and be my tame cat, Wilfrid!" No, my dear, for once you're up against it! And—so am I, by the Lord!...'

周五晚上离开音乐厅后，他径直走回自己的寓所。他伸直了腿，躺在一张15世纪的僧侣坐榻上——这张坐榻是用20世纪的绒毛坐垫和丝绸修复而成的，双手交叉叠放在脑后，陷入了沉思：“我不能再这样下去了。我已经被她迷住了。这对她来说算不上什么。但对我却意味着毁灭。我会在周日解决这件事——波斯是个好地方。阿拉伯半岛是个好地方——鲜血和沙砾多的是！她是不会放弃任何东西的。她一直费尽心思地与我纠缠！她会用眼神、头发、走路的姿势、说话的声音，还有温情、气味、颜色等等小手段来吸引我。可是，她会冒上身败名裂的危险吗？不，她不会。那怎么办？难道要我围着她的中式壁炉和中国小狗打转，还要忍受不能亲她的痛苦和狂热吗？我宁愿再到德国人的枪林弹雨中去驰骋！周日！女人怎么都喜欢拖拖拉拉，让痛苦的时间更久啊！到时候只会是今天下午的情形再次上演。‘你的友情对我而言非常珍贵，你怎么这么残忍地要走啊！留下来，做我听话的小猫吧，威尔弗里德！’不，亲爱的，这一次你要有大麻烦了！同样——我也惹上麻烦了，上帝啊！……”

When in that gallery which extends asylum to British art, those two young people met so accidentally on Sunday morning in front of Eve smelling at the flowers of the Garden of Eden, there were present also six mechanics in various stages of decomposition, a custodian and a couple from the provinces, none of whom seemed capable of observing anything whatever. And, indeed, that meeting was inexpressive. Two young people, of the disillusioned class, exchanging condemnations of the past. Desert with his off-hand speech, his smile, his well-tailored informality, suggested no aching heart. Of the two Fleur was the paler and more interesting. Desert kept saying to himself: "No melodrama—that's all it would be!" And Fleur was thinking: 'If I can keep him ordinary like this, I shan't lose him, because he'll never go away without a proper outburst.'

周日上午，在那个成为英国艺术品收容所的美术馆里，这两个年轻人“很凑巧”地在一幅夏娃嗅着伊甸园花香的画前相遇了。当时附近还有六个不同年纪的工匠、一个看管员和一对外地来的夫妻，这些人看起来都不像会注意观察周围的事情。而且那次会面是平静的。两个属于幻想破灭阶级的年轻人互相谴责对方此前的行为。德赛特以他那随意的谈吐、微笑和精心剪裁的休闲着装，让人觉得他并不心痛。相比之下，还是弗勒面色更苍白，也更引人关注。德赛特不住地提醒自己：“不要煽情——只有这样才好！”而弗勒却在想：“要是我能让他保持这样平常的状态，我就不会失去他了。因为他不适当发泄一下是不会罢休的。”

It was not until they found themselves a second time before the Eve, that he said:

直到两个人再次在那幅夏娃的画前相遇，他才说：

"I don't know why you asked me to come, Fleur. It's playing the goat for no earthly reason. I quite understand your feeling. I'm a bit of 'Ming' that you don't want to lose. But it's not good enough, my dear; and that's all about it."“我不明白你为什么要叫我来，弗勒。你这是在无理取闹。我很理解你的心情。我只不过是你不愿失去的一件‘明朝’古玩。但是这件古玩又不够好，亲爱的。仅此而已。”

"How horrible of you, Wilfrid!"“你太可怕了，威尔弗里德！”

"Well! Here we part! Give us your flipper."“好了！就此分手吧！伸出你的小手来。”

His eyes—rather beautiful—looked dark and tragic above the smile on his lips, and she said stammering:

他的眼睛——很美丽的眼睛——在他微笑的双唇上方显得深邃而悲哀。她结结巴巴地说：

"Wilfrid—I—I don't know. I want time. I can't bear you to be unhappy. Don't go away! Perhaps I—I shall be unhappy, too; I—I don't know."“威尔弗里德——我——我不知道。我需要时间。我不希望你不快乐。别离开我！也许——我也会不快乐的。我——我不知道。”

Through Desert passed the bitter thought: 'She CAN'T let go—she doesn't know how.' But he said quite softly: "Cheer up, my child; you'll be over all that in a fortnight. I'll send you something to make up. Why shouldn't I make it China—one place is as good as another? I'll send you a bit of real 'Ming,' of a better period than this."

德赛特心头里掠过一丝苦涩：“她不会放手的——她不知道怎么放手。”但是他的话却很温柔：“开心一点儿，我的宝贝。半个月之后你就会把这些都忘掉的。我会送你点儿东西作为补偿的。我为什么不到中国去呢——那里和其他地方有区别吗？我会送你一件真正的‘明朝’古玩，比我这件更古老。”

Fleur said passionately:

弗勒激动地说：

"You're insulting! Don't!"“你这是在侮辱人！不要这样！”

"I beg your pardon. I don't want to leave you angry."“对不起。我不想让你生气。”

"What is it you want of me?"“你想要我怎样？”

"Oh! no—come! This is going over it twice. Besides, since Friday I've been thinking. I want nothing, Fleur, except a blessing and your hand. Give it me! Come on!"“哦！不——得了！这已经是第二遍了。何况，我从周五开始就一直在思考。我什么都不要，弗勒，我只想要你的祝福和握别。把手递给我！快点儿！”

Fleur put her hand behind her back. It was too mortifying! He took her for a cold-blooded, collecting little cat—clutching and playing with mice that she didn't want to eat!

弗勒把手放在自己身后。这太气人了！他把她当作一只有收藏嗜好的冷血小猫——用爪子玩弄它不想吃的老鼠！

"You think I'm made of ice," she said, and her teeth caught her upper lip: "Well, I'm not!"“你以为我是冰做的吗，”她用牙咬着上唇说，“不，我不是！”

Desert looked at her; his eyes were very wretched. "I didn't mean to play up your pride," he said. "Let's drop it, Fleur. It isn't any good."

德赛特看着她，眼神非常沮丧。“我并不是有意嘲弄你的自尊心，”他说，“我们丢开自尊吧，弗勒。它一点儿用处都没有。”

Fleur turned and fixed her eyes on the Eve—rumbustious-looking female, care-free, avid, taking her fill of flower perfume! Why not be care-free, take anything that came along? Not so much love in the world that one could afford to pass, leaving it unsmelled, unplucked. Run away! Go to the East! Of course, she couldn't do anything extravagant like that! But, perhaps—What did it matter? one man or another, when neither did you really love!

弗勒转过身去，凝视着那幅画中的夏娃——这个神情放荡的女人，她无所顾忌、贪婪，正满心享受着花香！我为什么就不能像她这样无所顾忌、来者不拒呢？世上没有太多的爱情供人放弃，不闻不采。私奔吧！到东方去！当然，这些放肆的事情，她一件也不会做！但是，也许会——这有什么关系呢？这个男人或是那个男人，反正都不是你爱的那个人！

From under her drooped, white, dark-lashed eyelids she saw the expression on his face, and that he was standing stiller than the statues. And suddenly she said: "You will be a fool to go. Wait!" And without another word or look, she walked away, leaving Desert breathless before the avid Eve.

她白净的眼睑低垂着，透过浓密的睫毛，她看到了他脸上的表情以及那比雕像还要凝固的站姿。突然她说道：“你要是走了，你就是个傻瓜。等着！”然后，她没有再说一句话或是再看一眼他就走开了，撇下连气都透不过来的德赛特一个人站在那贪婪的夏娃面前。Chapter VIOld Forsyte' and 'Old Mont'

第六章“老福赛特”和“老蒙特”

Moving away, in the confusion of her mood, Fleur almost trod on the toes of a too-familiar figure standing before an Alma Tadema with a sort of grey anxiety, as if lost in the mutability of market values.

弗勒心烦意乱地走着，险些踩到一个极熟悉的人的脚。这个人面色阴沉、神情焦急地站在一幅阿尔玛·塔德玛的作品前，仿佛迷失在那涨跌不定的市场价值里。

"Father! YOU up in town? Come along to lunch, I have to get home quick."“爸爸!您到城里来了？一起吃午饭吧，我得快点儿回家。”

Hooking his arm and keeping between him and Eve, she guided him away, thinking: 'Did he see us? Could he have seen us?'

她挽着父亲的手臂站在他和夏娃之间，一边引着他离开，一边想：“他看见我们了吗？会不会已经看到了？”

"Have you got enough on?" muttered Soames.“你穿得够多吗？”索姆斯低声埋怨着。

"Heaps!"“多得很呢！”

"That's what you women always say. East wind, and your neck like that! Well, I don't know."“你们女人总是这么说。外面刮着东风，可你的脖子就那么露着！唉，我真弄不懂。”

"No, dear, but I do."“亲爱的爸爸，您不懂，但是我懂。”

The grey eyes appraised her from head to foot.

那双灰色的眼睛从头到脚地打量着她。

"What are you doing here?" he said. And Flour thought: 'Thank God he didn't see. He'd never have asked if he had.' And she answered:“你在这儿做什么？”他问道。弗勒心想：“感谢上帝，他没看见。要是看见了，他绝不会问的。”于是她回答说：

"I take an interest in art, darling, as well as you."“我对艺术感兴趣了，亲爱的，和您一样啊。”

"Well, I'm staying with your aunt in Green Street. This east wind has touched my liver. How's your—how's Michael?"“嗯，我现在住在格林街你姑妈那里。这阵东风让我的肝脏很不舒服。你的——迈克尔最近怎么样？”

"Oh, he's all right—a little cheap. We had a dinner last night."“哦，他还好，只是有点儿提不起精神。我们昨晚举办了一场宴会。”

Anniversary! The realism of a Forsyte stirred in him, and he looked under her eyes. Thrusting his hand into his overcoat pocket, he said:

结婚纪念日！福赛特一家的现实主义精神涌上他的心头，于是他凝视着她的眼睛。他把手插进外衣口袋里，说道：

"I was bringing you this."“我带了这个来给你。”

Fleur saw a flat substance wrapped in pink tissue paper.

弗勒看到一个用粉红色的薄纸包裹着的扁平的东西。

"Darling, what is it?"“亲爱的，这是什么？”

Soames put it back into his pocket.

索姆斯把东西放回自己的口袋。

"We'll see later. Anybody to lunch?"“我们待会儿再看。有人来吃午饭吗？”

"Only Bart."“就准爵爷一个人。”

"Old Mont! Oh, Lord!"“老蒙特！哦，上帝！”

"Don't you like Bart, dear?"“您不喜欢准爵爷吗，亲爱的？”

"Like him? He and I have nothing in common."“喜欢他？我和他毫无共同语言。”

"I thought you fraternised rather over the state of things."“我还以为你们对事情的看法很一致呢。”

"He's a reactionary," said Soames.“他是个反动分子。”索姆斯说道。

"And what are you, ducky?"“那么您呢，亲爱的？”

"I? What should I be?" With these words he affirmed that policy of non-commitment which, the older he grew, the more he perceived to be the only attitude for a sensible man.“我？我该是什么样子的？”他说着的这些话都遵从着“不承诺”的方针。他年纪越大，越觉得这一方针是明智者的唯一选择。

"How is Mother?"“妈妈还好吗？”

"Looks well. I see nothing of her—she's got her own mother down—they go gadding about."“看起来很好。我没看到她——她和她的母亲一起进城闲逛了。”

He never alluded to Madame Lamotte as Fleur's grandmother—the less his daughter had to do with her French side, the better.

他从不提起弗勒的外祖母拉莫特夫人——自己的女儿越少和那些法国亲戚来往越好。

"Oh!" said Fleur. "There's Ting and a cat!" Ting-a-ling, out for a breath of air, and tethered by a lead in the hands of a maid, was snuffling horribly and trying to climb a railing whereon was perched a black cat, all hunch and eyes.“啊！”弗勒说道，“是叮铃和一只猫！”女仆正牵着小叮铃出来透风。此时它正呼哧呼哧地抽着鼻子，试图爬上栏杆。那上面有只黑猫，背部弓起、双目圆睁。

"Give him to me, Ellen. Come with Mother, darling!"“埃伦，把它交给我。亲爱的，过来找妈妈！”

Ting-a-ling came, indeed, but only because he couldn't go, bristling and snuffling and turning his head back.

小叮铃还真的来了，但这只是因为它走不了。它毛发竖立，抽搭着鼻子，头扭向后面。

"I like to see him natural," said Fleur.“我喜欢看它不做作的样子。”弗勒说。

"Waste of money, a dog like that," Soames commented. "You should have had a bull-dog and let him sleep in the hall. No end of burglaries. Your aunt had her knocker stolen."“浪费钱，养这么条狗，”索姆斯评论道，“你应该养只斗牛犬，让它睡在门厅里。夜盗多极了。你姑妈让人把门环都偷走了。”

"I wouldn't part with Ting for a hundred knockers."“就是被偷掉一百个门环，我也不会跟叮铃分离。”

"One of these days you'll be having HIM stolen—fashionable breed."“总有一天会有人把它偷走的——这么个时髦的品种。”

Fleur opened her front door. "Oh!" she said, "Bart's here, already!"

弗勒打开自家的前门。“啊！”她说，“准爵爷已经到了！”

A shiny hat was reposing on a marble coffer, present from Soames, intended to hold coats and discourage moth. Placing his hat alongside the other, Soames looked at them. They were too similar for words, tall, high, shiny, and with the same name inside. He had resumed the 'tall hat' habit after the failure of the general and coal strikes in 1921, his instinct having told him that revolution would be at a discount for some considerable period.

一顶锃亮的帽子挂在大理石镶板上，这块镶板是索姆斯送来的礼物，用来挂外套和防虫蛀。索姆斯把自己的帽子挂在那顶帽子旁边，然后望着它们。这两顶帽子实在太像了，都是高高的、昂贵的、锃亮的，连里面的商标都是一样的。自从1921年大罢工和煤矿罢工失败后，他又恢复了戴“高帽子”的习惯。他的直觉告诉他，在相当长的时间内，都不会有革命浪潮了。

"About this thing," he said, taking out the pink parcel, "I don't know what you'll do with it, but here it is."“这件东西，”他一边说，一边掏出那个粉红色的包裹，“我不知道你会怎么处理它，不过你先拿着吧。”

It was a curiously carved and coloured bit of opal in a ring of tiny brilliants.

那是一颗彩色蛋白石，雕工奇特，上面镶了一圈细钻。

"Oh!" Fleur cried: "What a delicious thing!"“哦！”弗勒叫道，“多美的东西啊！”

"Venus floating on the waves, or something," murmured Soames. "Uncommon. You want a strong light on it."“浮在水面上的维纳斯，或者诸如此类的名称，”索姆斯低声说道，“此物非比寻常。你得在亮点儿的地方看它才行。”

"But it's lovely. I shall put it on at once."“但是它好可爱。我现在就要戴上它。”

Venus! If Dad had known! She put her arms round his neck to disguise her sense of a propos. Soames received the rub of her cheek against his own well-shaved face with his usual stillness. Why demonstrate when they were both aware that his affection was double hers?

维纳斯！要是爸爸已经知道的话！她伸开双臂搂着爸爸的脖子，以此来掩饰她对这件凑巧的事情的感想。索姆斯任由女儿的脸颊在自己那刮得很干净的脸上蹭来蹭去，保持着一贯的镇静。既然父女俩都知道他对女儿的钟爱两倍于女儿对他的爱，又何必挑明了呢？

"Put it on then," he said, "and let's see."“那就戴上吧，”他说，“咱们一起看看。”

Fleur pinned it at her neck before an old lacquered mirror.

弗勒站在一面古老的亮漆镜子前，把这颗蛋白石别在自己的衣领上。

"It's a jewel. Thank you, darling! Yes, your tie is straight. I like that white piping. You ought always to wear it with black. Now, come along!" And she drew him into her Chinese room. It was empty.“这是件宝贝。谢谢亲爱的爸爸！看，您的领带笔挺笔挺的。我喜欢那上面白色的滚边。您只能用黑色的衣服来配它。现在，跟我来吧！”说着就把他拉进她的中国式的房间里去了。里面没有人。

"Bart must be up with Michael, talking about his new book."“准爵爷一定是和迈克尔在楼上，谈论他的新书。”

"Writing at his age?" said Soames.“他那把年纪了，还写书？”索姆斯问。

"Well, ducky, he's a year younger than you."“可是，亲爱的爸爸，他比您还小一岁呢。”

"I don't write. Not such a fool. Got any more newfangled friends?"“我又不写书。我才不像他那么傻呢。你有没有新交有趣的朋友呢？”

"Just one—Gurdon Minho, the novelist."“就一个——格登·明霍，是个小说家。”

"Another of the new school?"“又是一个新派作家？”

"Oh, no, dear! Surely you've heard of Gurdon Minho; he's older than the hills."“哦，不是，亲爱的爸爸！您一定听过格登·明霍的，他可是古董级别的。”

"They're all alike to me," muttered Soames. "Is he well thought of?"“在我看来，他们都差不多。”索姆斯嘟哝着，“他的名气大吗？”

"I should think his income is larger than yours. He's almost a classic—only waiting to die."“我想他比您挣得多。他基本上是经典了——只是等待死亡罢了。”

"I'll get one of his books and read it. What name did you say?"“我会找本他的书看看的。你说哪一本好呢？”

"Get 'Big and Little Fishes,' by Gurdon Minho. You can remember that, can't you? Oh! here they are! Michael, look at what Father's given me."“就格登·明霍的那本《大鱼和小鱼》吧。您总能记住这个书名吧，是不是？哟，他们来了！迈克尔，看看爸爸给了我什么啦。”

Taking his hand, she put it up to the opal at her neck. Let them both see,' she thought, 'what good terms we're on.' Though her father had not seen her with Wilfrid in the gallery, her conscience still said: "Strengthen your respectability, you don't quite know how much support you'll need for it in future."

她拉着迈克尔的手，放在那颗别在衣领上的蛋白石上。“让他们都看看，”她心想，“我们的夫妻关系有多好。”尽管她的父亲没有在美术馆看到她和威尔弗里德在一起，她潜意识仍在说：“增强你的声誉，将来为了这声誉，你还不知道你会需要多大的支持呢。”

And out of the corner of her eye she watched those two. The meetings between 'Old Mont' and 'Old Forsyte'—as she knew Bart called her father when speaking of him to Michael—always made her want to laugh, but she never quite knew why. Bart knew everything, but his knowledge was beautifully bound, strictly edited by a mind tethered to the 'eighteenth century.' Her father only knew what was of advantage to him, but the knowledge was unbound, and subject to no editorship. If he WAS late Victorian, he was not above profiting if necessary by even later periods. Old Mont' had faith in tradition; 'Old Forsyte' none. Fleur's acuteness had long perceived a difference which favoured her father. Yet 'Old Mont's' talk was so much more up-to-date, rapid, glancing, garrulous, redolent of precise information; and 'Old Forsyte's' was constricted, matter-of-fact. Really impossible to tell which of the two was the better museum specimen; and both so well-preserved!

她用眼角的余光观察着那两位。“老蒙特”和“老福赛特”——她知道准爵爷和迈克尔谈起她父亲时是这样称呼他的——他俩一见面，总是会让她忍俊不禁，可是她从不知道为什么要笑。准爵爷什么都知道，但是他的知识就像一本精装的书，由那颗遗留在“18世纪”的头脑严格编辑过。而她的父亲只知道那些有利于他的事情，他的知识是本没有装订的书，而且不受编辑的限制。如果父亲生在维多利亚晚期，甚至是在最后时期，那么只要有利可图，他都不会放弃谋利。“老蒙特”相信传统；“老福赛特”什么都不信。以弗勒的精明，早就觉察到两个老人家的不同，而且这种差异对她的父亲更有利。然而，“老蒙特”的谈吐却是如此时尚、迅速、随便、饶舌，让人联想到准确的报道；而“老福赛特”说起话来却是拘谨的、实事求是的。要分辨出两个人中哪一个会是较好博物馆的收藏品，确实是不可能。更何况，两个人都保养得那么好！

They did not precisely shake hands; but Soames mentioned the weather. And almost at once they all four sought that Sunday food which by a sustained effort of will Fleur had at last deprived of reference to the British character. They partook, in fact, of lobster cocktails, and a mere risotto of chickens' livers, an omelette au rhum, and dessert trying to look as Spanish as it could.

他们的确没有握手，但是索姆斯谈了天气。然后他们四个人几乎都想立刻开始周日的午餐。在弗勒坚持不懈的努力下，这些食物终于摆脱了英国风味。实际上，他们吃的是龙虾冷盘、意式鸡肝煨饭、朗姆炒蛋，还有一份做得尽可能看起来像西班牙式的甜点。

"I've been in the Tate," Fleur said; "I do think it's touching."“我刚才去泰特美术馆了，”弗勒说，“我真的觉得那儿让人有所感触。”

"Touching?" queried Soames with a sniff.“感触？”索姆斯嗤了一声表示质疑。

"Fleur means, sir, that to see so much old English art together is like looking at a baby show."“先生，弗勒的意思是，一下子看到那么多古老的英国艺术作品，就好像在看宝宝秀一样。”

"I don't follow," said Soames stiffly. "There's some very good work there."“我不同意，”索姆斯生硬地说，“那里有一些非常好的作品呢。”

"But not grown-up, sir."“但还不够成熟，先生。”

"Ah! You young people mistake all this crazy cleverness for maturity."“啊！你们年轻人把那些疯狂的小聪明全当成是成熟了。”

"That's not what Michael means, Father. It's quite true that English painting has no wisdom teeth. You can see the difference in a moment, between it and any Continental painting."“迈克尔不是那个意思，爸爸。英国的绘画作品的确就像是牙还没长齐的小孩。你一眼就能看出英国绘画和欧洲绘画的差异。”

"And thank God for it!" broke in Sir Lawrence. "The beauty of this country's art is its innocence. We're the oldest country in the world politically, and the youngest aesthetically. What do you say, Forsyte?"“这正是我们要感谢上帝的地方。”劳伦斯爵士插嘴说，“这个国家的艺术之美在于它的纯朴天真。从政治上来说，我们是世界上最古老的国家，而从艺术上来说，是最年轻的国家。福赛特，你觉得呢？”

"Turner is old and wise enough for me," said Soames curtly. "Are you coming to the P.P.R.S. Board on Tuesday?"“对我来说，特纳足够古老、足够智慧的了。”索姆斯简短地说，“周二你去参加天佑再保险公司的董事会吗？”

"Tuesday? We were going to shoot the spinneys, weren't we, Michael?"“周二吗？我们本打算去丛林打猎的，对吧，迈克尔？”

Soames grunted. "I should let them wait," he said. "We settle the report."

索姆斯哼了一声。“我要让他们等着，”他说，“我们要完成那个报告。”

It was through 'Old Mont's' influence that he had received a seat on the Board of that flourishing concern, the Providential Premium Reassurance Society, and, truth to tell, he was not sitting very easily in it. Though the law of averages was, perhaps, the most reliable thing in the world, there were circumstances which had begun to cause him disquietude. He looked round his nose. Light weight, this narrow-headed, twisting-eyebrowed baronet of a chap—like his son before him! And he added suddenly: "I'm not easy. If I'd realised how that chap Elderson ruled the roost, I doubt if I should have come on to that Board."

正是在“老蒙特”的关照下，他才获得了那个生意兴隆的公司——天佑再保险公司——董事会的一个席位。说实话，这个位子他坐得并不轻松。尽管平均定律也许是世界上最可靠的东西，但是已经有些情况引起他的不安了。他定睛看看身边这家伙。准男爵身子薄、脑瓜尖，眉毛拧成了一团——和坐在他面前的儿子一个模样！然后他突然补充道：“我并不轻松。要是我早知道埃尔德森那家伙大权独揽，我怀疑我还会不会进入董事会。”

One side of 'Old Mont's' face seemed to try to leave the other.“老蒙特”脸上顿时挂不住了。

"Elderson!" he said. "His grandfather was my grandfather's parliamentary agent at the time of the Reform Bill; he put him through the most corrupt election ever fought—bought every vote—used to kiss all the farmer's wives. Great days, Forsyte, great days!"“埃尔德森！”他说，“改革法案时期，他的祖父是我祖父所在党的法律顾问，帮助我祖父在有史以来最腐败的选举中获胜——每一张选票都是买来的——常常讨好所有农民的妻子。伟大的时代，福赛特，伟大的时代！”

"And over," said Soames. "I don't believe in trusting a man's judgment as far as we trust Elderson's; I don't like this foreign insurance."“但已经过去了，”索姆斯说，“我觉得我们不应该这么相信埃尔德森的判断力，我不喜欢这种国外保险。”

"My dear Forsyte—first-rate head, Elderson; I've known him all my life, we were at Winchester together."“亲爱的福赛特——埃尔德森的头脑是一流的，我从小就认识他，我们一起在温切斯特读过书。”

Soames uttered a deep sound. In that answer of 'Old Mont's' lay much of the reason for his disquietude. On the Board they had all, as it were, been at Winchester together! It was the very deuce! They were all so honourable that they dared not scrutinise each other, or even their own collective policy. Worse than their dread of mistake or fraud was their dread of seeming to distrust each other. And this was natural, for to distrust each other was an immediate evil. And, as Soames knew, immediate evils are those which one avoids. Indeed, only that tendency, inherited from his father, James, to lie awake between the hours of two and four, when the chrysalis of faint misgiving becomes so readily the butterfly of panic, had developed his uneasiness. The P.P.R.S. was so imposing a concern, and he had been connected with it so short a time, that it seemed presumptuous to smell a rat; especially as he would have to leave the Board and the thousand a year he earned on it if he raised smell of rat without rat or reason. But what if there were a rat? That was the trouble! And here sat 'Old Mont' talking of his spinneys and his grandfather. The fellow's head was too small! And visited by the cheerless thought: 'There's nobody here, not even my own daughter, capable of taking a thing seriously,' he kept silence. A sound at his elbow roused him. That marmoset of a dog, on a chair between him and his daughter, was sitting up! Did it expect him to give it something? Its eyes would drop out one of these days. And he said: "Well, what do YOU want?" The way the little beast stared with those boot-buttons! "Here," he said, offering it a salted almond. "You don't eat these."

索姆斯发出一声深沉的声音。“老蒙特”的话里也有很多让他不安的理由。董事会的所有人，看起来都像在温切斯特一起读过书似的。真是见鬼了！大家都这么体面，以至于不敢互相审查，也不敢审查大家共同的保险单。他们害怕表现出对彼此的不信任，甚于害怕错误或是欺诈。这是很正常的，因为彼此不信任是一种直接的罪孽。而就索姆斯所知，直接的罪孽就是人们要回避的。其实，单是从他父亲那里遗传来的秉性，已经让索姆斯的不安日益加深了。他会在夜里2点到4点间惊醒，然后他蠢蠢欲动的小担忧就会变成大恐慌，像蝴蝶一样破茧而出。天佑再保险公司是这么有影响力的一家大公司，而他加入公司的时间尚短，如果就此怀疑它有问题未免显得冒昧，尤其是如果他光说有问题却找不出问题或是理由的话，他就可能得离开董事会和那一千英镑的年薪。但是要是真的有问题怎么办？难就难在这里了！而“老蒙特”却坐在这里谈着他的丛林打猎和他的祖父。这家伙的脑瓜太小了！然后他脑子里又涌现出一个让人压抑的念头：“在座的所有人，甚至包括我女儿在内，没有一个人会严肃对待事情。”他不吭声了。这时，肘边的声音惊动了他。他和他女儿之间的椅子上的那只像“狨”一样的小狗居然坐起来了！这是盼着他能给点儿吃的吗？它那双眼珠早晚有一天会掉出来的。于是他问道：“喂，你想要什么？”看看这小畜生的那副样子，瞪着它那对靴扣般大小的眼睛！“来，”他一边说，一边拿了一颗盐渍杏仁给它，“你不吃这些东西的。”

Ting-a-ling did.

小叮铃吃了。

"He has a passion for them, Dad. Haven't you, darling?"“爸爸，它挺爱吃那个的。对不对啊，小宝贝？”

Ting-a-ling turned his eyes up at Soames, through whom a queer sensation passed. Believe the little brute likes me,' he thought, 'he's always looking at me.' He touched the dog's nose with the tip of his finger. Ting-a-ling gave it a slight lick with his curly blackish tongue.

小叮铃抬眼望着索姆斯，从那双眼睛里，索姆斯体会到一种怪异的感觉。“我认为这小畜生喜欢我，”他想，“它总是看着我。”他用指尖碰了碰狗鼻子。小叮铃用它那黑乎乎的卷舌头舔了他一下。

"Poor fellow!" muttered Soames involuntarily, and turned to 'Old Mont.'“可怜的小东西！”索姆斯不禁咕哝了一声，然后转向“老蒙特”。

"Don't mention what I said."“别再提我刚才的话了。”

"My dear Forsyte, what was that?"“刚才的什么话，亲爱的福赛特？”

Good Heavens! And he was on a Board with a man like this! What had made him come on, when he didn't want the money, or any more worries—goodness knew. As soon as he had become a director, Winifred and others of his family had begun to acquire shares to neutralise their income tax—seven per cent, preference—nine per cent, ordinary—instead of the steady five they ought to be content with. There it was, he couldn't move without people following him. He had always been so safe, so perfect a guide in the money maze! To be worried at his time of life! His eyes sought comfort from the opal at his daughter's neck—pretty thing, pretty neck! Well! She seemed happy enough—had forgotten her infatuation of two years ago! That was something to be thankful for. What she wanted now was a child to steady her in all this modern scrimmage of twopenny-ha'penny writers and painters and musicians. A loose lot, but she had a good little head on her. If she had a child, he would put another twenty thousand into her settlement. That was one thing about her mother—steady in money matters, good French method. And Fleur—so far as he knew—cut her coat according to her cloth. What was that? The word 'Goya' had caught his ear. New life of him coming out? H'm! That confirmed his slowly growing conviction that Goya had reached top point again.

天啊！他居然和这样的人同在一个董事会里！这人为何加入董事会——他又不在乎那点儿钱，也不想操那份心——天晓得。自从他当上了董事，威妮弗雷德和家里的其他人就开始买股票来抵消他们的所得税——优先股百分之七，普通股百分之九——以此取代原先他们本该满足的稳定的百分之五。你看，他一动就会有人跟着动。过去，在金钱的迷宫里，他一直是位非常稳妥和精确的向导！他都这把年纪了还在操心！他的目光落在女儿衣领上的那颗蛋白石上，借此寻求安慰——漂亮的玩意！漂亮的脖子！啊！她显得很开心——已经忘记两年前的迷恋了！这是件令人欣慰的事情。她现在需要的是一个孩子，这样她就能在那些时尚的骚闹中安定下来，不再纠缠于那些微不足道的作家、画家和音乐家了。她虽然是一个放浪不羁的人，但是小脑瓜还是挺管用的。要是她有孩子了，他会在赠与她的财产上再加上两万英镑。这是她母亲的一个优点——把钱管得很稳，优秀的法国方式。至于弗勒——据他所知——是量入为出的。他们在说什么？耳朵里钻进一个词——“戈雅”。他的新传记要出版了吗？哈！那就更坚定了他那慢慢增强的信念——戈雅已经再次攀上顶峰。

"Think I shall part with that," he said, pointing to the picture. "There's an Argentine over here."“我正想着把那东西卖掉，”他一边说，一边指着那幅画，“来了个阿根廷人。”

"Sell your Goya, sir?" It was Michael speaking. "Think of the envy with which you're now regarded!"“您要把您那幅戈雅卖掉吗，先生？”迈克尔说道，“想想人们对您的尊敬和羡慕吧！”

"One can't have everything," said Soames.“人总不能拥有一切吧。”索姆斯说。

"That reproduction we've got for 'The New Life' has turned out first-rate. Property of Soames Forsyte, Esquire.' Let's get the book out first, sir, anyway."“我们给《新生活》做的那张复制品已经是一流的了。‘索姆斯·福赛特先生收藏’。先生，无论如何，等书出来再说吧。”

"Shadow or substance, eh, Forsyte?"“虚名还是实名，嗯，福赛特？”

Narrow-headed baronet chap—was he mocking?

这头脑狭窄的准男爵，他是在嘲笑我吗？

"I'VE no family place," he said.“我可没有世袭的爵位。”他说。

"No, but we have, sir," murmured Michael; "you could leave it to Fleur, you know."“可我们有啊，先生，”迈克尔小声嘀咕，“您可以把它留给弗勒，这您知道的。”

"Well," said Soames, "we shall see if that's worth while." And he looked at his daughter.“嗯，”索姆斯说，“我们还要看看这么做值不值。”他一边说着，一边看着他女儿。

Fleur seldom blushed, but she picked up Ting-a-ling and rose from the Spanish table. Michael followed suit. "Coffee in the other room," he said. Old Forsyte' and 'Old Mont' stood up, wiping their moustaches.

弗勒难得地脸红了，抱起小叮铃，从那张西班牙式的餐桌旁站了起来。迈克尔也跟着站起来了。“咖啡在另一间屋里。”他说。“老福赛特”和“老蒙特”站了起来，捋着他们的胡子。Chapter VIIOld Mont' and 'Old Forsyte'

第七章“老蒙特”和“老福赛特”

The offices of the P.P.R.S. were not far from the College of Arms. Soames, who knew that 'three dexter buckles on a sable ground gules' and a 'pheasant proper' had been obtained there at some expense by his Uncle Swithin in the 'sixties of the last century, had always pooh-poohed the building, until, about a year ago, he had been struck by the name Golding in a book which he had absently taken up at the Connoisseurs' Club. The affair purported to prove that William Shakespeare was really Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford. The mother of the earl was a Golding—so was the mother of Soames! The coincidence struck him; and he went on reading. The tome left him with judgment suspended over the main issue, but a distinct curiosity as to whether he was not of the same blood as Shakespeare. Even if the earl were not the bard, he felt that the connection could only be creditable, though, so far as he could make out, Oxford was a shady fellow. Recently appointed on the Board of the P.P.R.S., so that he passed the college every other Tuesday, he had thought: 'Shan't go spending a lot of money on it, but might look in one day.' Having looked in, it was astonishing how taken he had been by the whole thing. Tracing his mother had been quite like a criminal investigation, nearly as ramified and fully as expensive. Having begun, the tenacity of a Forsyte could hardly bear to leave him short of the mother of Shakespeare de Vere, even though she would be collateral; unfortunately, he could not get past a certain William Gouldyng, Ingerer—whatever that might be, and he was almost afraid to enquire—of the time of Oliver Cromwell. There were still four generations to be unravelled, and he was losing money and the hope of getting anything for it. This it was which caused him to gaze askance at the retired building while passing it on his way to the Board on the Tuesday after the lunch at Fleur's. Two more wakeful early mornings had screwed him to the pitch of bringing his doubts to a head and knowing where he stood in the matter of the P.P.R.S.; and this sudden reminder that he was spending money here, there and everywhere, when there was a possibility, however remote, of financial liability somewhere else, sharpened the edge of a nerve already stropped by misgivings. Neglecting the lift and walking slowly up the two flights of stairs, he 'went over' his fellow-directors for the fifteenth time. Old Lord Fontenoy was there for his name, of course; seldom attended, and was what they called 'a dud'—h'm!—nowadays; the chairman, Sir Luke Sharman, seemed always to be occupied in not being taken for a Jew. His nose was straight, but his eyelids gave cause for doubt. His surname was impeccable, but his Christian dubious; his voice was reassuringly roughened, but his clothes had a suspicious tendency towards gloss. Altogether a man who, though shrewd, could not be trusted—Soames felt—to be giving his whole mind to other business. As for 'Old Mont'—what was the good of a ninth baronet on a Board? Guy Meyricke, King's Counsel, last of the three who had been 'together,' was a good man in court, no doubt, but with no time for business and no real sense of it! Remained that converted Quaker, old Cuthbert Mothergill—whose family name had been a by-word for successful integrity throughout the last century, so that people still put Mothergills on to boards almost mechanically—rather deaf, nice clean old chap, and quite bland, but nothing more. A perfectly honest lot, no doubt, but perfunctory. None of them really giving their minds to the thing! In Elderson's pocket, too, except perhaps Sharman, and he on the wobble. And Elderson himself—clever chap, bit of an artist, perhaps; managing director from the start, with everything at his finger-tips! Yes! That was the mischief! Prestige of superior knowledge, and years of success—they all kowtowed to him, and no wonder! Trouble with a man like that was that if he once admitted to having made a mistake he destroyed the legend of his infallibility. Soames had enough infallibility of his own to realise how powerful was its impetus towards admitting nothing. Ten months ago, when he had come on to the Board, everything had seemed in full sail; exchanges had reached bottom, so they all thought—the 'reassurance of foreign contracts' policy, which Elderson had initiated about a year before, had seemed, with rising exchanges, perhaps the brightest feather in the cap of possibility. And now, a twelvemonth later, Soames suspected darkly that they did not know where they were—and the general meeting only six weeks off! Probably not even Elderson knew; or, if he did, he was keeping knowledge which ought to belong to the whole directorate severely to himself.

天佑再保险公司的办事处离纹章院不远。索姆斯记得在上世纪60年代，他的叔叔斯威森在那里花了一大笔钱淘到了一个“带有三个盾形右侧扣的黑底红色”纹章和一个“纯色雉鸡”纹章。因此，他总是对这幢建筑物不屑一顾。一直到大约一年前，在鉴赏家俱乐部里，他无意间从一本书里发现了戈尔丁的名字，不禁大吃一惊。他找这本书意在证实威廉·莎士比亚的确就是爱德华·德·威尔，牛津伯爵。伯爵的母亲来自戈尔丁家族——与索姆斯的母亲同宗！这个巧合引起了他的兴趣，他继续阅读下去。尽管这本书使他对主要问题的判断仍然犹豫不定，但是却引发了他对自己是否和莎士比亚同属一个血统的明显好奇。即使此伯爵并非彼诗人，但他还是觉得这种联系令人信服，尽管据他现在的了解，牛津伯爵是一位疑点重重的人物。最近，由于被任命为天佑再保险公司的董事，他隔周的星期二都要经过纹章院。他心想：“没必要在这方面花费太多，但哪天可以进去瞧瞧。”可是当他进去之后，他对一切事物的迷恋程度令人震惊。追溯他母亲的家世就像进行刑事侦查——错综复杂、全面彻底、耗资甚大。从一开始，福赛特家族倔强的脾性就使他不能放弃调查莎士比亚·德·威尔的母亲，即便她也许是旁系血统；但不幸的是，他追查到奥利弗·克伦威尔时代的一个人，那人名叫威廉·古尔丁·英格勒——管他到底可能叫什么，他几乎不敢去追究他到底姓甚名谁——就再也进行不下去了。仍有四代人需要调查清楚，但是他已经花费不少了，而且也不再奢望能够从中获得什么重要东西了。周二在弗勒家吃过午饭后，他在去董事会的路上经过这幢僻静的建筑时，只是斜眼瞅了瞅，原因就在于此了。连续两个无眠的清晨迫使他要尽早把这些谜团解开，同时也必须要搞清楚现在自己在天佑再保险公司所处的地位。他突然想到，自己四处花钱，有可能已经在某个地方背负债务了，尽管这个可能性微乎其微，但这种压力使他那本来因为担惊受怕而饱受折磨的神经变得更加脆弱敏感。他不坐电梯，慢慢爬了两层楼梯，此时在他脑海里已经对那些董事会的同事们做了第十五次分析。当然，老勋爵福坦诺能进入董事会是因为他的名声，他难得出席会议，而且最近被称作“废物”。董事长卢克·沙曼爵士似乎整天都在想着不要被人误认为是犹太人。他的鼻梁直挺，可眼皮不免引人怀疑。他的姓氏没有问题，但是他的教名却让人怀疑；他的嗓音粗糙，让人放心，但他的衣着却有可疑的虚饰倾向。整体来看，索姆斯认为这个人虽然精明，但绝不能指望他全心全意专注于其他事务。至于“老蒙特”——董事会里安排一个第九代准男爵有什么好处呢？英国王室法律顾问盖伊·迈里克，是曾经“一起读过书”的三人中的最后一名。毫无疑问，他在法庭上表现优秀，但对于做生意可以说是既没时间又没常识！剩下的是那个改变了信仰的教友派信徒，老卡思伯特·莫德吉尔——他家族的名字在上世纪一直是廉洁正直的代名词，所以如今人们依旧机械地把莫德吉尔家的人安排在董事会中——一个耳背、谨慎、干净的老人，为人温和，别无其他。毫无疑问，这群人为人诚实，但却敷衍了事。他们当中没有一个人真正把心思放在事业上！这些人都在埃尔德森的控制下，或许沙曼除外，但是他也是摇摆不定。埃尔德森本人——是个聪明的家伙，也许还有点儿艺术家的风度，从一开始就担任总经理，业务上样样精通！对！事情坏就坏在这里！渊博的知识和多年的成功，使他具有一定的威望——他们都对他唯命是从，这不足为奇！但是像他那样的人有这么一种麻烦，一旦他承认自己犯过错误，那自然就毁掉了他一贯正确的传奇。索姆斯自己也算是个一贯正确的人，所以他深知这种不肯承认错误的抑制力是多么强大。10个月前，他来参加董事会时，似乎一切都顺风顺水，汇率跌到了谷底，大家都认为——埃尔德森一年前倡导的“国外合同再保险”政策会随着汇率上涨而变成最值得炫耀的业绩。而如今，12个月后，索姆斯暗暗怀疑他们是否清楚自己所背负的风险——而且距离召开股东大会只剩下六周的时间了！或许，就连埃尔德森本人都不了解事态；又或者，假如他了解，那么他就是把本应对全体董事会成员宣布的事封锁起来，让它成为秘密。

He entered the board room without a smile. All there—even Lord Fontenoy and 'Old Mont'—given up his spinneys, had he! Soames took his seat at the end on the fireside. Staring at Elderson, he saw, with sudden clearness, the strength of the fellow's position; and, with equal clearness, the weakness of the P.P.R.S. With this rising and falling currency, they could never know exactly their liability—they were just gambling. Listening to the minutes and other routine business, with his chin clasped in his hand, he let his eyes move from face to face—old Mothergill, Elderson, Mont opposite; Sharman at the head; Fontenoy, Meyricke, back to himself—decisive board of the year. He could not, must not, be placed in any dubious position! At his first general meeting on this concern, he must not face the shareholders without knowing exactly where he stood. He looked again at Elderson—sweetish face, bald head rather like Julius Caesar's, nothing to suggest irregularity or excessive optimism—in fact, somewhat resembling that of old Uncle Nicholas Forsyte, whose affairs had been such an example to the last generation but one. The managing director having completed his exposition, Soames directed his gaze at the pink face of dosey old Mothergill, and said:

他面无表情地走进董事会。所有的人都在——甚至福坦诺勋爵和“老蒙特”也在——“老蒙特”居然放弃了打猎！索姆斯走到火炉边的位子上坐下。他凝视着埃尔德森，忽然清楚地意识到这个人的地位是多么有利。同时，他也清楚地意识到了天佑再保险公司是多么不堪一击。货币忽涨忽跌，但他们从来没意识到他们肩负的债务——他们只是一味地投机。他一手托着下巴，听着会议内容和其他例行汇报，眼睛扫视着在场的每个人——老莫德吉尔、埃尔德森、坐在对面的蒙特、坐在上座的沙曼、福坦诺、迈里克，最后回到自己——这可是今年的一次决定性会议。他不能，也绝不可以置身于一个模棱两可的立场了！他第一次参加这样的股东大会，绝不能在面对股东时没有自己鲜明的立场。他又看了埃尔德森一眼——和善的面庞，光秃的头倒是和尤利乌斯·恺撒有几分相像，表情正常，也没有过分乐观的迹象——实际上，他很像老尼古拉斯·福赛特叔叔，对于上上一代人来说，他的事迹是很好的榜样。总经理刚刚汇报完，索姆斯就将目光投在昏昏欲睡的老莫德吉尔那张红润的脸上，他说：

"I'm not satisfied that these accounts disclose our true position. I want the Board adjourned to this day week, Mr. Chairman, and during the week I want every member of the Board furnished with exact details of the foreign contract commitments which do NOT mature during the present financial year. I notice that those are lumped under a general estimate of liability. I am not satisfied with that. They ought to be separately treated." Shifting his gaze past Elderson to the face of 'Old Mont,' he went on: "Unless there's a material change for the better on the Continent, which I don't anticipate (quite the contrary), I fully expect those commitments will put us in Queer Street next year."“我认为这些账目没有如实反映我们的实际情况。董事长，我要求董事会休会至下周这个时间再继续召开。这一周内，我要求根据本财政年度还没到期的国外合同协议，做出正确详细的报告，并交给董事会的每一位成员。我还留意到那些还没到期的钱款都已合并到负债总款之中了。我不赞同这样做。应该把那些没到期的款项分出来。”他的目光掠过埃尔德森转到“老蒙特”的脸上。他继续说：“除非欧洲大陆情况确实好转，而我认为不会有好转（恰恰相反），我敢肯定，那些协议明年就会使我们陷入经济困境。”

The scraping of feet, shifting of legs, clearing of throats which accompany a slight sense of outrage greeted the words 'Queer Street'; and a sort of satisfaction swelled in Soames; he had rattled their complacency, made them feel a touch of the misgiving from which he himself was suffering.“陷入经济困境”的说法引发了大家轻微的怒火，席间传来了脚搓地声、翘着的两腿移动的声响，还有几声清喉声，这使得索姆斯心上涌起一种满足感。他扰乱了他们安于现状的打算，使他们也感受到一点点正在煎熬他的忧虑担心。

"We have always treated our commitments under one general estimate, Mr. Forsyte."“我们一向都把所有钱款归在一起计算的，福赛特先生。”

Plausible chap!

花言巧语的家伙！

"And to my mind wrongly. This foreign contract business is a new policy. For all I can tell, instead of paying a dividend, we ought to be setting this year's profits against a certain loss next year."“但我认为这是错误的。这种国外合同业务是一种新兴业务。依我看，现在我们不应该发股息，反而要把今年的利润预备着抵偿明年的某笔亏损。”

Again that scrape and rustle.

又是一阵刚才那样的骚动声。

"My dear sir, absurd!"“我亲爱的先生，这简直是荒谬！”

The bulldog in Soames snuffled.

索姆斯犹如斗牛犬的鼻子发出呼哧呼哧的声音。

"So you say!" he said. "Am I to have those details?"“随你去说！”他说，“那我能看到那些详细账目吗？”

"The Board can have what details it likes, of course. But permit me to remark on the general question that it CAN only be a matter of estimate. A conservative basis has always been adopted."“当然了，董事会要看什么账目都可以。但允许我就基本问题说明一下，这只是一种估算。估算时，我们向来都是采取保守的态度。”

"That is a matter of opinion," said Soames; "and in my view it should be the Board's opinion after very careful discussion of the actual figures."“这是见仁见智的问题，”索姆斯说，“并且依我看，该用什么态度，这应该由董事会在认真讨论过实际数字后才决定吧。”

Old Mont' was speaking.“老蒙特”开口了。

"My dear Forsyte, to go into every contract would take us a week, and then get us no further; we can but average it out."“我亲爱的福赛特，如果我们仔细研究每一份合同，那就得花费一周的时间，也许还不会有任何结果，我们也只是大概计算一个均值。”

"What we have not got in these accounts," said Soames, "is the relative proportion of foreign risk to home risk—in the present state of things a vital matter."“但在这些账目里，我没有看到，”索姆斯说，“国外投资风险对本国投资风险的相关比例——这在现阶段是一个尤为关键的问题。”

The Chairman spoke.

董事长说话了。

"There will be no difficulty about that, I imagine, Elderson! But in any case, Mr. Forsyte, we should hardly be justified in penalising the present year for the sake of eventualities which we hope will not arise."“埃尔德森，我想应该不会有太大问题吧！但不管怎样，福赛特先生，我们为了预防将来可能发生的不测——尽管我们希望不会发生这样的事——而取消今年股息的发放，恐怕这不合情理吧。

"I don't know," said Soames. "We are here to decide policy according to our common sense, and we must have the fullest opportunity of exercising it. That is my point. We have not enough information."“我不知道，”索姆斯说，“在这里我们是根据常识来决定方针政策的，而且我们必须有运用常识的最充分的机会。这就是我的观点。我们没有足够的信息。”

That 'plausible chap' was speaking again: "Mr. Forsyte seems to be indicating a lack of confidence in the management." Taking the bull by the horns—was he?

那个“花言巧语的家伙”又开口了：“福赛特先生似乎表现出对于管理层的不信任。”他是在铤而走险吗？

"Am I to have that information?"“我究竟能否获得那些信息呢？”

The voice of old Mothergill rose cosy in the silence.

老莫德吉尔悦耳的声音划破了一片沉寂。

"The Board could be adjourned, perhaps, Mr. Chairman; I could come up myself at a pinch. Possibly we could all attend. The times are very peculiar—we mustn't take any unnecessary risks. The policy of foreign contracts is undoubtedly somewhat new to us. We have no reason so far to complain of the results. And I am sure we have the utmost confidence in the judgment of our managing director. Still, as Mr. Forsyte has asked for this information, I think perhaps we ought to have it. What do you say, my lord?"“董事长，或许董事会可以休会，如果必要的话，我还会出席的。我们也许都可以参加。这次情况极为特殊——我们绝对不能冒任何不必要的风险。对于我们来说，国外合同方针毫无疑问是新鲜事物。到目前为止，我们还没有理由对结果有所抱怨。我可以肯定地说，我们对我们总经理的判断能力绝对有信心。但是，既然福赛特先生已经提出要这样一份资料，那我想我们或许应该有这样一份材料。你说呢，勋爵？”

"I can't come up next week. I agree with the chairman that on these accounts we couldn't burke this year's dividend. No good getting the wind up before we must. When do the accounts go out, Elderson?"“下周我来不了。我同意董事长的说法，按照现在的账目，我们不能克扣今年的股息。不到万不得已，没必要草木皆兵。账目什么时候能有结果，埃尔德森？”

"Normally at the end of this week."“一切顺的话，本周末就有结果了。”

"These are not normal times," said Soames. "To be quite plain, unless I have that information I must tender my resignation." He saw very well what was passing in their minds. A newcomer making himself a nuisance—they would take his resignation readily—only it would look awkward just before a general meeting unless they could announce "wife's ill-health" or something satisfactory, which he would take very good care they didn't.“现在可不是一切顺利。”索姆斯说，“开诚布公地说，假如我拿不到这份材料，那我就只好提出辞职了。”他非常了解他们脑子里都想些什么。新人总是很麻烦——他们会非常愿意接受他的辞呈的——只是在开股东大会之前出现这样的情况，不免有些尴尬，除非他们以“夫人身体欠佳”或类似令人心服口服的理由为借口，但是他会很小心避免他们利用这些借口的。

The chairman said coldly: "Well, we will adjourn the Board to this day week; you will be able to get us those figures, Elderson?"

董事长冷冷地说：“那好吧，董事会休会，下周这个时间再召开；到时账目能有结果了吗，埃尔德森？”

"Certainly."“肯定能。”

Into Soames' mind flashed the thought: 'Ought to ask for an independent scrutiny.' But he looked round. Going too far—perhaps—if he intended to remain on the Board—and he had no wish to resign—after all, it was a big thing, and a thousand a year! No! Mustn't overdo it!

索姆斯脑海里闪过这样一个念头：“应该请求做一次独立审查。”但是他环顾四周。如果他打算继续留在这里的话，这样做确实有些过分了——何况他并不想辞职——毕竟，这是份好差事，一年1000英镑的收入啊！不！千万不能做得太过分！

Walking away, he savoured his triumph doubtfully, by no means sure that he had done any good. His attitude had only closed the 'all together' attitude round Elderson. The weakness of his position was that he had nothing to go on, save an uneasiness, which when examined was found to be simply a feeling that he hadn't enough control himself. And yet, there couldn't be two managers—you must trust your manager!

他一边走，一边略带怀疑地品味着自己的胜利，他根本就不能确定这样做是否能给他带来好处。他这样做只是把他们和埃尔德森更加紧密地绑在了一起。他所处境地的不利因素就在于，除了疑虑的感觉外，他缺乏切实有力的证据，而且仔细考虑一下，就不难看出这纯粹是他感情用事。除此以外，一个公司总不可能有两个经理吧——你必须要相信你的经理！

A voice behind him tittupped: "Well, Forsyte, you gave us quite a shock with your alternative. First time I remember anything of the sort on that Board."

他背后响起了一个欢快的声音：“喂，福赛特，刚才你提到不查账就辞职时，我们真是吓了一大跳。我记得在董事会还是第一次发生这样的事。”

"Sleepy hollow," said Soames.“这个地方让人打不起精神。”索姆斯说。

"Yes, I generally have a nap. It gets very hot in there. Wish I'd stuck to my spinneys. They come high, even as early as this."“是啊，我总是打瞌睡。那里面太热了。要是能到丛林里就好了。即使现在这么早的时候，丛林也已经长得很茂盛了。”

Incurably frivolous, this tittupping baronet!

俗不可耐，这个轻浮的准男爵！

"By the way, Forsyte, I wanted to say: With all this modern birth control and the rest of it, one gets uneasy. We're not the royal family; but don't you feel with me it's time there was a movement in heirs?"“顺便说一声，福赛特，我想说的是，面对这些现代的节制生育和其他与之相关的事情，确实使人不安啊。我们不是皇室家族，但你是不是也认为该动员大家传宗接代了？”

Soames did, but he was not going to confess to anything so indelicate about his own daughter.

索姆斯有同感，但这事关他自己女儿的名声，所以他不想袒露心声。

"Plenty of time," he muttered.“时间还多着呢。”他嘀咕着。

"I don't like that dog, Forsyte."“福赛特，我不喜欢那条狗。”

Soames stared.

索姆斯瞪起眼睛。

"Dog!" he said. "What's that to do with it?"“狗！”他说，“它跟这事有什么关系？”

"I like a baby to come before a dog. Dogs and poets distract young women. My grandmother had five babies before she was twenty-seven. She was a Montjoy; wonderful breeders, you remember them—the seven Montjoy sisters—all pretty. Old Montjoy had forty-seven grandchildren. You don't get it nowadays, Forsyte."“我希望先有孩子再养狗。狗和诗人一样，会使年轻的女人分心。我的祖母在27岁前就已经有5个孩子了。她是一位芒乔伊家的人，出色的芒乔伊家的后代，你记得她们吧——那七个芒乔伊姐妹——每一个都很漂亮。老芒乔伊有47个孙儿。福赛特，如今不可能有这样的事了。”

"Country's over-populated," said Soames grimly.“国家人口过剩了。”索姆斯恶狠狠地说。

"By the wrong sort—less of them, more of ourselves. It's almost a matter for legislation."“多了些不该多的人——像他们那种人应该减少，而我们这种人得增加一些。这应该是通过立法规定的事情。”

"Talk to your son," said Soames.“跟你儿子说去吧。”索姆斯说。

"Ah! but they think us fogeys, you know. If we could only point to a reason for existence. But it's difficult, Forsyte, it's difficult."“是啊！但你应该知道，他们肯定认为我们因循守旧。假如我们能够说出生存的原因就好了。但这很难，福赛特，难啊。”

"They've got everything they want," said Soames.“他们已经要什么有什么了。”索姆斯说。

"Not enough, my dear Forsyte, not enough; the condition of the world is on the nerves of the young. England's dished, they say, Europe's dished. Heaven's dished, and so is Hell! No future in anything but the air. You can't breed in the air; at least, I doubt it—the difficulties are considerable."“这还不够，我亲爱的福赛特，这些还不够，当今世界的形势使这些年轻人感到局促不安。英国被打败了，他们说，欧洲完蛋了。天堂完蛋了，地狱也完蛋了！除了空气，任何事情都没有希望了。你不能在忐忑中抚养后代吧，至少，我觉得不行——困难重重啊。”

Soames sniffed.

索姆斯哼了一声。

"If only the journalists would hold their confounded pens," he said; for, more and more of late, with the decrescendo of scare in the daily Press, he was regaining the old sound Forsyte feeling of security. "We've only to keep clear of Europe," he added.“但愿新闻媒体业者能够控制那令人生厌的笔。”他说。因为最近一段时间，日报上的恐慌消息愈加减少，他也恢复了福赛特家的古老祥和的安全感。“我们只要不管欧洲的事情就好了。”他补充了一句。

"Keep clear and keep the ring! Forsyte, I believe you've hit it. Good friendly terms with Scandinavia, Holland, Spain, Italy, Turkey—all the outlying countries that we can get at by sea. And let the others dree their weirds. It's an idea!" How the chap rattled on!“既不介入但又保持中立！福赛特，你这话算是说着了。与斯堪的纳维亚、荷兰、西班牙、意大利、土耳其——所有那些我们能够通过航海到达的遥远国家保持友好关系。让其他国家听天由命。这可是个好主意！”这家伙怎么这么喋喋不休！

"I'm no politician," said Soames.“我可不是政治家。”索姆斯说。

"Keep the ring! The new formula. It's what we've been coming to unconsciously! And as to trade—to say we can't do without trading with this country or with that—bunkum, my dear Forsyte. The world's large—we can."“保持中立！这是个新原则。这正是我们一直没有察觉而又一直在做的！至于贸易——说我们非得跟这个或那个国家进行贸易往来——都是在瞎说，我亲爱的福赛特。世界很大——我们能这样做。”

"I don't know anything about that," said Soames. "I only know we must drop this foreign contract assurance."“我一点儿也不了解此事，”索姆斯说，“我只知道，我们必须舍弃这个国外合同保险。”

"Why not confine it to the ring countries? Instead of 'balance of power,' 'keep the ring'! Really, it's an inspiration!"“为什么不把买卖控制在那些可控制的国家范围内呢？不是‘势力均衡’，而是‘保持中立！’这可是一条妙计啊！”

Thus charged with inspiration, Soames said hastily: "I leave you here, I'm going to my daughter's."

一条妙计涌上心头，索姆斯匆忙地说：“在这儿跟你分手吧，我要去女儿家。”

"Ah! I'm going to my son's. Look at these poor devils!"“啊！我要去儿子家。看看这些苦命的人！”

Down by the Embankment at Blackfriars a band of unemployed were trailing dismally with money-boxes.

一群失业的人手捧钱盒子，在泰晤士河堤旁的黑衣修士桥上慢慢地走着，神情忧郁。

"Revolution in the bud! There's one thing that's always forgotten, Forsyte, it's a great pity."“革命正在萌芽！有件事总是被忘记，福赛特，这真令人太遗憾了。”

"What's that?" said Soames, with gloom. The fellow would tittup all the way to Fleur's!“什么事？”索姆斯阴郁地说。这家伙看样子要一路喋喋不休到弗勒家！

"Wash the working-class, put them in clean, pleasant-coloured jeans, teach 'em to speak like you and me, and there'd be an end of class feeling. It's all a matter of the senses. Wouldn't you rather share a bedroom with a clean, neat-clothed plumber's assistant who spoke and smelled like you than with a profiteer who dropped his aitches and reeked of opoponax? Of course you would."“给那些工人洗洗身，给他们穿上整洁、漂亮的工装裤，教他们像咱们这样与人交流，这样就没有等级感觉了。这完全是一个感觉问题。你是愿意跟一个穿着干净整齐，谈吐像你我这样的管道工助手同睡一间屋呢，还是喜欢跟一个言语粗俗，浑身散发恶臭的投机奸商同睡一起呢？你当然愿意跟前者了。”

"Never tried," said Soames, "so don't know."“我从来没试过，”索姆斯说，“所以我不知道。”

"Pragmatist! But believe me, Forsyte—if the working class would concentrate on baths and accent instead of on their political and economic tosh, equality would be here in no time."“实用主义者！但请相信我，福赛特——要是工人们能把精力转到洗澡和发音训练上，而不是就政治和经济胡言乱语，那么就会立刻实现平等。”

"I don't want equality," said Soames, taking his ticket to Westminster.“我不需要平等。”索姆斯说着，买了一张去威斯敏斯特的车票。

The 'tittupping' voice pursued him entering the tube lift.

那个“喋喋不休”的声音一直跟随他进入地铁的电梯。

"Aesthetic equality, Forsyte, if we had it, would remove the wish for any other. Did you ever catch an impecunious professor wishing he was the King?"“福赛特，我们一旦拥有了审美平等，我们就不会再要求其他任何平等了。你遇到过幻想变成国王的穷教授吗？”

"No," said Soames, opening his paper.“从没有。”索姆斯一边说，一边翻开报纸。Chapter VIIIBicket

第八章

比克特

Beneath its veneer of cheerful irresponsibility, the character of Michael Mont had deepened during two years of anchorage and continuity. He had been obliged to think of others; and his time was occupied. Conscious, from the fall of the flag, that he was on sufferance with Fleur, admitting as whole the half-truth: 'Il y a toujours un qui baise, et l'autre qui tend la joue,' he had developed real powers of domestic consideration; and yet he did not seem to redress the balance in his public or publishing existence. He found the human side of his business too strong for the monetary. Danby and Winter, however, were bearing up against him, and showed, so far, no signs of the bankruptcy prophesied for them by Soames on being told of the principles which his son-inlaw intended to introduce. No more in publishing than in any other walk of life was Michael finding it possible to work too much on principle. The field of action was so strewn with facts—human, vegetable and mineral.

成家立业的这两年，使迈克尔·蒙特表面上玩世不恭的性格变得多了几分稳重。他不得不顾及到周围人的事情，而且他把时间安排得满满的。自从他向弗勒妥协的那天起，他就意识到要时时处处对弗勒忍让。他完全认同那句有一定道理的名言：“世界上既然存在亲吻别人的人，那就存在伸出面颊让别人吻的人。”他在家中事事体贴，关心家人，却似乎无法平衡他的公众角色和出版人角色。他感觉自己在处理事情上过分注重人情关系，而不是金钱。然而，丹比&温特出版社还在靠他费力支撑着，而且就目前情况来看，没有丝毫破产的迹象——当初索姆斯在听了他自己女婿想要采取一些策略时，做出过这样的断言。迈克尔发现，出版业与其他任何行业一样，不能太循规蹈矩了。在行动领域处处是客观事实——人、植物，还有矿物。

On this same Tuesday afternoon, having long tussled with the price of those vegetable facts, paper and linen, he was listening with his pointed ears to the plaint of a packer discovered with five copies of 'Copper Coin' in his overcoat pocket, and the too obvious intention of converting them to his own use.

就在这周二的下午，在他卖力地就蔬菜、纸张和布料的价格讨价还价过后，他竖起耳朵倾听着一个包装工人的哭诉，因为人们在他的外套口袋里发现了五本《铜币》，显然他要将它们占为己有。

Mr. Danby had 'given him the sack'—he didn't deny that he was going to sell them, but what would Mr. Mont have done? He owed rent—and his wife wanted nourishing after pneumonia—wanted it bad. Dash it!' thought Michael, 'I'd snoop an edition to nourish Fleur after pneumonia!'

丹比先生已经把他解雇了——这个工人也没有否认他要把这几本书卖掉，但如果事情放在蒙特先生身上的话，他又会怎样做呢？他欠了房租——他的妻子在肺炎初痊后要及时补充营养——他很需要钱。“见鬼！”迈克尔想，“假若弗勒肺炎后需要补充营养，我肯定会偷走整套书换钱给她买。”

"And I can't live on my wages with prices what they are. I can't, Mr. Mont, so help me!"“如今物价这么高，光靠这点儿工资根本养活不了全家。蒙特先生，我真的活不下去了，快救救我吧！”

Michael swivelled. "But look here, Bicket, if we let you snoop copies, all the packers will snoop copies; and if they do, where are Danby and Winter? In the cart. And, if they're in the cart, where are all of you? In the street. It's better that one of you should be in the street than that all of you should, isn't it?"

迈克尔在转椅上转来转去。“可是你想想，比克特，假如我默许了你的偷书行为，那就意味着默许所有的包装工人偷书了，如果大家都这么做，那丹比&温特出版社会怎么样？关门啦。再说，出版社关门，大家去哪儿？上街流浪。与其大家流落大街，不如你们中间的一个人去，难道不是吗？”

"Yes, sir, I quite see your point—it's reason; but I can't live on reason, the least thing knocks you out, when you're on the bread line. Ask Mr. Danby to give me another chance."“是啊，先生，我明白您的话——很有道理，但道理不能当饭吃，肚子吃不饱的时候，人就容易干傻事。请您帮我求求丹比先生，让他再给我一次机会。”

"Mr. Danby always says that a packer's work is particularly confidential, because it's almost impossible to keep a check on it."“丹比先生总是说，包装工人的工作特别需要诚信，因为我们无法监督它。”

"Yes, sir, I should feel that in future; but with all this unemployment and no reference, I'll never get another job. What about my wife?"“您说的对，先生，今后我一定记着您的话，但是看看如今普遍失业的现象，我又没有推荐信，我肯定是不可能再找到工作的。那我的妻子怎么活啊？”

To Michael it was as if he had said "What about Fleur?" He began to pace the room; and the young man Bicket looked at him with large dolorous eyes. Presently he came to a standstill, with his hands deep plunged into his pockets and his shoulders hunched.

迈克尔听到这句话，就如同自己在说：“弗勒怎么办？”他在屋里走来走去，年轻的比克特用忧伤的大眼睛注视着他。过了一会儿，他停了下来，双手深深地插在口袋里，耸起肩膀。

"I'll ask him," he said; "but I don't believe he will; he'll say it isn't fair on the others. You had five copies; it's pretty stiff, you know—means you've had 'em before, doesn't it? What?"“我跟他求求情，”他说，“但我不保证他会同意，他也许会说这样做对别人不公平。你这次拿了五本书，情况不乐观，你清楚——这就意味着你以前干过，是不是？嗯？”

"Well, Mr. Mont, anything that'll give me a chance, I don't mind confessin'. I have 'ad a few previous, and it's just about kept my wife alive. You've no idea what that pneumonia's like for poor people."“唉，蒙特先生，假如能再给我一次机会，我愿意坦白一切。我以前的确拿过几本，但那都是为了救我妻子的命。您根本无法想象肺炎对于贫困人家意味着什么。”

Michael pushed his fingers through his hair.

迈克尔用手捋着头发。

"How old's your wife?"“你妻子多大了？”

"Only a girl—twenty."“很年轻——刚刚20岁。”

Twenty! Just Fleur's age!

20岁！正好和弗勒同岁！

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Bicket; I'll put it up to Mr. Desert; if he speaks for you, perhaps it may move Mr. Danby."“比克特，我告诉你我打算怎么做。我会把这件事告诉德赛特先生，要是他肯替你求情，也许丹比先生会同意。”

"Well, Mr. Mont, thank you—you're a gentleman, we all sy that."“嗯，蒙特先生，非常感谢您——您是位好人，我们都这么说。”

"Oh! hang it! But look here, Bicket, you were reckoning on those five copies. Take this to make up, and get your wife what's necessary. Only for goodness' sake don't tell Mr. Danby."“啊！该死！比克特，你完全是靠这五本书接济。把这个拿去贴补生活吧，给你妻子买些必需品。但你千万别告诉丹比先生。”

"Mr. Mont, I wouldn't deceive you for the world—I won't sy a word, sir. And my wife—well!"“蒙特先生，我肯定不会欺骗您的——先生，我绝对不会透漏半个字的。至于我的妻子——咳！”

A sniff, a shuffle—Michael was alone, with his hands plunged deeper, his shoulders hunched higher. And suddenly he laughed. Pity! Pity was pop! It was all dam' funny. Here he was rewarding Bicket for snooping 'Copper Coin!' A sudden longing possessed him to follow the little packer and see what he did with the two pounds—see whether 'the pneumonia' was real or a figment of the brain behind those dolorous eyes. Impossible, though! Instead he must ring up Wilfrid and ask him to put in a word with old Danby. His own word was no earthly. He had put it in too often! Bicket! Little one knew of anybody, life was deep and dark, and upside down! What was honesty? Pressure of life versus power of resistance—the result of that fight, when the latter won, was honesty! But why resist? Love thy neighbour as thyself—but not more! And wasn't it a darned sight harder for Bicket on two pounds a week to love him, than for him on twenty-four pounds a week to love Bicket?...

一声鼻子吸溜声和一阵拖沓的脚步声过后，屋里只剩下迈克尔一人了。他双手往口袋里插得更深，肩膀耸得更高。突然，他笑了起来。怜悯！怜悯是时髦！这一切真滑稽。比克特偷了《铜币》，他反而奖赏了他！他忽然特别想尾随着这个小包装工，看看他究竟怎么花这两镑钱——看看那“肺炎”是真的呢，还是这个有着一双忧伤眼睛的人捏造出来的。可是，这不可能！他倒是必须得给威尔弗里德打电话，请他在老丹比那里美言几句。他的话不管用了。他替人说情说得太多了！比克特！人们对旁人知之甚少，生活深奥费解，是非颠倒！诚实算什么？生活的压力与反抗的力量对抗——后者胜利了，那么这场战斗的结果才叫诚实！但为什么反抗呢？爱人如己——但适可而止！让一周赚两镑的比克特关爱他，比让一周赚二十四镑的他关爱比克特要难得多，不是吗？……

"Hallo!... That you, Wilfrid?... Michael speaking.... One of our packers has been sneaking copies of 'Copper Coin.' He's 'got the sack'—poor devil! I wondered if you'd mind putting in a word for him—old Dan won't listen to me... yes, got a wife—Fleur's age; pneumonia, so he says. Won't do it again with yours anyway, insurance by common gratitude—what!... Thanks, old man, awfully good of you—will you bob in, then? We can go round home together... Oh! Well! You'll bob in anyway. Aurev!"“喂！……威尔弗里德，是你吗？……我是迈克尔……我们这有个包装工人偷了几本《铜币》。他已经被解雇了——真可怜！我不知道你愿不愿意替他求求情——老丹比不听我的……是啊，他有一个妻子——跟弗勒同龄，他说她得了肺炎。无论如何下次不会再偷书了，用我和他共同的感激之情作担保——什么！……非常感谢，老朋友，你真是太善良了——你马上就到吗？我们一起回家吧……啊！好啊！你无论如何一定要来。再见！”

Good chap, old Wilfrid! Real good chap—underneath! Underneath—what?

威尔弗里德真够朋友！他是真正的好朋友——打心眼里说！打心眼里说——是什么呢？

Replacing the receiver, Michael saw a sudden great cloud of sights and scents and sounds, so foreign to the principles of his firm that he was in the habit of rejecting instantaneously every manuscript which dealt with them. The war might be 'off '; but it was still 'on' within Wilfrid, and himself. Taking up a tube, he spoke:

放下电话，迈尔克忽然发现一大堆有关景象、气味和声音的稿件。这些稿件与他出版社的原则相悖，所以他习惯性地立即将它们退回。战争也许“结束”了，但在威尔弗里德的内心和他本人的战争继续着。他拿起电话，说道：

"Mr. Danby in his room? Right! If he shows any signs of flitting, let me know at once."...“丹比先生在吗？好的！如果他要出去，请立刻通知我。”……

Between Michael and his senior partner a gulf was fixed, not less deep than that between two epochs, though partially filled in by Winter's middle-age and accommodating temperament. Michael had almost nothing against Mr. Danby except that he was always right—Philip Norman Danby, of Sky House, Campden Hill, a man of sixty and some family, with a tall forehead, a preponderance of body to leg, and an expression both steady and reflective. His eyes were perhaps rather close together, and his nose rather thin, but he looked a handsome piece in his well-proportioned room. He glanced up from the formation of a correct judgment on a matter of advertisement when Wilfrid Desert came in.

迈克尔和那位年长的合伙人之间存在一定代沟，其深度不亚于两个时代的距离。不过温特先生人到中年，脾气温和，或多或少弥补了一些隔阂。除了认为他永远正确之外，迈克尔对丹比先生几乎没有什么异议——菲利普·诺曼·丹比住在坎普登山上的摩天大厦，年已六十，出身名门，有着高高的前额，身材魁梧，神情坚定而又善于深思。或许他的眼睛长得有些太靠近了，鼻子又略微瘦削，但从他比例恰当的五官来看，他倒是位英俊的男子。他正在埋头斟酌批阅一项广告业务，威尔弗里德·德赛特走进来，他抬头看了他一眼。

"Well, Mr. Desert, what can I do for you? Sit down!"“嗯，德赛特先生，有什么能为您效劳的？请坐！”

Desert did not sit down, but looked at the engravings, at his fingers, at Mr. Danby, and said:

德赛特没坐下，而是看看那几幅版画，看看自己的手指，又看看丹比先生，说道：

"Fact is, I want you to let that packer chap off, Mr. Danby."“丹比先生，我来这儿的目的就是想让您对那个包装工人高抬贵手。”

"Packer chap. Oh! Ah! Bicket. Mont told you, I suppose?"“包装工人。哦！啊！比克特。我猜是蒙特告诉您的吧？”

"Yes; he's got a young wife down with pneumonia."“是啊，他的妻子年纪轻轻，得了肺炎。”

"They all go to our friend Mont with some tale or other, Mr. Desert—he has a very soft heart. But I'm afraid I can't keep this man. It's a most insidious thing. We've been trying to trace a leak for some time."“德赛特先生，他们编了好多故事去哄骗我们的朋友蒙特——他心肠太软了。但是恐怕我不能留下这个人。这样做后患无穷。为了找出这个漏洞，我们已经花费很长时间了。”

Desert leaned against the mantelpiece and stared into the fire.

德赛特斜倚着壁炉架，眼睛盯着炉火。

"Well, Mr. Danby," he said, "your generation may like the soft in literature, but you're precious hard in life. Ours won't look at softness in literature, but we're a deuced sight less hard in life."“嗯，丹比先生，”他说，“你们那一代人也许喜欢文学中所具有的宽厚仁爱，但在实际生活中你们却是如此冷酷无情。而我们这一代人呢，虽然对文学中具有的宽厚仁爱不屑一顾，但在实际生活中却显得软弱无能。”

"I don't think it's hard," said Mr. Danby, "only just."“我可不认为这是冷酷无情，”丹比先生说，“这仅代表公正。”

"Are you a judge of justice?"“您是一位公正的法官吗？”

"I hope so."“我希望如此。”

"Try four years' hell, and have another go."“您去体验一下四年的地狱生活，再回来试试。”

"I really don't see the connection. The experience you've been through, Mr. Desert, was bound to be warping."“我确实看不出这之间有什么联系。德赛特先生，你所体验的生活肯定是不同寻常的。”

Wilfrid turned and stared at him.

威尔弗里德转身盯着他。

"Forgive my saying so, but sitting here and being just is much more warping. Life is pretty good purgatory, to all except about thirty percent. of grown-up people."“请原谅我这样说话，但是坐在这里自诩公正就更不正常了。对于成年人来说，除了他们中的30%，生活简直就是炼狱。”

Mr. Danby smiled.

丹比先生笑了笑。

"We simply couldn't conduct our business, my dear young man, without scrupulous honesty in everybody. To make no distinction between honesty and dishonesty would be quite unfair. You know that perfectly well."“没有了最起码的诚实，亲爱的年轻人，我们这一行根本维持不下去。不区分诚实与否是很不公平的。这一点你应该很清楚。”

"I don't know anything perfectly well, Mr. Danby; and I mistrust those who say they do."“丹比先生，我对任何事情都不甚了解，而且我也不信任那些标榜什么都清楚的人。”

"Well, let us put it that there are rules of the game which must be observed, if society is to function at all."“好吧，换句话说，社会要想运作，那么每个行业就一定会有必须遵守的规章原则。”

Desert smiled, too: "Oh! hang rules! Do it as a favour to me. I wrote the rotten book."

德赛特也笑了：“啊！该死的原则！就算帮我一次。谁让我写了那本破书呢。”

No trace of struggle showed in Mr. Danby's face; but his deep-set, close-together eyes shone a little.

丹比先生的脸上仍然平静，不过他那双深陷的、聚拢的眼睛闪了闪。

"I should be only too glad, but it's a matter—well, of conscience, if you like. I'm not prosecuting the man. He must leave—that's all."“能帮您的忙是我的荣幸，但这是一个——关乎良心的问题，可以这么说。我不想起诉那个人。但是他必须得离开——仅此而已。”

Desert shrugged his shoulders.

德赛特耸了耸肩膀。

"Well, good-bye!" and he went out.“好吧，再见！”说着他走了出去。

On the mat was Michael in two minds.

迈克尔站在脚垫上，进退为难。

"Well?"“怎么样？”

"No go. The old blighter's too just."“没戏。那个老家伙太公正了。”

Michael stivered his hair.

迈克尔挠了挠头发。

"Wait in my room five minutes while I let the poor beggar know, then I'll come along."“在我屋里等五分钟，我去告诉那个可怜的家伙，然后咱俩一起走。”

"No," said Desert, "I'm going the other way."“不，”德赛特说，“咱俩不顺道。”

Not the fact that Wilfrid was going the other way—he almost always was—but something in the tone of his voice and the look on his face obsessed Michael's imagination while he went downstairs to seek Bicket. Wilfrid was a rum chap—he went "dark" so suddenly!

迈克尔跑下楼找比克特的时候，心里起了猜疑，让他困惑的并不是威尔弗里德的不顺道——他几乎总是这样——而是他说话时的语气和表情。威尔弗里德是个古怪的家伙——一下子变得“阴郁”了！

In the nether regions he asked:

到了地下车间，他问：

"Bicket gone?"“比克特走了吗？”

"No, sir, there he is."“没有，先生，他还在那里。”

There he was, in his shabby overcoat, with his pale narrow face, and his disproportionately large eyes, and his sloping shoulders.

他站在那里，穿着一件破旧的大衣，苍白瘦长的脸上长着一双不成比例的大眼睛，肩膀耷拉着。

"Sorry, Bicket, Mr. Desert has been in, but it's no go."“非常抱歉，比克特，德赛特先生去替你求情了，但是很遗憾行不通。”

"No, sir?"“行不通吗，先生？”

"Keep your pecker up, you'll get something."“振作起来，你会找到工作的。”

"I'm afryde not, sir. Well, I thank you very 'eartily; and I thank Mr. Desert. Good-night, sir; and good-bye!"“恐怕找不到了，先生。嗯，我从心里感谢您，也感谢德赛特先生。晚安，先生，再见！”

Michael watched him down the corridor, saw him waver into the dusky street.

迈克尔看着他从走廊向外走去，看见他摇摇晃晃地走进一条阴暗的街道。

"Jolly!" he said, and laughed....“妙极了！”他说着笑了起来……

The natural suspicions of Michael and his senior partner that a tale was being pitched were not in fact justified. Neither the wife nor the pneumonia had been exaggerated; and wavering away in the direction of Blackfriars Bridge, Bicket thought not of his turpitude nor of how just Mr. Danby had been, but of what he should say to her. He should not, of course, tell her that he had been detected in stealing; he must say he had 'got the sack for cheeking the foreman'; but what would she think of him for doing that, when everything as it were depended on his not cheeking the foreman? This was one of those melancholy cases of such affection that he had been coming to his work day after day feeling as if he had 'left half his guts' behind him in the room where she lay, and when at last the doctor said to him:

迈克尔和他那年长的合伙人对这个让人心生怜悯的故事产生的合理怀疑其实是有失公允的。无论是他的妻子，还是肺炎，都是确凿的事实。此时，比克特正摇晃着身子朝黑衣修士桥走去，他想的不是自己的堕落，也不是丹比先生在此事上坚决的态度，而是回到家里应该如何向妻子交代。当然，他是肯定不会告诉妻子自己因为偷窃被当场发现而被开除，他必须说是“因为顶撞领班而被解雇的”。但是如今他不应该去顶撞领班，而他又偏偏这么做了，妻子对他会有什么想法呢？他对妻子的爱已经到了一种忧郁的状态，以至于他每天去上班的时候，感觉自己“半个灵魂”留在了妻子躺着的那间屋里。当医生最后跟他说：

"She'll get on now, but it's left her very run down—you must feed her up," his anxiety had hardened into a resolution to have no more. In the next three weeks he had 'pinched' eighteen 'Copper Coins,' including the five found in his overcoat. He had only 'pitched on' Mr. Desert's book because it was 'easy sold,' and he was sorry now that he hadn't pitched on some one else's. Mr. Desert had been very decent. He stopped at the corner of the Strand, and went over his money. With the two pounds given him by Michael and his wages he had seventy-five shillings in the world, and going into the Stores he bought a meat jelly and a tin of Benger's food that could be made with water. With pockets bulging he took a 'bus, which dropped him at the corner of his little street on the Surrey side. His wife and he occupied the two ground floor rooms, at eight shillings a week, and he owed for three weeks. Py that!' he thought, 'and have a roof until she's well.' It would help him over the news, too, to show her a receipt for the rent and some good food. How lucky they had been careful to have no baby! He sought the basement. His landlady was doing the week's washing. She paused, in sheer surprise at such full and voluntary payment, and inquired after his wife.“她会慢慢恢复好的，但这场疾病使她非常虚弱——你必须给她加强营养。”他的种种忧虑一下子变成了坚定的决心，不让自己再忧虑徘徊。在接下来的三周里，他一共“扔掉”(18)本《铜币》，包括在他大衣里发现的那5本。他只“选中”德赛特的书，缘于这本书“容易卖”，他现在真后悔为什么当初没有选中其他作者的书。德赛特先生非常慷慨。他在斯特兰德大街的拐角站住，数了数钱。加上迈克尔给的两镑钱和工资，他一共有75先令。他走进百货商店，买了一瓶肉冻和一罐加水即食的本杰牌食品。他口袋鼓鼓的，坐上了公共汽车，在萨里区边上他住的那条街道的拐角处下车。他和妻子住在底层两间屋里，一周租金八先令，而他已经欠了三周租金了。“付了吧！”他想，“住到她痊愈了再说吧。”再说，他拿着结租金的收据和好吃的给妻子，也好帮助他说出那个消息。他们一直没有生养小孩，真是万幸！他来到地下室。房东太太正在洗一周堆积的衣服。她怔了一下，对他一下子那么主动地付清租金大为惊讶，接着询问了他妻子的情况。

"Doing nicely, thank you."“谢谢您，情况还不错。”

"Well, I'm glad of that, it must be a relief to your mind."“哦，这真让人高兴，这下你可以宽宽心了。”

"It is," said Bicket.“是啊。”比克特说。

The landlady thought: 'He's a thread-paper—reminds me of a shrimp before you bile it, with those eyes.'

房东太太心想：“他太瘦了——那双眼睛让我一下想到了没有煮过的虾。”

"Here's your receipt, and thank you. Sorry to 'ave seemed nervous about it, but times are 'ard."“给你，这是收据，谢谢你。请原谅我曾经多次催你交房租，但是日子确实难以维持啊。”

"They are," said Bicket. "So long!"“的确啊，”比克特说，“再见！”

With the receipt and the meat jelly in his left hand, he opened the door of his front room.

他左手拿着肉冻和收据，右手推开了房门。

His wife was sitting before a very little fire. Her bobbed black hair, crinkly towards the ends, had grown during her illness; it shook when she turned her head and smiled. To Bicket—not for the first time—that smile seemed queer, 'pathetic-like,' mysterious—as if she saw things that one didn't see oneself. Her name was Victorine, and he said: "Well, Vic.? This jelly's a bit of all right, and I've pyde the rent." He sat on the arm of the chair and she put her hand on his knee—her thin arm emerging blue-white from the dark dressing-gown.

他妻子正坐在一小盆炉火的前面。她的黑色短发发梢卷曲，自生病以来已经长长了不少。当她回头冲比克特微笑时，她的头发也跟着晃动起来。对于比克特来说——这已经不是第一次了——她的微笑有些奇怪，略带忧伤，让人猜不透——好像她看到了旁人无法看到的东西。她叫维多琳。他说：“好些吗，维？肉冻看起来不错，而且房租也结了。”他坐在椅子的扶手上，维多琳把手放在他的膝盖上——苍白细长的胳膊从深色睡衣里伸出来。

"Well, Tony?"“你怎么样，托尼？”

Her face—thin and pale with those large dark eyes and beautifully formed eyebrows—was one that "looked at you from somewhere; and when it looked at you—well! it got you right inside!"

她的脸——苍白消瘦，上面有一双黑色的大眼睛和两道漂亮的弯眉——是那种“从某个地方看着你，而且它看着你的时候——嗯！就看透你的心思！”

It got him now and he said: "How've you been breathin'?"

此时此刻她就看透了他的心思。他说：“你这会儿呼吸感觉如何？”

"All right—much better. I'll soon be out now."“不错——比之前好多了。再过一阵就能出门了。”

Bicket twisted himself round and joined his lips to hers. The kiss lasted some time, because all the feelings which he had not been able to express during the past three weeks to her or to anybody, got into it. He sat up again, "sort of exhausted," staring at the fire, and said: "News isn't bright—lost my job, Vic."

比克特扭过身子，亲吻着维多琳。他们吻了许久，这一吻包含了以前三周他对妻子或旁人无法表示的感情。他重新坐好，说：“有些累了，”他盯着炉火，“维，有个坏消息，我被解雇了。”

"Oh! Tony! Why?"“啊！托尼！为什么啊？”

Bicket swallowed.

比克特咽了一下唾沫。

"Fact is, things are slack, and they're reducin'."“因为生意惨淡，公司裁员。”

There had surged into his mind the certainty that sooner than tell her the truth he would put his head under the gas!

他心里有个坚定的信念，宁愿把头放在煤气炉里自杀，也绝不能对妻子说实情。

"Oh! dear! What shall we do, then?"“啊！亲爱的！那我们可怎么办啊？”

Bicket's voice hardened.

比克特语气坚定起来。

"Don't you worry—I'll get something"; and he whistled.“别担心——我会找着工作的。”说着，他还吹起了口哨。

"But you liked that job."“但你很喜欢那份工作。”

"Did I? I liked some o' the fellers; but as for the job—why, what was it? Wrappin' books up in a bysement all dy long. Let's have something to eat and get to bed early—I feel as if I could sleep for a week, now I'm shut of it."“是吗？我喜欢那里的同事，但是至于工作嘛——嗨，那算得了什么？天天就是在地下室包装书本。我们吃完饭就早点儿休息吧——我感觉现在没有工作的束缚，可以睡上一整周呢。”

Getting their supper ready with her help, he carefully did not look at her face for fear it might "get him agyne inside!" They had only been married a year, having made acquaintance on a tram, and Bicket often wondered what had made her take to him, eight years her senior and C3 during the war! And yet she must be fond of him, or she'd never look at him as she did.

她帮他做好了晚饭，他尽量避免看妻子的脸，担心那会更“让他心痛”！他们是在电车上认识的，结婚刚刚一年。比克特常常感觉新奇，究竟自己身上具有什么魅力，会让妻子嫁给自己！他大她八岁，而且大战期间体检结果是丙下！但她一定是爱他的，要不然绝不会这样望着他。

"Sit down and try this jelly."“坐下尝尝刚买的肉冻。”

He himself ate bread and margarine and drank cocoa, he seldom had any particular appetite.

他自己吃面包抹黄油，喝可可，他很少吃其他特别的东西。

"Shall I tell you what I'd like?" he said; "I'd like Central Austrylia. We had a book in there about it; they sy there's quite a movement. I'd like some sun. I believe if we 'ad sun we'd both be twice the size we are. I'd like to see colour in your cheeks, Vic."“我告诉你我喜欢什么吧？”他说，“我喜欢澳大利亚中部。我们那儿有一本描述那个地方的书，书上说有很多人移民到那儿了。我喜欢晒太阳。我相信，如果能多晒晒太阳，咱俩的身体肯定比现在更健康。维，我希望你脸上有点儿血色。”

"How much does it cost to get out there?"“去那里要花多少钱呢？”

"A lot more than we can ly hands on, that's the trouble. But I've been thinkin'. England's about done. There's too many like me."“很多的钱，多得我们无法去，这是个难题。但我一直就想去那儿。英国快要衰败了。像我这样的人数不胜数。”

"No," said Victorine; "there aren't enough."“不，”维多琳说，“像你的人可不多。”

Bicket looked at her face, then quickly at his plate.

比克特看看她，然后快速将目光移向盘子。

"What myde you take a fancy to me?"“你怎么会喜欢我呢？”

"Because you don't think first of yourself, that's why."“因为你凡事总为别人着想，就是这个原因。”

"Used to before I knew you. But I'd do anything for you, Vic."“在认识你之前，我是先考虑自己的。但为了你，维，我愿意做任何事情。”

"Have some of this jelly, then, it's awful good."“吃点儿肉冻吧，特别好吃。”

Bicket shook his head.

比克特摇摇头。

"If we could wyke up in Central Austrylia," he said. "But there's only one thing certain, we'll wyke up in this blighted little room. Never mind, I'll get a job and earn the money yet."“假如一觉醒来，我们已经在澳大利亚中部了，那就好了。”他说，“但唯一有一件事我能肯定——我们一觉醒来肯定还会在这间破旧的小屋里。没关系，我会找到工作的，挣够去那儿的钱的。”

"Could we win it on a race?"“我们能不能赌马赚钱呢？”

"Well, I've only got forty-seven bob all told, and if we lose it, where'll you be? You've got to feed up, you know. No, I must get a job."“哦，我现在一共就有47个先令，如果我们输了，你打算住哪儿？你是知道的，你必须要多补充营养。不行，我无论如何要找到一份工作。”

"They'll give you a good recommend, won't they?"“他们会为你提供一份不错的介绍信吗？会不会呢？”

Bicket rose and stacked his plate and cup.

比克特站起来，把盘子和杯子摞起来。

"They would, but that job's off—overstocked."“会的，但是那份工作不行了——干的人太多了。”

Tell her the truth? Never! So help him!

告诉她实情吗？绝不！上帝保佑！

In their bed, one of those just too wide for one and just not wide enough for two, he lay, with her hair almost in his mouth, thinking what to say to his Union, and how to go to work to get a job. And in his thoughts as the hours drew on he burned his boats. To draw his unemployment money he would have to tell his Union what the trouble was. Blow the Union! He wasn't going to be accountable to them! HE knew why he'd pinched the books; but it was nobody else's business, nobody else could understand his feelings, watching her so breathless, pale and thin. Strike out for himself! And a million and a half out o' work! Well, he had a fortnight's keep, and something would turn up—and he might risk a bob or two and win some money, you never knew. She turned in her sleep. Yes,' he thought, 'I'd do it agyne...'

他躺在那张一人睡太宽、两人睡太窄的床上，她的头发几乎挨到他的嘴唇。他在心里盘算着该如何跟工会商讨，该怎样找份工作。一个小时一个小时地过去了，他思来想去，决定要破釜沉舟。想要失业救济金，就得跟工会说出困难所在。该死的工会！他不想去跟他们解释情况！他自己非常清楚为什么会去偷书，但是这跟别人没关系。当他看着妻子呼吸困难、脸色苍白、身体消瘦，那种感觉没有人能够理解。只有依靠自己的拼搏！150万人都失业了！嗯，他们的生活还足以勉强维持两周，说不定会发生什么——他也许会拿一两个先令去冒冒险，说不定会赢钱，这谁都说不准。她翻个身继续睡着。“对，”他想，“我要再拼一下……”

Next day, after some hours on foot, he stood under the grey easterly sky in the grey street, before a plate-glass window protecting an assortment of fruits and sheaves of corn, lumps of metal, and brilliant blue butterflies, in the carefully golden light of advertised Australia. To Bicket, who had never been out of England, not often out of London, it was like standing outside Paradise. The atmosphere within the office itself was not so golden, and the money required considerable; but it brought Paradise nearer to take away pamphlets which almost burned his hands, they were so warm.

隔天，走了几个小时后，在东方灰蒙蒙的天空下，他来到了灰色的街道。透过大玻璃橱窗，他看见各种各样的水果、一束束谷物、一块块的金属和色彩艳丽的蓝蝴蝶，这一切都映衬在金色的灯光下，原来这些精心布置都是为了宣传澳大利亚。比克特从来没有离开过英国半步，也很少离开伦敦，对他来说，这一切似乎意味着站在天堂之外。办事处的气氛可不是那般宜人，咨询费很是昂贵。但当他拿走几乎烫手的那几本宣传册子时，似乎他离天堂又近了一步——那些宣传册子真是温暖人心。

Later, he and she, sitting in the one armchair—advantage of being thin—pored over these alchemised pages and inhaled their glamour.

过后，他和她挤坐在一张扶椅上——瘦人的优势——仔细端详着这些带着魔力的书，啧啧惊叹。

"D'you think it's true, Tony?"“你觉得这是真的吗，托尼？”

"If it's thirty per cent. true it's good enough for me. We just must get there somehow. Kiss me."“即便只有30%是真的，对我来说也够好的了。我们必须想办法去那里。亲一下。”

From around the corner in the main road the rumbling of the trams and carts, and the rattling of their window-pane in the draughty dry easterly wind increased their feeling of escape into a gas-lit Paradise.

从大街的拐角处传来了主路上电车和火车的隆隆声，屋里的窗户被强劲又干燥的东风吹得嘎吱作响。这周围的环境使他们愈发想要快些逃到那个点着煤气灯的天堂。Chapter IXConfusion

第九章

混乱

Two hours behind Bicket, Michael wavered towards home. Old Danby was right as usual—if you couldn't trust your packers, you might shut up shop! Away from Bicket's eyes, he doubted. Perhaps the chap hadn't a wife at all! Then Wilfrid's manner usurped the place of Bicket's morals. Old Wilfrid had been abrupt and queer the last three times of meeting. Was he boiling-up for verse?

比克特离开两个小时以后，迈克尔摇摇摆摆地回家了。老丹比一如既往地正确——信不过自己店里的包装工，还是关店大吉吧！比克特走后，他心生疑虑了。也许这家伙根本就没有妻子！随后，比克特的道德问题让位给了威尔弗里德的怪异举止。最近三次会面，威尔弗里德老兄显得唐突而古怪。他是因为作诗而情绪不稳吗？

He found Ting-a-ling at the foot of the stairs in a conservative attitude. "I am not going up," he seemed saying, "until some one carries me—at the same time it is later than usual!"

他发现小叮铃在楼梯角那里一动不动，态度十分固执。它似乎在说：“没人抱我，我就不上去，平时早就有人抱我上去了！”

"Where's your mistress, you heraldic little beast?"“女主人呢，你这个传令官小畜生？”

Ting-a-ling snuffled. "I could put up with it," he implied, "if YOU carried me—these stairs are laborious!"

小叮铃抽了抽鼻子。它似乎在说：“如果抱我上去，我就不计较您这句话了。上楼梯太费劲了！”

Michael took him up. "Let's go and find her."

迈克尔把它抱起来。“咱们去找找她吧。”

Squeezed under an arm harder than his mistress', Ting-a-ling stared as if with black-glass eyes; and the plume of his emergent tail quivered.

夹在比女主人更硬的手臂下，小叮铃瞪着它那黑玻璃球似的眼睛，尾巴翘起，上面的毛发微微颤动着。

In the bedroom Michael dropped him so absent-mindedly that he went to his corner plume pendent, and couched there in dudgeon.

到了卧室，迈克尔心不在焉地把它丢下，它便垂着尾巴走到自己的角落，愤愤地蹲在那里。

Nearly dinner time and Fleur not in! Michael went over his sketchy recollection of her plans. To-day she had been having Hubert Marsland and that Vertiginist—what was his name?—to lunch. There would have been fumes to clear off. Vertiginists—like milk—made carbonic acid gas in the lungs! Still! Half-past seven! What was happening to-night? Weren't they going to that play of L.S.D.'s? No—that was tomorrow! Was there conceivably nothing? If so, of course she would shorten her unoccupied time as much as possible. He made that reflection humbly. Michael had no illusions, he knew himself to be commonplace, with only a certain redeeming liveliness, and, of course, his affection for her. He even recognised that his affection was a weakness, tempting him to fussy anxieties, which on principle he restrained. To enquire, for instance, of Coaker or Philps—their man and their maid—when she had gone out, would be thoroughly against that principle. The condition of the world was such that Michael constantly wondered if his own affairs were worth paying attention to; but then the condition of the world was also such that sometimes one's own affairs seemed all that were worth paying attention to. And yet his affairs were, practically speaking, Fleur; and if he paid too much attention to them, he was afraid of annoying her.

快开饭了，弗勒还没回来！迈克尔把自己大概记得的她今天的日程安排回想了一遍。今天，她约了休伯特·马斯兰德和那个旋转派画家——忘了他叫什么名字了——吃午饭。那里一定闹得乌烟瘴气，不可开交。旋转派画家，像牛奶一样，会在胃里制造碳酸气体！还不回来！都7点半了！难道今晚发生了什么事情？他们该不会去看L. S. D.写的那部戏了吧？不对呀，那是明天啊！或许没什么事？如果这样的话，她自然会尽量缩短非应酬的时间。他这么保守估计着。迈克尔没有任何奢望，他知道自己很普通，唯一可取之处就是活泼，当然，还有对她的爱。他甚至认为对她的爱是自己的弱点，因为爱，他总是惶恐不安，原则却又极力克制这一点。比如，他会向家里的仆人科克和菲尔普斯询问她何时出去的，这就完全违背了他的原则。世事就是如此，自己的事情是否值得关注，这常常让迈克尔困惑不已；可是，世事又是这样，有时，自己的事情才是唯一值得关心的。可实际上，他的事只与弗勒有关，如果他抓得太紧，又怕惹恼了她。

He went into his dressing-room and undid his waistcoat.

他走进更衣室，脱下马甲。

But no!' he thought; 'if she finds me "dressed" already, it'll put too much point on it.' So he did up his waistcoat and went downstairs again. Coaker was in the hall.

他心想：“不妥，如果她发现我‘穿戴整齐’，那未免做得太明显了。”所以，他又穿上马甲，又下楼去了。科克在门厅里。

"Mr. Forsyte and Sir Lawrence looked in about six, sir. Mrs. Mont was out. What time shall I serve dinner?"“先生，福赛特先生和劳伦斯爵士大约6点钟来过。蒙特夫人已经出去了。您准备什么时候开饭？”

"Oh! about a quarter past eight. I don't think we're going out."“嗯，8点15分左右吧。我想我们不会出去了。”

He went into the drawing-room and passing down its Chinese emptiness, drew aside the curtain. The square looked cold and dark and draughty; and he thought: 'Bicket—pneumonia—I hope she's got her fur coat.' He took out a cigarette and put it back. If she saw him at the window she would think him fussy; and he went up again to see if she had put on her fur!

他走进客厅，在这间空荡荡的中国式房间里走着，拉开了窗帘。外面起风了，广场显得又冷又黑，于是他想：“比克特——肺炎——希望她穿那件皮大衣了。”他拿出一支烟，又放了回去。如果她发现我站在窗旁，她又会认为我大惊小怪了。于是他又上楼了，看看她穿没穿皮大衣！

Ting-a-ling, still couchant, greeted him plume dansetti arrested as at disappointment. Michael opened a wardrobe. She had! Good! He was taking a sniff round, when Ting-a-ling passed him trottant, and her voice said: "Well, my darling!" Wishing that he was, Michael emerged from behind the wardrobe door. Heaven! She looked pretty, coloured by the wind! He stood rather wistfully silent.

小叮铃仍旧蹲在那里，以为主人回来了，立刻摇尾表示欢迎，一看不对，又失望地停住了。迈克尔打开衣橱。她穿了！很好！就在他打量衣橱时，小叮铃忽然从他身边走过，同时，响起了她的声音：“嗨，亲爱的！”迈克尔希望这是在叫他，立刻从衣橱门后走出来。天啊！她太美了，被风吹红了面颊！他默然地站在那里，若有所思。

"Hallo, Michael! I'm rather late. Been to the Club and walked home."“嗨，迈克尔！我回来晚了。我去俱乐部了，走着回来的。”

Michael had a quite unaccountable feeling that there was suppression in that statement. He also suppressed, and said: "I was just looking to see that you'd got your fur, it's beastly cold. Your dad and Bart have been and went away fasting."

迈克尔有种说不出来的感觉，他认为弗勒对自己有所保留。他也有所保留，说道：“我刚才在那儿，是看你穿没穿大衣出去，天气挺冷的。你父亲和准爵爷来过，没吃饭就离开了。”

Fleur shed her coat and dropped into a chair. "I'm tired. Your ears are sticking up so nicely to-night, Michael."

弗勒脱下大衣，往椅子上一靠。“我累了。迈克尔，今晚，你的耳朵竖得特别好看。”

Michael went on his knees and joined his hands behind her waist. Her eyes had a strange look, a scrutiny which held him in suspense, a little startled.

迈克尔跪了下去，双手搂着她的腰。她审视着他，眼神奇怪，让他感到不安，还有点儿摸不着头脑。

"If YOU got pneumonia," he said, "I should go clean out of curl."“如果你染上肺炎，”他说，“那我就完了。”

"Why on earth should I?"“为什么我偏要得这种病呢？”

"You don't know the connection—never mind, it wouldn't interest you. We're not going out, are we?"“你不知道这其中的联系——没什么，你不会感兴趣的。我们不出去了，是吗？”

"Of course we are. It's Alison's monthly."“我们当然出去了。今天是艾莉森的每月例会啊。”

"Oh! Lord! If you're tired we could cut that."“哦！哎呀！如果你累了，我们可以不去。”

"My dear! Impos.! She's got all sorts of people coming."“亲爱的！这可不行！她请了很多人来。”

Stifling a disparagement, he sighed out: "Right-o! War-paint?"

他忍下了一句轻蔑的话，叹了口气，说道：“那好吧！穿礼服吗？”

"Yes, white waistcoat. I like you in white waistcoats."“是的，还要穿白马甲。我喜欢看你穿白马甲。”

Cunning little wretch? He squeezed her waist and rose. Fleur laid a light stroke on his hand, and he went into his dressing-room comforted....

狡猾的小坏蛋！他紧紧抱了一下她的腰，然后站起身来。弗勒轻轻拍了一下他的手，他感到很满足，朝更衣室走去……

But Fleur sat still for at least five minutes—not precisely 'a prey to conflicting emotions,' but the victim of very considerable confusion. TWO men within the last hour had done this thing—knelt at her knees and joined their fingers behind her waist. Undoubtedly she had been rash to go to Wilfrid's rooms. The moment she got there she had perceived how entirely unprepared she really was to commit herself to what was physical. True he had done no more than Michael. But—Goodness!—she had seen the fire she was playing with, realised what torment he was in. She had strictly forbidden him to say a word to Michael, but intuitively she knew that in his struggle between loyalties she could rely on nothing. Confused, startled, touched, she could not help a pleasant warmth in being so much loved by two men at once, nor an itch of curiosity about the upshot. And she sighed. She had added to her collection of experiences—but how to add further without breaking up the collection, and even perhaps the collector, she could not see.

可是，弗勒在那里静静地坐了至少五分钟——虽然不全是挣扎的情感所致，但却是目前极其混乱的局面造成的。在刚才的一个小时里，两个男人在她面前做了同一件事情——跪在她膝前，搂住她的腰。无疑，她去威尔弗里德家的举动过于鲁莽了。她一到那里，就发现自己并非想要委身于肉欲。他所做的也不过同迈克尔刚才一样。可是——天哪！——她发觉自己在玩火，也意识到了他的痛苦。她告诫他，绝对不能对迈克尔透露一个字，但她的直觉告诉她，如果要他在情和义中间选一个，她毫无胜算。她感到混乱、惊恐、还有感动，想到同时被两个男人这样深爱着，一丝愉快的暖意不由得涌上心头。她对未来也充满好奇，渴望知道结局。她不禁叹了口气。她增加了一份收藏经验——但是如何进一步增加，而不破坏整个收藏乃至收藏者，她却不知道。

After her words to Wilfrid before the Eve: "You will be a fool to go—wait!" she had known he would expect something before long. Often he had asked her to come and pass judgment on his 'junk.' A month, even a week, ago she would have gone without thinking more than twice about it, and discussed his 'junk' with Michael afterwards! But now she thought it over many times, and but for the fumes of lunch, and the feeling, engendered by the society of the 'Vertiginist,' of Amabel Nazing, of Linda Frewe, that scruples of any kind were 'stuffy,' sensations of all sorts 'the thing,' she would probably still have been thinking it over now. When they departed, she had taken a deep breath and her telephone receiver from the Chinese tea chest.

自从上次在夏娃画像前，她对威尔弗里德说了“你要是走了，你就是个傻瓜。等着！”之后，她知道他会期待不久的将来发生什么事情。他经常请她帮忙鉴定他的“旧货”。要是在一个月前，哪怕是一周前，她会想也不想就去了，事后还会和迈克尔讨论这些“旧货”！可是现在，她却反复考虑这件事了，一直到乌烟瘴气的午餐会上，“旋转派画家”、阿玛贝尔·内津和琳达·弗鲁的讨论提醒了她——任何性质的顾虑都是“乏味的”，各种各样的感觉才是“正事”——她可能到现在都想不明白呢。大家走后，她才深吸了一口气，同时打开中国式茶柜，拿出电话听筒。

If Wilfrid were going to be in at half-past five, she would come and see his 'junk.'

如果威尔弗里德五点半在家的话，她就去看他的“旧货”。

His answer: "My God! Will you?" almost gave her pause. But dismissing hesitation with the thought: 'I WILL be Parisian—Proust!' she had started for her Club. Three-quarters of an hour, with no more stimulant than three cups of China tea, three back numbers of the 'Glass of Fashion,' three back views of country members 'dead in chairs,' had sent her forth a careful quarter of an hour behind her time.

他回答道：“上帝啊！你会来吗？”这又让她踌躇了。但是，她用“我一定要有普鲁斯特式的巴黎气派”排解了自己的踌躇，动身去了俱乐部。俱乐部里没有更令她兴奋的事可做，只是在三刻钟的时间里喝了三杯茶，看了三本过期的《时装镜》，看了“三个呆坐在椅子上”的乡村会员的背影，然后特意比约定时间晚了一刻钟动身了。

On the top floor Wilfrid was standing in his open doorway, pale as a soul in purgatory. He took her hand gently, and drew her in. Fleur thought with a little thrill: 'Is this what it's like? Du cote de chez Swann!' Freeing her hand, she began at once to flutter round the 'junk,' clinging to it piece by piece.

他家的门敞开着，威尔弗里德站在楼顶，脸色苍白，就像饱受煎熬的幽灵。他轻轻地拉牵着她的手，引她进去。弗勒有点儿激动，她想：“这事就像这样吗？在斯万家里！”她松开手，即刻开始打量那些“旧货”，着迷地一件件看起来。

Old English 'junk' rather manorial, with here and there an eastern or First Empire bit, collected by some bygone Desert, nomadic, or attached to the French court. She was afraid to sit down, for fear that he might begin to follow the authorities; nor did she want to resume the intense talk of the Tate Gallery. Junk' was safe, and she only looked at him in those brief intervals when he was not looking at her. She knew she was not playing the game according to 'La Garconne' and Amabel Nazing; that, indeed, she was in danger of going away without having added to her sensations. And she couldn't help being sorry for Wilfrid; his eyes yearned after her, his lips were bitter to look at. When at last from sheer exhaustion of 'junk' she sat down, he had flung himself at her feet. Half hypnotised, with her knees against his chest, as safe as she could hope for, she really felt the tragedy of it—his horror of himself, his passion for herself. It was painful, deep; it did not fit in with what she had been led to expect; it was not in the period, and how—how was she to get away without more pain to him and to herself? When she HAD got away, with one kiss received but not answered, she realised that she had passed through a quarter of an hour of real life, and was not at all sure that she liked it.... But now, safe in her own room, undressing for Alison's monthly, she felt curious as to what she would have been feeling if things had gone as far as was proper according to the authorities. Surely she had not experienced one-tenth of the thoughts or sensations that would have been assigned to her in any advanced piece of literature! It had been disillusioning, or else she was deficient, and Fleur, could not bear to feel deficient. And, lightly powdering her shoulders, she bent her thoughts towards Alison's monthly.

这些古老的英国“旧货”颇有点儿庄园气息，其中还散落着几件东方或是第一帝国时期的物件，东西是某个德赛特先人的藏品，这位收藏者若不是一位流浪者，就是曾经出入法兰西宫廷的人。弗勒不敢坐下，怕他会顺势对自己做出越矩的行为；她也不愿意继续他们在泰特美术馆的那场激烈的谈话。看“旧货”显得很安全，在他不看她的瞬间，她才瞟他一眼。她知道自己没按照《独身女人》和阿玛贝尔·内津的方式耍手段；事实上，她明白这样离开，会一无所获。她禁不住为威尔弗里德而忧伤；他的目光充满渴望，双唇饱含了苦涩。后来，她实在看累了，就坐了下来，这时，威尔弗里德扑到她的脚旁。她陷入了半梦半醒的状态，用双膝顶着他的胸部，希望这种方式会尽可能安全些。她感觉到了事态的严重性——他如此不顾自己，如此迷恋她。这是撕心裂肺的痛苦，这种做法不符合大家对她的期望，这种爱也不为这个时代所接受——要怎样脱身，才不会增加彼此的痛苦呢？带着她无法回应的一吻离开后，她才意识到刚才那一刻钟才是真爱的生活，但对于自己是否喜欢这种生活，她还不确定……此刻，她终于安全地呆在自己的房间里，为参加艾莉森的每月例会更衣。她很好奇，如果事情真发展到书上所写的肉欲程度，她又会作何感想呢。诚然，她体会到的感受还不及任何优秀的文学作品里描绘的十分之一！这就是幻想破灭，要不然，就是她还不完美，可弗勒无法容忍自己有任何欠缺。然后，她轻轻在肩膀扑了些粉，便把思想集中到艾莉森的每月例会上了。

Though Lady Alison enjoyed an occasional encounter with the younger generation, the Aubrey Greenes and Linda Frewes of this life were not conspicuous by their presence at her gatherings. Nesta Gorse, indeed, had once attended, but one legal and two literary politicos who had been in contact with her, had complained of it afterwards. She had, it seemed, rent little spiked holes in the garments of their self-esteem. Sibley Swan would have been welcome, for his championship of the past, but he seemed, so far, to have turned up his nose and looked down it. So it was not the intelligentsia, but just intellectual society, which was gathered there when Fleur and Michael entered, and the conversation had all the sparkle and all the 'savoir faire' incidental to talk about art and letters by those who—as Michael put it—"fortunately had not to faire"

尽管艾莉森夫人偶尔也喜欢和年轻人见见面，可像奥布里·格林和琳达·弗鲁这类人，却很少出现在她的聚会上。内丝塔·戈斯确实参加过一次，但是一个法律政客和两个文学政客同她接触后，都表示不满。她似乎伤了他们的自尊心。大家倒是十分欢迎昔日的文坛巨匠西布莉·斯旺出席例会，可是，斯旺对此类聚会不屑一顾，不愿现身。当迈克尔和弗勒进去时，他们发现那里并不是知识分子的聚会，而是有知识的社交人物的聚会。这些人偶尔谈及文艺，却也显出些机敏和才华，只是正如迈克尔所说，他们幸亏是些“不干事的人”。

"All the same, these are the guys," he muttered in Fleur's ear, "who make the names of artists and writers. What's the stunt, to-night?"“这些人全是捧场的。”他在弗勒耳边轻声低语，“就是他们这些人把艺术家和作家给捧起来的。今晚的特别节目是什么？”

It appeared to be the London debut of a lady who sang Balkan folk songs. But in a refuge to the right were four tables set out for bridge. They were already filled. Among those who still stood listening, were, here and there, a Gurdon Minho, a society painter and his wife, a sculptor looking for a job. Fleur, wedged between Lady Feynte, the painter's wife, and Gurdon Minho himself, began planning an evasion. There—yes, there was Mr. Chalfont! At Lady Alison's, Fleur, an excellent judge of 'milieu' never wasted her time on artists and writers—she could meet THEM anywhere. Here she intuitively picked out the biggest 'bug,' politico-literary, and waited to pin him. Absorbed in the idea of pinning Mr. Chalfont, she overlooked a piece of drama passing without.

原来有一位初登伦敦社交界的女士来唱巴尔干民歌。但是，右边的角落里摆着四张桥牌桌。桌边坐满了人。还有些人分散站在各处，继续听歌。这其中包括格登·明霍、一位社交界的画家和他的妻子，还有一位正在找工作的雕刻家。弗勒正挤在那位画家的妻子芬特夫人和格登·明霍之间，设法脱身。查尔方特先生也来了——就是他没错！在艾莉森夫人的每月例会上，弗勒对社交环境极具判断力，她从来不在那些艺术家和作家身上浪费时间，因为这些人在随便什么地方都能碰到。在这里，她凭借直觉挑选出最重要的政界和文学界的名流，然后伺机盯住他们。她一心想盯住查尔方特先生，却忽视了外面发生的一出闹剧。

Michael had clung to the top of the stairway, in no mood for talk and skirmish; and, leaning against the balustrade, wasp-thin in his long white waistcoat, with hands deep thrust into his trousers' pockets, he watched the turns and twists of Fleur's white neck, and listened to the Balkan songs, with a sort of blankness in his brain. The word: "Mont!" startled him. Wilfrid was standing just below. Mont? He had not been that to Wilfrid for two years!

迈克尔一直站在上面的楼梯口处，没有什么心情和旁人交谈或者争论，只是靠着栏杆站着，那件白色长马甲让他看上去瘦骨嶙峋。他双手深深地插在裤兜里，望着弗勒那雪白的脖子扭来扭去，听着巴尔干民歌，脑子里却一片空白。一声“蒙特！”惊醒了他。威尔弗里德就站在他下面。蒙特？他有两年没听到威尔弗里德这样叫他了！

"Come down here."“下来。”

On that half-landing was a bust of Lionel Charwell, K.C., by Boris Strumolowski, in the genre he had cynically adopted when June Forsyte gave up supporting his authentic but unrewarded genius. It had been almost indistinguishable from any of the other busts in that year's Academy, and was used by the young Charwells to chalk moustaches on.

在楼梯中间的平台上，摆有一尊前王室法律顾问莱昂内尔·查韦尔的半身雕塑，这是鲍里斯·斯特拉莫洛斯基的作品。当琼·福赛特不再支持他创作那种反映现实却无利可图的作品后，他就玩世不恭地进入了这一艺术流派。这尊塑像几乎同当年在皇家艺术学院里展出的其他作品没什么区别，现在却成了查韦尔家孩子们的玩具了，他们在上面乱画胡须。

Beside this object Desert leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. His face was a study to Michael.

德赛特站在这尊雕像旁，靠墙倚着，眼睛闭着。他的表情让迈克尔捉摸不透。

"What's wrong, Wilfrid?"“什么事，威尔弗里德？”

Desert did not move. "You've got to know—I'm in love with Fleur."

德赛特一动不动。“我必须告诉你——我爱上弗勒了。”

"What!"“你说什么？”

"I'm not going to play the snake. You're up against me. Sorry, but there it is! You can let fly!" His face was death-pale, and its muscles twitched. In Michael, it was the mind, the heart that twitched. What a very horrible, strange, "too beastly" moment! His best friend—his best man! Instinctively he dived for his cigarette case—instinctively handed it to Desert. Instinctively they both took cigarettes, and lighted each other's. Then Michael said:“我不想偷偷摸摸。我是你的情敌。很抱歉，可情况就是这样！你尽管骂我吧！”他脸色惨白，面部肌肉抽搐着。听到这些话，迈克尔头脑混乱，心乱如麻。这一刻太可怕、太诡异、“太让人恶心”了！这就是他的最好朋友——他的伴郎！他下意识地掏出烟盒，又下意识地递给德赛特。两人都不由自主地取出香烟，互相点着了。然后，迈克尔说：

"Fleur—knows?"“弗勒——知道吗？”

Desert nodded: "She doesn't know I'm telling you—wouldn't have let me. You've nothing against her—yet." And, still with closed eyes, he added: "I couldn't help it."

德赛特点点头，说道：“她不知道我会和你讲——她肯定不让我告诉你。她没有对不起你的地方——到目前为止。”然后，他继续闭着眼睛，又加了一句，“我可忍不住了。”

It was Michael's own subconscious thought! Natural! Natural! Fool not to see how natural! Then something shut-to within him, and he said: "Decent of you to tell me; but—aren't you going to clear out?"

这正符合迈克尔的猜测！自然！太自然了！傻瓜才看不出来这有多自然呢！接着，他内心一阵疼痛，说：“你告诉我，还算个正人君子，但——你不觉得你现在应该马上离开吗？”

Desert's shoulders writhed against the wall.

德赛特倚着墙，肩膀微动了一下。

"I thought so; but it seems not."“我之前也这样想，可现在我好像不想这样了。”

"Seems? I don't understand."“好像是什么意思？我听糊涂了。”

"If I knew for certain I'd no chance—but I don't," and he suddenly looked at Michael: "Look here, it's no good keeping gloves on. I'm desperate, and I'll take her from you if I can."“如果我知道我没有一点儿机会的话，我当然会离开——可我知道情况并非如此。”这时，他突然看着迈克尔，说道，“你看，咱们都别再伪装了。我豁出去了，如果可行的话，我会从你身边抢走她。”

"Good God!" said Michael. "It's the limit!"“上帝啊！”迈克尔说，“太过分了！”

"Yes! Rub it in! But, I tell you, when I think of you going home with her, and of myself," he gave a dreadful little laugh, "I advise you NOT to rub it in."“好！你尽管嘀咕吧！但是，我告诉你，当想到你和她一起回家，而我却孤独一人，”他发出一声可怕的笑声，“奉劝你还是别嘀咕的好。”

"Well," said Michael, "as this isn't a Dostoievsky novel, I suppose there's no more to be said."“嗯，”迈克尔说道，“既然这不是陀思妥耶夫斯基的小说，我也没什么好说的了。”

Desert moved from the wall and laid his hand on the bust of Lionel Charwell.

德赛特离开墙壁，把手放在那尊莱昂内尔·查韦尔的半身塑像上。

"You realise, at least, that I've gone out of my way—perhaps dished myself—by telling you. I've not bombed without declaring war."“至少，你应该知道我把事情告诉你，我已经无路可走了——也可能完全把路堵死了。我向来不干不宣而战的事。”

"No," said Michael dully.“可不是。”迈克尔呆呆地说。

"You can chuck my books over to some other publisher." Michael shrugged.“你可以把我的书转给别的出版商。”迈克尔只是耸了耸肩。

"Good-night, then," said Desert. "Sorry for being so primitive."“那么，晚安。”德赛特说，“很抱歉，失礼了。”

Michael looked straight into his 'best man's' face. There was no mistaking its expression of bitter despair. He made a half-movement with his hand, uttered half the word "Wilfrid," and, as Desert went down, he went upstairs.

迈克尔的目光直视着他的“伴郎”。他的表情的确痛苦而绝望。他做了半个手势，“威尔弗里德，”这几个字只说了一半，然后，德赛特下楼了，他就上楼了。

Back in his place against the balustrade, he tried to realise that life was a laughing matter, and couldn't. His position required a serpent's cunning, a lion's courage, a dove's gentleness: he was not conscious of possessing such proverbial qualities. If Fleur had loved him as he loved her, he would have had for Wilfrid a real compassion. It was so natural to fall in love with Fleur! But she didn't—oh! no, she didn't! Michael had one virtue—if virtue it be—a moderate opinion of himself, a disposition to think highly of his friends. He had thought highly of Desert; and—odd!—he still did not think lowly of him. Here was his friend trying to do him mortal injury, to alienate the affection—more honestly, the toleration—of his wife; and yet he did not think him a cad. Such leniency, he knew, was hopeless; but the doctrines of free-will, and free contract, were not to him mere literary conceptions, they were part of his nature. To apply duress, however desirable, would not be on his cards. And something like despair ravaged the heart of him, watching Fleur's ingratiating little tricks with the great Gerald Chalfont. If she left him for Wilfrid! But surely—no—her father, her house, her dog, her friends, her—her collection of—of—she would not—could not give THEM up? But suppose she kept everything, Wilfrid included! No, no! She wouldn't! Only for a second did that possibility blur the natural loyalty of his mind.

迈克尔继续回到原来的位子，倚在栏杆旁，努力让自己相信人生不过是场玩笑，可他做不到。他目前的处境需要像蛇一样狡猾、狮子一样的勇猛、鸽子一样的温柔，可是他知道自己并不具备这么高的品质。如果弗勒也能像他爱她那样深爱着他，他的确会同情威尔弗里德。爱上弗勒是再自然不过的事情！但是她不爱他——哦！不爱，她不爱他！迈克尔有个优点——如果这个算是优点的话——他对自己评价很谦虚，对朋友评价很高。他曾经对德赛特评价很高，而且——说来也怪！——一直到现在，他对德赛特的看法也还没有改变。他的这个朋友企图给他致命的一击，挑拨他们夫妻的感情——说得更明白点——煽动他妻子出轨，可他并不认为他是个无赖。他知道这种宽宏大量是无济于事的。但是，对他而言，意志自由和婚姻自由的原则不只是文学上的概念，也是他天性的一部分。无论强硬的办法多有用，都不符合他的原则。当看着弗勒正对那个了不起的杰拉尔德·查尔方特施展一些小花招时，迈克尔的心被一种类似于绝望的情感蹂躏着。万一她离开他，去找威尔弗里德呢！但是，肯定——不会——她的父亲、她的房子、她的狗、她的朋友，她——她的收藏——她不会——她无法放弃这些吧？可是她如果既要这些，也要威尔弗里德呢！不，不！她不会这样的！在他天性忠诚的头脑里，这种揣测只是一闪而过。

Well, what to do? Tell her—talk the thing out? Or wait and watch? For what? Without deliberate spying, he could not watch. Desert would come to their house no more. No! Either complete frankness; or complete ignoring—and that meant living with the sword of Damocles above his head! No! Complete frankness! And not do anything that seemed like laying a trap! He passed his hand across a forehead that was wet. If only they were at home, away from that squalling and these cultivated jackanapes! Could he go in and hook her out? Impossible without some reason! Only his brain-storm for a reason! He must just bite on it. The singing ceased. Fleur was looking round. Now she would beckon! On the contrary, she came towards him. He could not help the cynical thought: 'She's hooked old Chalfont!' He loved her, but he knew her little weaknesses. She came up and took hold of his sleeve.

那么，怎么办呢？告诉她——把事情讲清楚？还是静观事态发展？观望什么呢？没有周密的监视，他就无从观察。德赛特不会再来他们家了。不行！要么开诚布公地讲出来，要么假装什么也没发生——但这就意味着今后头上要悬着一把剑，像达摩克里斯那样生活！不行！还是应该开诚布公地讲出来！不做背地里捣鬼的事情！他用手抹了下湿漉漉的额头。他们要是在家里，远离这种嘈杂的世界和这些自命不凡的家伙，该有多好！他能进去把她哄出来吗？没有正当理由，肯定不行！他努力思考，想找出个理由！他必须找个理由。歌唱结束了。弗勒在四处张望。现在，她可能要招呼他了！相反，弗勒朝他这边走了过来。他的脑子里不由得出现了一个恶意的想法：“她一定勾引了老查尔方特！”他爱她，也了解她的小缺点。她走到他面前，拽住他的袖子。

"I've had enough, Michael, let's slip off; d'you mind?"“我玩够了，迈克尔，咱们撤吧，行吗？”

"Quick!" he said, "before they spot us!"“赶快！”他说，“别让他们发现我们！”

In the cold air outside he thought: 'Now? Or in her room?'

走在寒冷的室外，他在想：“现在说吗？还是回家再说？”

"I think," said Fleur, "that Mr. Chalfont is overrated—he's nothing but a mental yawn. He's coming to lunch tomorrow week."“我认为，”弗勒说，“人们对查尔方特先生的评价太高了——他只不过是个酸腐的文人。他下周的明天会来吃午饭。”

Not now—in her room!

现在不说——回家再说！

"Whom do you think to meet him, besides Alison?"“除了艾莉森，你还想请谁与他共进午餐呢？”

"Nothing jazzy."“爵士派的一个也不请。”

"Of course not; but it must be somebody intriguing, Michael. Bother! sometimes I think it isn't worth it."“当然不请，但也必须请些有魅力的人，迈克尔。真讨厌！有时我觉得这么做真没劲。”

Michael's heart stood still. Was that a portent—sign of 'the primitive' rising within his adored practitioner of social arts? An hour ago he would have said:

迈克尔的心差点儿就不跳了。这该不会是凶兆吧？难道他所崇拜的这位社会艺术实践家的心里萌生了原始情感了？如果是一小时以前，他会这么说：

"You're right, my child; it jolly well isn't!" But now—any sign of change was ominous! He slipped his arm in hers.“宝贝，你说得对，这么做确实没什么乐趣而言！”可现在——任何变化都不是好兆头！他挽住她的手臂。

"Don't worry, we'll snare the just-right cuckoos, somehow."“别担心，不管怎样，我们总会找到合适的人来。”

"A Chinese Minister would be perfect," mused Fleur, "with Minho and Bart—four men—two women—cosy. I'll talk to Bart."“要是有位中国公使就太好了。”弗勒沉思着，“加上明霍和准爵爷——四位男士，两位女士——刚刚好。我去和准爵爷说。”

Michael had opened their front door. She passed him; he lingered to see the stars, the plane trees, a man's figure motionless, collared to the eyes, hatted down to them. Wilfrid!' he thought: 'Spain! Why Spain? And all poor devils who are in distress—the heart—oh! darn the heart!' He closed the door.

迈克尔打开他们家的前门。弗勒从他身边进去。他在外面徘徊了一会儿，望着天空中的点点繁星和一排排法国梧桐树。这时，他看到树边站着一个一动不动的人影，那人衣领遮到眼睛下面，用帽子盖住了眼睛。“威尔弗里德！”他想，“西班牙式的！为何是西班牙式的？所有挣扎着的可怜人——爱情——该死的爱情！”他关上了门。

But soon he had another to open, and never with less enthusiasm. Fleur was sitting on the arm of a chair, in the dim lavender pyjamas she sometimes wore just to keep in with things, staring at the fire. Michael stood, looking at her and at his own reflection beyond in one of the five mirrors—white and black, the pierrot pyjamas she had bought him. Figures in a play,' he thought, 'figures in a play! Is it real?' He moved forward and sat on the chair's other arm.

可是，随后他要打开另一扇窗，再没有比这更提不起劲的事了。弗勒坐在椅子扶手上，凝望着壁炉。她身穿那件淡紫色的睡衣，有时她只是为了配合屋内的色调才穿这件睡衣。迈克尔站在那里，看看她，再看看其中一面墙镜中的自己——穿着她给买的那件黑白相间、丑角似的睡衣。“戏剧中的人物，”他想道，“戏剧中的人物！这一切是真的吗？”他走过去，坐在椅子另一边的扶手上。

"Hang it!" he muttered. "Wish I were Antinous!" And he slipped from the arm into the chair, to be behind her face, if she wanted to hide it from him.“该死！”他喃喃自语道，“我要是安提诺乌斯就好了！”于是，他从扶手滑进椅子里，坐在她身后，万一她不想让自己看到她的脸呢。

"Wilfrid's been telling me," he said, quietly.“威尔弗里德已经告诉我了。”他平静地说。

Off his chest! What now? He saw the blood come flushing into her neck and cheek.

总算把憋在心里的话说出来了！现在是什么状况？他看到弗勒的脖子和脸涨得通红。

"Oh! What business—how do you mean 'telling you'?"“哦！什么事——‘他告诉你’是什么意思？”

"Just that he's in love with you—nothing more—there's nothing more to tell, is there?" And drawing his feet up on to the chair, he clasped his hands hard round his knees. Already—already he had asked a question! Bite on it! Bite on it! And he shut his eyes.“就是说他爱上你了——没说别的——没别的事可说了，是吗？”说着，他把脚缩到椅子里，用双手抱着膝盖。他已经——已经问了一个问题了！稳住！稳住！然后他闭上了眼睛。

"Of course," said Fleur, very slowly, "there's nothing more. If Wilfrid chooses to be so silly."“当然。”弗勒慢条斯理地说，“当然没别的事了。如果威尔弗里德愿意这样犯傻的话。”

Chooses! The word seemed unjust to one whose own 'silliness' was so recent—so enduring! And—curious! his heart wouldn't bound. Surely it ought to have bounded at her words!

愿意！这个词听着这么接近“愚蠢”，似乎对一个如此执著于你的人很不公平！而且——奇怪的是，他的心情并没因此而好起来。听到这话，他本应该高兴起来的！

"Is that the end of Wilfrid, then?"“那么，这就是威尔弗里德的结局了吗？”

"The end? I don't know."“结局?我不清楚。”

Ah! Who knew anything—when passion was about?

啊！当激情奔放之时，谁知道会发生什么呢？

"Well," he said, holding himself hard together, "don't forget I love you awfully!"“嗯。”他一边紧紧抱住自己，一边说，“别忘了我非常爱你！”

He saw her eyelids flicker, her shoulders shrugging.

他看到她眼睛眨了一下，肩膀耸了耸。

"Am I likely to?"“我像是会忘记吗？”

Bitter, cordial, simple—which? Suddenly her hands came round and took him by the ears. Holding them fast she looked down at him, and laughed. And again his heart WOULD not bound. If she did not lead him by the nose, she—! But he clutched her to him in the chair. Lavender and white and black confused—she returned his kiss. But from the heart? Who knew? Not Michael.

痛苦、热忱、简单——究竟是哪一种？突然间，她把双手伸过来，抓住他的耳朵。她一边紧紧捏住他的耳朵，一边低头向下看着他，哈哈一笑。可是，他的心还是没有高兴起来。如果她不是牵着他的鼻子走，她——！但他还是一把把她搂进椅子里。淡紫色和黑白相间的颜色混在一起——她回应着他的吻。可这是不是发自内心的？谁知道？反正迈克尔不知道。Chapter XPassing of a Sportsman

第十章

一个运动员过世了

Soames, disappointed of his daughter, said: "I'll wait," and took his seat in the centre of the jade green settee, oblivious of Ting-a-ling before the fire, sleeping off the attentions of Amabel Nazing, who had found him 'just too cunning.' Grey and composed, with one knee over the other, and a line between his eyes, he thought of Elderson and the condition of the world, and of how there was always something. And the more he thought, the more he wondered why he had ever been such a flat as to go on to a Board which had anything to do with foreign contracts. All the old wisdom that in the nineteenth century had consolidated British wealth, all the Forsyte philosophy of attending to one's own business, and taking no risks, the close-fibred national individualism which refused to commit the country to chasing this wild goose or that, held within him silent demonstration. Britain was on the wrong tack politically to try and influence the Continent, and the P.P.R.S. on the wrong tack monetarily to insure business outside Britain. The special instinct of his breed yearned for resumption of the straight and private path. Never meddle with what you couldn't control! Old Mont' had said: "Keep the ring!" Nothing of the sort: Mind one's own business! That was the real 'formula.' He became conscious of his calf—Ting-a-ling was sniffing at his trousers.

见女儿不在家，索姆斯有些失落，他说道：“我等等吧。”随后，他坐在那张翠绿色长椅的中间，全然没有注意到火炉前的小叮铃。此时，它正在打盹，将阿玛贝尔·内津的那句“太机灵”的恭维给忘到脑后去了。索姆斯头发灰白，神情自若。他跷起二郎腿，双目间蹙起一道皱纹。他心里想着埃尔德森、世界局势以及为何总有事情发生。他越想就越觉得奇怪，自己怎么会傻到加入一个与外国有合同往来的董事会。所有为巩固英国财富做出贡献的19世纪的古老智慧、一切摒弃冒险主义、专注个人事业的福赛特哲学以及反对国家采取任何徒劳无益之举的民族利己主义精神，都在他心里静静翻腾着。就政治而言，英国企图影响欧洲大陆，这是犯了方针性错误；同样，就经济而言，天佑再保险公司扩展海外业务，也是犯了方针性错误。福赛特家的人都渴望延续有条不紊的个人发展道路。千万别干自己无法控制的事情！“老蒙特”曾说过：“保持中立！”根本没那么回事：管好自己的事！这才是真正的“法则”。他突然觉得小腿那里有什么东西在动——小叮铃正在闻他的裤子。

"Oh!" said Soames. "It's you!"“哦！”索姆斯说，“是你啊！”

Placing his forepaws against the settee, Ting-a-ling licked the air.

小叮铃吐着舌头，前爪搭在椅背上。

"Pick you up?" said Soames. "You're too long." And again he felt that faint warmth of being liked.“要抱你起来吗？”索尔斯说，“你太大了。”他顿时有种被喜欢的感觉，丝丝暖意涌上了他的心头。

There's something about me that appeals to him,' he thought, taking him by the scruff and lifting him on to a cushion. "You and I," the little dog seemed saying with his stare—Chinese little object!“我身上一定有什么吸引它的地方。”他一边想，一边抓着他的后颈，把它拎到坐垫上。这小东西盯着他，似乎在说：“只有你和我。”——这条可爱的中国狗！

I shall resign,' thought Soames. But what about Winifred, and Imogen, and some of the Rogers and Nicholases who had been putting money into this thing because he was a director? He wished they wouldn't follow him like a lot of sheep! He rose from the settee. It was no good waiting, he would walk on to Green Street and talk to Winifred at once. She would have to sell again, though the shares had dropped a bit. And without taking leave of Ting-a-ling, he went out.“我应该辞职。”索姆斯想。可是，威妮弗雷德、伊莫金以及罗杰家族和尼古拉斯家族中的一些人怎么办？因为他当董事，这些人才把资金投进来的。他希望他们可别像一群羊似的跟在他后面。他从长椅上站起来。没什么好等的了，他得马上去格林街找威妮弗雷德谈谈。尽管股票已经跌了一点儿，她必须再次抛出。然后，没与小叮铃告别，他就出去了。

All this last year he had almost enjoyed life. Having somewhere to come and sit and receive a certain sympathy once at least a week, as in old days at Timothy's, was of incalculable advantage to his spirit. In going from home Fleur had taken most of his heart with her; but Soames had found it almost an advantage to visit his heart once a week rather than to have it always about. There were other reasons conducing to light-heartedness. That diabolical foreign chap, Prosper Profond, had long been gone he didn't know where, and his wife had been decidedly less restive and sarcastic ever since. She had taken up a thing they called Coue, and grown stouter. She used the car a great deal. Altogether she was more domestic. Then, too, he had become reconciled to Gauguin—a little slump in that painter had convinced him that he was still worth attention, and he had bought three more. Gauguin would rise again! Soames almost regretted his intuition of that second coming, for he had quite taken to the chap. His colour, once you got used to it, was very attractive. One picture, especially, which meant nothing so far as he could see, had a way of making you keep your eyes on it. He even felt uneasy when he thought of having to part with the thing at an enhanced price. But, most of all, he had been feeling so well, enjoying a recrudescence of youth in regard to Annette, taking more pleasure in what he ate, while his mind dwelt almost complacently on the state of money. The pound going up in value; Labour quiet! And now they had got rid of that Jack-o'-lantern, they might look for some years of solid Conservative administration. And to think, as he did, stepping across St. James' Park towards Green Street, that he had gone and put his foot into a concern which he could not control, made him feel—well, as if the devil had been in it!

去年整整一年，他都在享受人生。他会去某个地方走走、坐坐，总能收获某种安慰，至少一周一次。就像从前在蒂莫西家一样，这对他保持良好的精神状态大有益处。弗勒的出嫁，让他感觉心里空落落的。可是索姆斯发现，每周看一次心肝宝贝，要比她总在自己身边更好些。还有一些其他事情也让他感觉很轻松。那个可恶的外国佬——普罗斯珀·普罗芳——早就不知跑到什么地方去了。自那以后，他的妻子明显比以前安分多了，也很少嘲笑别人了。她迷上了一种叫做“库埃”的东西，身体变得结实起来。她经常开车。总之，她比以前更爱呆在家里了。之后，他和画家高更和解了。高更的画作市价稍有下跌，但索姆斯认为他的作品依然值得关注，所以他又买了3幅。高更的画会再次升值！索姆斯对自己追逐涨价的念头感到遗憾，自己欣赏他就可以了。他画中的色彩，你一旦看习惯了，就非常具有吸引力。特别是有一幅画，高更自己认为没什么，但却有一种让人流连其中的感觉。当索姆斯想到价格一涨他就得转手时，心里挺不是滋味的。但最重要的是，索姆斯一直感觉很好，安妮特给他带来了重返青春般的乐趣，食物也给他带来了极大的快乐，他全心享受着金钱带来的满足感。英镑升值了；工党很安静！现在劳合·乔治下台了，保守党即将稳稳地掌几年权了。他一边穿过圣詹姆斯公园，朝格林街的方向走去，一边在想，他怎么会涉足一个自己无法掌控的公司——唉，真是见鬼了！

In Piccadilly he moused along on the Park side, taking his customary look up at the 'Iseeum' Club. The curtains were drawn, and chinks of light glowed, long and cosy. And that reminded him—some one had said George Forsyte was ill. Certainly he had not seen him in the bay window for months past. Well, George had always eaten and drunk too much. He crossed over and passed beneath the Club; and a sudden feeling—he didn't know what—a longing for his own past, a sort of nostalgia—made him stop and mount the steps.

在皮卡迪利大街，他沿着公园一边蹑手蹑脚地向前走，习惯性地瞧一眼“伊昔姆”俱乐部。俱乐部拉着窗帘，帘缝间透出狭长而舒缓的灯光。这时，他想起——有人说乔治·福赛特病了。是啊，他有几个月没见到他坐在这里的飘窗边了。唉，乔治总是能吃能喝。他穿过马路，朝俱乐部下面走去。他突然很怀念过去，自己也莫名其妙，像是患上思乡病了——他不由地停住脚步，登上俱乐部的台阶。

"Mr. George Forsyte in the Club?"“乔治·福赛特在俱乐部里吗？”

The janitor stared, a grey-haired, long-faced chap, whom he had known from away back in the 'eighties.

头发灰白的长脸门卫瞪着他看。索姆斯早在上世纪80年代就见过他了。

"Mr. Forsyte, sir," he said, "is very ill indeed. They say he won't recover, sir."

他说：“先生，福赛特先生的确病得很重。他们都说他的病不会好了。”

"What?" said Soames. "Nobody told me that."“什么？”索姆斯说，“没人和我提过啊。”

"He's very bad—VERY bad indeed. It's the heart."“他病得很重——的确很严重。是心脏病。”

"The heart! Where is he?"“心脏病！他在哪儿？”

"At his rooms, sir; just round the corner. They say the doctors have given him up. He WILL be missed here. Forty years I've known him. One of the old school, and a wonderful judge of wine and horses. We none of us last for ever, they say, but I never thought to see HIM out. Bit too full-blooded, sir, and that's a fact."“在他家，先生。转过那个拐角就是了。他们都说，医生已经宣布放弃了。俱乐部的人都会想念他。我认识他40年了。他是老派人，一名了不起的品酒师和评马师。人们常说，没有人会永远活着，可是我从来没想过会看到他离开。因为他一直精力非常旺盛，先生，可这就是事实。”

With a slight shock Soames realised that he had never known where George lived, so utterly anchored had he seemed to that bay window above.

索姆斯微微一惊，他竟然不知道乔治住在哪里，他一直以为他就安居在俱乐部上面的飘窗旁。

"Just give me the number of his rooms," he said.“请把他寓所的门牌号告诉我。”他说。

"Belville Row—No. 11, sir; I'm sure I hope you'll find him better. I shall miss his jokes—I shall, indeed."“贝尔维尔街11号，先生。我真希望您能看到他好一些。我真想听他讲笑话——真的很想听。”

Turning the corner into Belville Row, Soames made a rapid calculation. George was sixty-six, only one year younger than himself! If George was really in extremis it would be quite unnatural! Comes of not leading a careful life,' he thought; 'always rackety—George! When was it I made his will?' So far as he remembered, George had left his money to his brothers and sisters—no one else to leave it to. The feeling of kinship stirred in Soames, the instinct of family adjustment. George and he had never got on—opposite poles of temperament—still he would have to be buried, and who would see to it if not Soames, who had seen to so many Forsyte burials in his time? He recalled the nickname George had once given him, 'the undertaker!' H'm! Here was poetical justice! Belville Row! Ah! No. 11—regular bachelor-looking place! And putting his hand up to the bell, he thought: 'Women!' What had George done about women all his life?

转过街角，进入贝尔维尔街，索姆斯快速地算了一下。乔治今年66岁，只比他小一岁！如果乔治真的快不行了，那太不合常理了！“是生活不节制的结果。”他想，“乔治总是寻欢作乐！我什么时候给他立的遗嘱来着？”就他所知，乔治把钱都留给兄弟姐妹了——他也没别人可给了。骨肉亲情在索姆斯心里激荡着，这是一种家人的本能。乔治和他向来不和——两人性格相反——可是总得为他料理后事啊，除了索姆斯，谁会做这些事呢？他一生中不是已经料理过那么多福赛特家的丧事了吗？他想起乔治曾给他起过一个绰号——“殡仪事务承办人”！哼！这是因果报应！贝尔维尔街！11号——真像是单身汉的住所！他一边按门铃，一边在想：“女人们！”乔治一生在女人方面做了些什么？

His ring was answered by a man in a black cut-away coat with a certain speechless reticence.

一个男子出来开门，他身着黑色燕尾服，十分沉默。

"My cousin, Mr. George Forsyte? How is he?"“我堂弟乔治·福赛特先生呢？他怎么样？”

The man compressed his lips.

那人抿了抿嘴唇，说：

"Not expected to last the night, sir."“恐怕过不了今晚了，先生。”

Soames felt a little clutch beneath his Jaeger vest.

索姆斯感觉自己的心好像被人抓了一把。

"Conscious?"“神志清醒吗？”

"Yes, sir."“清醒，先生。”

"Could you show him my card? He might possibly like to see me."“你能把我的名片给他看看吗？也许他会想见我。”

"Will you wait in here, sir?" Soames passed into a low room panelled up to the level of a man's chest, and above that line decorated with prints. George—a collector! Soames had never supposed he had it in him! On those walls, wherever the eye roved, were prints coloured and uncoloured, old and new, depicting the sports of racing and prize-fighting! Hardly an inch of the red wall space visible! About to examine them for marks of value, Soames saw that he was not alone. A woman—age uncertain in the shaded light—was sitting in a very high-backed chair before the fire with her elbow on the arm of it, and a handkerchief held to her face. Soames looked at her, and his nostrils moved in a stealthy sniff. Not a lady,' he thought. Ten to one but there'll be complications.' The muffled voice of the cut-away man said:“先生，您能在这儿稍等一会儿吗？”索姆斯走进一间低矮的房间。那房间的护墙板镶到齐胸那么高，板线以上挂着一幅幅版画。乔治是个收藏家！索姆斯从来没想过他还有这个爱好！放眼望去，四面墙壁上既有色彩画也有黑白画，既有旧画也有新作。画的是赛马运动和职业拳击运动。整个红色墙壁上，几乎没有一处是空的！正当索姆斯想仔细看看标价时，他发现房间里不只他一个人。一位女子正坐在火炉前面一张靠背很高的椅子里。由于灯光微弱，他看不出她的年龄。她一只手撑在椅子的扶手上，一只手拿手帕贴着脸。索姆斯看着她，偷偷地抽了一下鼻子。“肯定不是女主人。”他想，“十之八九有什么关系。”这时，那个穿礼服的男子低声说：

"I'm to take you in, sir." Soames passed his hand over his face and followed.“我带您进去，先生。”索姆斯抹了一把脸，跟在后面。

The bedroom he now entered was in curious contrast. The whole of one wall was occupied by an immense piece of furniture, all cupboards and drawers. Otherwise there was nothing in the room but a dressing-table with silver accoutrements, an electric radiator alight in the fireplace, and a bed opposite. Over the fireplace was a single picture, at which Soames glanced mechanically. What! Chinese! A large whitish sidelong monkey, holding the rind of a squeezed fruit in its outstretched paw. Its whiskered face looked back at him with brown, almost human eyes. What on earth had made his inartistic cousin buy a thing like that and put it up to face his bed? He turned and looked at the bed's occupant. "The only sportsman of the lot," as Montague Dartie in his prime had called him, lay with his swollen form outlined beneath a thin quilt. It gave Soames quite a turn to see that familiar beef-coloured face pale and puffy as a moon, with dark corrugated circles round eyes which still had their japing stare. A voice, hoarse and subdued, but with the old Forsyte timbre, said:

他现在走进的卧室和刚才那间形成了鲜明的对比。一个大柜占据了整整一面墙，柜上只有碗厨和抽屉。此外，房间里只有一个摆着银制品的梳妆台、一个放在壁炉里的、开着的电暖炉，还有对面的一张床。壁炉上只有一幅画，索姆斯有意无意地瞥了一眼。什么？中国画！画中有一只侧坐着的白毛猴子，伸出一只爪子捏着一块挤碎的水果皮。猴子的脸上带着胡须，正用它那棕褐色的、类似于人类的眼睛回头望着。他这位不懂艺术的堂弟，为什么会买这件东西，还挂在正对着床的位置？他转身看了看床上躺着的病人。蒙塔古·达尔蒂这样称赞过当时正值盛年的他：“他是这群人里唯一的运动健将。”而今，他却只能盖着薄被躺在那里，浮肿的身体在薄被下显现出来。那张熟悉的牛肉色的脸变得像月亮一般苍白且浮肿。那双眼睛依稀带着嘲弄人的眼神，却已是皱纹密布、黑圈重重。这一切让索姆斯大吃一惊。这时，床上传来一个声音，嘶哑而低沉，仍旧带有老福赛特家的特质，说道：

"Hallo, Soames! Come to measure me for my coffin?"“你好，索姆斯！你来给我量棺材尺寸吗？”

Soames put the suggestion away with a movement of his hand; he felt queer looking at that travesty of George. They had never got on, but—!

索姆斯摆了摆手，让这句话过去了。看着乔治硬装出滑稽的神情，他心里很不是滋味。他们一直合不来，但是——！

And in his flat, unemotional voice he said:

他平缓而不动声色地说道：

"Well, George! You'll pick up yet. You're no age. Is there anything I can do for you?"“好了，乔治！你会好起来的。你还没老呢。我能为你做些什么吗？”

A grin twitched George's pallid lips.

乔治苍白的嘴唇挤出一丝笑容。

"Make me a codicil. You'll find paper in the dressing table drawer."“给我立份遗嘱附录。梳妆台的抽屉里有纸。”

Soames took out a sheet of 'Iseeum' Club notepaper. Standing at the table, he inscribed the opening words of a codicil with his stylographic pen, and looked round at George. The words came with a hoarse relish.

索姆斯取出一张“伊昔姆”俱乐部的信纸。他站在桌边，用尖头钢笔把遗嘱附录的开头写好，然后回头望着乔治。乔治的声音虽然嘶哑，却独具吸引力。

"My three screws to young Val Dartie, because he's the only Forsyte that knows a horse from a donkey." A throaty chuckle sounded ghastly in the ears of Soames. "What have you said?"“我那3匹老马给小瓦尔·达尔蒂，因为他是福赛特家族里唯一懂得区分马和驴的人。”他发出一阵沙哑而低沉的笑声，在索姆斯听来很是瘆人。“你是怎么写的？”

Soames read: "I hereby leave my three racehorses to my kinsman, Valerius Dartie, of Wansdon, Sussex, because he has special knowledge of horses."

索姆斯读道：“兹将我3匹赛马赠予我的亲戚瓦勒列斯·达尔蒂，萨塞克斯郡沃斯顿人，因他深谙识马之术。”

Again the throaty chuckle. "You're a dry file, Soames. Go on. To Milly Moyle, of 12, Claremont Grove, twelve thousand pounds, free of legacy duty."

又一阵沙哑低沉的笑声。“你真是一个冷冰冰的家伙，索姆斯。继续。给住在克莱尔蒙特林荫街12号的米利·莫伊尔12，000镑，免付遗产税。”

Soames paused on the verge of a whistle.

索姆斯差点儿停下来吹口哨。

The woman in the next room!

就是隔壁房间里的那个女人！

The japing in George's eyes had turned to brooding gloom.

乔治那捉弄人的眼神变得阴郁忧愁起来。

"It's a lot of money," Soames could not help saying.

索姆斯禁不住说了一句：“这是一大笔钱啊。”

George made a faint choleric sound.

乔治病弱的声音显得很生气。

"Write it down, or I'll leave her the lot."“照这样写，否则我全都留给她。”

Soames wrote. "Is that all?"

索姆斯写下了。“就这些吗？”

"Yes. Read it!"“是的。念一下！”

Soames read. Again he heard that throaty chuckle. "That's a pill. You won't let THAT into the papers. Get that chap in, and you and he can witness."

索姆斯念了。他又听到一阵低沉而嘶哑的笑声。“这是一桩自作自受的事。你可别把这句也写进遗嘱里。叫那家伙进来，就由你俩做见证人吧。”

Before Soames reached the door, it was opened and the man himself came in.

还没等索姆斯开门，门就开了，那个男子走了进来。

"The—er—vicar, sir," he said in a deprecating voice, "has called. He wants to know if you would like to see him."“先生，那位——嗯——牧师来了。”他语气轻蔑地说，“您愿意见他吗？”

George turned his face, his fleshy grey eyes rolled.

乔治回过头，灰色的大眼睛转来转去。

"Give him my compliments," he said, "and say I'll see him at the funeral."“替我问候他。”他说，“告诉他，我们葬礼上见。”

With a bow the man went out, and there was silence.

男子鞠了一躬，出去了，屋里一片寂静。

"Now," said George, "get him in again. I don't know when the flag'll fall."

乔治说：“现在，把他叫进来。我不知道什么时候就走了。”

Soames beckoned the man in. When the codicil was signed and the man gone, George spoke:

于是索姆斯招呼那人进来。当遗嘱附录签好字，男子出去了以后，乔治说道：

"Take it, and see she gets it. I can trust you, that's one thing about you, Soames."“遗嘱附录放你那里，务必确保她拿到这笔钱。我相信你，索姆斯，你就是这一点好。”

Soames pocketed the codicil with a very queer sensation.

索姆斯把遗嘱附录放进口袋里，心里很不是滋味。

"Would you like to see her again?" he said.“你想再见见她吗？”他说。

George stared up at him a long time before he answered. "No. What's the good? Give me a cigar from that drawer."

乔治抬头看着他，过了很久才回答：“不必了。有什么用呢？抽屉里有雪茄，递给我一支吧。”

Soames opened the drawer.

索姆斯打开抽屉。

"Ought you?" he said.“你可以抽烟吗？”他说。

George grinned. "Never in my life done what I ought; not going to begin now. Cut it for me."

乔治咧嘴笑了笑。“我平生没做过什么该做的事，现在也不打算做。帮我把烟头剪掉吧。”

Soames nipped the end of the cigar. Shan't give him a match,' he thought. Can't take the responsibility.' But George did not ask for a match. He lay quite still, the unlighted cigar between his pale lips, the curved lids down over his eyes.

索姆斯剪掉烟头。他心想：“不能给他火柴。我可负不起这个责任啊。”可是乔治没朝他要火柴。他静静地躺着，苍白的嘴唇含着那支没有点着的雪茄，眼睑弯成了一道弧形。

"Good-bye," he said, "I'm going to have a snooze."“再见。”他说，“我要打个盹。”

"Good-bye," said Soames. "I—I hope—you—you'll soon—"“再见。”索姆斯说，“我——我希望——你——你很快就——”

George reopened his eyes—fixed, sad, jesting, they seemed to quench the shams of hope and consolation. Soames turned hastily and went out. He felt bad, and almost unconsciously turned again into the sitting-room. The woman was still in the same attitude; the same florid scent was in the air. Soames took up the umbrella he had left there, and went out.

乔治又睁开那双眼睛——眼神定定的，忧伤而戏谑，它们似乎把希望和慰藉一扫而光。索姆斯急忙转身离开了。他感到很不舒服，不知不觉走进了刚才那间起居室。那个女人依然那个姿势坐着；空气里依旧弥漫着浓重的香气。索姆斯拿起留在那里的雨伞，走了出去。

"This is my telephone number," he said to the servant waiting in the corridor; "let me know."“这是我的电话号码。”他对等在走廊里的仆人说，“有事通知我。”

The man bowed.

那个男子鞠了一躬。

Soames turned out of Belville Row. Never had he left George's presence without the sense of being laughed at. Had he been laughed at now? Was that codicil George's last joke? If he had not gone in this afternoon, would George ever have made it, leaving a third of his property away from his family to that florid woman in the high-backed chair? Soames was beset by a sense of mystery. How could a man joke at death's door? It was, in a way, heroic. Where would he be buried? Somebody would know—Francie or Eustace. And what would they think when they came to know about that woman in the chair—twelve thousand pounds! If I can get hold of that white monkey, I will,' he thought suddenly. It's a good thing.' The monkey's eyes, the squeezed-out fruit—was life all a bitter jest and George deeper than himself? He rang the Green Street bell.

索姆斯走出贝尔维尔街。每次与乔治分手，总是有种被嘲笑的感觉。今天又被他嘲笑了吗？那个遗嘱附录是他开的最后一次玩笑吗？如果今天下午他没去，乔治还会立遗嘱附录吗？把1/3的遗产留给那个高背椅子里坐着的香艳女子，而不是留给家人？索姆斯越想越觉得奇怪。一个将死之人还会开玩笑吗？从某种程度上说，这也算是英雄所为吧。他会葬在哪里呢？总会有人安排的——弗朗西或是尤斯塔斯。而当他们最终得知那个坐在椅子里的女人得到12，000镑，他们会作何感想呢!“如果能得到那幅白猿，我一定要搞到手。”他突然想到，“那是件好东西。”那只白猿的眼睛，那个干瘪的水果——人的一生就是一个布满心酸的玩笑吗？乔治真的比我更深刻吗？他按响了格林街的门铃。

Mrs. Dartie was very sorry, but Mrs. Cardigan had called for her to dine and make a fourth at the play.

达尔蒂夫人表示很抱歉，因为卡迪盖夫人刚请她去一起吃晚饭，而且牌戏四缺一，她会去凑个局。

Soames went in to dinner alone. At the polished board below which Montague Dartie had now and again slipped, if not quite slept, he dined and brooded. "I can trust you, that's one thing about you, Soames." The words flattered and yet stung him. The depths of that sardonic joke! To give him a family shock and trust him to carry the shock out! George had never cared twelve thousand pounds for a woman who smelled of patchouli. No! It was a final gibe at his family, the Forsytes, at Soames himself! Well! one by one those who had injured or gibed at him—Irene, Bosinney, old and young Jolyon, and now George, had met their fates. Dead, dying, or in British Columbia! He saw again his cousin's eyes above that unlighted cigar, fixed, sad, jesting—poor devil! He got up from the table, and nervously drew aside the curtains. The night was fine and cold. What happened to one—after? George used to say that he had been Charles the Second's cook in a former existence! But reincarnation was all nonsense, weak-minded theorising! Still, one would be glad to hold on if one could, after one was gone. Hold on, and be near Fleur! What noise was that? Gramophone going in the kitchen! When the cat was away, the mice—! People were all alike—take what they could get, and give as little as they could for it. Well! he would smoke a cigarette. Lighting it at a candle—Winifred dined by candle-light, it was the 'mode' again—he thought: 'Has he still got that cigar between his teeth?' A funny fellow, George—all his days a funny fellow! He watched a ring of smoke he had made without intending to—very blue, he never inhaled! Yes! George had lived too fast, or he would not have been dying twenty years before his lime—too fast! Well, there it was, and he wished he had a cat to talk to! He took a little monster off the mantelboard. Picked up by his nephew Benedict in an Eastern bazaar the year after the War, it had green eyes—'Not emeralds,' thought Soames, 'some cheap stone!'

索姆斯独自一人吃晚饭。他坐在那张擦得锃亮的餐桌旁，边吃边想。每到吃饭的时候，蒙塔古·达尔蒂不是在楼下睡觉，就是悄悄地溜出去了。“我相信你，索姆斯，你就是这一点好。”这话听着很舒服，同时也刺痛了他。那个讥讽的玩笑开得多深刻啊！这会是一件震惊家族的事件，而且他还受托执行此事！乔治居然在一个浑身散发着薄荷香气的女人身上花了12，000镑。不！这是对福赛特家族以及索姆斯本人的最后一次嘲弄！哼！曾经伤害或嘲笑过他的人——艾琳、波辛尼、老乔利恩和小乔利恩以及现在的乔治，一个个都完蛋了。去世的、快要去世的，或是在英属哥伦比亚的！他仿佛又看见了他堂弟的眼睛，那双在未点着的雪茄上方的定定的、忧郁的、戏弄人的眼睛——可怜的家伙！他站起身来，惴惴不安地拉开窗帘。夜色美好却寒冷。人死后会怎样呢？乔治过去经常说他自己前世是查理二世的厨师！可是灵魂再生说全是胡说，是无稽之谈！不过，如果人去世后能继续存在的话，人们是很乐意继续存在的。继续存在，在弗勒身边！那是什么声音？厨房里开着留声机！猫不在家，老鼠就嚣张——！人都一样——尽其所能去得到，付出的越少越好。好吧！他想吸根烟。他借着蜡烛点着了香烟——威妮弗雷德喜欢在烛光下吃饭，这又是一种“时尚”——他又想到：“他嘴里还含着那根雪茄吗？”乔治，滑稽的家伙——一生都这样滑稽！他看着一个无意形成的烟圈——颜色很蓝，他从不把烟吸进去！没错！乔治活得太放荡了，否则他一定可以再多活20年——太放荡了！嗯，它在那里，他正希望有只猫能陪他聊聊天！他从壁炉上拿下一只小怪物。这是战后那年，他的外甥贝内迪克特在一个东方市场上买的。它有一双绿眼睛——“不是祖母绿，”索姆斯想，“就是块不值钱的石头！”

"The telephone for you, sir."“先生，您的电话。”

He went into the hall and took up the receiver.

他进入门厅，拿起听筒。

"Yes?"“喂？”

"Mr. Forsyte has passed away, sir—in his sleep, the doctor says."“福赛特先生去世了，先生——医生说他是在睡梦中走的。”

"Oh!" said Soames: "Had he a cig—? Many thanks." He hung up the receiver.“哦！”索姆斯说，“他嘴里有没有一支雪——？非常感谢。”他挂断了电话。

Passed away! And, with a nervous movement, he felt for the codicil in his breast pocket.

去世了！于是，他心神不安地摸了摸胸口衣袋里的那封遗嘱附录。Chapter XIVenture

第十一章

冒险

For a week Bicket had seen 'the job,' slippery as an eel, evasive as a swallow, for ever passing out of reach. A pound for keep, and three shillings invested on a horse, and he was down to twenty-four bob. The weather had turned sou'-westerly and Victorine had gone out for the first time. That was something off his mind, but the cramp of the unemployed sensation, that fearful craving for the means of mere existence, a protesting, agonising anxiety, was biting into the very flesh of his spirit. If he didn't get a job within a week or two, there would be nothing for it but the workhouse, or the gas. The gas,' thought Bicket, 'if she will, I will. I'm fed up. After all, what is it? In her arms I wouldn't mind.' Instinct, however, that it was not so easy as all that to put one's head under the gas, gave him a brainwave that Monday night. Balloons—that chap in Oxford Street today! Why not? He still had the capital for a flutter in them, and no hawker's licence needed. His brain, working like a squirrel in the small hours, grasped the great, the incalculable advantage of coloured balloons over all other forms of commerce. You couldn't miss the man who sold them—there he was for every eye to see, with his many radiant circumferences dangling in front of him! Not much profit in them, he had gathered—a penny on a sixpenny globe of coloured air, a penny on every three small twopenny globes; still their salesman was alive, and probably had pitched him a poor tale for fear of making his profession seem too attractive. Over the Bridge, just where the traffic—no, up by St. Paul's! He knew a passage where he could stand back a yard or two, like that chap in Oxford Street! But to the girl sleeping beside him he said nothing. No word to her till he had thrown the die. It meant gambling with his last penny. For a bare living he would have to sell—why, three dozen big and four dozen small balloons a day would only be twenty-six shillings a week profit, unless that chap was kidding. Not much towards 'Austrylia' out of that! And not a career—Victorine would have a shock! But it was neck or nothing now—he must try it, and in off hours go on looking for a job.

一周来，比克特眼睁睁地瞅着“他要找的工作”像鳗鱼一样从他面前溜走，又像燕子一样从他面前翩翩飞过，永远可望而不可即。在这7天时间里，他花了一英镑维持生计，3个先令赌马，就剩下24先令了。外面刮的已经是西南风了，并且维多琳也已经出了一次门了。这两件事使他放心了些，但是失业的感觉紧紧地束缚着他，单纯只是想活下去的渴望强烈得令人害怕，还有一种由于发自内心的抗争而产生的焦虑正折磨着他，啃噬着他的脑细胞。如果一周或是两周之内他还找不到工作，那就只能去济贫院或是开煤气自杀了。“煤气，”比克特想道，“要是她愿意的话，我也没问题。我已经受够了。毕竟，也没什么大不了的。要是能死在她的怀里，我死而无憾。”然而，他本能地觉得把脑袋放在煤气灶下不是那么容易，于是在周一的晚上他脑中闪过一丝灵光。气球——今天在牛津街看到的那个卖气球的家伙！为什么不呢？小赌一把的资本他还是有的，而且卖气球也不需要申请小贩许可证。后半夜，他的大脑像松鼠一样活跃，想的全都是卖彩色气球能获得的极大的、无法估量的好处，这些好处是其他生意比不了的。你肯定不会错过那卖气球的人的——他就在那里，谁都能看得到，面前飘荡着许多颜色亮丽的气球！利润不会太高，他已经算过了——一个六便士的彩色气球可以赚一个便士，三个两便士的小气球也能赚一个便士。可是卖气球的人还活着，也许他还会给别人讲述他的悲惨故事，以免让人眼红他的生意。是站在桥上，还是在交通要道上——不，还是上圣保罗教堂去！他知道那里有一条小路，可以让他退后一两码，就像那个站在牛津街的家伙那样！但是，对睡在他身边的妻子，他什么也没说。等事情有眉目了再告诉她。这意味着拿最后一点儿小钱去赌一把。为了能够活下去，他每天得卖掉——3打大气球和4打小气球，一周也就赚26先令，除非那个卖气球的家伙骗他。靠这些钱是去不了“澳大利亚”的！再说，这也算不上是一种职业——维多琳会大吃一惊的！但是现在成败在此一举——他必须试试，然后利用空余时间继续找工作。

Our thin capitalist, then, with four dozen big and seven dozen small on a tray, two shillings in his pocket, and little in his stomach, took his stand off St. Paul's at two o'clock next day. Slowly he blew up and tied the necks of two large and three small, magenta, green and blue, till they dangled before him. Then with the smell of rubber in his nostrils, and protruding eyes, he stood back on the kerb and watched the stream go by. It gratified him to see that most people turned to look at him. But the first person to address him was a policeman, with: "I'm not sure you can stand there."

于是，在第二天下午2点的时候，我们这位体格单薄的资本家，带着一个盛着4打大气球和7打小气球的盘子，站在了圣保罗教堂外面。他的肚子里空空如也，口袋里只剩下两先令。他慢慢地吹起两个大气球和三个小气球，把气球口扎紧了，让这些紫红色、绿色和蓝色的气球在自己面前飘荡。然后，他满嘴都是橡胶的味道，两眼突出，靠后站在人行道边石上，瞅着川流不息的过往人群。看到大多数路人都会转身看看自己，他感到很是满意。但是，第一个和他说话的却是一个警察，他说：“我想你不能站在这儿。”

Bicket did not answer, his throat felt too dry. He had heard of the police. Had he gone the wrong way to work? Suddenly he gulped, and said: "Give us a chance, constable; I'm right on my bones. If I'm in the way, I'll stand anywhere you like. This is new to me, and two bob's all I've got left in the world besides a wife."

比克特没有回答，他觉得自己的嗓子很干。他听人说过警察。难道他选错了做生意的地方？他猛吸了一大口气，然后说：“给我们一个机会吧，警官。我已经一贫如洗了。要是我挡着道了，您让我站哪儿都行。我头一次干这个买卖。我在这个世上就剩下一个老婆和两个先令了。”

The constable, a big man, looked him up and down. "Well, we'll see. I shan't make trouble for you if no one objects."

这位大个子警察上上下下地打量了他一番。“好吧。我们看着办吧。如果没有人反对的话，我也不会找你麻烦的。”

Bicket's gaze deepened thankfully.

比克特满怀感激之情地望着那位警官。

"I'm much obliged," he said; "tyke one for your little girl—to please me."“太谢谢您了。”他说，“拿一个给您的小孩玩去吧——让我高兴一下。”

"I'll buy one," said the policeman, "and give you a start. I go off duty in an hour, you 'ave it ready—a big one, magenta."“我会买一个的，”那警察说，“就算给你开张了。再过一个小时我就下班了，到时候你给我准备好就行——一个大气球，要紫红色的。”

He moved away. Bicket could see him watching. Edging into the gutter, he stood quite still; his large eyes clung to every face that passed; and, now and then, his thin fingers nervously touched his wares. If Victorine could see him! All the spirit within him mounted. By Golly! he would get out of this somehow into the sun, into a life that was a life!

说完，他就走开了。比克特能看见他值勤。比克特静静地站在排水沟的旁边，用那双大眼睛盯着每一位过路人的脸，还时不时紧张地用他那瘦削的手指去碰碰他的货品。要是维多琳能看见他就好了！他的精神为之一振。天哪！他得设法摆脱这种生活，到阳光下去，过真正的生活！

He had been standing there nearly two hours, shifting from foot to unaccustomed foot, and had sold four big and five small—sixpenny worth of profit—when Soames, who had changed his route to spite those fellows who couldn't get past William Gouldyng Ingerer, came by on his way to the P.P.R.S. board. Startled by a timid murmur: "Balloon, sir, best quality," he looked round from that contemplation of St. Paul's which had been his lifelong habit, and stopped in sheer surprise.

他已经站了将近两个小时了，重心从一只脚换到另一只脚，卖掉了四个大气球和五个小气球——赚了六个便士——这时，索姆斯刚好路过这里。他改走这条道去天佑再保险公司董事会，是为了去教训一下那些连威廉·古尔丁·英格勒家族都不知道的家伙。他这辈子有个习惯，每逢路过圣保罗教堂，总要看上两眼。这时，一个怯生生的低语吓了他一跳：“气球，先生，最好的气球。”他四下看了看，十分惊奇地停下了脚步。

"Balloon!" he said. "What should I want with a balloon?"“气球！”他说道，“我要气球干什么？”

Bicket smiled. Between those green and blue and orange globes and Soames' grey self-containment there was incongruity which even he could appreciate.

比克特笑了。那些绿色、蓝色、橙色的气球和索姆斯那副阴沉的表情实在有点儿不相称，这一点连他都能感觉出来。

"Children like 'em—no weight, sir, waistcoat pocket."“孩子们喜欢它们——不占分量，先生，放在您的马甲口袋里就行。”

"I daresay," said Soames, "but I've no children."“也许吧，”索姆斯说，“可我没有小孩。”

"Grandchildren, sir."“孙儿孙女也行啊，先生。”

"Nor any grandchildren."“也没有孙儿孙女。”

"Thank you, sir."“那谢谢您了，先生。”

Soames gave him one of those rapid glances with which he was accustomed to gauge the character of the impecunious. A poor, harmless little rat!' he thought "Here, give me two—how much?"

索姆斯迅速地瞥了他一眼，他惯于以此评定那些穷人的品性。“一个可怜的、没有恶意的小东西！”他想，“喂，给我两个气球——多少钱？”

"A shilling, sir, and much obliged."“一个先令，先生，非常感谢。”

"You can keep the change," said Soames hurriedly, and passed on, astonished. Why on earth he had bought the things, and for more than double their price, he could not conceive. He did not recollect such a thing having happened to him before. Extremely peculiar! And suddenly he realised why. The fellow had been humble, mild—to be encouraged, in these days of Communistic bravura. After all, the little chap was—was on the side of Capital, had invested in those balloons! Trade! And, raising his eyes towards St. Paul's again, he stuffed the nasty-feeling things down into his overcoat pocket. Somebody would be taking them out, and wondering what was the matter with him! Well, he had other things to think of!...“不用找零了。”索姆斯一边说，一边匆忙地走了过去。他自己也很吃惊。他不明白自己究竟为什么会买这样的东西，还付了两倍以上的价钱。他记得以前自己从没做过这样的事情。太奇怪了！可是他突然明白自己为什么这样做了。那个人谦卑、温驯——在共产主义大行其道的今天，这样的人值得鼓励。这小家伙毕竟是——站在资本主义这边的，他把钱投资在这些气球上了！做买卖了！然后，他再次抬眼向圣保罗大教堂望去，把那邋遢东西塞进外衣口袋里。有人会把这东西拿出来的，还会奇怪他怎么会有这样的东西！得了，他还有别的事情要考虑呢！……

Bicket, however, stared after him, elated. Two hundred and fifty odd percent. profit on those two—that was something like. The feeling, that not enough women were passing him here, became less poignant—after all, women knew the value of money, no extra shillings out of them! If only some more of these shiny-hatted old millionaires would come along!

而比克特则兴高采烈地目送他离开。这两只气球获利250%以上——这感觉好极了。由于从他这里路过的妇女不多，他一度有些泄气，现在则不那么难过了——毕竟，女人懂得钱的价值，她们是一个先令也不会多给的！要是能多来几个像这样帽子锃亮的老百万富翁就好了！

At six o'clock, with a profit of three and eightpence, to which Soames had contributed just half, he began to add the sighs of deflating balloons to his own; untying them with passionate care he watched his coloured hopes one by one collapse, and stored them in the drawer of his tray. Taking it under his arm, he moved his tired legs in the direction of the Bridge. In a full day he might make four to five shillings—Well, it would just keep them alive, and something might turn up! He was his own master, anyway, accountable neither to employer nor to union. That knowledge gave him a curious lightness inside, together with the fact that he had eaten nothing since breakfast.

到6点钟的时候，比克特一共赚了3先令零8便士，其中有一半是索姆斯贡献的。他开始一边叹气一边给气球放气。他小心翼翼地把这一只只气球解开，看着这些彩色的希望一个个瘪下去，然后把它们收进托盘的抽屉里。他把托盘夹在腋下，拖着疲惫的双腿，朝大桥方向走去。要是干上一整天的话，该能挣四五个先令的——嗯，刚好够他们活下去，也许会时来运转！不管怎样，他现在是自己的主人了，无需再为老板或是工会做什么。想到这一点，再加上他早饭过后就什么也没吃，他心里感到一阵莫名的轻松感。

Wonder if he was an alderman,' he thought; 'they say those aldermen live on turtle soup.' Nearing home, he considered nervously what to do with the tray? How prevent Victorine from knowing that he had joined the ranks of Capital, and spent his day in the gutter? Ill luck! She was at the window! He must put a good face on it. And he went in whistling.“不知道他是不是个市议员，”他想，“据说那些市议员都是喝甲鱼汤的。”快到家的时候，他为不知如何处理这个托盘而紧张起来。怎么才能不让维多琳知道他已经加入了资本家的队伍，还在排水沟旁站了一天呢？真倒霉！她就站在窗口！他必须得装成一副高高兴兴的样子。于是，他吹着口哨走了进去。

"What's that, Tony?" she said, pointing to the tray.“那是什么，托尼？”她指着那个托盘问道。

"Ah! ha! Great stunt—this! Look 'ere!"“啊哈！精彩的表演——看这个！看这里！”

Taking a balloon out from the tray, he blew. He blew with a desperation he had not yet put into the process. They said the things would swell to five feet in circumference. He felt somehow that if he could get it to attain those proportions, it would soften everything. Under his breath the thing blotted out Victorine, and the room, till there was just the globe of coloured air. Nipping its neck between thumb and finger, he held it up, and said:

他从托盘里拿出一个气球，吹了起来。他从来没使过这么大的劲，拼命地吹着。据说这东西可以吹到周长五英尺那么大。不知为什么，他觉得只要能把球吹成那么大，就能让事情缓和下来。他吹着吹着，气球已经大到遮住了维多琳，挡住了房间，直到眼前能看到的只有这个彩色的气球。他用拇指和食指捏住气球口，把它举起来，对维多琳说：

"There you are; not bad value for sixpence, old girl!" and he peered round it. Lord, she was crying! He let the 'blymed' thing go; it floated down, the air slowly evaporating till a little crinkled wreck rested on the dingy carpet. Clasping her heaving shoulders, he said desperately:“你瞧，六个便士不算贵吧，大姑娘！”说着，他从气球一侧探头望去。天啊，她哭了！他撒手放掉了那个“该死的”东西。它缓缓飘落，里面的空气慢慢漏出来，直到缩成皱巴巴的一团，落在脏兮兮的地毯上。他抓住她哭得一耸一耸的肩膀，拼命地说道：

"Cheerio, my dear, don't quarrel with bread and butter. I shall get a job, this is just to tide us over. I'd do a lot worse than that for you. Come on, and get my tea, I'm hungry, blowin' up those things."“亲爱的，振作起来，别再为了生计吵架了。我会找到工作的，这只是暂时的过渡罢了。为了你，比这更糟糕的事，我也愿意做。好啦，好啦，把我的茶点拿来吧。一直吹这些东西，我都饿了。”

She stopped crying, looked up, said nothing—mysterious with those big eyes! You'd say she had thoughts! But what they were Bicket could not tell. Under the stimulus of tea, he achieved a certain bravado about his new profession. To be your own master! Go out when you liked, come home when you liked—lie in bed with Vic if he jolly well pleased. A lot in that! And there rose in Bicket something truly national, something free and happy-go-lucky, resenting regular work, enjoying a spurt, and a laze-off, craving independence—something that accounted for the national life, the crowds of little shops, of middlemen, casual workers, tramps, owning their own souls in their own good time, and damning the consequences—something inherent in the land, the race, before the Saxons and their conscience and their industry came in-something that believed in swelling and collapsing coloured air, demanded pickles and high flavours without nourishment—yes, all that something exulted above Bicket's kipper and his tea, good and strong. He would rather sell balloons than be a packer any day, and don't let Vic forget it! And when she was able to take a job, they would get on fine, and not be long before they'd saved enough to get out of it to where those blue butterflies came from. And he spoke of Soames. A few more aldermen without children—say two a day, fifteen bob a week outside legitimate trade. Why, in under a year they'd have the money! And once away, Vic would blow out like one of those balloons; she'd be twice the size, and a colour in her cheeks to lay over that orange and magenta. Bicket became full of air. And the girl, his wife, watched with her large eyes and spoke little; but she did not cry again, or, indeed, throw any water, warm or cold, on him who sold balloons.

她不哭了，抬起头来看看，什么也没说——那双大眼睛太神秘了！看得出来，她肯定有心事！但是那是什么心事，比克特却说不出来。在茶点的刺激下，他对自己的新营生有了夸夸其谈的勇气了。做自己的主人！想什么时候出去就什么时候出去，想什么时候回家就什么时候回家——要是特别开心的话，就和维躺在床上不必起来。好处可多了！于是，比克特心里涌起了一些真正英国式的想法——想要自由自在、随遇而安；不喜欢规律性的工作，喜欢拼命努力一阵子，然后懒散消闲一阵子；渴望独立自主——这可就是英国人的生活。你看那成群的小商铺、经纪人、临时工和流浪汉，随心所欲地消磨自己美好的时光，管他什么后果——这种想法是这片土地、这个民族所特有的，在撒克逊人来之前，在产生良知和勤勉之前就有了——这种想法就是相信彩色气球会先膨胀后萎缩，就是能吃到那些腌制品和味道很重但毫无营养的东西就够了——比克特享用着可口的腌鱼和浓茶时，这些想法就在他心中欢腾着。他宁可卖气球，也不愿意再做一天的包装工人，可不能让维忘记这一点！然后等她也能工作的时候，他们的生活就会好起来。再然后，用不了多久，他们就能攒够钱，摆脱这种生活，到蓝蝴蝶飞来的那个地方去。他还谈到了索姆斯。要是再来几个没有子女的市议员——比方说，一天来两个吧，一周就能多挣15先令的外快了。哦，用不了一年的工夫，他们就能弄到那笔钱了！只要离开这里，维就会像那些气球一样丰满起来。她的身体会是现在的两倍那么大，脸蛋也会红润起来，比橙色和紫红的气球还要红。比克特变得神采飞扬。而那位姑娘，他的妻子，则睁着大大的眼睛看着他，什么话也没说。但是，她没有再哭。或者说，确实没有再向他——这个卖气球的——泼热水或是泼冷水。Chapter XIIFigures and Facts

第十二章

数字与事实

With the exception of old Fontenoy—in absence as in presence ornamental—the Board was again full; Soames, conscious of special ingratiation in the manner of 'that chap' Elderson, prepared himself for the worst. The figures were before them; a somewhat colourless show, appearing to disclose a state of things which would pass muster, if within the next six months there were no further violent disturbances of currency exchange. The proportion of foreign business to home business was duly expressed in terms of two to seven; German business, which constituted the bulk of the foreign, had been lumped—Soames noted—in the middle section, of countries only half bankrupt, and taken at what might be called a conservative estimate.

除了老福坦诺——他出不出席都是个摆设——董事会成员再次全体莅会。索姆斯注意到埃尔德森“那家伙”的一举一动都是在刻意地讨好别人，于是为自己作了最坏的打算。数字就摆在董事们的面前，这种展示有点儿无趣，看起来就像是要说明这么一个状况：如果未来六个月里外汇市场没有发生剧烈震荡的话，那么公司的情况就还不错。公司的国内业务和国外业务的比例是七比二，看起来很合理。索姆斯发现，占据国外业务绝大比例的德国业务被并入到中间部分，即与半破产国家归在一起，而且这“半破产”还是保守的估计。

During the silence which reigned while each member of the Board digested the figures, Soames perceived more clearly than ever the quandary he was in. Certainly, these figures would hardly justify the foregoing of the dividend earned on the past year's business. But suppose there were another Continental crash and they became liable on the great bulk of their foreign business, it might swamp all profits on home business next year, and more besides. And then his uneasiness about Elderson himself—founded he could not tell on what, intuitive, perhaps silly.

会场里安静极了。董事会的每个成员都在琢磨着那些数字，而索姆斯却更清楚地觉得自己陷入了两难的境地。的确，很难以这些数字为理由要求公司按照去年的业绩发放红利。但是，如果欧洲大陆再次发生经济危机，而他们又要对公司绝大部分对外业务承担责任的话，那么下一年度国内业务的盈利很可能会全赔进去，也许还不止如此。此外，埃尔德森这个人也令索姆斯感到不安——至于为什么不安，他也说不清楚。也许是出于直觉，也许有些杞人忧天。

"Well, Mr. Forsyte," the chairman was speaking; "there are the figures. Are you satisfied?"“嗯，福赛特先生，”董事长说话了，“这就是那些数字。您觉得满意吗？”

Soames looked up; he had taken a resolution. "I will agree to this year's dividend on condition that we drop this foreign business in future, lock, stock and barrel." The manager's eyes hard and bright, met his, then turned towards the chairman.

索姆斯抬起头来，下定了决心：“我同意发放今年的红利，但条件是从此放弃这种对外业务——完全放弃。”那位经理的眼神冷峻而机警，和索姆斯对视一眼，而后转向了董事长。

"That appears to savour of the panicky," he said; "the foreign business is responsible for a good third of our profit this year."“这听起来让人觉得恐慌，”他说道，“国外业务占到今年公司利润的三分之一之多呢。”

The chairman seemed to garner the expressions of his fellow-directors, before he said:

董事长貌似环顾了一下各位董事的表情，然后才说：

"There is nothing in the foreign situation at the moment, Mr. Forsyte, which gives particular cause for alarm. I admit that we should watch it closely—"“福赛特先生，眼下国外业务没有出现可以引起恐慌的状况。我承认我们应该密切关注这方面——”

"You can't," interjected Soames. "Here we are four years from the Armistice, and we know no more where we stand than we did then. If I'd realised our commitment to this policy, I should never have come on the Board. We must drop it."“您不能这么做。”索姆斯插话说，“停战至今已经四年了，而我们对自己处境的了解并没有增加。要是我早意识到我们为这个业务承担的风险，我是绝对不会加入董事会的。我们必须放弃这一业务方针。”

"Rather an extreme view. And hardly a matter we can decide in a moment."“这是相当极端的看法。而且这件事也不是一时半会儿就能决定的。”

The murmur of assent, the expression, faintly ironical, of 'that chap's' lips, jolted the tenacity in Soames.

赞同者小声嘀咕起来，再加上“那家伙”嘴上略带讽刺的表情，让索姆斯的决心动摇了。

"Very well! Unless you're prepared to tell the shareholders in the report that we are dropping foreign business, you drop me. I must be free to raise the question myself at the general meeting." He did not miss the shift and blink in the manager's eyes. That shot had gone home!“很好！除非你们准备好在报告里告知股东，说我公司将放弃国外业务，否则你们就得放弃我。我一定会亲自在全体股东大会上提出这个问题的。我有这个自由。”他没有错过那位经理躲躲闪闪的眼神。这一下可击中要害了！

The Chairman said: "You put a pistol to our heads."

董事长说：“你这是拿枪指着我们的脑袋啊。”

"I am responsible to the shareholders," said Soames, "and I shall do my duty by them."“我这是对股东们负责，”索姆斯说，“我也会依靠他们履行我的职责。”

"So we all are, Mr. Forsyte; and I hope we shall all do our duty."“我们都是这样的，福赛特先生，而且我希望大家都能尽到自己的职责。”

"Why not confine the foreign business to the small countries—their currency is safe enough?"“为什么不把国外业务限定在那些小国家内呢——他们的货币不是很稳定的吗？”

Old Mont,' and his precious 'ring!'“老蒙特”和他那宝贝“圈子”！

"No," said Soames, "we must go back to safety."“不行，”索姆斯说，“我们必须退到安全线内。”

"Splendid isolation, Forsyte?"“辉煌的孤立吗，福赛特？”

"Meddling was all very well in the war, but in peace—politics or business—this half-and-half interference is no good. We can't control the foreign situation."“在战争时期，干预是非常管用的，但是在和平年代——不论是政治还是经济——这种一手经济、一手政治的干涉是没有用的。我们无法掌控英国以外的形势。”

He looked around him, and was instantly conscious that with those words he had struck a chord. I'm going through with this!' he thought.

他环顾四周，马上意识到自己的话已经触动大家的心弦了。“在这个问题上我要坚持到底！”他想道。

"I should be glad, Mr. Chairman"—the manager was speaking—"if I might say a word. The policy was of my initiation, and I think I may claim that it has been of substantial benefit to the Society so far. When, however, a member of the Board takes so strong a view against its continuance, I certainly don't press the Board to continue it. The times ARE uncertain, and a risk, of course, is involved, however conservative our estimates."“董事长先生，”——那位经理说道——“请允许我说几句，我将不胜感激。那个方针是我提议的，而且我想我可以断言，到目前为止，这一方针为本公司带来的收益是很可观的。但是，如果董事会的成员里有人如此强烈地反对继续这一方针，我当然不会强迫董事会继续推行这一方针。由于时局是不确定的，就算我们的估计再怎么保守，风险依然是存在的。”

Now why?' thought Soames: 'What's he ratting for?'“他这是怎么了？”索姆斯想，“怎么突然变词了？”

"That's very handsome of you, Elderson; Mr. Chairman, I think we may say that is very handsome of our manager."“你真是太大度了，埃尔德森。董事长先生，我觉得我们这位经理可以说是太大度了。”

Old Dosey Cosey! Handsome! The old woman!

老混蛋！大度！这个老妖婆！

The Chairman's rather harsh voice broke a silence.

董事长那相当刺耳的声音打破了会场的沉默。

"This is a very serious point of policy. I should have been glad to have Lord Fontenoy present."“这是一个十分严肃的方针问题。我觉得如果福坦诺勋爵在场的话，就太好了。”

"If I am to endorse the report," said Soames shortly, "it must be decided today. I have made up my mind. But please yourselves."“如果想要我在这份报告上签名的话，”索姆斯立刻说，“今天就得定下来。我已经拿定主意了。你们想怎么办，随便。”

He threw in those last three words from a sort of fellow feeling—it was unpleasant to be dragooned! A moment's silence, and then discussion assumed that random volubility which softens a decision already forced on one. A quarter of an hour thus passed before the Chairman said:

他之所以说最后这句话，是念在大家同事一场的情分上——被逼无奈的感觉让人很不愉快！大家沉默了片刻，然后讨论起来，就好像这种人人畅所欲言的讨论缓和了此前被迫做出决定的气氛。就这么

试读结束[说明：试读内容隐藏了图片]

下载完整电子书