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原文链接:https://forum.iask.ca/threads/814607/

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-01-24#1
Rebecca Daphne du Maurier


英国女作家达夫妮 - 杜穆里埃(Daphnedu Maurier 1907-1990)生前曾是英国皇家文学会会员,写过十七部长篇小说以及几十种其他体裁的文学作品,一九六九年被授予大英帝国贵妇勋章。她厌恶城市生活,长期住在英国西南部大西洋沿岸的康沃尔郡,她的不少作品即以此都的社会习俗与风土人情为主题或背景,故有“康沃尔小说”之称。

达夫妮 - 杜穆里埃受十九世纪以神秘、恐怖等为主要特点的哥特派小说影响较深,同时亦曾研究并刻仿勃朗特姐妹的小说创作手法,因此,“康沃尔小说”大多情节比较曲折,人物(特别是女主人公)刻画比较细腻,在渲染神秘气氛的同时,夹杂着带有宿命论色彩的感伤主义。

《蝴蝶梦》原名《吕蓓卡》,是达夫妮 - 杜穆里埃的成名作,发表于一九三八年,已被译成二十多种文字,再版重印四十多次,并被改编搬上银幕,由擅长饰演莎士比亚笔下角色的名演员劳伦斯 - 奥利维尔爵士主演男主角。该片上映以来久盛不衰。

达夫妮 - 杜穆里埃在本书中成功地塑造了一个颇富神秘色彩的女性吕蓓卡的形象,此人于小说开始时即已死去,除在倒叙段落中被间接提到外,从未在书中出现,但却时时处处音容宛在,并能通过其忠仆、情夫等继续控制曼陀丽庄园直至最后将这个庄园烧毁。小说中另一女性,即以故事叙述者身分出现的第一人称,虽是喜怒哀乐俱全的活人,实际上却处处起着烘托吕蓓卡的作用,作者这种以“实有”陪衬“虚无”的手法颇为别致。

值得注意的是,作者通过刻画吕蓓卡那种放浪形骸之外的腐化生活,以及她与德温特的畸形婚姻,对英国上层社会中的享乐至上、尔虞我诈、穷奢极侈、势利伪善等现象作了生动的揭露。

作者还通过情景交融的手法比较成功地渲染了两种气氛:一方面是缠绵悱恻的怀乡忆旧,另一方面是阴森压抑的绝望恐怖。这双重气氛互相交叠渗透,加之全书悬念不断,使本书成为一部多年畅销不衰的浪漫主义小说。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-01-24#2
[FONT=宋体]Chapter one

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.

It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me.

There was a padlock and chain upon the gate.

I called in my dream to the lodge-keeper, and had no answer, and peering closer through the rusted spokes of the gate I saw that the lodge was uninhabited.

No smoke came from the chimney, and the little lattice windows gaped forlorn.

Then, like all dreamers, I was possessed of a sudden with supernatural powers and passed like a spirit through the barrier before me.

The drive wound away in front of me, twisting and turning as it had always done, but as I advanced I was aware that a change had come upon it; it was narrow and unkempt, not the drive that we had known.

At first I was puzzled and did not understand, and it was only when I bent my head to avoid the low swinging branch of a tree that I realized what had happened.

Nature had come into her own again and, little by little, in her stealthy, insidious way had encroached upon the drive with long, tenacious fingers.

The woods, always a menace even in the past, had triumphed in the end.

They crowded, dark and uncontrolled, to the borders of the drive.

The beeches with white, naked limbs leant close to one another, their branches intermingled in a strange embrace, making a vault above my head like the archway of a church.

And there were other trees as well, trees that I did not recognize, squat oaks and tortured elms that straggled cheek by jowl with the beeches, and had thrust themselves out of the quiet earth, along with monster shrubs and plants, none of which I remembered.

The drive was a ribbon now, a thread of its former self, with gravel surface gone, and choked with grass and moss.

The trees had thrown out low branches, making an impediment to progress; the gnarled roots looked like skeleton claws.

Scattered here and again amongst this jungle growth I would recognize shrubs that had been landmarks in our time, things of culture and grace, hydrangeas whose blue heads had been famous.

No hand had checked their progress, and they had gone native now, rearing to monster height without a bloom, black and ugly as the nameless parasites that grew beside them.

昨晚,我梦见自己又回到了曼陀丽庄园。恍惚中,我站在那扇通往车道的大铁门前,好一会儿被挡在门外进不去。铁门上挂着把大锁,还系了根铁链。我在梦里大声叫唤看门人,却没人答应。于是我就凑近身子,隔着门上生锈的铁条朝里张望,这才明白曼陀丽已是座阒寂无人的空宅。
烟囱不再飘起袅袅青烟。一扇扇小花格窗凄凉地洞开着。这时,我突然像所有的梦中人一样,不知从哪儿获得了超自然的神力,幽灵般飘过面前的障碍物。车道在我眼前伸展开去,婉蜒曲折,依稀如旧。但是待我向前走去,就觉察到车道已起了变化:它显得又狭窄又荒僻,不再是我们熟悉的那个模样。我一时感到迷惑不解,但当我低下头去避开一根低垂摇曳的树枝时,才发现了变化的来由。原来自然界已恢复了本来的面目,渐渐把她细长的手指顽强而偷偷摸摸地伸到车道上来了。即使在过去,树林对车道来说,也始终是个威胁,如今则终于赢得胜利,黑压压势不可挡地向着车道两侧边沿逼近。榉树伸开赤裸的白色肢体,互相紧紧偎依,枝条交叉错杂,形成奇特的拥抱,在我头顶构成一个形似教堂拱道的穹隆。这里还长有许多别的树木,有些我叫不出名字,还有些低矮的橡树和翘曲的榆树,都同榉树盘根错节地纠结在一起。橡树、榆树,还有巨怪似的灌木丛以及其他一些草木,就这么纷列在这块静谧的土地上,全然不是我记忆中的景象。
车道已变成一条细带,与过去比,简直成了一根线!路面的沙砾层已不知去向,只见密密的一片杂草和青苔。树枝倒垂下来,阻挡着我的去路,节瘤毕露的根部活像骷髅的魔爪。在这片荒凉芜秽的林莽中间,时而也还能认出一些灌木丛,那是当年我们居住时的标志,是人工栽培和雅趣的产物。如紫阳,它的花穗曾经颇负盛名,但如今因为无人修剪照拂,也成了野生植物,枝干高得出奇,却开不出一朵花来,又黑又丑,与左近那些无名的草木没有什么两样。
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[FONT=宋体]On and on, now east now west, wound the poor thread that once had been our drive.

Sometimes I thought it lost, but it appeared again, beneath a fallen tree perhaps, or struggling on the other side of a muddied ditch created by the winter rains.

I had not thought the way so long.

Surely the miles had multiplied, even as the trees had done, and this path led but to a labyrinth, some choked wilderness, and not to the house at all.

I came upon it suddenly; the approach masked by the unnatural growth of a vast shrub that spread in all directions, and I stood, my heart thumping in my breast, the strange prick of tears behind my eyes.

There was Manderley, our Manderley, secretive and silent as it had always been, the grey stone shining in the moonlight of my dream, the mullioned windows reflecting the green lawns and the terrace.

Time could not wreck the perfect symmetry of those walls, nor the site itself, a jewel in the hollow of a hand.

The terrace sloped to the lawns, and the lawns stretched to the sea, and turning I could see the sheet of silver placid under the moon, like a lake undisturbed by wind or storm.

No waves would come to ruffle this dream water, and no bulk of cloud, wind-driven from the west, obscure the clarity of this pale sky. I turned again to the house, and though it stood inviolate, untouched, as though we ourselves had left but yesterday, I saw that the garden had obeyed the jungle law, even as the woods had done.

The rhododendrons stood fifty feet high, twisted and entwined with bracken, and they had entered into alien marriage with a host of nameless shrubs, poor, bastard things that clung about their roots as though conscious of their spurious origin.

A lilac had mated with a copper beech, and to bind them yet more closely to one another the malevolent ivy, always an enemy to grace, had thrown her tendrils about the pair and made them prisoners.

Ivy held prior place in this lost garden, the long strands crept across the lawns, and soon would encroach upon the house itself.

There was another plant too, some half-breed from the woods, whose seed had been scattered long ago beneath the trees and then forgotten, and now, marching in unison with the ivy, thrust its ugly form like a giant rhubarb towards the soft grass where the daffodils had blown.

Nettles were everywhere, the vanguard of the army.

They choked the terrace, they sprawled about the paths, they leant, vulgar and lanky, against the very windows of the house.

They made indifferent sentinels, for in many places their ranks had been broken by the rhubarb plant, and they lay with crumpled heads and listless stems, making a pathway for the rabbits.

I left the drive and went on to the terrace, for the nettles were no barrier to me, a dreamer.

I walked enchanted, and nothing held me back. Moonlight can play odd tricks upon the fancy, even upon a dreamer's fancy.

As I stood there, hushed and still, I could swear that the house was not an empty shell but lived and breathed as it had lived before.

Light came from the windows, the curtains blew softly in the night air, and there, in the library, the door would stand half open as we had left it, with my handkerchief on the table beside the bowl of autumn roses.

The room would bear witness to our presence.

The little heap of library books marked ready to return, and the discarded copy of The Times.

Ashtrays, with the stub of a cigarette; cushions, with the imprint of our heads upon them, lolling in the chairs; the charred embers of our log fire still smouldering against the morning.

And Jasper, dear Jasper, with his soulful eyes and great, sagging jowl, would be stretched upon the floor, his tail a-thump when he heard his master's footsteps.

A cloud, hitherto unseen, came upon the moon, and hovered an instant like a dark hand before a face.

The illusion went with it, and the lights in the windows were extinguished.

I looked upon a desolate shell, soulless at last, unhaunted, with no whisper of the past about its staring walls.

The house was a sepulchre, our fear and suffering lay buried in the ruins.

There would be no resurrection.

When I thought of Manderley in my waking hours I would not be bitter.

I should think of it as it might have been, could I have lived there without fear.

I should remember the rose-garden in summer, and the birds that sang at dawn.

Tea under the chestnut tree, and the murmur of the sea coming up to us from the lawns below.

I would think of the blown lilac, and the Happy Valley. These things were permanent, they could not be dissolved.

They were memories that cannot hurt.

All this I resolved in my dream, while the clouds lay across the face of the moon, for like most sleepers I knew that I dreamed.

In reality I lay many hundred miles away in an alien land, and would wake, before many seconds had passed, in the bare little hotel bedroom, comforting in its very lack of atmosphere.

I would sigh a moment, stretch myself and turn, and opening my eyes, be bewildered at that glittering sun, that hard, clean sky, so different from the soft moonlight of my dream.

The day would lie before us both, long no doubt, and uneventful, but fraught with a certain stillness, a dear tranquillity we had not known before.

We would not talk of Manderley, I would not tell my dream.

For Manderley was ours no longer.

Manderley was no more.

忽而东,忽而西,这条可怜的细线歪歪扭扭地向前伸展。而它一度就是我们的车道啊!有时我以为它到头了,不料它又从一棵倒在地上的死树底下钻出,或是在一道由冬日绵雨积成的泥泞小沟的那头挣扎着露出头来。我从未觉得道儿竟这么长,那距离想必是不断成倍延伸,就像树木成倍往高处长去一样。车道似乎根本不通向宅子,而是引入一片迷津,通向一片混饨杂乱的荒野。突然间,我一眼看到了那宅子,宅前的通道被一大簇乱生乱长的异样灌木覆盖了。我仁立着,心儿在胸中怦怦剧跳;眼眶里泪花滚动,带来一阵异样的痛楚。
这就是曼陀丽!我们的曼陀丽故居!还是和过去一样的隐僻、静谧。灰色的砖石在梦境的月光里显得白惨惨的,嵌有竖框的窗子映着绿草坪和屋前平台。时光的流逝,丝毫无损于围墙的完美对称,也无损于宅基本身,整个宅子宛如手掌心里的一颗明珠。
平台斜连草地,草地一直伸向大海。一转身,我看见那一泓银色的海水,犹如风平浪静时明镜般的湖面,静静地任月光爱抚。没有波浪会使这梦之水粼粼荡漾,也不见云块被西风吹来,遮掩这清朗惨白的夜空。
我又转身面向屋子。尽管它屹然挺立,一副神圣不可侵犯的神态,仿佛我们昨天刚刚离开,谁也没敢来碰它一下,但我发现庭园也和林子一样,服从了丛林法则。石南竟高达一百五十码,它们与羊齿绞曲缠绕在一起,还和一大簇无名的灌木胡乱交配。这些杂种灌木,紧紧地依傍着石甫的根部,似乎是意识到自己出身的卑贱。一棵紫丁香与铜榉长到一块儿去了,而那永远与优雅为敌的常青藤,还恶毒地伸出弯曲的蔓须,把这对伙伴更紧地卷绕起来,使它们沦为俘虏。在这无人照管的弃园里,常青藤占着最突出的地位,一股股、一绞纹的长藤爬过草地,眼看就要侵入屋子。此外还有一种原来生长在林中的杂交植物,它的种子很久前散落在树底下,接着也就被人遗忘了,如今它却和常青藤齐头并进,像大黄草似的,把自己丑陋的身子挺向曾经盛开过水仙花的柔软的草地。
到处可以看到荨麻,它们可以算是入侵大军的先头部队。它们盖满平台,乱七八槽地拥塞着走道,还把它粗俗细长的身子斜靠在屋子的窗棂上。它们是些很差劲的步哨,因为在好些地方,它们的队伍被大黄草突破,就耷拉脑袋,没精打采地伸着躯于,成了野兔出没的处所。我离开车道,走向平台。荨麻拦不住我,任何东西都拦不住我,因为梦中人走路是有法术的。
月光能给人造成奇异的幻觉,即使对梦中人也不例外。我肃然站在宅子前,竟断定它不是一个空洞的躯壳,而像过去那样是有生命的、在呼吸着的活物。
窗户里透出灯光,窗帷在夜风中微微拂动。藏书室里,门半开着,那是我们出去时忘了随手带上。我的手绢还留在桌子上,在一瓶秋玫瑰的旁边。
藏书室里处处留着我们尚未离去的印记:一小堆标有“待归还”记号的图书馆藏书;随手丢在一边的《泰晤士报》;烟灰缸里的一段烟蒂;歪歪斜斜倒在椅子上的枕垫,上边还印着我俩并头倚靠的痕迹;壁炉里炭火的余烬还在晨曦中吐着缕缕青烟;而杰斯珀,爱犬杰斯珀,就躺在地板上,眼睛充满着灵性,肥大的颈部下垂着,尾巴拍搭拍搭摇个不停,那是因为它听见了主人的脚步声。
我一直没注意到,一朵乌云已经遮没了月亮。乌云有好一阵子徘徊不去,就像一只黑手遮住了脸庞。顿时,幻觉消失了,窗户的灯光也一齐熄灭。我面前的屋子终于又成了荒凉的空壳,没有灵魂,也无人进出。在那虎视眈眈的大墙边,再也听不到往事的细声碎语。
曼陀丽是座坟墓,我们的恐惧和苦难都深埋在它的废墟之中。这一切再也不能死而复苏。我醒着的时候想到曼陀丽庄园,从不觉得难过。
要是我曾在那儿无忧无虑地生活,说不定我还会就事论事地回想起那儿美好的一切:夏日的玫瑰园,拂晓时分的鸟语,栗子树下的午茶,还有草地那边传来的阵阵涛声。
我还会想到盛开的紫丁香,惦念起“幸福谷”。这一切都是永恒的,不可能像烟云般消散。这些回忆按理是不会惹人伤感的。月亮仍被乌云遮盖着。我虽在梦境之中,却清醒地想到了上面这一切,因为像所有梦中人一样,我知道自己是在做梦。事实上,我是躺在数百英里外的异国土地上,过不了几秒钟就要醒过来,发现自己睡在旅馆空荡荡的小房间里,没有任何特别的气氛,但也正因为如此,才令人感到舒坦释然。
我会叹一口气,伸个懒腰,转过身子,睁开眼睛,迷惘地看看那耀眼的阳光和冷漠洁净的天空,这与梦中幽柔的月光是多么不同!白昼横在我俩前头,无疑既漫长又单调,同时却充满某种珍贵的平静感。这是我俩以前不曾体会过的。不,我们不会谈起曼陀丽,我可不愿讲述我的梦境,因为曼陀丽不再为我们所有,曼陀丽不复存在了!
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sabre : 2017-01-25#3
这个我 在中国看过,叫蝴蝶梦,

tanisan : 2017-01-25#4
有人感觉生词不多的吗?这种经典原著用词特别文雅讲究,读起来需要扩充词汇量。最近在看《LOST HORIZON 〉, 也是生词狂多,但 那种英国式的随处可见的幽默和不动声色的优雅很吸引人读下去。

争取跟着楼主每天一章:wdb10:

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-01-25#5
[FONT=宋体]Chapter two

We can never go back again, that much is certain.

The past is still too close to us.

The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again, and that sense of fear, of furtive unrest, struggling at length to blind unreasoning panic - now mercifully stilled, thank God - might in some manner unforeseen become a living companion, as it had been before.

He is wonderfully patient and never complains, not even when he remembers ...

Which happens, I think, rather more often than he would have me know.

I can tell by the way he will look lost and puzzled suddenly, all expression dying away from his dear face as though swept clean by an unseen hand, and in its place a mask will form, a sculptured thing, formal and cold, beautiful still but lifeless.

He will fall to smoking cigarette after cigarette, not bothering to extinguish them, and the glowing stubs will lie around on the ground like petals.

He will talk quickly and eagerly about nothing at all, snatching at any subject as a panacea to pain.

I believe there is a theory that men and women emerge finer and stronger after suffering, and that to advance in this or any world we must endure ordeal by fire.

This we have done in full measure, ironic though it seems.

We have both known fear, and.

Loneliness, and very great distress.

I suppose sooner or later in the life of everyone comes a moment of trial.

We all of us have our particular devil who rides us and torments us, and we must give battle in the end.

We have conquered ours, or so we believe.

The devil does not ride us any more.

We have come through our crisis, not unscathed of course.

His premonition of disaster was correct from the beginning; and like a ranting actress in an indifferent play, I might say that we have paid for freedom.

But I have had enough melodrama in this life, and would willingly give my five senses if they could ensure us our present peace and security.

Happiness is not a possession to be prized, it is quality of thought, a state of mind.

Of course we have our moments of depression; but there are other moments too, when time, unmeasured by the clock, runs on into eternity and, catching his smile, I know we are together, we march in unison, no clash of thought or of opinion makes a barrier between us.

We have no secrets now from one another.

All things are shared.

Granted that our little hotel is dull, and the food indifferent, and that day after day dawns very much the same, yet we would not have it otherwise.

We should meet too many of the people he knows in any of the big hotels.

We both appreciate simplicity, and we are sometimes bored - well, boredom is a pleasing antidote to fear.

We live very much by routine, and I - I have developed a genius for reading aloud.

The only time I have known him show impatience is when the postman lags, for it means we must wait another day before the arrival of our English mail.

We have tried wireless, but the noise is such an irritant, and we prefer to store up our excitement; the result of a cricket match played many days ago means much to us.

Oh, the Test matches that have saved us from ennui, the boxing bouts, even the billiard scores.

Finals of schoolboy sports, dog racing, strange little competitions in the remoter counties, all these are grist to our hungry mill.

Sometimes old copies of the Field come my way, and I am transported from this indifferent island to the realities of an English spring.

I read of chalk streams, of the mayfly, of sorrel growing in green meadows, of rooks circling above the woods as they used to do at Manderley.

The smell of wet earth comes to me from those thumbed and tattered pages, the sour tang of moorland peat, the feel of soggy moss spattered white in places by a heron's droppings.

Once there was an article on wood pigeons, and as I read it aloud it seemed to me that once again I was in the deep woods at Manderley, with pigeons fluttering above my head.

I heard their soft, complacent call, so comfortable and cool on a hot summer's afternoon, and there would be no disturbing of their peace until Jasper came loping through the undergrowth to find me, his damp muzzle questing the ground.

Like old ladies caught at their ablutions, the pigeons would flutter from their hiding-place, shocked into silly agitation, and, making a monstrous to-do with their wings, streak away from us above the tree-tops, and so out of sight and sound.

When they were gone a new silence would come upon the place, and I - uneasy for no known reason - would realize that the sun no longer wove a pattern on the rustling leaves, that the branches had grown darker, the shadows longer; and back at the house there would be fresh raspberries for tea.

I would rise from my bed of bracken then, shaking the feathery dust of last year's leaves from my skirt and whistling to Jasper, set off towards the house, despising myself even as I walked for my hurrying feet, my one swift glance behind.

How strange that an article on wood pigeons could so recall the past and make me falter as I read aloud.

It was the grey look on his face that made me stop abruptly, and turn the pages until I found a paragraph on cricket, very practical and dull - Middlesex batting on a dry wicket at the Oval and piling up interminable dreary runs.

How I blessed those solid, flannelled figures, for in a few minutes his face had settled back into repose, the colour had returned, and he was deriding the Surrey bowling in healthy irritation.

We were saved a retreat into the past, and I had learnt my lesson.

Read English news, yes, and English sport, politics, and pomposity, but in future keep the things that hurt to myself alone.

They can be my secret indulgence.

Colour and scent and sound, rain and the lapping of water, even the mists of autumn, and the smell of the flood tide, these are memories of Manderley that will not be denied.

Some people have a vice of reading Bradshaws.

They plan innumerable journeys across country for the fun of linking up impossible connexions.

My hobby is less tedious, if as strange.

I am a mine of information on the English countryside.

I know the name of every owner of every British moor, yes - and their tenants too.

I know how many grouse are killed, how many partridge, how many head of deer.

I know where trout are rising, and where the salmon leap.

I attend all meets, I follow every run.

Even the names of those who walk hound puppies are familiar to me.

The state of the crops, the price of fat cattle, the mysterious ailments of swine,

I relish them all. A poor pastime, perhaps, and not a very intellectual one, but I breathe the air of England as I read, and can face this glittering sky with greater courage.

The scrubby vineyards and the crumbling stones' become things of no account, for if I wish I can give rein to my imagination, and pick foxgloves and pale campions from a wet, streaking hedge.

Poor whims of fancy, tender and un-harsh.

They are the enemy to bitterness and regret, and sweeten this exile we have brought upon ourselves.

Because of them I can enjoy my afternoon, and return, smiling and refreshed, to face the little ritual of our tea.

The order never varies.

Two slices of bread and butter each, and China tea.

What a hide-bound couple we must seem, clinging to custom because we did so in England.

Here, on this clean balcony, white and impersonal with centuries of sun, I think of half past four at Manderley, and the table drawn before the library fire.

The door flung open, punctual to the minute, and the performance, never-varying, of the laying of the tea, the silver tray, the kettle, the snowy cloth.

While Jasper, his spaniel ears a-droop, feigns indifference to the arrival of the cakes.

That feast was laid before us always, and yet we ate so little.

Those dripping crumpets, I can see them now.

Tiny crisp wedges of toast, and piping-hot, floury scones.

Sandwiches of unknown nature, mysteriously flavoured and quite delectable, and that very special gingerbread.

Angel cake, that melted in the mouth, and his rather stodgier companion, bursting with peel and raisins.

There was enough food there to keep a starving family for a week.

I never knew what happened to it all, and the waste used to worry me sometimes.

But I never dared ask Mrs Danvers what she did about it.

She would have looked at me in scorn, smiling that freezing, superior smile of hers, and I can imagine her saying: 'There were never any complaints when Mrs de Winter was alive. ' Mrs Danvers. I wonder what she is doing now.

She and Favell. I think it was the expression on her face that gave me my first feeling of unrest. Instinctively I thought, 'She is comparing me to Rebecca'; and sharp as a sword the shadow came between us ...

Well, it is over now, finished and done with. I ride no more tormented, and both of us are free.

Even my faithful Jasper has gone to the happy hunting grounds, and Manderley is no more.

It lies like an empty shell amidst the tangle of the deep woods, even as I saw it in my dream.

A multitude of weeds, a colony of birds. Sometimes perhaps a tramp will wander there, seeking shelter from a sudden shower of rain and, if he is stout-hearted, he may walk there with impunity.

But your timid fellow, your nervous poacher - the woods of Manderley are not for him.

He might stumble upon the little cottage in the cove and he would not be happy beneath its tumbled roof, the thin rain beating a tattoo. There might linger there still a certain atmosphere of stress...

That corner in the drive, too, where the trees encroach upon the gravel, is not a place in which to pause, not after the sun has set.

When the leaves rustle, they sound very much like the stealthy movement of a woman in evening dress, and when they shiver suddenly, and fall, and scatter away along the ground, they might be the patter, patter, of a woman's hurrying footstep, and the mark in the gravel the imprint of a high-heeled satin shoe.

It is when I remember these things that I return with relief to the prospect from our balcony.

No shadows steal upon this hard glare, the stony vineyards shimmer in the sun and the bougainvillaea is white with dust.

I may one day look upon it with affection.

At the moment it inspires me, if not with love, at least with confidence.

And confidence is a quality I prize, although it has come to me a little late in the day.

I suppose it is his dependence upon me that has made me bold at last.

At any rate I have lost my diffidence, my timidity, my shyness with strangers.

I am very different from that self who drove to Manderley for the first time, hopeful and eager, handicapped by a rather desperate gaucherie and filled with an intense desire to please.

It was my lack of poise of course that made such a bad impression on people like Mrs Danvers.

What must I have seemed like after Rebecca?

I can see myself now, memory spanning the years like a bridge, with straight, bobbed hair and youthful, unpowdered face, dressed in an ill-fitting coat and skirt and a jumper of my own creation, trailing in the wake of Mrs Van Hopper like a shy, uneasy colt.

She would precede me in to lunch, her short body ill-balanced upon tottering, high heels, her fussy, frilly blouse a compliment to her large bosom and swinging hips, her new hat pierced with a monster quill aslant upon her head, exposing a wide expanse of forehead bare as a schoolboy's knee.

One hand carried a gigantic bag, the kind that holds passports, engagement diaries, and bridge scores, while the other hand toyed with that inevitable lorgnette, the enemy to other people's privacy.

She would make for her usual table in the corner of the restaurant, close to the window, and lifting her lorgnette to her small pig's eyes survey the scene to right and left of her, then she would let the lorgnette fall at length upon its black ribbon and utter a little exclamation of disgust: 'Not a single well-known personality, I shall tell the management they must make a reduction on my bill.

What do they think I come here for?

To look at the page boys?'

And she would summon the waiter to her side, her voice sharp and staccato, cutting the air like a saw.

How different the little restaurant where we are today to that vast dining-room, ornate and ostentatious, the Hotel Cote d'Azur at Monte Carlo; and how different my present .

Companion, his steady, well-shaped hands peeling a mandarin in quiet, methodical fashion, looking up now and again from his task to smile at me, compared to Mrs Van Hopper, her fat, bejewelled fingers questing a plate heaped high with ravioli, her eyes darting suspiciously from her plate to mine for fear I should have made the better choice.

She need not have disturbed herself, for the waiter, with the uncanny swiftness of his kind, had long sensed my position as inferior and subservient to hers, and had placed before me a plate of ham and tongue that somebody had sent back to the cold buffet half an hour before as badly carved.

Odd, that resentment of servants, and their obvious impatience.

I remember staying once with Mrs Van Hopper in a country house, and the maid never answered my timid bell, or brought up my shoes, and early morning tea, stone cold, was dumped outside my bedroom door.

It was the same at the Cote d'Azur, though to a lesser degree, and sometimes the studied indifference turned to familiarity, smirking and offensive, which made buying stamps from the reception clerk an ordeal I would avoid.

How young and inexperienced I must have seemed, and how I felt it, too.

One was too sensitive, too raw, there were thorns and pinpricks in so many words that in reality fell lightly on the air.

I remember well that plate of ham and tongue.

It was dry, unappetizing, cut in a wedge from the outside, but I had not the courage to refuse it.

We ate in silence, for Mrs Van Hopper liked to concentrate on food, and I could tell by the way the sauce ran down her chin that her dish of ravioli pleased her.

It was not a sight that engendered into me great appetite for my own cold choice, and looking away from her I saw that the table next to ours, left vacant for three days, was to be occupied once more.

The maitre d'hotel, with the particular bow reserved for his more special patrons, was ushering the new arrival to his place.

Mrs Van Hopper put down her fork, and reached for her lorgnette.

I blushed for her while she stared, and the newcomer, unconscious of her interest, cast a wandering eye over the menu.

Then Mrs Van Hopper folded her lorgnette with a snap, and leant across the table to me, her small eyes bright with excitement, her voice a shade too loud. 'It's Max de Winter, ' she said, 'the man who owns Manderley.

You've heard of it, of course.

He looks ill, doesn't he?

They say he can't get over his wife's death ... '

第02章

我们永远也日下去了,这一点是确定无疑的。过去的岁月仍近在咫尺。我们力图忘却并永远置诸脑后的种种往事,说不定又会重新唤起我们的回忆。还有那种恐惧,那种诡秘的不宁之感——感谢上帝慈悲,现在总算平息了——过去曾一度演变成不可理喻的盲目惊惶,说不定也还会以某种无法预见的形式卷土重来,就像过去那样和我们形影相随,朝夕共处。

他的忍耐功夫着实惊人。他从不怨天尤人,即使在回忆起往事的时候也决不愤愤然……而我相信他常常想起过去,尽管他不愿让我知道。

他怎能瞒过我的眼睛?有时,他显出茫然若有所失的样子,可爱的脸容上,所有的表情消失得一千二净,仿佛被一只无形的手一下子全抹掉了似的,取而代之的是一副面具,一件雕塑品,冷冰冰,一本正经,纵然不失英俊,却毫无生气;有时,他会猛抽香烟,一支接一支,甚至连烟蒂也顾不上弄熄,结果,那闪着火星的烟头就像花瓣似地在他周围散了一地;有时,他胡乱找个什么话题,口若悬河,讲得眉飞色舞,其实什么内容也没有,无非是想借此排解心头的忧伤。我听到过一种说法:不论哪一对夫妻,只要经历苦难磨练,就会变得更高尚、更坚强,因此在今世或来世做人,理当忍受火刑的考验。这话听上去有点似是而非,不过我俩倒是充分领略了其中的滋味。我俩经历过恐惧、孤独和极大的不幸。我觉得,每个人在自己的一生中迟早会面临考验,我们大家都有各自特定的恶魔灾星,备受压迫和折磨,到头来总得奋起与之博斗。我俩总算战胜了这个恶魔,或者说我们相信自己战胜了。

现在,那灾星再也不来欺压我们。难关总算闯过了,自然我们也不免受了些创伤。他对灾难的预感打一开始就很灵验,而我呢,不妨效法一出蹩脚戏里的女戏子,装腔作势地嚷嚷,宣布我们为自由付了代价。说实在的,戏剧性的曲折离奇,这辈子我领教够了,要是能让我俩一直像现在这样安安稳稳过日子,我宁愿拿自己所有的感官作代价。幸福并不是一件值得珍藏的占有物,而是一种思想状态,一种心境。当然,我们有时也会消沉沮丧,但在其他时刻,时间不再由钟摆来计量,而是连绵地伸向永恒;我只要一看到他的微笑,就意识到我俩在一起携手并进,再没有思想或意见上的分歧在我俩之间设下屏障。

如今,我俩之间再没有任何要瞒着对方的隐私,真个是同甘共苦,息息相通了。尽管这小客栈沉闷乏味,伙食也糟糕,日复一日,重复着单调的老一套,。我们却不愿生活变成另一种样子。要是住到大旅馆去,势必遇到很多他的熟人。我俩都深感简朴的可贵,倘若有时觉得无聊,那又何妨?无聊对恐惧来说,岂非一帖对症的解药!我们按照固定不变的格局安排日常生活,而我就从中逐渐培养起朗读的才能。据我知道,只有当邮差误了班头的时候,他才露出焦躁的神情,因为这意味着我们得多挨一天才能收到英国来的邮件。我们试着听过收音机,但是杂音恼人,所以我们宁愿把怀乡的激情蓄积在心头。好几天前进行的一场板球赛的战果,在我们生活中竟有那么重要的意义。

啊!各种球类决赛和拳击比赛,甚至还有弹子房的击弹落袋得分记录,都能把我们从百无聊赖中解救出来。小学生运动会的决赛,跑狗以及偏僻诸郡那些稀奇古怪的小型竞赛——所有这些消息,都是空磨子里的谷物,都能解我俩饥渴之苦,有时我弄到几份过期的《田野报》,读来不禁神驰,仿佛又从这异乡小岛回到了春意盎然的英国现实生活之中。我读到描写白色小溪、飞蝼姑、生长在绿色草地上的雄鹿的文字,还有那些盘旋在林子上空的白嘴鸦,过去,这景象在曼陀丽庄园是屡见不鲜的。我在这些已被翻阅得残破不全的纸页中,竟闻到了润土的芳香,嗅到了沼泽地带泥煤的酸味,甚至还触到那温漉漉的青苔地,上面缀有点点白斑,那是苍鹭的遗矢。有一口我念到一篇关于野鸽的文章,念着念着,恍若又回到曼陀丽的园林深处,野鸽在我头顶鼓翅,我听到它们柔和、自得的咕呜,这声音在夏日炎热的午后给人以舒适凉爽之感。只要杰斯珀不跑来,它们的安宁是不会受到打扰的。但是杰斯珀找我来了,它奔跳着穿过树丛,一边用湿漉漉的鼻子唤着地面,经狗一吓,野鸽顿时大可不必地一阵骚动,从藏身处乱飞出去,就像一群老太婆在洗澡时遭人撞见了一样。野鸽劈劈啪啪鼓动翅膀,迅捷地从树顶上掠过,渐渐远去,终于飞得无影无踪。这时,周围复归静穆,而我却莫名其妙地不安起来,注意到阳光不再在飒飒作声的树叶上编织出图案,树枝变得黝黑森然,阴影伸长了,而在那边宅子里已摆出新鲜的莓果,准备用茶点了。于是,我就从羊齿丛中站起身子,抖一抖陈年残叶留在裙子上的尘埃,打个唿哨招呼杰斯珀,随即动身回屋子去。我一边走,一边鄙夷地自问:脚步为何如此匆匆,而且还要飞快地向身后瞥上一眼?

说也奇怪,一篇讲野鸽的文章,竟唤起了这么一番对往事的回忆,而且使我朗读时变得结结巴巴。是他那阴沉的脸色,使我戛然停止了朗读,并往后翻了好几页,直到找着一段关于板球赛的短讯为止。那段文字就事论事,单调乏味,讲到奥佛尔球场上,中塞克斯队以平庸的打法击球进攻,连连得手,比分沉闷地一个劲儿往上加。真得感谢那些果头呆脑的穿运动衣的角色,因为不大一会儿,他的面容恢复了原先的平静,重新有了血色,他带着正常的恼怒嘲笑起塞雷队的投球术来。

这样总算避免了一场回忆,我也得了教训:英国新闻是可以念的,英国的体育运动、政治情况,英国人的傲慢自大等等,都可以;但是往后,凡是容易惹起伤感的东西,只能让我独个儿去悄悄咀嚼回味。色彩、香味、声音、雨水、浪涛的拍击,甚至秋天的浓雾和潮水的咸味,都是曼陀丽留下的记忆,怎么也磨灭不掉。有些人有阅读铁路指南的嗜好,他们设想出无数纵横交错的旅程,把一些无法联系的地区沟通起来,以此消遣。我的癖好与阅读铁路指南一样怪诞,但比较有意思,这便是积累英国农村的资料。英国每一片沼泽地的地主是谁,还有他们的雇农,我都-一叫得出名字。我知道一共宰了多少只松鸡,多少只鹧鸪,多少头鹿;我知道哪儿鳟鱼正在翔浮水面,哪儿鲑鱼正在活蹦乱跳。我注意着每一次的狩猎和捕鱼活动,甚至那些训练小猎犬奔跑的猎人的名字,我也熟悉农作物的生长情况,肉类的价格,猪群染上的怪病,所有这些我都感到津津有味。也许,这是一种打发时光的低级消遣,而且不需要用脑子,但这样,我就能一边读着报刊,一边呼吸着英国的空气;这样,我也才能鼓起更大的勇气,面对异国耀眼的天空。

乱七八糟的葡萄园的破碎的石块,也就因此变得无关紧要,因为只要我愿意,我完全可以驾驭自己左右驰骋的想象,从潮湿的条纹状篱笆上,摘下几朵指顶花和灰白的剪秋罗。

这类采花于篱下的一时之兴,虽说微不足道,倒也有其亲切可取之处,非但与辛酸、悔恨势不两立,而且还能使我们眼下这种自作自受的背井离乡的生活变得稍许甜蜜一点。

多亏这些一时之兴,我还能度过一个愉快的下午,神情气爽地满脸堆笑而归,享用简便的午茶。午茶的内容一成不变,总是每人两片涂黄油的面包,还有一杯中国茶。在外人眼里,我们这对夫妇一定刻板得很,死抱着在英国养成的积习不放。小阳台很干净,经过几个世纪阳光的洗晒,变得洁白却又毫无特色。站在这儿,我又想起曼陀丽午后四时半的情景;先把藏书室壁炉前的桌子拉出,房门准时打开,接着就是千篇一律的放置茶具的那套程序:银质的托盘、茶壶,雪白的桌布。杰斯珀耷拉着大耳朵,对端进来的糕点摆出一副无动于衷的架势。每天总有许多食物放在我俩面前,但我们吃得极少。

现在我看见那种滴着奶油的煎饼,小块松脆的尖角吐司,刚出炉的薄片面包;那种不知什么东西做成的三明治,散发着一种说不出来的香味,闻得叫人觉得愉快;那种非常特别的姜饼;那种放在嘴里即刻融化的蛋糕;还有与之成双配对的成分较浓的水果蛋糕,上面缀满果皮和葡萄干。这些食物,够挨饿的一家人受用一个星期。我从不知道这一桌子东酉是怎么处理的。暴珍天物有时使我于心不安。

但我就是不敢启口问问丹弗斯太太,她怎么处置这一桌食物。要是我问了,她一定会带着不屑的神情望着我,嘴角挂着那种带优越感的、使人浑身发冷的隐笑。我想她一定还会说:“德温特夫人在世时,可从来不抱怨什么的。”这位丹弗斯太太如今在干什么呢?还有那个费弗尔。我记得,正是丹弗斯太太脸上的那种表情,使我第一次感到局促不安。直觉告诉我:“她在拿我与吕蓓卡相比呢。”接着一个魔影就像利剑似地插到我俩中间来了……

啊,现在这一切总算过去,总算与之一刀两断了!我不再受到折磨,我俩终于自由了。就连忠心耿耿的杰斯珀也进了愉快的天国,而且曼陀丽也已不复存在!它是深埋在密林杂乱之中的一个空壳,就像我在梦中见到的那样,一片荒芜,成了野鸟栖息的处所。有时也许会走来一个流浪汉,在突如其来的一阵暴雨中想找个躲避的地方。倘若来人是个胆大的汉子,那就不妨泰然在那儿走一走;但如果是个胆小鬼,是个鬼鬼祟祟偷人地界的不速之客,那么曼陀丽的林子可不是他逗留的地方。他也许会碰上海角处的那座小屋,在那倾坛的屋顶下,听着淅沥的细雨声,他决不会觉得自在。那里也许还残留着某种阴森逼人的气氛……车道的那个转角——树木在那儿侵入沙砾路面——也不宜驻足流连,特别是在太阳落山以后。树叶飒飒作响,很像一个穿晚礼眼的女人在踯躅走动;当树叶突然一阵颤抖,纷纷飘落在地的时候,那啪哒啪哒的声响,说不定正是她匆忙的脚步声,而沙砾路上的凹陷说不定就是她缎面高跟鞋留下的痕迹。

每逢我忆起这些往事的时候,我总要站在阳台上去看看景色,松一口气。这儿的阳光耀眼夺目,没有一丝阴影偷偷潜来将它遮掩。石砌的葡萄园在阳光下闪闪发光,紫茉莉花染着尘埃,泛出白色。也许有一天我会深情地看待这一切,而目前倘使它还未使我产生爱慕之情,至少给了我足够的自信。自信是我十分珍视的品格,当然在这一生中,我的自信心来得未免太晚一点。我想,最终使我一扫怯懦的因素,是他毕竟依靠着我了。不管怎么说,我总算摆脱了我的自卑、胆寒和怯生的羞态,与初次乘车去曼陀丽时相比,已经判若两人:那时候,我充满着急切的希望,处处为极度的笨拙所掣肘,还拼命想取悦于人。我所以会给丹弗斯太太之流留下那么恶劣的印象,自然是因为我举止失当。在吕蓓卡之后,我在人们心目中的形象是什么样的呢?记忆像座桥梁,把岁月沟通,我可以回忆起自己当时的形象:一头平直的短发,稚嫩而不敷脂粉的脸蛋,衣裙均不合身,还穿着我自己裁制的短褂,像个羞怯失措的小妞儿,跟在范-霍珀夫人的后面。她总是领着我去吃午饭,她那五短身材在摇晃的高跟鞋上很难保持住平衡;那件过分俗艳的折边短外套,衬托出她肥大的胸部和扭摆的臂部;还有那顶新帽子,上面插一支其大无比的羽毛,歪斜地覆在脑袋上,露出一大片前额,光秃秃犹如小学生裤子的膝盖部。她一手拎个大提包,就是人们放护照、约会录和桥牌得分册的那类手提包;另一只手总是玩弄着那副永不离身的长柄眼镜——他人私生活的大敌。她总是走向餐厅角落临窗处的一张桌子,那桌子通常总由她占坐。她把夹鼻眼镜举到自己猪似的小眼睛前,左右巡视一番,然后就让眼镜听其自然地落下,悬在黑缎带上,再发一通表示厌烦的感叹:“知名人物一个也没有!我要对经理说去,他们必须削减我的旅馆费。他们不想一想我到这儿来干什么的,难道是专来看那些茶房的不成?”接着她就把侍者召到身边,说话的声音尖利而继续,像把锯子撕裂着空气。

今天我们进膳的小饭馆,同蒙特卡洛“蔚蓝海岸”旅馆富丽豪华的大餐厅相比,真是大相径庭;拿我眼下的伴侣与范-霍珀夫人相比,更有天壤之别:他这会儿正用那双稳健的、长相很美的手,沉静而有条不紊地剥着一只柑桔,时而还抬起头来朝我莞尔一笑;而那位范-霍珀夫人则是用戴着珠宝戒指的圆滚滚手指,不住地在自己堆满五香碎肉卷的盘子里东翻西扒,还不时疑神疑鬼地朝我的盘子膜上一眼,怕我的口福比她好。其实她根本用不着操这份心,因为侍者凭着干这一行的不可思议的敏感,早就觉察到我是她的下人,地位微贱,于是给我端来一盘火腿拼猪舌,这盘茶大概是哪位顾客嫌切割得不成样子,半小时前退还到冷食柜去的。侍仆们的那种嫌弃态度,还有那种明显的不耐烦,也真有点怪。我记得有一回同范-霍珀夫人住在乡下,那客店的女佣对我胆怯的铃声从不理会,我的鞋子也不给拿来,而冰冷的早茶总是像垃圾似的堆在我的卧室门外。在“蔚蓝海岸”情形也一样,只是没有这么过分罢了。但有时故意的冷淡竟变成了恼人的无礼嘻笑,以致从旅馆接待员那儿买张邮票简直是活受罪,巴不得能躲开才好。那时,我一定显得年幼无知,而自己当时也深深感觉到这一点。一个人要是太敏感,太不识世故,听着一些其实很平常的言词,就会从中辨出许多影射和挖苦的意思来。

那盘火腿拼猪舌,至今仍历历在目,它们被切成楔形块儿,于巴巴的没有卤汁,一点也引不起食欲。但我没有勇气拒绝这个拼盘。我们一声不吭地吃着,因为范-霍珀夫人喜欢把全副心思放在饭菜上。辣酱油打她下巴上流下,从这一点,我看得出那盘五香碎肉卷很合她的口味。

看她吃得那么欢,可一点没能使我对自己点的那盆冷菜引起兴趣,因此我就把目光从她身上移开。这时,我看见挨着我们的那张桌子,三天以来一直空着,如今又有人来占坐了。餐厅侍者领班正用他那种专对特殊主顾施行的躬身礼,把新客人引到座位上来。

范-霍珀夫人放下餐叉,去摸夹鼻眼镜。她直勾勾盯着邻座,我真为她害臊。可新来的客人并未注意到她对自己的兴趣,径自对菜单扫了一眼。接着,范-霍珀夫人啪地一声折起长柄眼镜,从桌子那头探身向我,小眼睛激动得闪闪发光,说话的嗓门稍许大了些。

“这是迈克斯-德温特,”她说。“曼陀丽庄园的主人。这庄园你当然听说过罗。他脸带病容,对吗?听人说,他妻子死了,给他的打击太大,一时还没恢复过来……”




这个我 在中国看过,叫蝴蝶梦,
《蝴蝶梦》是塞尔兹尼克国际影片公司出品的悬疑片,是根据达夫妮·杜穆里埃的悬疑小说《丽贝卡》改编而成,讲述了一个年轻女子嫁入豪门后,发现丈夫的前妻丽贝卡的阴魂笼罩在豪宅中;之后,丽贝卡的遗体被发现,一桩命案由此被揭开的故事。1940 年 3 月 28 日,该片在美国上映。1941 年,该片获得第 13 届奥斯卡最佳影片以及最佳摄影奖。

以前看过电影,现在阅读小说,感觉体会会有不同的提升的。如果英文不错就直接读原著,否则就中英文对照,或者干脆只读中文版。


有人感觉生词不多的吗?这种经典原著用词特别文雅讲究,读起来需要扩充词汇量。最近在看《LOST HORIZON 〉, 也是生词狂多,但 那种英国式的随处可见的幽默和不动声色的优雅很吸引人读下去。

争取跟着楼主每天一章:wdb10:

全书一共 29 章,每天读一章,一个月可以读完,读中文没问题,读英文的是不是太快了?我的词汇量还行,加上以前看过好几遍电影,现在泛泛地阅读估计不成问题。

请欣赏:香格里拉 —— 消失的地平线《 LOST HORIZON 》
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CCC2009 : 2017-01-25#6
我今天刚从图书馆借了这个纸质书配cd的,还没有听,不知道是英式英语还是北美英语。
我一匈牙利的同学说我的英语有英式口音(忘记多久之前没事在英式网站乱听)。然后老师对我说,听北美的就好了,不然几种口音混合在一起不太好。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-01-26#7
我今天刚从图书馆借了这个纸质书配cd的,还没有听,不知道是英式英语还是北美英语。
我一匈牙利的同学说我的英语有英式口音(忘记多久之前没事在英式网站乱听)。然后老师对我说,听北美的就好了,不然几种口音混合在一起不太好。

我知道 1997 年 Emilia Fox 主演的 TV 版《Rebecca》是英式英语。小说配 cd 版本的,既有英式英语,也有美式英语。如果你借到的 cd 是两碟,并且是 2007 年10月版本的,那是美式英语。个人觉得,美式英语容易听懂。


tanisan : 2017-01-26#8
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全书一共 29 章,每天读一章,一个月可以读完,读中文没问题,读英文的是不是太快了?我的词汇量还行,加上以前看过好几遍电影,现在泛泛地阅读估计不成问题。
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一天一章就是泛读,配合中文,跟生词混个脸熟。英语大牛表笑话蜗牛哈
谢谢《Horizon》的链接,那个小说我是精读的,词汇更难一些。

sabre : 2017-01-26#9
英文和中文怎么差别这么大,
They say he can't get over his wife's death ... '
听人说,他妻子死了,给他的打击太大,一时还没恢复过来……”

cloud123 : 2017-01-26#10
谢谢楼主分享!新年新气象,每天跟上进度学英语。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-01-26#11
[FONT=宋体]chapter three

I wonder what my life would be today, if Mrs Van Hopper had not been a snob. Funny to think that the course of my existence hung like a thread upon that quality of hers. Her curiosity was a disease, almost a mania. At first I had been shocked, wretchedly embarrassed; I would feel like a whipping boy who must bear his master's pains when I watched people laugh behind her back, leave a room hurriedly upon her entrance, or even vanish behind a Service door on the corridor upstairs. For many years now she had come to the Hotel Cote d'Azur, and, apart from bridge, her one pastime which was notorious by now in Monte Carlo, was to claim visitors of distinction as her friends had she but seen them once at the other end of the post-office. Somehow she would manage to introduce herself, and before her victim had scented danger she had proffered an invitation to her suite. Her method of attack was so downright and sudden that there was seldom opportunity to escape. At the Cote d'Azur she staked a claim upon a certain sofa in the lounge, midway between the reception hall and the passage to the restaurant, and she would have her coffee there after luncheon and dinner, and all who came and went must pass her by. Sometimes she would employ me as a bait to draw her prey, and, hating my errand, I would be sent across the lounge with a verbal message, the loan of a book or paper, the address of some shop or other, the sudden discovery of a mutual friend. It seemed as though notables must be fed to her, much as invalids are spooned their jelly; and though titles were preferred by her, any face once seen in a social paper served as well. Names scattered in a gossip column, authors, artists, actors, and their kind, even the mediocre ones, as long as she had learnt of them in print. I can see her as though it were but yesterday, on that unforgettable afternoon - never mind how many years ago -when she sat at her favourite sofa in the lounge, debating her method of attack. I could tell by her abrupt manner, and the way she tapped her lorgnette against her teeth, that she was questing possibilities. I knew, too, when she had missed the sweet and rushed through dessert, that she had wished to finish luncheon before the new arrival and so install herself where he must pass. Suddenly she turned to me, her small eyes alight. 'Go upstairs quickly and find that letter from my nephew. You remember, the one written on his honeymoon, with the snapshot. Bring it down to me right away. ' I saw then that her plans were formed, and the nephew was to be the means of introduction. Not for the first time I resented the part that I must play in her schemes. Like a juggler's assistant I produced the props, then silent and attentive I waited on my cue. This newcomer would not welcome intrusion, I felt certain of that. In the little I had learnt of him at luncheon, a smattering of hearsay garnered by her ten months ago from the daily papers and stored in her memory for future use, I could imagine, in spite of my youth and inexperience of the world, that he would resent this sudden bursting in upon his solitude. Why he should have chosen to come to the Cote d'Azur at Monte Carlo was not our concern, his problems were his own, and anyone but Mrs Van Hopper would have understood. Tact was a quality unknown to her, discretion too, and because gossip was the breath of life to her this stranger must be served for her dissection. I found the letter in a pigeon-hole in her desk, and hesitated a moment before going down again to the lounge. It seemed to me, rather senselessly, that I was allowing him a few more moments of seclusion. I wished I had the courage to go by the Service staircase and so by roundabout way to the restaurant, and there warn him of the ambush. Convention was too strong for me though, nor did I know how I should frame my sentence. There was nothing for it but to sit in my usual place beside Mrs Van Hopper while she, like a large, complacent spider, spun her wide net of tedium about the stranger's person. I had been longer than I thought, for when I returned to the lounge I saw he had already left the dining-room, and she, fearful of losing him, had not waited for the letter, but had risked a bare-faced introduction on her own. He was even now sitting beside her on the sofa. I walked across to them, and gave her the letter without a word. He rose to his feet at once, while Mrs Van Hopper, flushed with her success, waved a vague hand in my direction and mumbled my name. 'Mr de Winter is having coffee with us, go and ask the waiter for another cup, ' she said, her tone just casual enough to warn him of my footing. It meant I was a youthful thing and unimportant, and that there was no need to include me in the conversation. She always spoke in that tone when she wished to be impressive, and her method of introduction was a form of self-protection, for once I had been taken for her daughter, an acute embarrassment for us both. This abruptness showed that I could safely be ignored, and women would give me a brief nod which served as a greeting and a dismissal in one, while men, with large relief, would realize they could sink back into a comfortable chair without offending courtesy. It was a surprise, therefore, to find that this newcomer remained standing on his feet, and it was he who made a signal to the waiter. 'I'm afraid I must contradict you, ' he said to her, 'you are both having coffee with me'; and before I knew what had happened he was sitting in my usual hard chair, and I was on the sofa beside Mrs Van Hopper. For a moment she looked annoyed - this was not what she had intended - but she soon composed her face, and thrusting her large self between me and the table she leant forward to his chair, talking eagerly and loudly, fluttering the letter in her hand. 'You know I recognized you just as soon as you walked into the restaurant, ' she said, 'and I thought, "Why, there's Mr de Winter, Billy's friend, I simply must show him those snaps of Billy and his bride taken on their honeymoon", and here they are. There's Dora. Isn't she just adorable? That little, slim waist, those great big eyes. Here they are sun-bathing at Palm Beach. Billy is crazy about her, you can imagine. He had not met her of course when he gave that party at Claridge's, and where I saw you first. But I dare say you don't remember an old woman like me?' This with a provocative glance and a gleam of teeth. 'On the contrary I remember you very well, ' he said, and before she could trap him into a resurrection of their first meeting he had handed her his cigarette case, and the business of lighting-up stalled her for the moment. 'I don't think I should care for Palm Beach, ' he said, blowing the match, and glancing at him I thought how unreal he would look against a Florida background. He belonged to a walled city of the fifteenth century, a city of narrow, cobbled streets, and thin spires, where the inhabitants wore pointed shoes and worsted hose. His face was arresting, sensitive, medieval in some strange inexplicable way, and I was reminded of a portrait seen in a gallery, I had forgotten where, of a certain Gentleman Unknown. Could one but rob him of his English tweeds, and put him in black, with lace at his throat and wrists, he would stare down at us in our new world from a long-distant past - a past where men walked cloaked at night, and stood in the shadow of old doorways, a past of narrow stairways and dim dungeons, a past of whispers in the dark, of shimmering rapier blades, of silent, exquisite courtesy. I wished I could remember the Old Master who had painted that portrait. It stood in a corner of the gallery, and the eyes followed one from the dusky frame ... They were talking though, and I had lost the thread of conversation. 'No, not even twenty years ago, ' he was saying. "That sort of thing has never amused me. ' I heard Mrs Van Hopper give her fat, complacent laugh. 'If Billy had a home like Manderley he would not want to play around in Palm Beach, ' she said. 'I'm told it's like fairyland, there's no other word for it. ' She paused, expecting him to smile, but he went on smoking his cigarette, and I noticed, faint as gossamer, the line between his brows. 'I've seen pictures of it, of course, ' she persisted, 'and it looks perfectly enchanting. I remember Billy telling me it had all those big places beat for beauty. I wonder you can ever bear to leave it. ' His silence now was painful, and would have been patent to anyone else, but she ran on like a clumsy goat, trampling and trespassing on land that was preserved, and I felt the colour flood my face, dragged with her as I was into humiliation. 'Of course you Englishmen are all the same about your homes, ' she said, her voice becoming louder and louder, 'you depreciate them so as not to seem proud. Isn't there a minstrels' gallery at Manderley, and some very valuable portraits?' She turned to me by way of explanation. 'Mr de Winter is so modest he won't admit to it, but I believe that lovely home of his has been in his family's possession since the Conquest. They say that minstrels' gallery is a gem. I suppose your ancestors often entertained royalty at Manderley, Mr de Winter?' This was more than I had hitherto endured, even from her, but the swift lash of his reply was unexpected. 'Not since Ethelred, ' he said, 'the one who was called Unready. In fact, it was while staying with my family that the name was given him. He was invariably late for dinner. ' She deserved it, of course, and I waited for her change of face, but incredible as it may seem his words were lost on her, and I was left to writhe in her stead, feeling like a child that had been smacked. 'Is that really so?' she blundered. 'I'd no idea. My history is very shaky and the kings of England always muddled me. How interesting, though. I must write and tell my daughter; she's a great scholar. ' There was a pause, and I felt the colour flood into my face. I was too young, that was the trouble. Had I been older I would have caught his eye and smiled, her unbelievable behaviour making a bond between us; but as it was I was stricken into shame, and endured one of the frequent agonies of youth. I think he realized my distress, for he leant forward in his chair and spoke to me, his voice gentle, asking if I would have more coffee, and when I refused and shook my head I felt his eyes were still on me, puzzled, reflective. He was pondering my exact relationship to her, and wondering whether he must bracket us together in futility. 'What do you think of Monte Carlo, or don't you think of it at all?' he said. This including of me in the conversation found me at my worst, the raw ex-schoolgirl, red-elbowed and lanky-haired, and I said something obvious and idiotic about the place being artificial, but before I could finish my halting sentence Mrs Van Hopper interrupted. 'She's spoilt, Mr de Winter, that's her trouble. Most girls would give their eyes for the chance of seeing Monte. ' 'Wouldn't that rather defeat the purpose?' he said, smiling. She shrugged her shoulders, blowing a great cloud of cigarette smoke into the air. I don't think she understood him for a moment. 'I'm faithful to Monte, ' she told him; 'the English winter gets me down, and my constitution just won't stand it. What brings you here? You're not one of the regulars. Are you going to play "Chemy", or have you brought your golf clubs?' 'I have not made up my mind, ' he said; 'I came away in rather a hurry. ' His own words must have jolted a memory, for his face clouded again and he frowned very slightly. She babbled on, impervious. 'Of course you miss the fogs at Manderley; it's quite another matter; the west country must be delightful in the spring. ' He reached for the ashtray, squashing his cigarette, and I noticed the subtle change in his eyes, the indefinable something that lingered there, momentarily, and I felt I had looked upon something personal to himself with which I had no concern. 'Yes, ' he said shortly, 'Manderley was looking its best. ' A silence fell upon us during a moment or two, a silence that brought something of discomfort in its train, and stealing a glance at him I was reminded more than ever of my Gentleman Unknown who, cloaked and secret, walked a corridor by night. Mrs Van Hopper's voice pierced my dream like an electric bell. 'I suppose you know a crowd of people here, though I must say Monte is very dull this winter. One sees so few well-known faces. The Duke of Middlesex is here in his yacht, but I haven't been aboard yet. ' She never had, to my knowledge. 'You know Nell Middlesex of course, ' she went on. 'What a charmer she is. They always say that second child isn't his, but I don't believe it. People will say anything, won't they, when a woman is attractive? And she is so very lovely. Tell me, is it true the Caxton-Hyslop marriage is not a success?' She ran on, through a tangled fringe of gossip, never seeing that these names were alien to him, they meant nothing, and that as she prattled unaware he grew colder and more silent. Never for a moment did he interrupt or glance at his watch; it was as though he had set himself a standard of behaviour, since the original lapse when he had made a fool of her in front of me, and clung to it grimly rather than offend again. It was a page-boy in the end who released him, with the news that a dressmaker awaited Mrs Van Hopper in the suite. He got up at once, pushing back his chair. 'Don't let me keep you, ' he said. 'Fashions change so quickly nowadays they may even have altered by the time you get upstairs. ' The sting did not touch her, she accepted it as a pleasantry. 'It's so delightful to have run into you like this, Mr de Winter, ' she said, as we went towards the lift; 'now I've been brave enough to break the ice I hope I shall see something of you. You must come and have a drink some time in the suite. I may have one or two people coming in tomorrow evening. Why not join us?' I turned away so that I should not watch him search for an excuse. 'I'm so sorry, ' he said, 'tomorrow I am probably driving to Sospel, I'm not sure when I shall get back. ' Reluctantly she left it, but we still hovered at the entrance to the lift. 'I hope they've given you a good room; the place is half empty, so if you are uncomfortable mind you make a fuss. Your valet has unpacked for you, I suppose?' This familiarity was excessive, even for her, and I caught a glimpse of his expression. 'I don't possess one, ' he said quietly; 'perhaps you would like to do it for me?' This time his shaft had found its mark, for she reddened, and laughed a little awkwardly. 'Why, I hardly think... ' she began, and then suddenly, and unbelievably, she turned upon me, 'Perhaps you could make yourself useful to Mr de Winter, if he wants anything done. You're a capable child in many ways. ' There was a momentary pause, while I stood stricken, waiting for his answer. He looked down at us, mocking, faintly sardonic, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 'A charming suggestion, ' he said, 'but I cling to the family motto. He travels the fastest who travels alone. Perhaps you have not heard of it. ' And without waiting for her answer he turned and left us. 'What a funny thing, ' said Mrs Van Hopper, as we went upstairs in the lift. 'Do you suppose that sudden departure was a form of humour? Men do such extraordinary things. I remember a well-known writer once who used to dart down the Service staircase whenever he saw me coming. I suppose he had a penchant for me and wasn't sure of himself. However, I was younger then. ' The lift stopped with a jerk. We arrived at our floor. The page-boy flung open the gates. 'By the way, dear, ' she said, as we walked along the corridor, 'don't think I mean to be unkind, but you put yourself just a teeny bit forward this afternoon. Your efforts to monopolize the conversation quite embarrassed me, and I'm sure it did him. Men loathe that sort of thing. ' I said nothing. There seemed no possible reply. 'Oh, come, don't sulk, ' she laughed, and shrugged her shoulders; 'after all, I am responsible for your behaviour here, and surely you can accept advice from a woman old enough to be your mother. Eh bien, Blaize. Je viens... ' and humming a tune she went into the bedroom where the dressmaker was waiting for her. I knelt on the window-seat and looked out upon the afternoon. The sun shone very brightly still, and there was a gay high wind. In half an hour we should be sitting to our bridge, the windows tightly closed, the central heating turned to the full. I thought of the ashtrays I would have to clear, and how the squashed stubs, stained with lipstick, would sprawl in company with discarded chocolate creams. Bridge does not come easily to a mind brought up on Snap and Happy Families; besides, it bored her friends to play with me. I felt my youthful presence put a curb upon their conversation, much as a parlour-maid does until the arrival of dessert, and they could not fling themselves so easily into the melting-pot of scandal and insinuation. Her men-friends would assume a sort of forced heartiness and ask me jocular questions about history or painting, guessing I had not long left school and that this would be my only form of conversation. I sighed, and turned away from the window. The sun was so full of promise, and the sea was whipped white with a merry wind. I thought of that corner of Monaco which I had passed a day or two ago, and where a crooked house leant to a cobbled square. High up in the tumbled roof there was a window, narrow as a slit. It might have held a presence medieval; and, reaching to the desk for pencil and paper, I sketched in fancy with an absent mind a profile, pale and aquiline. A sombre eye, a high-bridged nose, a scornful upper lip. And I added a pointed beard and lace at the throat, as the painter had done, long ago in a different time. Someone knocked at the door, and the lift-boy came in with a note in his hand. 'Madame is in the bedroom, ' I told him but he shook his head and said it was for me. I opened it, and found a single sheet of note-paper inside, with a few words written in an unfamiliar hand. 'Forgive me. I was very rude this afternoon. ' That was all. No signature, and no beginning. But my name was on the envelope, and spelt correctly, an unusual thing. 'Is there an answer?' asked the boy. I looked up from the scrawled words. 'No, ' I said. 'No, there isn't any answer. ' When he had gone I put the note away in my pocket, and turned once more to my pencil drawing, but for no known reason it did not please me any more; the face was stiff and lifeless, and the lace collar and the beard were like props in a charade.

第03章
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如果范-霍珀夫人不是个势利鬼,我真不知道今天我的生活会是什么样子。
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想想也真有趣,我一生走什么道路竟完全有赖于这位太太的势利。她那种病态的好奇差不多成了怪癖。起初,我十分震惊,并常常为此窘得手足无措。人们在她背后窃笑,见她走进屋子就忙不迭溜走,甚至匆匆躲进楼上走廊里的侍者专用门,避之唯恐不及。每逢这种时候,我就好比一个代人受过的小厮,非得承担主人的全部痛苦不可。多年以来,她一直是“蔚蓝海岸”旅馆的常客,除了爱玩桥牌,还有一种目前在蒙特卡洛已臭名远扬的打发时光的消遣,那就是把有地位的旅客强攀为自己的朋友,尽管这些人她只在邮局里远远见过一面。她总能想出什么办法来作一番自我介绍,而在猎物还没有觉察到危险之前,她这儿已经提出正式邀请,要对方到她房间来作客了。进攻的时候,她采用的方法倒也别致:直截了当,而且乘人不备;所以,对方很少有机会逃脱。在旅馆休息室里,在接待室和通向餐厅走道的中途,她老是占着一张非她莫属的沙发。午饭和晚饭后。她总在那儿喝咖啡,这样,所有进出的客人都得经过她面前。有时她还把我用作勾引猎物的诱饵,派我捎个口信到休息室那头去,要不就打发我去借书报,或是打听某家铺子或其他什么别的地址;这样,突然间就会发现一个双方都认识的朋友。我是极厌恶这类差使的。有名望的人似乎都得供她饱餐一顿,就像卧床的病人要别人一匙一匙地喂果子冻一样。她最喜欢找有头衔的名人,不过其他人,只要相片见过报,她也爱结交。还有那些名字曾在报纸闲话栏里出现过的人物,作家、艺术家、演员之类的三教九流,甚至他们之中十分不堪的角色,只要她曾在书报上读到过他们的事,她都想招讪。

时至今日,我仍可以忆起她在那个难忘的下午——且别管是多少年之前——的样子,仿佛这只是昨天的事。她坐在休息室那张特别中意的沙发上,盘算着进攻的手法;从她仓促张皇的神态,甚至还用夹鼻眼镜轻叩牙齿,我看得出来她正在煞费苦心。她匆匆吃完餐后水果,没来得及用那道甜食,从这一点,我就知道她想在这位客人之前吃完午饭,以便安坐在他必经之路上守候。突然间,她转身向我,小眼睛闪着光,说道:

“快上楼去把我外甥那封信找出来。记住,就是他度蜜月时写的那封,内附照片的。马上拿来给我!”

我知道她的计划已拟订就绪,准备用外甥来作媒介了。我讨厌自己非得在她的诡计中扮演这样的角色。这也不是第一回了。我就像一个耍戏法的副手,专在一旁把小道具递上去,此后就一声不吭,全神贯注地等待主人给我暗示。这位新来的客人不喜欢别人打扰,这点我敢肯定。十个月以前,她从几份日报上搜罗了有关此人的零星的流言蜚语,一直把它贮藏在记忆中,以为将来之用。吃午饭时她曾对我说了一鳞半爪。尽管我还年轻,不识世故,但从这些片言只语中我想象得出,他一定讨厌别人突如其来地闯来打扰。他为什么选中蒙特卡洛的“蔚蓝海岸”,到这儿来,这与我们毫不相干。他有自己的心事,这些心事别人不可能理解;当然,只有范-霍珀夫人是例外。这位夫人从来不懂得怎样处世才得体,也不讲究谨慎行事,飞短流长倒是她生活里须臾不可缺的。因此,这位陌生人必须经她细加剖析。我在她书桌的鸽笼式文件分类架上找着了那封信,在下楼回到休息室前犹豫了一会儿。不知为什么,我感到,这样仿佛就给了他更多一点幽然独处的时间。

我多希望自己有勇气从侍者专用楼梯下去,绕个圈子,跑到餐厅去告诉他有人埋伏着等候他。但是,社会礼俗对我束缚至深;再说,我也不知道该如何对他说才好。所以我只有坐到范-霍珀夫人旁边那只通常由我占坐的座位上去,任她像一只得意的大蜘蛛似地编织那令人讨厌的大网,去纠缠那陌生人。

我走开的时间比我想象的要长些。等我口到休息室,他已离开餐厅,而她则担心对象溜走,来不及等我取了信来,已经厚着脸皮另外设法作了自我介绍,此刻他竟已坐在她身边的沙发上了。我穿过大厅向他们走去,一言不发地把信递给她。他立刻站起身来。范-霍珀夫人因为自己计谋得逞兴奋得满面红光,她朝我这个方向胡乱地挥挥手,含糊不清地介绍了我的名字。

“德温特先生与我们一起用咖啡。去对侍者说再端一杯来。”她说话的语气非常之简慢,以让他知道我的地位。她的意思是说,我是个无足轻重的小妞儿,谈话时大可不必顾及。每当她炫耀自己时,总是用这种语气说话;而她把我介绍于人的方法也是一种自我护卫,因为有一次我竟被人误认为她的女儿,两人同时感到莫大的窘迫。她这种无礼的样子告诉人们:可以把我撇在一边而毫无关系。于是太太们向我略一点头,既算是打招呼,同时又是遣我走开的意思;男客则大大松一口气,知道他们可以重新舒舒服服地就座,而不必有失礼的顾虑。

因此,看到这位新来的客人一直站着不坐下,并自己招呼侍者取咖啡来,我是觉得很奇怪的。

“恐怕我非得同您抵触一下不可,”他对她说。“是你们二位同我一道用咖啡。”还没等我发现是怎么回事,他已坐在通常总由我占坐的硬椅上,而我却已坐在范-霍珀夫人身边的沙发里。

好一会儿,她看上去有点不高兴,因为这不符合她原先的设想,但过后马上又眉飞色舞了,把她肥大的身子横插在茶几与我的中间,俯身向着他的椅子,大声唠叨,手里则挥舞着那封信:

“你知道,你一进餐厅我就认出你了,我想:‘咦,这不是德温特先生,不是比尔的朋友吗?我一定要把比尔和他新娘度蜜月时拍的照片拿给他瞧瞧。’呶,就是这些照片。这是朵拉,真是个尤物,对吗?瞧她那杨柳细腰,那一对大杏眼。这是他们在棕榈海湾晒日光浴。你可以想象得到,比尔爱她简直爱得发疯了。当然,比尔在奇拉里奇大饭店请客那当儿,还没认识她呢!就在那次宴会上我第一次见到你。不过,我敢说,你决不会记得我这样一个老太婆的。”一边说,一边挑逗地飞眼,还把闪闪发光的牙齿露出来。

“恰恰相反,我清楚地记得您,”他说,接着,还没等她来得及布下圈套来扯着她没完没了地回忆第一次会面的情景,他已把烟盒递过去,擦火点烟使她一时无法开口。“我并不喜欢棕榈海滩,”他一边说,一边吹熄火柴。我扫了他一眼,觉得他如果出现在佛罗里达州的背景之前,一定得非常不协调。他应当属于十五世纪颓垣围着的那些城市,城里有狭窄的、鹅卵石铺成的街道和细长的尖塔,居民都穿着尖头鞋和长统的绒线袜。他的面容非常吸引人,很敏感,神奇而不可思议地带着中世纪的味道。我看着他就想起在一个什么地方画展里曾见到过的一幅画像,某位无名绅士的画像。只要有人剥去他那身英国式的花呢服装,给他穿上黑衣服,领口和袖口都镶上花边,他就会从一个遥远的古代,凝视着我们这些生活在现代世界的人。在那遥远的古代,绅士们披着大氅在黑夜里行走,站在古老门庭的阴影里;狭窄的梯级,阴暗的地牢,漆黑之中的低语声,剑的闪光,还有那种无言的优雅礼仪。

我真希望能够记起作这幅画像的大师。画像挂在画廊的一个角落里,画中人的双眼透过布满尘埃的镜框一直盯住你……

可是,这会儿他们俩却正谈得起劲,两人刚才谈些什么,我都没听见,此刻只听得他说:“不,即使在二十年前也不是这样。那类事情我从不觉得有趣。”

接着我就听见范-霍珀夫人放纵而自得的笑声。“倘若比尔这小子有一个像曼陀丽那样的家,他可就不愿去棕榈海滩乱逛啦,”她说。“人们都说曼陀丽是仙乡,没有其他词汇可以形容。”

她打住了,期待他报以微笑,可他仍然自顾自地抽烟。尽管表情淡漠得难以觉察,我却注意到他微微皱了皱眉头。

“当然啦,我见到过曼陀丽的照片,”她何住他不放。“太迷人了,我记得比尔跟我说过,曼陀丽的美胜过所有其他的大庄园,我真不懂你怎么竟舍得离开它。”

这会儿,他的沉默已使人十分难堪,换了别人,都早已一眼看得出了。可她却照样喋喋不休,像一匹笨拙的公羊,撞进别人悉心保护的地界,左右奔突,任意践踏。我只觉得血往脸上涌,因为她正拖着我一道去受羞辱。

“自然罗,你们英国男人对家的态度全是一样的,”她的嗓门越来越大。“你们贬低自己的家,以显示你们并不傲慢。在曼陀丽不是有一个中世纪吟游诗人的画廊吗?还有许多价值连城的藏画,是吗?”她转过脸来对我说话,自是解释给我听:“德温特先生可谦虚了,所以他不愿说老实话。但我敢说他那可爱的老家早从征服时代①起,就属于他那个家族了。听人们说那吟游诗人画廊的藏画珍贵得不得了。德温特先生,我想你家祖先经常在曼陀丽招待王族吧?”——

①指1066年威廉王征服英国。

出生至今,我还从未忍受过这样的难堪,即使在她手里也没有过。不料对方竟猝不及防地讽刺开了;“是啊,早在埃塞尔德大王①时起就属于我家了,”他说。“就是被人称为‘尚未准备好’的那个英王。事实上,他是住在我家时得到这个绰号的,因为开饭时他总是迟到。”——

①指英王埃塞尔德二世(968?——1016)

当然,这是她应得的报应!我等着她变脸。可是说来叫人难以相信,他的这一席话居然对她毫无作用,我就只好代她坐针毡,像被打了个耳刮子的小孩似的。

“真的吗?”她一错再错。“我一点儿不知道。我的历史知识很靠不住,那么许多英王总是把我弄得稀里糊涂。但这一切又是多么有趣啊。我一定得写信告诉我女儿去,她可是位大学者。”

谈不下去了。我只觉得自己双颊排红。我太年轻了,所以束手无策。要是我年长几岁,那我就会捕捉他的眼光,向他微笑;范-霍珀夫人那种令人难以置信的表现使我与他之间达成了某种默契。但当时的事实是,我羞愧得无地自容,又一次忍受着青年时代屡见不鲜的痛苦的煎熬。

他大概看出了我为难的处境,于是就从椅子上欠身向我,用温柔的声音对我说话,问我是否再加一点咖啡。当我摇头谢绝时,我觉得他那困惑而沉思的目光依然盯着我。他大概在考虑我与范-霍珀夫人究竟是什么关系,是否应把我们俩都算作一样的庸人。

“您觉得蒙特卡洛如何?可有什么观感?”他问道。把我扯到他们的谈话中去,真弄得我狼狈至极,顿时表现出蓬头散发的昔日女学生稚嫩的样子来。我说了几句显而易见而又愚不可及的话,说这个地方人工雕琢的痕迹过多,但还没等我结结巴巴地说完,范-霍珀夫人打断我:

“她被宠坏了,德温特先生,这就是她的毛病。多少女孩子情愿把自己的眼睛作代价,换得看一着蒙特卡洛的机会。”

“这样一来不是达不到目的了吗?”他脸上挂着隐约的笑容说。

她耸耸肩,喷出一大团烟雾。我看她一下子还没领会他的意思。“我可是蒙特卡洛的忠实常客,”她告诉他。“英国的冬天可真叫人吃不消,我受不了那种气候,你倒是为什么也上这儿来?你不是这儿的常客。你想玩‘雪米’①吗?有没有把高尔夫球棒带来?”——

①一种类似“接龙”的纸牌戏。

“我还没想好呢,我离家时很匆忙,”他答道。

他自己的这几句话一定震动了某种回忆,他的脸色又阴沉下来,并微微皱起眉头。她却依然无动于衷地絮叨不休。“自然你会怀恋曼陀丽的浓雾,这完全是另外一种景象。西部农村在春天一定是令人心旷神信的。”他把手伸向烟灰碟,捻熄了香烟。我注意到他的眼神有一种微妙的变化,有一种无法确切描写的东西在那儿游移了片刻;我似乎看到了他的某种隐私,可这又与我何千?”

“是的,我离开时正是曼陀丽最美的时候,”他简短地说。

接着大家都沉默了,继沉默之后是难堪。我偷偷看他一眼,不禁更清晰地联想到我那位无名绅士:披着大氅,行踪诡秘,黑夜中在回廊里踯躅。是范-霍珀夫人的声音,电铃似地撕裂了我的幻想。

“我想你在这儿一定认识不少人,不过今年冬天蒙特卡洛比较乏味,碰不到几位名人。米德尔塞克斯公爵在这儿,住在自己的游艇上。我还没来得及上游艇去看望他呢!(据我所知,她从来没有上过那游艇。)你自然认识芮尔-米德尔塞克斯罗。真是个迷人的尤物!人家总说第二个孩子不是公爵生的,我可不相信。一个女人长得好,别人就爱说些闲话,对吗?而她恰恰是如此付人喜欢。卡克斯顿与希斯洛普婚后关系不好,是真的吗?”她不住地唠叨,都是些东拉西扯、乱七八糟的流言蜚语,始终没有意识到这些名字对他是完全陌生、毫无意义的。她也没注意到,自己越是不顾对方的反应,一味信口雌黄,对方就越是冷淡,话也说得更少了。但他从不打断她,也不看手表,似乎从他当着我的面出了她的洋相,犯了个最初的错误后,他已经为自己规定了一种行为的准则,要不折不扣地按准则行事,而不愿再冒犯别人了。最后,一个传呼旅客的侍者跑来说有一名裁缝在房间里等候范-霍珀夫人,才算替他解了围。

他立即站起身来,挪开椅子,说道:“别让我耽搁您。现在衣服的流行式样变得太快了,等不得您上楼,衣服式样可能又变啦。”

他的嘲弄并没有刺痛她,她反而把这句话当作了恭维。“能够这样遇上你真太高兴了,德温传先生,”她一边说,一边同我向着电梯走去。“既然我已唐突地开了个头,希望能不时见到你。你一定得到我房间里来坐坐,喝上一杯。明天晚上可能一两位客人来看我,你也来吧。”我赶快转过脸去,生怕看到他设法推辞的窘态。

“抱歉得很,”他说。“明天我可能驾车到索期派尔去,什么时候回来也还不知道呢。”

她只好无可奈何地作罢,但我们还在电梯门旁徘徊着。

“我想他们一定给你弄了个好房间。旅馆里一半都空着,所以要是你觉得不舒适,务必跟他们闹一场去。你的行李,仆人总给料理好了吧?”这种熟稔态度实在太过分了,即使在她身上也罕见。我瞥见了他的脸色。

“我没有仆人,”他不动声色地回答说。“也许您愿意为我去打开行李吧!”

这回一箭射中了靶子,她的脸涨成了猪肝色,只好尴尬地笑笑。

“啊,我可不是说……”接着,真是叫人无法相信。她突然转过身来对我说:“假如需要,也许你能帮帮德温特先生的忙,你在许多方面都是个能干的孩子。”

又是一阵短暂的沉默。我大惊失色,呆呆地站着,等他回话。他俯视着我们,带着挖苦的表情,略带傲慢,唇边挂着隐约的浅笑。

“妙极了,”他说。“但是我信奉我家的老话:单身旅客行路最快。也许您从来没有听说过这句话吧!”

接着,没等到范-霍珀夫人回答,他转过身,走开了。

“多滑稽啊!”我们乘电梯上楼时范-霍珀夫人说。“你觉得他唐突地离开是不是一种幽默?男人是经常做出这种怪事的。我记得曾经有一位出名的作家,每见我走来就从侍者专用楼梯飞奔而下,我看他大概对我着了迷,可又缺乏自信。不过那时我还年轻。”

电梯摇晃一下,停了。我们到了自己住的那一层楼,开电梯的侍者拉开了门。“顺便说一下,亲爱的,”在走廊上她对我说,“别怪我又数落你。不过今天下午你有点放肆,你竟想独揽大家的谈话,这使我很难堪。而且,我敢说他也有同感,男人是不喜欢这种样子的。”

我没吭声,看来说什么对她也都白搭。“啊,好了,别不高兴,”她笑着耸耸肩。“毕竟我要对你在这儿的行为负责。你自然不妨听我的忠告,论年纪我可以做你妈妈了。Ehbien,Blaize,BlaiZe,ieviens①……”哼着小调,她走进卧室。裁缝正等着她——

①法语:“好喔,布莱兹,我来了。”

我跪在临窗的椅子上,观看午后的街景。阳光灿烂,一阵大风欢快地吹着。半小时之内,我们又要坐下打桥牌了。窗户紧闭,热水河开得足足的。我想到了总要我去收拾烟灰碟,乱七八糟地堆满染着唇膏的捻扁的烟蒂和丢弃的奶油巧克力糖。我的智力是在学习快照摄影,学习如何组织美满家庭的过程中发展起来的。这样的头脑很难适应桥牌这玩意儿;再说,她的朋友们也不耐烦同我一道打牌。

我觉得有我这样一个年轻姑娘在场,他们就不能随心所欲地谈话,正像在饭后水果端来以前,当着客厅女仆的面不能畅所欲言一样。因为有我在场,他们很难一下子打开话匣子,说些既有诽谤中伤又有影射暗示的闲话。于是,男客就会装出一种很不自然的热忱,问我一些滑稽可笑的有关历史或绘画的问题。他们以为我离开学校不久,与我攀谈,只好说说这些。

我叹了口气,从窗口回转身来。阳光充满着希望;大海在劲吹的风中掀起白浪。我想起一两天前曾路经的摩纳哥,那儿的某个街角有一座歪斜的房屋,弯身倾向鹅卵石铺成的广场。在高高的倾圮的屋顶处,有一个狭缝似的窗口,这窗子背后也许曾住过中世纪的古人吧。从书桌上拿起铅笔和纸,我心不在焉地画了起来,全凭想象画出一幅苍白的、带鹰钩鼻的侧面头像,阴郁的眼睛,一道高鼻梁,挂着嘲笑的上唇。接着我又给画中人加了一撮尖尖的胡须,领口处镶上花边,就像那位大师在许久以前一个逝去了年代中所画的一样。

有人敲门。进来的是开电梯的侍者,手里拿着一封便柬。“夫人在卧室里,”我告诉他。可是他却摇摇头说这封信是给我的。我拆开信封,发现里面只有一张笔记簿纸,一个阳生的笔迹在上面写了几个字:

“原谅我,今天下午我太无礼了。”

就是这么几个字,既无签名,也没有抬头。但信封上明明写着我的名字,而且居然拼对了,这是很难得的。

“有回信吗?”侍者问我。

我从那几个草字上抬起头来,答道:“不,不。没有回信。”侍者走后,我把便束塞进衣袋,又去看我那张铅笔画。但是不知为什么,我不再喜欢它了。那面容死板而没有生气,镶花边的领口和胡须竟成了煞费猜想的字谜中的点缀了。



一天一章就是泛读,配合中文,跟生词混个脸熟。英语大牛表笑话蜗牛哈
谢谢《Horizon》的链接,那个小说我是精读的,词汇更难一些。

这种文豪的杰作,精读一定很有嚼头,《 LOST HORIZON 》精读完成了吗?

英文和中文怎么差别这么大,
They say he can't get over his wife's death ... '
听人说,他妻子死了,给他的打击太大,一时还没恢复过来……”

说明原著文字精炼。其实这种现象很好理解,反过来,如果中文文字精炼的话,翻译成英文也得好多字,比如,“自从那次他马失前蹄后便一蹶不振”,试试看如何翻译成英文?

谢谢楼主分享!新年新气象,每天跟上进度学英语。

觉得发贴的速度快慢和文字量如何?
[/FONT]

sabre : 2017-01-26#12
“自从那次他马失前蹄后便一蹶不振”
he has never recovered from his uncharacteristic loss

tanisan : 2017-01-27#13
后面篇幅长了,一天一章就困难了,因为还想记记单词。尽量跟上。

不过确实写得美, 那种散发着自然气息的文字,如画的细节描写,令人忍不住一读再读。女性文学,跟王安忆的风格仿佛。

《 LOST HORIZON 》就没时间看了,先跟这个,完成后我接力上传。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-01-27#14
大师的文采果然不同凡响!:wdb17::wdb45:

“自从那次他马失前蹄后便一蹶不振”
he has never recovered from his uncharacteristic loss

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-01-27#15
[FONT=宋体]Chapter four

The morning after the bridge party Mrs Van Hopper woke with a sore throat and a temperature of a hundred and two. I rang up her doctor, who came round at once and diagnosed the usual influenza. 'You are to stay in bed until I allow you to get up, ' he told her; 'I don't like the sound of that heart of yours, and it won't get better unless you keep perfectly quiet and still. I should prefer', he went on, turning to me, 'that Mrs Van Hopper had a trained nurse. You can't possibly lift her. It will only be for a fortnight or so. ' I thought this rather absurd, and protested, but to my surprise she agreed with him. I think she enjoyed the fuss it would create, the sympathy of people, the visits and messages from friends, and the arrival of flowers. Monte Carlo had begun to bore her, and this little illness would make a distraction. The nurse would give her injections, and a light massage, and she would have a diet. I left her quite happy after the arrival of the nurse, propped up on pillows with a falling temperature, her best bed-jacket round her shoulders and be-ribboned boudoir cap upon her head. Rather ashamed of my light heart, I telephoned her friends, putting off the small party she had arranged for the evening, and went down to the restaurant for lunch, a good half hour before our usual time. I expected the room to be empty - nobody lunched generally before one o'clock. It was empty, except for the table next to ours. This was a contingency for which I was unprepared. I thought he had gone to Sospel. No doubt he was lunching early because he hoped to avoid us at one o'clock. I was already half-way across the room and could not go back. I had not seen him since we disappeared in the lift the day before, for wisely he had avoided dinner in the restaurant, possibly for the same reason that he lunched early now. It was a situation for which I was ill-trained. I wished I was older, different. I went to our table, looking straight before me, and immediately paid the penalty of gaucherie by knocking over the vase of stiff anemones as I unfolded my napkin. The water soaked the cloth, and ran down on to my lap. The waiter was at the other end of the room, nor had he seen. In a second though my neighbour was by my side, dry napkin in hand. 'You can't sit at a wet tablecloth, ' he said brusquely; 'it will put you off your food. Get out of the way. ' He began to mop the cloth, while the waiter, seeing the disturbance, came swiftly to the rescue. 'I don't mind, ' I said, 'it doesn't matter a bit. I'm all alone. ' He said nothing, and then the waiter arrived and whipped away the vase and the sprawling flowers. 'Leave that, ' he said suddenly, 'and lay another place at my table. Mademoiselle will have luncheon with me. ' I looked up in confusion. 'Oh, no, ' I said, 'I couldn't possibly. ' 'Why not?' he said. I tried to think of an excuse. I knew he did not want to lunch with me. It was his form of courtesy. I should ruin his meal. I determined to be bold and speak the truth. 'Please, ' I begged, 'don't be polite. It's very kind of you but I shall be quite all right if the waiter just wipes the cloth. ' 'But I'm not being polite, ' he insisted. 'I would like you to have luncheon with me. Even if you had not knocked over that vase so clumsily I should have asked you. ' I suppose my face told him my doubt, for he smiled. 'You don't believe me, ' he said; 'never mind, come and sit down. We needn't talk to each other unless we feel like it. ' We sat down, and he gave me the menu, leaving me to choose, and went on with his hors d'oeuvre as though nothing had happened. His quality of detachment was peculiar to himself, and I knew that we might continue thus, without speaking, throughout the meal and it would not matter. There would be no sense of strain. He would not ask me questions on history. 'What's happened to your friend?' he said. I told him about the influenza. 'I'm so sorry, ' he said, and then, after pausing a moment, 'you got my note, I suppose. I felt very much ashamed of myself. My manners were atrocious. The only excuse I can make is that I've become boorish through living alone. That's why it's so kind of you to lunch with me today. ' 'You weren't rude, ' I said, 'at least, not the sort of rudeness she would understand. That curiosity of hers - she does not mean to be offensive, but she does it to everyone. That is, everyone of importance. ' 'I ought to be flattered then, ' he said; 'why should she consider me of any importance?' I hesitated a moment before replying. 'I think because of Manderley, ' I said. He did not answer, and I was aware again of that feeling of discomfort, as though I had trespassed on forbidden ground. I wondered why it was that this home of his, known to so many people by hearsay, even to me, should so inevitably silence him, making as it were a barrier between him and others. We ate for a while without talking, and I thought of a picture postcard I had bought once at a village shop, when on holiday as a child in the west country. It was the painting of a house, crudely done of course and highly coloured, but even those faults could not destroy the symmetry of the building, the wide stone steps before the terrace, the green lawns stretching to the sea. I paid twopence for the painting - half my weekly pocket money - and then asked the wrinkled shop woman what it was meant to be. She looked astonished at my ignorance. 'That's Manderley, ' she said, and I remember coming out of the shop feeling rebuffed, yet hardly wiser than before. Perhaps it was the memory of this postcard, lost long ago in some forgotten book, that made me sympathize with his defensive attitude. He resented Mrs Van Hopper and her like with their intruding questions. Maybe there was something inviolate about Manderley that made it a place apart; it would not bear discussion. I could imagine her tramping through the rooms, perhaps paying sixpence for admission, ripping the quietude with her sharp, staccato laugh. Our minds must have run in the same channel, for he began to talk about her. 'Your friend, ' he began, 'she is very much older than you. Is she a relation? Have you known her long?' I saw he was still puzzled by us. 'She's not really a friend, ' I told him, 'she's an employer. She's training me to be a thing called a companion, and she pays me ninety pounds a year. ' 'I did not know one could buy companionship, ' he said; 'it sounds a primitive idea. Rather like the Eastern slave market. ' 'I looked up the word "companion" once in the dictionary, ' I admitted, 'and it said "a companion is a friend of the bosom". ' 'You haven't much in common with her, ' he said. He laughed, looking quite different, younger somehow and less detached. 'What do you do it for?' he asked me. 'Ninety pounds is a lot of money to me, ' I said. 'Haven't you any family?' 'No-they're dead. ' 'You have a very lovely and unusual name. ' 'My father was a lovely and unusual person. ' 'Tell me about him, ' he said. I looked at him over my glass of citronade. It was not easy to explain my father and usually I never talked about him. He was my secret property. Preserved for me alone, much as Manderley was preserved for my neighbour. I had no wish to introduce him casually over a table in a Monte Carlo restaurant.

第04章

桥牌会的次日,范-霍珀夫人醒来时咽喉干涩发痛,体温一百零二度。我给她的大夫挂了电话,大夫立刻赶来,诊断说是普通的流行性感冒。“在我同意你起床前,你得躺着休息,”大夫叮嘱说。“听上去你的心跳有点异样。如不绝对卧床静养,是很难好转的。我的意见是——”他转身对着我说,“替范-霍珀夫人找一名特别护士来。你连扶她坐起来的力气都没有。护理两星期左右就可以了。”

我觉得另请护士未免荒唐,就表示异议。可是,出乎我的意料,范-霍珀夫人同意大夫的建议。我想,她是巴不得小题大作。这样,人们就会来探望,或是写信表示慰问,还会有人送鲜花。她对蒙特卡洛已开始腻烦,身染微恙不失为一种调剂。

护士将给她打针,并施以轻微的按摩;她还得按规定食谱进食。护士来后,我就走开了。当时她的体温已开始下降,背靠着叠起的枕头坐在床上,披着她最华贵的睡衣,缀有缎带的闺房小帽覆着脑门,显出心满意足的样子。我松了一口气,可是又因此觉得内疚,怀着这种矛盾的心情,我去给她的朋友打电话,取消原已安排在当夜举行的小型聚会,接着就比平时提前整整一小时到楼下餐厅去吃午饭。我原以为餐厅定然空无一人,因为客人一般都不在一点钟前吃午饭。果然,餐厅里空荡荡的,只是我们的邻桌已有人占了。真是意外!对此我完全没有思想准备。他不是去索斯派尔了吗?毫无疑问,他怕一点钟再碰到我们,这才提前吃午饭。这时我已穿过半个餐厅,没法再扭头往回走了。前一天在电梯口分手之后,我没有再见到过他。因为他很乖觉,未在餐厅吃晚饭。此刻提早吃午饭想来也是出于同样的原因。

这种场面该如何应付,我没有经验。我要是年长几岁,受过另一种教育,该多好!我国不斜视地朝我们那张餐桌走去。展开餐巾时,我竟碰翻了一瓶僵直的银莲花,真是报应!谁叫我笨手笨脚的!水渗过桌布,滴滴答答流到我裙子上。侍者远在餐厅另一头,再说他也没看见这儿有人闯了祸。可是邻座容却突然出现在我身边,手拿一方干的餐巾。

“你可不能坐在湿漉漉的桌布旁吃饭,”他不客气地说。“会让你倒胃口的。快走开。”

他动手去擦桌布。这时,侍者看见了,赶快走来帮忙。

“我不在乎,”我说。“一点儿没关系。反正就我一个人。”

他没吭声,侍者走来,动作利索地把花瓶和撒了一桌子的花拾掇了。

“让它去吧,”他突然吩咐侍者。“去我桌上添一副刀叉。小姐同我共进午餐。”

我气急败坏地抬起头来说:“喔!不,这可绝对不行!”

“为什么?”他问。

我搜索枯肠,想找个借口。我知道他并不愿意同我共进午餐,只不过虚礼敷衍而已。我会毁了他这顿饭的。我打定主意有话直说。

“不,”我央求道。“请不必客气。承蒙你邀请,不过只要侍者把桌布擦一擦,我就在这儿吃也蛮好。”

“可我不是同你客气,”他并不让步。“我很希望你能同我一起吃午饭。即使你没有冒冒失失地撞翻花瓶,我也会邀请你的。”他大概从我脸上看出狐疑的神情,所以就微笑着往下说:“你不相信我,那也没关系。过来坐下。要是不愿意,咱们不一定要说话。”

我们坐下了。他把菜单递过来,让我点菜,自己却若无其事地只顾继续吃那道餐前的开胃小吃。

孤高是此人独特的个性。我相信,我们两人可以就这样埋头吃完一顿饭,一句话也不说。这也没有什么关系,不会因此感到任何不自然。他才不会来考问我的历史知识呢!

“你那位朋友怎么啦?”他问。我说她得了流行性感冒。他说:“真糟糕。”过了片刻,他又接着说:“我想那便柬你收到了。我很惭愧,我的举止太不成体统。对此我只能找到一个借口:单身生活使我变成了粗鲁的乡巴佬。所以,你今天跟我共进午餐,我很领情。”

“谈不上粗鲁,”我说。“至少她并没感觉到。她那种好奇心——她倒不是有意冒犯;她对谁都这样,我是说,对有地位的人。”

“这么说来,我倒应该感到不胜荣幸才是,”他说。“她为什么把我看作有地位的人?”我迟疑片刻后才回答:

“我想是因为曼陀丽吧。”

他没作声。我又一次觉得浑身上下不自在,像是闯了谁的禁区。我不明白,一提到他的家,那个一传十,十传百,人所共知的家,连我这样的小人物也听说过,怎么老是使他讳莫如深,顿时就在他和别人之间筑起某种可以称之为屏障的东西。

一时,两人都不说话,只顾埋头吃饭。我记得童年时代有一次到西部乡村去度假,曾在某个村落的小铺子里买了一张彩图明信片。图上画着一幢大宅。当然,画很拙劣,色彩也俗气。可是即使有这些缺点,画中的大宅仍不失其匀称美:平台前宽阔的石级;绿茵茵的草坪朝着海滨延伸。买这张明信片,我花了两个便士——一星期零用钱的一半。后来,我问开铺子的那个满脸皱纹的老太婆,图片上画的是什么。对于我的孤陋寡闻,老太婆着实吃了一惊

“那是曼陀丽啊!”她说。我还记得自己如何灰溜溜走出铺子,她的指点并没使我开窍。

这张明信片后来不知往哪本书里一夹,早就寻不见了。但也许恰恰因为还记得那张明信片,我才对他那种守口如瓶、提防别人的态度抱有同情。他讨厌范-霍珀夫人之流问长问短,打扰个没完。兴许,曼陀丽这地方有什么神圣之处,因而才不同一般,不容别人议论吧。我可以想象范-霍珀夫人如何踏着咚咚的大步,浏览曼陀丽的房间,以她那种尖利断续的笑声撕裂周围的宁静;她可能是付六个便士买了票,才得以入内参观的。我和他一定想到一块儿去了,因为他开始谈到范-霍珀夫人:

“你的那位朋友比你年长多了。是亲戚?认识很久了吗?”看来,我和夫人的关系对他仍是一个谜。

“确切地说,不是朋友,”我告诉他。“是雇主。她正训练我成为人们称之为‘伴侣’的角色。她每年付我九十英镑。”

“我倒不知道伴侣还能花钱买呢,”他说。“听来真野蛮,很像东方奴隶市场上的买卖。”

“我曾在字典里查‘伴侣’这个词,”我对他说实话。“释义说:‘伴侣就是心腹朋友。’”

“你跟她可没有多少共同点,”他说。

他笑了。笑时,他显得年轻一些,不那么超然,像是变了另外一个人。“为什么干这一行呢?”他问。

“对我,九十英镑可是一大笔钱,”我说。

“难道没有亲人吗?”

“没有——都死了。”

“你的名字很可爱,很别致。”

“我爸爸生前就是一个既可爱又不同凡响的人。”

“跟我讲讲你爸爸,”他说。

我手棒一杯香橼①水,眼光从杯子上方越过,打量着他。说我爸爸的事可不容易,通常我也从不跟人谈起他老人家。爸爸是我珍藏心底的宝贝,只为我一人所有,正如曼院而仅为我的邻座容一人所有一样。我可不想在蒙特卡洛一家饭店的餐桌上,随随便便把爸爸介绍给陌生人——

① 种大柠檬。


后面篇幅长了,一天一章就困难了,因为还想记记单词。尽量跟上。

不过确实写得美, 那种散发着自然气息的文字,如画的细节描写,令人忍不住一读再读。女性文学,跟王安忆的风格仿佛。

《 LOST HORIZON 》就没时间看了,先跟这个,完成后我接力上传。


读中文一下子就能感受到是什么文学,包括伤感文学、女性文学,读英文也能感受到相同的风格吗?静心慢慢地读着是一种享受。

第四章整篇也长,一次发的篇幅如果太长了难免会成为负担,除了读《蝴蝶梦》以外,还要看阅其他读物,看来剪短贴幅势在必行,或周末停发以利于消化回味。

《 LOST HORIZON 》就交给你了,以后要是还有谁愿意参与,志同道合者一起分享和支持。
[/FONT]

sabre : 2017-01-28#16
I looked up in confusion. 'Oh, no, ' I said, 'I couldn't possibly. '
我气急败坏地抬起头来说:“喔!不,这可绝对不行!”

用不知所措比气急败坏好,

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-01-28#17
与大师有同感。

友情通告:周末休息调整。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-01-30#18
[FONT=宋体]There was a strange air of unreality about that luncheon, and looking back upon it now it is invested for me with a curious glamour. There was I, so much of a schoolgirl still, who only the day before had sat with Mrs Van Hopper, prim, silent, and subdued, and twenty-four hours afterwards my family history was mine no longer, I shared it with a man I did not know. For some reason I felt impelled to speak, because his eyes followed me in sympathy like the Gentleman Unknown. My shyness fell away from me, loosening as it did so my reluctant tongue, and out they all came, the little secrets of childhood, the pleasures and the pains. It seemed to me as though he understood, from my poor description, something of the vibrant personality that had been my father's, and something too of the love my mother had for him, making it a vital, living force, with a spark of divinity about it, so much that when he died that desperate winter, struck down by pneumonia, she lingered behind him for five short weeks and stayed no more. I remember pausing, a little breathless, a little dazed. The restaurant was filled now with people who chatted and laughed to an orchestral background and a clatter of plates, and glancing at the clock above the door I saw that it was two o'clock. We had been sitting there an hour and a half, and the conversation had been mine alone. I tumbled down into reality, hot-handed and self-conscious, with my face aflame, and began to stammer my apologies. He would not listen to me. 'I told you at the beginning of lunch you had a lovely and unusual name, ' he said. 'I shall go further, if you will forgive me, and say that it becomes you as well as it became your father. I've enjoyed this hour with you more than I have enjoyed anything for a very long time. You've taken me out of myself, out of despondency and introspection, both of which have been my devils for a year. ' I looked at him, and believed he spoke the truth; he seemed less fettered than he had been before, more modern, more human; he was not hemmed in by shadows. 'You know, ' he said, 'we've got a bond in common, you and I. We are both alone in the world. Oh, I've got a sister, though we don't see much of each other, and an ancient grandmother whom I pay duty visits to three times a year, but neither of them make for companionship. I shall have to congratulate Mrs Van Hopper. You're cheap at ninety pounds a year. ' 'You forget', I said, 'you have a home and I have none. ' The moment I spoke I regretted my words, for the secret, inscrutable look came back in his eyes again, and once again I suffered the intolerable discomfort that floods one after lack of tact. He bent his head to light a cigarette, and did not reply immediately. 'An empty house can be as lonely as a full hotel, ' he said at length. 'The trouble is that it is less impersonal. ' He hesitated, and for a moment I thought he was going to talk of Manderley at last, but something held him back, some phobia that struggled to the surface of his mind and won supremacy, for he blew out his match and his flash of confidence at the same time. 'So the friend of the bosom has a holiday?' he said, on a level plane again, an easy camaraderie between us. 'What does she propose to do with it?' I thought of the cobbled square in Monaco and the house with the narrow window. I could be off there by three o'clock with my sketchbook and pencil, and I told him as much, a little shyly perhaps, like all untalented persons with a pet hobby. 'I'll drive you there in the car, ' he said, and would not listen to protests. I remembered Mrs Van Hopper's warning of the night before about putting myself forward and was embarrassed that he might think my talk of Monaco was a subterfuge to win a lift. It was so blatantly the type of thing that she would do herself, and I did not want him to bracket us together. I had already risen in importance from my lunch with him, for as we got up from the table the little mattre d'hotel rushed forward to pull away my chair. He bowed and smiled - a total change from his usual attitude of indifference - picked up my handkerchief that had fallen on the floor, and hoped 'mademoiselle had enjoyed her lunch'. Even the page-boy by the swing doors glanced at me with respect. My companion accepted it as natural, of course; he knew nothing of the ill-carved ham of yesterday. I found the change depressing, it made me despise myself. I remembered my father and his scorn of superficial snobbery. 'What are you thinking about?' We were walking along the corridor to the lounge, and looking up I saw his eyes fixed on me in curiosity. 'Has something annoyed you?' he said. The attentions of the maitre d'hotel had opened up a train of thought, and as we drank coffee I told him about Blaize, the dressmaker. She had been so pleased when Mrs Van Hopper had bought three frocks, and I, taking her to the lift afterwards, had pictured her working upon them in her own small salon, behind the stuffy little shop, with a consumptive son wasting upon her sofa. I could see her, with tired eyes, threading needles, and the floor covered with snippets of material. 'Well?' he said smiling, 'wasn't your picture true?' 'I don't know, ' I said, 'I never found out. ' And I told him how I had rung the bell for the lift, and as I had done so she had fumbled in her bag and gave me a note for a hundred francs. 'Here, ' she had whispered, her tone intimate and unpleasant, 'I want you to accept this small commission in return for bringing your patron to my shop. ' When I had refused, scarlet with embarrassment, she had shrugged her shoulders disagreeably. 'Just as you like, ' she had said, 'but I assure you it's quite usual. Perhaps you would rather have a frock. Come along to the shop some time without Madame and I will fix you up without charging you a sou. ' Somehow, I don't know why, I had been aware of that sick, unhealthy feeling I had experienced as a child when turning the pages of a forbidden book. The vision of the consumptive son faded, and in its stead arose the picture of myself had I been different, pocketing that greasy note with an understanding smile, and perhaps slipping round to Blaize's shop on this my free afternoon and coming away with a frock I had not paid for. I expected him to laugh, it was a stupid story, I don't know why I told him, but he looked at me thoughtfully as he stirred his coffee. 'I think you've made a big mistake, ' he said, after a moment. 'In refusing that hundred francs?' I asked, revolted. 'No - good heavens, what do you take me for? I think you've made a mistake in coming here, in joining forces with Mrs Van Hopper. You are not made for that sort of job. You're too young, for one thing, and too soft. Blaize and her commission, that's nothing. The first of many similar incidents from other Blaizes. You will either have to give in, and become a sort of Blaize yourself, or stay as you are and be broken. Who suggested you took on this thing in the first place?' It seemed natural for him to question me, nor did I mind. It was as though we had known one another for a long time, and had met again after a lapse of years. 'Have you ever thought about the future?' he asked me, 'and what this sort of thing will lead to? Supposing Mrs Van Hopper gets tired of her "friend of the bosom", what then?' I smiled, and told him that I did not mind very much. There would be other Mrs Van Hoppers, and I was young, and confident, and strong. But even as he spoke I remembered those advertisements seen often in good class magazines where a friendly society demands succour for young women in reduced circumstances; I thought of the type of boarding-house that answers the advertisement and gives temporary shelter, and then I saw myself, useless sketch-book in hand, without qualifications of any kind, stammering replies to stern employment agents. Perhaps I should have accepted Blaize's ten per cent. 'How old are you?' he said, and when I told him he laughed, and got up from his chair. 'I know that age, it's a particularly obstinate one, and a thousand bogies won't make you fear the future. A pity we can't change over. Go upstairs and put your hat on, and I'll have the car brought round. ' As he watched me into the lift I thought of yesterday, Mrs Van Hopper's chattering tongue, and his cold courtesy. I had ill-judged him, he was neither hard nor sardonic, he was already my friend of many years, the brother I had never possessed. Mine was a happy mood that afternoon, and I remember it well. I can see the rippled sky, fluffy with cloud, and the white whipped sea. I can feel again the wind on my face, and hear my laugh, and his that echoed it. It was not the Monte Carlo I had known, or perhaps the truth was that it pleased me better. There was a glamour about it that had not been before. I must have looked upon it before with dull eyes. The harbour was a dancing thing, with fluttering paper boats, and the sailors on the quay were jovial, smiling fellows, merry as the wind. We passed the yacht, beloved of Mrs Van Hopper because of its ducal owner, and snapped our fingers at the glistening brass, and looked at one another and laughed again. I can remember as though I wore it still my comfortable, ill-fitting flannel suit, and how the skirt was lighter than the coat through harder wear. My shabby hat, too broad about the brim, and my low-heeled shoes, fastened with a single strap. A pair of gauntlet gloves clutched in a grubby hand. I had never looked more youthful, I had never felt so old. Mrs Van Hopper and her influenza did not exist for me. The bridge and the cocktail parties were forgotten, and with them my own humble status. I was a person of importance, I was grown up at last. That girl who, tortured by shyness, would stand outside the sitting-room door twisting a handkerchief in her hands, while from within came that babble of confused chatter so unnerving to the intruder - she had gone with the wind that afternoon. She was a poor creature, and I thought of her with scorn if I considered her at all. The wind was too high for sketching, it tore in cheerful gusts around the corner of my cobbled square, and back to the car we went and drove I know not where. The long road climbed the hills, and the car climbed with it, and we circled in the heights like a bird in the air. How different his car to Mrs Van Hopper's hireling for the season, a square old-fashioned Daimler that took us to Mentone on placid afternoons, when I, sitting on the little seat with my back to the driver, must crane my neck to see the view. This car had the wings of Mercury, I thought, for higher yet we climbed, and dangerously fast, and the danger pleased me because it was new to me, because I was young. I remember laughing aloud, and the laugh being carried by the wind away from me; and looking at him, I realized he laughed no longer, he was once more silent and detached, the man of yesterday wrapped in his secret self. I realized, too, that the car could climb no more, we had reached the summit, and below us stretched the way that we had come, precipitous and hollow.

围绕着那顿午餐始终有某种奇异的梦幻气氛,今天回想起来,仍然充满着不可思议的魅力。那天,我还是那副女学生模样;就在前一天,我还曾坐在范-霍珀夫人身旁,古板拘谨,哑口无言,畏葸端坐。可是二十四小时之后,我的家史已不复为我一人所有,我竟对素昧平生的一个男子把家史和盘托出。不知怎么的,我觉得非说不可,因为他,就像那位无名绅士一样,眼睛一直盯着我。

我的羞怯消失得无影无踪,与此同时,那不愿说话的舌头也解放了。于是,往事一股脑儿奔渲而出:儿时琐碎无聊的隐私,各种甜酸苦辣。我感到,从我十分拙劣的叙述中,他似乎多少了解到我父亲往昔朝气蓬勃的性格以及我母亲对他的爱。母亲把爱情化作一种生命的活力,使爱情带上神性的光辉,以至于在那个令人心碎的冬天,父亲患肺炎死去之后,她只在人间多呆了短短五个星期,便也绝据长逝了。我记得说到这儿曾上气不接下气的停顿过一会儿,觉得一阵头晕眼花。这时,餐厅里已经高朋满座,伴随着管弦乐队的琴鼓喇叭,人声笑语不绝于耳,还有盘碟清脆的碰撞声。一看门口上方的钟,我发现已经两点了。我们在餐厅里呆了一个半小时,其间都是我一个人在说话。

我猛地回到现实中来,手掌心滚烫,突然不自然了。我涨红脸,期期文文地表示歉意。他可不听这一套。

“开始吃午饭时,我对你说过你的名字可爱又别致,”他说。“如果你不见怪,我还补充一句:这名字对你父亲固然合适,你也受之无愧。同你一起度过的这一个小时使我十分愉快,好长一段时间以来没领略过这种滋味了。你使我跳出自己的小圈圈,摆脱了绝望和内心反省,这两者一年来害得我好苦!”

我看着他,相信他说的是真话。先前那种桎梏不再那样禁锢着他,这样他才更像个现代人,一个活生生的人。他从四下萦绕的阴影中走了出来。

“你知道,”他说,“有某种共同的东西把我们,把你我两人,连结在一起。我们俩在世上都是孤独的。对了,我还有个姐姐,只是不常见面;还有一位老奶奶,出于当孙子的义务,我每年拜访她三次。但是两位亲人都不是伴侣。我得向范-霍珀夫人祝贺,你只要九十英镑一年,够便宜了。”

“你忘了,”我说,“你有个家。我却无家可归。”

一说这话,我就后悔不迭。他的眼神重又变得深邃莫测,我则又一次觉得如坐针毡般的难堪,一个人要是不慎失言,总会有这种老大不自在的感觉。他低下头去点香烟,没有马上回答。

“就寂寞而论,一幢空房子,可能并不比一座熙攘喧闹的旅馆强,”他终于说话了。“问题在于那幢房子还不免带点儿个性。”他深吟半晌,我以为这下他终于要谈到曼陀丽了,可是有什么东酉束缚着他,某种病态的恐惧心理挣扎着浮上他的脑海,占了上风。于是,他吹熄火柴,与此同时,方才一闪而过的那点儿自信也烟消云散了。

“这么说,‘心腹朋友’可以放一天假罗?”他又以平淡的语调对我说话,这种语调使我俩中间产生一种不必拘束的亲切感。“咱们的这位朋友打算怎么打发假日呢?”

我立刻想到摩纳哥那鹅卵石广场,那座带狭窗的房屋。我可以带着素描画本和铅笔在三点前赶到那里。我居然把这些都对他说了,说时也许稍带羞涩,那些虽无才华却喜好某种微不足道的玩意儿的人都这么说话。

“我开车送你去,”他由不得我表示异议。

我记起前一天晚上范-霍珀夫人关于不得放肆的警告。他会不会以为我故意谈到摩纳哥,巧立名目,以便搭车?想到这儿,我窘极了。这种丢脸的事情,范-霍珀夫人是干得出的。我可不愿他把我们两人看作一路货。跟他吃过一顿午饭,我的身价已经大增。所以,当我们起身离开餐桌时,那矮个儿餐厅侍者领班竟三步并作两步赶将过来,替我拖开椅子,他朝我深深一鞠躬,脸带微笑,跟平时那种不屑一顾的淡漠神态相比,简直判若两人。领班替我拾起掉在地上的手绢,还说他希望“小姐午餐吃得满意”。连仁立在转门旁的青年侍者也向我投来恭敬的目光。对于这一切,我那同伴自然习以为常;他又不知道昨天那盘切得不成样子的火腿。看到侍者态度大变,我心里很不是滋味,也看不起自己。我又回想起父亲,他老人家对以外表度人的势利丑态是极为蔑视的。

“你在想什么?”我们沿着走廊向休息室走去。一抬头,我发觉他正好奇地盯着我瞧。

“什么事惹你不高兴了?”他问。

餐厅侍者领班的殷勤引出一连串的回忆。喝咖啡时,我对他说起那个名叫布莱兹的女裁缝。那一回,范-霍珀夫人定做了三件上衣,女裁缝可乐啦。后来,在送裁缝上电梯去的路上,我曾想象她将如何在那狭小闷塞的工场背后的小客厅里,赶制这几件衣服;生肺病的儿子也许就躺在她身旁的沙发上,日益瞧悴下去。我甚至想象出女裁缝如何眯缝着干涩的眼睛,穿针引线;屋子里衣料的碎片撕了一地。

“是吗?”他微笑着说。“你脑子里的图画与事实相符吗?”

“不知道,”我说。“我一直没能亲眼看到。”接着,我又向他描述我如何按铃招呼电梯。而正当我按铃时,女裁缝在提包里摸索了一阵,掏出一张一百法郎的钞票,塞了过来。“(口努),”她用亲呢得讨厌的语调在我耳边说。“我请你收下这笔小小的佣金,请你带你的主人多多光顾本店。”我涨红了脸,窘态毕露,说什么也不肯收钱。女裁缝只好没趣地耸耸肩。“随你的便,”她说。“不过,我向你保证,这种事平常得很。也许你宁愿要件上衣吧。那就找个时间,避开夫人,独个儿到小店来一趟。我一定把你打扮得漂漂亮亮,不要你花一个子儿。”不知为什么,我突然领略到早年儿童时代偷看一部禁书时那种让人恶心的不健康的感觉。生肺病的儿子的形象消失了,代之而出现的是另一幅景象:如果我是另外一种类型的人,我就会报以心照不宜的一笑,把那张油污的钞票塞进口袋,要不就利用这个闲着没事的下午,偷偷到布莱兹的成衣铺去,出来时带着一件对方白送的上衣。

我等着他笑话我,这一切都无聊透了。我也不知道为什么要对他说这些。他沉思地看着我,一边搅动咖啡。

“依我看,你犯了个大错。”过了一会儿,他才说。

“没收下那一百法郎?”我不胜厌恶地问。

“不!天哪,你把我看作什么人了?我是说你到这儿来,跟范-霍珀夫人混在一起是个大错。你不是于这一行的材料。首先,你太年轻,太软弱。布莱兹和她的佣金算不了什么,只不过是个开头,往后这类事还多呢。你要末屈服,要末自己也变成布莱兹式的人物;不然,就照目前的样于生活下去,会弄得走投无路。头一个出主意让你干这一行的是谁?”由他提出这个问题好像颇为自然,我一点儿不介意。我俩像是早就相识的朋友,阔别数年之后在这儿重逢。

“你考虑过今后怎么办吗?”他问我。“还有,如果照目前这样下去,会落得个什么样的结果?有朝一日,范-霍珀夫人对‘心腹朋友’腻了,以后会怎么样?”

我脸上挂着浅笑告诉他,我顾不了那么多。还会有其他范-霍珀夫人之类的间太太,而我还年轻,我有信心,而且身强力壮。不过就在他问我那当儿,我又不禁想起常常刊登在上流社会杂志上的那些求助广告,说是某慈善团体不能坐视青年女子每况愈下而不救,所以要求善男信女援手扶助;我又想到那些应广告呼吁、供人暂时栖身的寄宿舍;接着,我仿佛看到自己正站在脸色严厉的招工代理人跟前,结结巴巴地回答各种问题,手里捧着一个没有一点用处的素描画本,此外就再也提不出其他资历了。也许,我本应收下布莱兹那百分之十的佣金。

“你多大了?”他问。听我报过年龄,他笑了,一边站起身来。“我了解你这种年龄的人,人在这种年龄都特别固执。一千个妖魔鬼怪也不能让你畏惧未来。可惜我俩不能换一换。上楼去戴上帽子,我去把车开过来。”

他目送我跨进电梯。这时我又想到前一天的情景,想到范-霍珀夫人的饶舌和他那种冷冰冰的礼仪。我没看准他的为人:他既不冷酷,也不傲慢;他已是我多年的挚友,我的兄长,尽管我从来不曾有兄弟。那天下午,我完全沉浸在幸福里,当时的心境至今记忆犹新。我仿佛还能看见那天下午挂着缕缕绒毛云的天空和卷起白浪的大海;我仿佛重又感到轻风拂面,听到我自己的以及他应和的笑声。蒙特卡洛不再是我熟识的赌城,也许是因为这地方终于给我带来了一些愉快,散发出某种迄今未有的诱惑力。在这以前,我一定是以呆滞的目光去看这座城市的。在港口,船上的彩色纸条迎风荡漾飞舞,气象万千;码头上,快活的水手满脸堆笑,就像海风一样活泼调皮。我们驾车驶过那条游艇,因为游艇归公爵所有,范-霍珀夫人才青眼相看。我们朝游艇上那块闪亮的青铜名牌嘲弄地捻响手指,接着对视一眼,又大笑一阵。我还记得那套东歪西扭不合身的法兰绒衣裙,仿佛今天还披在身上让我出丑。那条裙子因为穿得更久,比上衣轻薄得多;还有那顶寒酸的女帽,帽滑过于宽阔,脚下那双低眼皮鞋,只有一条皮带作为襻扣;另外,我那双下人的手还紧抓着一副齐臂的长手套。当时的我,模样从未这般幼稚可笑,而内心却又感到前所未有的成熟。范-霍珀夫人和她的流行性感冒对我来说不复存在;什么桥牌,什么鸡尾酒会,也都给忘得一干二净;与此同时,我也忘了自己微贱的下人身分。

我成了有地位的小姐,总算长大成人了。那个小妞儿——站在起居室门外,扭绞着手帕,听着里边你一言我一语的嗡嗡人声,畏缩着不敢进门打扰的张皇失措的小妞——竟也被那天下午的风吹得无影无踪。这小妞儿真可怜,要是思想里居然出现这个小妞的形象,我可瞧不起她。

因为风大,素描画不成。风儿阵阵劲吹,欢快地拂过鹅卵石广场的一角。我俩走回汽车,又不知往哪儿疾驶而去。漫长的公路蜿蜒而上,我们沿着它登山,在群岭之上左盘右旋,就像鸟儿在高空翱翔。他的车同范-霍珀夫人在旅游期间租来的那辆四方形老式戴姆勒牌汽车多么不一样!多少个无风的下午,这辆戴姆勒汽车曾把我们载往曼通尼城。我总是背靠司机,坐在一个手脚动弹不得的座位上,要看车外景色,就非得伸长脖子不可。在我看来,他的车好像长着墨丘利①的双翅,不住地往上飞驶,速度之快令人惊心动魄。惊险给我带来快感。因为我从来没领略过这种滋味。再说,我还年轻——

① 马神话中为诸神报信的使者。

我记得自己放声大笑,笑声顿时被山风从身边带走。可是待我把眼光移过来,我发现他已收敛了笑容。他又像昨天那样缩进神秘的自我外壳,默默地出神。

我还注意到汽车没法再往上开了,原来我们已抵达山顶。来时走过的公路横在我们脚下,十分险峻,深陷在山谷之中。
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j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-01-31#19
He stopped the car, and I could see that the edge of the road bordered a vertical slope that crumbled into vacancy, a fall of perhaps two thousand feet. We got out of the car and looked beneath us. This sobered me at last. I knew that but half the car's length had lain between us and the fall. The sea, like a crinkled chart, spread to the horizon, and lapped the sharp outline of the coast, while the houses were white shells in a rounded grotto, pricked here and there by a great orange sun. We knew another sunlight on our hill, and the silence made it harder, more austere. A change had come upon our afternoon; it was not the thing of gossamer it had been. The wind dropped, and it suddenly grew cold. When I spoke my voice was far too casual, the silly, nervous voice of someone ill at ease. 'Do you know this place?' I said. 'Have you been here before?' He looked down at me without recognition, and I realized with a little stab of anxiety that he must have forgotten all about me, perhaps for some considerable time, and that he himself was so lost in the labyrinth of his own unquiet thoughts that I did not exist. He had the face of one who walks in his sleep, and for a wild moment the idea came to me that perhaps he was not normal, not altogether sane. There were people who had trances, I had surely heard of them, and they followed strange laws of which we could know nothing, they obeyed the tangled orders of their own subconscious minds. Perhaps he was one of them, and here we were within six feet of death. 'It's getting late, shall we go home?' I said, and my careless tone, my little ineffectual smile would scarcely have deceived a child. I had misjudged him, of course, there was nothing wrong after all, for as soon as I spoke this second time he came clear of his dream and began to apologize. I had gone white, I suppose, and he had noticed it. 'That was an unforgivable thing for me to do, ' he said, and taking my arm he pushed me back towards the car, and we climbed in again, and he slammed the door. 'Don't be frightened, the turn is far easier than it looks, ' he said, and while I, sick and giddy, clung to the seat with both hands, he manoeuvred the car gently, very gently, until it faced the sloping road once more. "Then you have been here before?' I said to him, my sense of strain departing, as the car crept away down the twisting narrow road. 'Yes, ' he said, and then, after pausing a moment, 'but not for many years. I wanted to see if it had changed. ' 'And has it?' I asked him. 'No, ' he said. 'No, it has not changed. ' I wondered what had driven him to this retreat into the past, with me an unconscious witness of his mood. What gulf of years stretched between him and that other time, what deed of thought and action, what difference in temperament? I did not want to know. I wished I had not come. Down the twisting road we went without a check, without a word, a great ridge of cloud stretched above the setting sun, and the air was cold and clean. Suddenly he began to talk about Manderley. He said nothing of his life there, no word about himself, but he told me how the sun set there, on a spring afternoon, leaving a glow upon the headland. The sea would look like slate, cold still from the long winter, and from the terrace you could hear the ripple of the coming tide washing in the little bay. The daffodils were in bloom, stirring in the evening breeze, golden heads cupped upon lean stalks, and however many you might pick there would be no thinning of the ranks, they were massed like an army, shoulder to shoulder. On a bank below the lawns, crocuses were planted, golden, pink, and mauve, but by this time they would be past their best, dropping and fading, like pallid snowdrops. The primrose was more vulgar, a homely pleasant creature who appeared in every cranny like a weed. Too early yet for bluebells, their heads were still hidden beneath last year's leaves, but when they came, dwarfing the more humble violet, they choked the very bracken in the woods, and with their colour made a challenge to the sky. He never would have them in the house, he said. Thrust into vases they became dank and listless, and to see them at their best you must walk in the woods in the morning, about twelve o'clock, when the sun was overhead. They had a smoky, rather bitter smell, as though a wild sap ran in their stalks, pungent and juicy. People who plucked bluebells from the woods were vandals; he had forbidden it at Manderley. Sometimes, driving in the country, he had seen bicyclists with huge bunches strapped before them on the handles, the bloom already fading from the dying heads, the ravaged stalks straggling naked and unclean. The primrose did not mind it quite so much; although a creature of the wilds it had a leaning towards civilization, and preened and smiled in a jam-jar in some cottage window without resentment, living quite a week if given water. No wild flowers came in the house at Manderley. He had special cultivated flowers, grown for the house alone, in the walled garden. A rose was one of the few flowers, he said, that looked better picked than growing. 'A bowl of roses in a drawing-room had a depth of colour and scent they had not possessed in the open. There was something rather blousy about roses in full bloom, something shallow and raucous, like women with untidy hair. In the house they became mysterious and subtle. He had roses in the house at Manderley for eight months in the year. Did I like syringa, he asked me? There was a tree on the edge of the lawn he could smell from his bedroom window. His sister, who was a hard, rather practical person, used to complain that there were too many scents at Manderley, they made her drunk. Perhaps she was right. He did not care. It was the only form of intoxication that appealed to him. His earliest recollection was of great branches of lilac, standing in white jars, and they filled the house with a wistful, poignant smell. The little pathway down the valley to the bay had clumps of azalea and rhododendron planted to the left of it, and if you wandered down it on a May evening after dinner it was just as though the shrubs had sweated in the air. You could stoop down and pick a fallen petal, crush it between your fingers, and you had there, in the hollow of your hand, the essence of a thousand scents, unbearable and sweet. All from a curled and crumpled petal. And you came out of the valley, heady and rather dazed, to the hard white shingle of the beach and the still water. A curious, perhaps too sudden contrast... As he spoke the car became one of many once again, dusk had fallen without my noticing it, and we were in the midst of light and sound in the streets of Monte Carlo. The clatter jagged on my nerves, and the lights were far too brilliant, far too yellow. It was a swift, unwelcome anticlimax. Soon we would come to the hotel, and I felt for my gloves in the pocket of the car. I found them, and my fingers closed upon a book as well, whose slim covers told of poetry. I peered to read the title as the car slowed down before the door of the hotel. 'You can take it and read it if you like, ' he said, his voice casual and indifferent now that the drive was over, and we were back again, and Manderley was many hundreds of miles distant. I was glad, and held it tightly with my gloves. I felt I wanted some possession of his, now that the day was finished. 'Hop out, ' he said. 'I must go and put the car away. I shan't see you in the restaurant this evening as I'm dining out. But thank you for today. ' I went up the hotel steps alone, with all the despondency of a child whose treat is over. My afternoon had spoilt me for the hours that still remained, and I thought how long they would seem until my bed-time, how empty too my supper all alone. Somehow I could not face the bright inquiries of the nurse upstairs, or the possibilities of Mrs Van Hopper's husky interrogation, so I sat down in the corner of the lounge behind a pillar and ordered tea. The waiter appeared bored; seeing me alone there was no need for him to press, and anyway it was that dragging time of day, a few minutes after half past five, when the nonnal tea is finished and the hour for drinks remote. Rather forlorn, more than a little dissatisfied, I leant back in my chair and took up the book of poems. The volume was well worn, well thumbed, falling open automatically at what must be a much-frequented page. I fled Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter. Up vistaed slopes I sped And shot, precipited Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears, From those strong feet that followed, followed after. I felt rather like someone peering through the keyhole of a locked door, and a little furtively I laid the book aside. What hound of heaven had driven him to the high hills this afternoon? I thought of his car, with half a length between it and that drop of two thousand feet, and the blank expression on his face. What footsteps echoed in his mind, what whispers, and what memories, and why, of all poems, must he keep this one in the pocket of his car? I wished he were less remote; and I anything but the creature that I was in my shabby coat and skirt, my broad-brimmed schoolgirl hat. The sulky waiter brought my tea, and while I ate bread-and-butter dull as sawdust I thought of the pathway through the valley he had described to me this afternoon, the smell of the azaleas, and the white shingle of the bay. If he loved it all so much why did he seek the superficial froth of Monte Carlo? He had told Mrs Van Hopper he had made no plans, he came away in rather a hurry. And I pictured him running down that pathway in the valley with his own hound of heaven at his heels. I picked up the book again, and this time it opened at the title-page, and I read the dedication. 'Max- from Rebecca. 17 May', written in a curious slanting hand. A little blob of ink marred the white page opposite, as though the writer, in impatience, had shaken her pen to make the ink flow freely. And then as it bubbled through the nib, it came a little thick, so that the name Rebecca stood out black and strong, the tall and sloping R dwarfing the other letters. I shut the book with a snap, and put it away under my gloves; and stretching to a nearby chair, I took up an old copy of VIllustration and turned the pages. There were some fine photographs of the chateaux of the Loire, and an article as well. I read it carefully, referring to the photographs, but when I finished I knew I had not understood a word. It was not Blois with its thin turrets and its spires that stared up at me from the printed page. It was the face of Mrs Van Hopper in the restaurant the day before, her small pig's eyes darting to the neighbouring table, her fork, heaped high with ravioli, pausing in mid-air. 'An appalling tragedy, ' she was saying, 'the papers were full of it of course. They say he never talks about it, never mentions her name. She was drowned you know, in the bay near Manderley ... '

我们停了车。这时,我看到公路的边沿往外就是一个险坡,陡峭的山坡倾斜着伸向大约二千英尺的深渊。我们走出汽车。往下望去,这下我才算完全看清楚。原来在我们和深渊之间只有半个车身的距离。大海犹如一张起皱的大图纸,铺向地平线,浪花拍击着凹凸分明的海岸钱。房屋像是圆形洞穴里的白色贝壳,硕大的太阳在多处投下斑驳的橙色。我们所在的山头也照着一束阳光,一片死寂之中,阳光显得冷酷而森然。下午出游的气氛变了,不再像刚才那样轻松活泼。风停了。天气突然阴冷下来。

我说话的声音显得过于随便,那是一种人们在极度不安时故作镇静的反常声调:“你认得这地方?”我问。“以前来过吗?”他俯视着我,但认不出我是谁。我急了,觉得一阵隐隐的刺痛,看来他一定把我忘了个精光,也许这样出神已有好大一会儿。他完全陷在自己纷乱可怕的思绪迷津之中,所以我对他已不存在了。

他的脸活像梦游人的脸。他一紧张,甚至想到也许他确实不是个正常人,神经不太健全吧。有些人时而会出神发狂,这我当然听说过;这种人按我们无法理解的反常规律行事,服从下意识的紊乱指令。也许他就是这样一种人。而我们此刻离死神只有六英尺的距离。

“天晚了。回家好吗?”我说。那种漫不经心的语调和硬装出来的笑容连小孩也骗不过。

当然,我到底还是把他看错了。他毕竟没有什么不正常的地方。一听到我第二次开口说话,他猛地从梦幻中挣脱出来,开始道歉。大概我的脸色煞白,他看出来了。

“我真该死,”他说着挽起我的手臂,推我走回汽车。上车以后,他砰地关上车门。“别害怕。这里的转弯看上去挺惊险,其实一点也不费劲儿,”他说。我头昏眼花,直想恶心,双手紧抓着座椅。他却已把车掉过头来,重新面对着下山的公路,动作是那么熟练轻盈,使我一点也没觉得。

“这么说,你从前到过这儿?”我问他。这时,紧张感渐趋消失,车正沿着碗蜒而狭窄的公路缓慢地驶下山来。

“是的,”他说。顿一顿之后,他接着告诉我:“不过那是多年以前的事了。我想看看这地方变样没有。”

“变没变呢?”我问

“没变,”他说。“没有,没变样。”

我猜不透是什么力量驱使他重游故地,回想往事,还带着我这样一个莫名其妙的陌生人来目睹他的喜怒哀乐。他上一次游山至今已有多少个漫长的年头逝去?在此期间,他的内心和他的作为都有哪些不同?气质秉性又有什么变化?我不想了解此中底蕴;我后悔上这儿来。

我们沿着公路迂回下山,一路无话,也没有遇阻停车。一大堆峥嵘的乌云笼罩着落日,空气变得无比清冷。突然他提起了曼陀丽。他不说自己在庄园的生活;关于他本人,他一字不提。他只向我描绘曼陀丽春天黄昏的落日。夕阳在海岬留下火红的余辉,大海顿时变成一片墨绿,因为漫长的冬季刚过,海水仍然冰凉刺骨。置身于屋前的平台,你可以听到小海湾涨潮的涛声。这正是水仙怒放的季节,纤细的花茎托着金色的穗头,在晚风中微微摇曳。比肩密集的水仙犹如一支大军,不论你采摘多少,一点不会显出稀疏的缺口。草坪尽头的海岸上,种植着一大片藏红花,色彩有桔黄、淡红和紫红之别。不过,这时已不是藏红花的全盛季节,所以一朵朵都耷拉着脑袋,色衰花谢,犹如惨白的雪片。报春花比较粗俗低贱一些,就像野草一样,哪儿有缝隙就往哪儿生长,纵然姿色平平,倒也令人赏心悦目。风信子还没到开花时辰,花穗还掩面躲在去年的残叶丛中。但是一等到风信子怒放,不那么娇贵的紫罗兰顿时就相形见细,树林里的羊齿则被吞没得干干净净。风信子的娇艳完全可以同天空媲美。

他说,他从来不许在室内陈设风信于。一插进花瓶,风信子就显得阴湿潦倒。要观赏妩媚绝伦的风信子,你得在正午十二点钟左右太阳当头时到林子里去信步漫游。这种花的香气刺鼻,并带点儿烟味,仿佛花荭里畅流着某种辛辣而饱满的野生液汁。那些在林子里采摘风信子的人简直就是破坏文物的野蛮人,为此,他曾在曼陀丽下过禁令。有时候,他开车穿过田野,看见一些家伙骑自行车经过,车把上捆着大束大束的风信子,因为穗头凋败,花朵已经褪色,被折的荭秆散乱地耷拉着赤裸的身子,成了一团糟。

对于本身的待遇,羊齿可并不十分在乎。这是一种野生植物,可偏偏喜欢与人类文明的雅趣沾点边。它们从农舍窗户后面的果酱罐里探出身来,搔头弄姿,丝毫不觉得有什么委屈,只要罐子里有水,足足可能活一个星期。在曼陀丽,野花不得进屋。他在由围墙圈起的花园里栽培几种仅供室内摆设用的鲜花。他告诉我,难得有几种花摘下之后反而更好看,玫瑰顿就是其中之一。客厅里放一盆玫瑰,色彩鲜艳,浓香扑鼻,而自然界的玫瑰就没有这两大优点。怒放的玫瑰给人某种蓬头垢面的感觉,就像披头散发的女人,显得轻浮而粗俗。可一旦放进屋子,玫瑰时变得神秘深沉。一年之中有八个月,他让人在曼陀丽室内陈设玫瑰。我喜欢丁香吗?他问。草坪的尽头有一棵丁香树,站在他卧室的窗口就可闻到丁香的芬芳。他的姐姐是个冷漠而讲求实际的人,因此常常抱怨曼陀丽到处一片花香,使她沉醉。也许她是对的。那他也不管。唯有花香合他的胃口,使他陶醉。回忆早年,他总想起插在白色花瓶里的大束紫丁香以及弥漫在屋子四处发人遐思的扑鼻异香。

从山谷通向海湾的那条幽径,也是花团锦族,小径的左边种着大丛大丛的各色杜鹃。五月哪一天的黄昏,你如果沿着小径散步,就会发现灌木丛仿佛在风中淌汗。你弯身拾起一片落地的花瓣,用手指把它捻碎,顿时,从你的手掌心散发出干种奇香,沁人心脾。而这一切只不过是由一片被揉捏破碎的花瓣发出的。你悠然神往地走出山谷,来到海滩,脚下是坚硬的白色圆卵石和平静的海水。多么奇妙的对照!也许过于突兀……

他说话的当儿,我们的汽车已回到闹市的交通中心。不知不觉之间,暮色已经降临,我们正置身于蒙特卡洛一片华灯和喧闹之中。大街上的喧嚣声刺激我的神经;黄灿灿的灯光亮得耀眼。时间飞快地溜走,愉快的出游就这样乏味地收场,我真不甘心。

我们马上就要回到旅馆。我在车厢的抽屉里摸索着找我的手套。找到手套的同时,我的手指碰上一本书,精致纤巧的封面说明这是一部诗集。车子在旅馆门前放慢速度的当儿,我正眯缝着眼睛想看清书名。“要是你愿意,拿去读吧,”他说。驾车出游已告结束,我们回到了旅馆,曼陀丽已被抛在几百英里之外,他的语调于是又变得随随便便,漫不经心。

我暗自庆幸,抓着手套的手同时紧紧地抓住这本书。一天就要这样过完,我正想得到一件属他所有的东西。

“下车吧,”他说。“我得把车开过去放好。今晚我上外面吃饭,不会在餐厅里再见到你了。不过我要谢谢你今天陪我。”

我独自走上旅馆的台阶,可怜巴巴的样子活像一个玩乐收场而兴犹未尽的小孩。下午的出游对我是一种娇纵,使我不知如何打发这天余下的几个小时才好。我想到在就寝之前还有好长一段时光,而独个儿去吃晚饭又何其无聊。不知为什么。我觉得无法正面回答楼上那护士狡黠的查询,更无法面对范-霍珀夫人扯着沙哑的嗓子可能对我进行的盘问。所以我干脆在休息室一隅坐下,躲在一根柱子背后,要侍者送茶点来。

侍者显出很不耐烦的样子。看到我独个儿用茶,他自然不必使出浑身解数来。再说,这时刚过五点半,是一天中最无精打采的时刻。一般人都已用过茶点,点菜饮酒却还早着呢。

我的感觉已不仅仅是若有所失,我只觉得凄凉孤独。我仰身靠在椅背上,拿起那部诗集。这本书已久经手指抚弄,显得相当陈旧,所以一下子就自动翻开在某一页上,这一页一定是有人经常翻阅的。

“日日夜夜,我奔逃;

年复一年,我奔逃;

奔逃,奔逃,

穿越内心迷津,透过泪眼腺肥,

我躲开天狗奔逃。

飞也似地奔逃,奔逃;

背后传来连串狂笑,

眼前是斜坡山地。

我纵身投进张着大嘴的深渊,

任恐惧把我心啃咬。

奔逃,奔逃,

别让身后雄健的脚步把我踩倒。”①——

①英国诗人弗朗西斯-汤普逊(1859-1907)所作《天狗》中一段。

我当时的感觉就好似有人从上锁的门外,透过钥匙孔往里窥视,于是我把书偷偷丢在一旁。今天下午是哪条“天狗”把他赶上高山去的?我想到他的汽车,就停靠在离二千英尺深渊仅半个车身的地方;我还想到他脸上那种茫然的表情。在他内心深处回响着什么样的脚步声?什么样的轻声细语?哪些往事唤起了他的回忆?还有,所有的诗集中,他为什么唯独把这一部带在车上?我但愿他不是那么孤高;至于我自己,最好也别是一个衣裙寒怆,戴一顶阔边女学生帽的小妞儿。

侍者铁板着脸端来茶点。我嚼着那像锯屑般干巴巴的黄油面包,一边又想到下午他向我描述过的那条穿山谷而过的幽径,还有杜鹃的花香和海湾处白色的圆卵石,要是他深深爱着这一切,干吗到蒙特卡洛来寻求这华而不实的一时快乐?他曾对范-霍珀夫人说,他并没有事先拟订计划,离家时相当匆忙。我眼前出现了他在山谷幽径狂奔的景象,折磨他的“天狗”在后边紧追不舍。

我又拿起诗集。这一回,书掀在扉页上,我看到上面写着留念题字:“给迈克斯——吕蓓卡赠,五月十七日”。字是用一手相当不凡的斜体写成的。有一小滴墨水沾在对面的空白页上,似乎写字的人因为性急,曾见了甩笔,想使墨水流得更顺畅一些。而当墨水冒着小泡从笔尖淌出时,稍稍有些过量,所以吕蓓卡那浓墨的名字显得很突出,笔力遭劲;那个往一边倾斜的字母R特别高大,对照之下,其他字母显得矮小。

我啪的一声合上诗集,把书塞到手套底下,伸手从近处的一张椅子里拿起一本过期的《插图》杂志,信手翻着。杂志里有几幅挺不错的洛埃河上古城堡的照片,并附有说明文字。我专心阅读这篇文章,不时参看照片。但是待我把这篇文章读完,却意识到自己一个字也没读进去.从印刷物中赫然盯着我的不是布卢瓦地方细长的城堡角楼和锥形尖塔,而是前一天范-霍珀夫人在餐厅里的那副尊容:猪一样的小眼睛向着邻桌扫去,五香碎肉卷串满了餐叉,停在半空不往哈里送。

“骇人的大悲剧,”她说。“当然,报纸上全是关于这出悲剧的报道。大家都说他从不谈论这件事,从不提她的名字。你知道,她是在曼陀丽附近的一个海湾里淹死的……”

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-01#20
[FONT=宋体]chapter five

I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say. They are not brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundation, and one is so easily bruised, so swiftly wounded, one falls to the first barbed word. Today, wrapped in the complacent armour of approaching middle age, the infinitesimal pricks of day by day brush one lightly and are soon forgotten, but then - how a careless word would linger, becoming a fiery stigma, and how a look, a glance over a shoulder, branded themselves as things eternal. A denial heralded the thrice crowing of a cock, and an insincerity was like the kiss of Judas. The adult mind can lie with untroubled conscience and a gay composure, but in those days even a small deception scoured the tongue, lashing one against the stake itself. 'What have you been doing this morning?' I can hear her now, propped against her pillows, with all the small irritability of the patient who is not really ill, who has lain in bed too long, and I, reaching to the bedside drawer for the pack of cards, would feel the guilty flush form patches on my neck. 'I've been playing tennis with the professional, ' I told her, the false words bringing me to panic, even as I spoke, for what if the professional himself should come up to the suite, then, that very afternoon, and bursting in upon her complain that I had missed my lesson now for many days? "The trouble is with me laid up like this you haven't got enough to do, ' she said, mashing her cigarette in a jar of cleansing cream, and taking the cards in her hand she mixed them in the deft, irritating shuffle of the inveterate player, shaking them in threes, snapping the backs. 'I don't know what you find to do with yourself all day, ' she went on; 'you never have any sketches to show me, and when I do ask you to do some shopping for me you forget to buy my Taxol. All I can say is that I hope your tennis will improve; it will be useful to you later on. A poor player is a great bore. Do you still serve underhand?' She flipped the Queen of Spades into the pool, and the dark face stared up at me like Jezebel. 'Yes, ' I said, stung by her question, thinking how just and appropriate her word. It described me well. I was underhand. I had not played tennis with the professional at all. I had not once played since she had lain in bed, and that was a little over a fortnight now. I wondered why it was I clung to this reserve, and why it was I did not tell her that every morning I drove with de Winter in his car, and lunched with him, too, at his table in the restaurant. 'You must come up to the net more; you will never play a good game until you do, ' she continued, and I agreed, flinching at my own hypocrisy, covering the Queen with the weak-chinned Knave of Hearts. I have forgotten much of Monte Carlo, of those morning drives, of where we went, even our conversation; but I have not forgotten how my fingers trembled, cramming on my hat, and how I ran along the corridor and down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the slow whining of the lift, and so outside, brushing the swing doors before the commissionaire could help me. He would be there, in the driver's seat, reading a paper while he waited, and when he saw me he would smile, and toss it behind him in the back seat, and open the door, saying, 'Well, how is the friend-of-the-bosom this morning, and where does she want to go?' If he had driven round in circles it would not have mattered to me, for I was in that first flushed stage when to climb into the seat beside him, and lean forward to the wind- screen hugging my knees, was almost too much to bear. I was like a little scrubby schoolboy with a passion for a sixth-form prefect, and he kinder, and far more inaccessible. "There's a cold wind this morning, you had better put on my coat. ' I remember that, for I was young enough to win happiness in the wearing of his clothes, playing the schoolboy again who carries his hero's sweater and ties it about his throat choking, with pride, and this borrowing of his coat, wearing it around my shoulders for even a few minutes at a time, was a triumph in itself, and made a glow about my morning. Not for me the languor and the subtlety I had read about in books. The challenge and the chase. The sword-play, the swift glance, the stimulating smile. The art of provocation was unknown to me, and I would sit with his map upon my lap, the wind blowing my dull, lanky hair, happy in his silence yet eager for his words. Whether he talked or not made little difference to my mood. My only enemy was the clock on the dashboard, whose hands would move relentlessly to one o'clock. We drove east, we drove west, amidst the myriad villages that cling like limpets to the Mediterranean shore, and today I remember none of them. All I remember is the feel of the leather seats, the texture of the map upon my knee, its frayed edges, its worn seams, and how one day, looking at the clock, I thought to myself, 'This moment now, at twenty past eleven, this must never be lost, ' and I shut my eyes to make the experience more lasting. When I opened my eyes we were by a bend in the road, and a peasant girl in a black shawl waved to us; I can see her now, her dusty skirt, her gleaming, friendly smile, and in a second we had passed the bend and could see her no more. Already she belonged to the past, she was only a memory. I wanted to go back again, to recapture the moment that had gone, and then it came to me that if we did it would not be the same, even the sun would be changed in the sky, casting another shadow, and the peasant girl would trudge past us along the road in a different way, not waving this time, perhaps not even seeing us. There was something chilling in the thought, something a little melancholy, and looking at the clock I saw that five more minutes had gone by. Soon we would have reached our time limit, and must return to the hotel. 'If only there could be an invention', I said impulsively, 'that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again. ' I looked up at him, to see what he would say. He did not turn to me, he went on watching the road ahead. 'What particular moments in your young life do you wish uncorked?' he said. I could not tell from his voice whether he was teasing me or not. 'I'm not sure, ' I began, and then blundered on, rather foolishly, not thinking of my words, 'I'd like to keep this moment and never forget it. ' 'Is that meant to be a compliment to the day, or to my driving?' he said, and as he laughed, like a mocking brother, I became silent, overwhelmed suddenly by the great gulf between us, and how his very kindness to me widened it. I knew then that I would never tell Mrs Van Hopper about these morning expeditions, for her smile would hurt me as his laugh had done. She would not be angry, nor would she be shocked; she would raise her eyebrows very faintly as though she did not altogether believe my story, and then with a tolerant shrug of the shoulder she would say, 'My dear child, it's extremely sweet and kind of him to take you driving; the only thing is - are you sure it does not bore him dreadfully?' And then she would send me out to buy Taxol, patting me on the shoulder. What degradation lay in being young, I thought, and fell to tearing my nails. 'I wish, ' I said savagely, still mindful of his laugh and throwing discretion to the wind, 'I wish I was a woman of about thirty-six dressed in black satin with a string of pearls. ' 'You would not be in this car with me if you were, ' he said; 'and stop biting those nails, they are ugly enough already. ' 'You'll think me impertinent and rude I dare say, ' I went on, 'but I would like to know why you ask me to come out in the car, day after day. You are being kind, that's obvious, but why do you choose me for your charity?' I sat up stiff and straight in my seat and with all the poor pomposity of youth. 'I ask you, ' he said gravely, 'because you are not dressed in black satin, with a string of pearls, nor are you thirty-six. ' His face was without expression, I could not tell whether he laughed inwardly or not. 'It's all very well, ' I said; 'you know everything there is to know about me. There's not much, I admit, because I have not been alive for very long, and nothing much has happened to me, except people dying, but you -I know nothing more about you than I did the first day we met. ' 'And what did you know then?' he asked. 'Why, that you lived at Manderley and - and that you had lost your wife. ' There, I had said it at last, the word that had hovered on my tongue for days. Your wife. It came out with ease, without reluctance, as though the mere mention of her must be the most casual thing in all the world. Your wife. The word lingered in the air once I had uttered it, dancing before me, and because he received it silently, making no comment, the word magnified itself into something heinous and appalling, a forbidden word, unnatural to the tongue. And I could not call it back, it could never be unsaid. Once again I saw the inscription on the fly-leaf of that book of poems, and the curious slanting R. I felt sick at heart and cold. He would never forgive me, and this would be the end of our friendship. I remember staring straight in front of me at the windscreen, seeing nothing of the flying road, my ears still tingling with that spoken word. The silence became minutes, and the minutes became miles, and everything is over now, I thought, I shall never drive with him again. Tomorrow he will go away. And Mrs Van Hopper will be up again. She and I will walk along the terrace as we did before. The porter will bring down his trunks, I shall catch a glimpse of them in the luggage lift, with new-plastered labels. The bustle and finality of departure. The sound of the car changing gear as it turned the corner, and then even that sound merging into the common traffic, and being lost, and so absorbed for ever. I was so deep in my picture, I even saw the porter pocketing his tip and going back through the swing-door of the hotel, saying something over his shoulder to the commissionaire, that I did not notice the slowing-down of the car, and it was only when we stopped, drawing up by the side of the road, that I brought myself back to the present once again. He sat motionless, looking without his hat and with his white scarf round his neck, more than ever like someone medieval who lived within a frame. He did not belong to the bright landscape, he should be standing on the steps of a gaunt cathedral, his cloak flung back, while a beggar at his feet scrambled for gold coins. The friend had gone, with his kindliness and his easy camaraderie, and the brother too, who had mocked me for nibbling at my nails. This man was a stranger. I wondered why I was sitting beside him in the car. Then he turned to me and spoke. 'A little while ago you talked about an invention, ' he said, 'some scheme for capturing a memory. You would like, you told me, at a chosen moment to live the past again. I'm afraid I think rather differently from you. All memories are bitter, and I prefer to ignore them. Something happened a year ago that altered my whole life, and I want to forget every phase in my existence up to that time. Those days are finished. They are blotted out. I must begin living all over again. The first day we met, your Mrs Van Hopper asked me why I came to Monte Carlo. It put a stopper on those memories you would like to resurrect. It does not always work, of course; sometimes the scent is too strong for the bottle, and too strong for me. And then the devil in one, like a furtive peeping Tom, tries to draw the cork. I did that in the first drive we took together. When we climbed the hills and looked down over the precipice. I was there some years ago, with my wife. You asked me if it was still the same, if it had changed at all. It was just the same, but - I was thankful to realize - oddly impersonal. There was no suggestion of the other time. She and I had left no record. It may have been because you were with me. You have blotted out the past for me, you know, far more effectively than all the bright lights of Monte Carlo. But for you I should have left long ago, gone on to Italy, and Greece, and further still perhaps. You have spared me all those wanderings. Damn your puritanical little tight-lipped speech to me. Damn your idea of my kindness and my charity. I ask you to come with me because I want you and your company, and if you don't believe me you can leave the car now and find your own way home. Go on, open the door, and get out. ' I sat still, my hands in my lap, not knowing whether he meant it or not. 'Well, ' he said, 'what are you going to do about it?' Had I been a year or two younger I think I should have cried. Children's tears are very near the surface, and come at the first crisis. As it was I felt them prick behind my eyes, felt the ready colour flood my face, and catching a sudden glimpse of myself in the glass above the windscreen saw in full the sorry spectacle that I made, with troubled eyes and scarlet cheeks, lank hair flopping under broad felt hat. 'I want to go home, ' I said, my voice perilously near to trembling, and without a word he started up the engine, let in the clutch, and turned the car round the way that we had come. Swiftly we covered the ground, far too swiftly, I thought, far too easily, and the callous countryside watched us with indifference. We came to the bend in the road that I had wished to imprison as a memory, and the peasant girl was gone, and the colour was fiat, and it was no more after all than any bend in any road passed by a hundred motorists. The glamour of it had gone with my happy mood, and at the thought of it my frozen face quivered into feeling, my adult pride was lost, and those despicable tears rejoicing at their conquest welled into my eyes and strayed upon my cheeks. I could not check them, for they came unbidden, and had I reached in my pocket for a handkerchief he would have seen I must let them fall untouched, and suffer the bitter salt upon my lips, plumbing the depths of humiliation. Whether he had turned his head to look at me I do not know, for I watched the road ahead with blurred and steady stare, but suddenly he put out his hand and took hold of mine, and kissed it, still saying nothing, and then he threw his handkerchief on my lap, which I was too ashamed to touch.

第05章

幸好初恋的狂热不会发生第二次。那确实是种狂热;另外,不管诗人怎么描写,初恋同时又是一种负担。人们在二十一岁上缺乏勇气,因为琐碎小事而怕这怕那,无端担心。在那种年纪,一个人的自尊心很容易受到伤害,动辄生气,听谁说一句略微带刺的话就受不了。今天,我行将跨入中年。中年使人处于满足自得境界的保护之中。中年人也碰到日常的微不足道的烦恼,但他们几乎不感到什么刺痛,而且很快就会把烦恼置之脑后。但那时候情形就大不一样:别人无意之中说的一句话会久久忘不了,成为灼人的耻辱;一个眼色,回眸的一瞥,都可能打上永恒的标记;讨个没趣,那就意味着三夜失眠到鸡啼;言不由衷则像犹大的一吻①。成年人说说可以做到脸不改色心不慌,而在那种年纪,即使在区区小事上说句假话,舌头也会痛上老半天,使你受着炮烙般的苦刑——

①犹大:耶稣门徒,出卖耶稣者。据此,犹大的一吻常被后人用来比喻口出利剑。

“今儿上午你干什么来着?”我还能记起范-霍珀夫人当时的声音。她背靠枕头坐在床上,因为实在没有病,在床上又躺得太久,非常容易为点芝麻绿豆小事发脾气。我伸手从床头柜的抽屉里拿纸牌,由于心里有鬼,觉得脖子都涨红了。

“我在跟职业教练学打网球,”我一边说,一边因为自己信口胡诌而慌了神。要是那职业教练下午突然亲自跑来告状,说我好几天没去上课,那怎么办?

“事情糟就糟在我这么一躺倒,你没事干了,”她说着把香烟捻熄在一只盛洗涤香膏的瓶子里,然后,就以牌迷那种叫人看着讨厌的熟练手法,把牌分成三叠抽上抽下,啪啪出声地弹着纸牌的背面。

“谁知道你成天在干些什么!”她接着说。“你连一张素描也没有交来让我过目。要是真打发你上街,你难会忘了买我的塔克索尔牌香烟日来。我只希望你网球球艺进步,这对你今后有用。球艺糟糕的家伙最叫人受不了。你现在还发下手球吗?”她一抬手把黑桃皇后轻轻掷下,皇后奸恶地瞪眼望着我,那神气活像耶洗别①——

①古以色列王亚哈之妻,揽权无餍,把持恶政。后人常以其比喻阴毒奸恶之悍妇。

“是的,”我答道。她的问题刺痛了我。我想她用的词既公道又贴切,活龙活现地勾划出我的形象。是的,我做事确实偷偷摸摸①:我压根儿没去跟职业教练学打网球,从她卧床时起一次也没打过。到现在已两个多星期了。我真奇怪自己为什么一直把真相隐瞒着,干吗不告诉她每天早上我和德温特一起驾车出游,而且每天在餐厅里同桌吃午饭——

①范-霍珀夫人的问句是“Doyoustillserveunderhand?”,underhand一词在英语中有两个意思,第一义是“低手”,即范-霍珀夫人发问时使用的意义;第二义是“偷偷摸摸”。

“你必须朝近同处跑动,不然就甭想打好球,”她接着说。我接受她的意见,一面提心吊胆地说假话,一面把尖下巴的红桃“J”盖在她的皇后纸牌上面。

关于蒙特卡洛的好多事情我都忘了。我俩如何每天早上驾车去兜风,玩了哪些地方,甚至我俩谈论过什么,全都忘了。但是我没忘记自己如何以颤抖的手指胡乱把帽子往脑门上一覆,又如何在走廊里急跑,并且因为没有耐心等候慢腾腾的电梯而飞奔下楼,不待门役搀扶,擦着转门往外冲去。

他总是坐在驾驶座上,一边等我,一边看报。见到我来,他莞尔一笑,把报纸撂到后座,替我打开车门,问道:“嗨”,‘心腹朋友’今天早上感觉怎么样?爱上哪儿玩去?”可是对我说来,即便他开着车老在一个地方来回绕圈子也没关系,因为这时我正处于出游开始时最得意的心情中。登上汽车,坐在他身边的位置上,抱着双膝,曲身向着前面的挡风玻璃——这一切简直都是难以消受的幸福。我就像一个对六年级的级长崇拜得五体投地的小不点儿,而他呢,他比这样一个级长固然要和善一些,但却难以接近得多。

“今早上风大天冷,你最好穿我的上衣。”

这句话我还记得,因为那时我实在幼稚,穿着他的衣服竟觉得那么甜蜜,仿佛又成了那种替级长抱运动衣的小学生,能够把自己偶像的衣服围在脖子上,得意得要命。借他的上衣,把它技在我的肩头,那怕只有短短几分钟,这本身就是一种胜利,使我的早晨变得光明灿烂!

我在书上读到过,人们在谈情说爱时如何装出懒洋洋的娇态,弄得对方无从捉摸,我可不是这种人。什么欲擒故纵,唇枪舌剑,飞眼媚笑,这一套挑逗人的本事我全不会。我就坐在车里,膝上捧着他的地图,任由风吹乱我那一头平直难看的长发。我既从他的沉默中得到乐趣,又渴望听他说话。但是他说话与否对我情绪其实无关紧要;我唯一的敌人是仪表板上的时钟,它的针臂将无情地指向中午一点。时而向东,时而向西,我们在无数小村中穿行。这些村子就像附在岩石上的贝壳,遍缀地中海沿岸。今天我已记不起它们中间的任何一个。

我还能记起的仅仅是坐在汽车皮椅上的感觉,膝上地图纵横交错的图案,它的皱边和松散的装订线。我也记得,有一次我曾望着时钟思忖:“此时此刻,十一点二十分,一定要使它成为永久的记忆。”接着我就闭上眼睛,以使当时一刹那的经历更深地印进脑子。等我睁开眼,汽车正在公路上拐弯。一个披黑色围巾的农家姑娘向我们招手。现在我还记得她的模样:蒙着尘土的裙子,脸上带着开朗而友好的微笑。一秒钟之间,我们拐过弯去,再也看不见她了。农家姑娘已成过去,只留下一个记忆。

我当时多想返回去,重新捕捉那已逝去的一刻。但我马上又想到,即便真的回去,一切都已不是原样,甚至天空的太阳经过位置的移动也会不同于前一刻;那农家姑娘或许正拖着疲乏的脚步沿公路走去,经过我们面前,这一回不再招手,也许根本没看见我们。这种想法多少使人寒心,感到悲凉。再看看时钟,又过了五分钟。不一会儿,时间就要过尽,我们又得回旅馆去了。

“要是发明一种办法,能把记忆像香水一样装在瓶子里多好!”我脱口说道。“这样,记忆就永不褪色,常年新鲜。什么时候需要,只要随时打开瓶子,你就仿佛又回过头去重新体验那一刻。”我抬头望着他,看他会说些什么。他并不转过脸来,而是照样聚精会神看着前面的大路。

“在你短短的生活历程里,有哪些特别的时刻,你想重新体验?”他问。从他的话音里,我听不出是否含有嘲弄的意味。

“这个,我说不上来。”接着,我又不假思索地补充一句,犯了个愚不可及的大错:“我正想把此时此刻保存起来,永志不忘呢。”

“你是说今天这个日子难忘,还是算对我开车的一种恭维?”他笑着说,那神情活像一个挖苦人的兄长。我撅着嘴沉默着,突然痛苦地意识到横在两人中间的沟壑,他对我的仁慈恰恰扩大了这道鸿沟。

这时我才认识到自己无论如何不会向范-霍珀夫人提起这些日子上午的出游,因为她那种笑,同他方才的讪笑一样,会使我非常伤心。她听到这事不会大发雷霆,也不会傻了眼,倒是可能微微扬起眉毛,表示压根儿不信我的话。然后,她可能宽容地一耸肩说:“好孩子,他真是好心肠,带你坐车去玩。可是你敢说他不觉得无聊得要命吗?”接着,她会拍拍我的肩膀,打发我去买塔克索尔牌香烟。我不禁顾影自怜:一个年轻丫头毕竟低人一等。想着想着,我开始使劲咬手指甲。

“但愿我是个三十六岁上下的贵妇人,披一身黑缎子,戴一串珍珠项链,”因为对他方才的笑仍然耿耿于怀,我没好气地说。什么审时度势,全被我抛到九宵云外。

“如果你是这样一个人物,此刻你就不会和我一起在这辆车上!”他答道。“别咬指甲!你那指甲已经够难看了。”

“你也许会觉得我鲁莽无礼,可我还是要问,你为什么每天开车带我出来玩?很显然,你是可怜我,但干吗一定要选中我来接受你的恩赐呢?”

我挺直身子,坐在位子上,尽量表示出年轻姑娘那一丁点儿可怜的尊严。

他一本正经地回答:“我邀请你是因为你不穿黑缎子衣服,没戴珍珠项琏;另外,你也不是三十六岁。”因为对方不动声色,我不知道他是不是在心里窃笑。

“这真妙,”我说。“我情况你已经全知道了。我承认,我很年轻,生活里除了死去亲人,没有多少经历。而你呢?关于你的事,我今天知道的决不比我们第一次见面时更多。”

“那么,当时你都知道些什么呢?”他问。

“还不是说你住在曼陀丽。再有,嗯,再有就是,你失去了妻子。”啊,我总算把喉间骨鲠吐出来了。“你的妻子”这几个字好些天一直在我的舌尖上打转,这下子终于说出来了,而且说得那么自然,毫不费劲,仿佛提到她乃是世间最平常的事。你的妻子,一经说出口,这几个字在空中回荡,在我的眼前跳跃,而由于他默默听完我的话,始终不置一词,这几个字竟膨胀成了既丑恶又可怕的巨怪。这几个字本来绝不该说,自然更不该从我的嘴里说出。但这是既成事实,说出的话再也无法追回。诗集扉页上的题词和那个不同于众的斜体“R”这会儿又出现在我眼前,使我感到心里很不自在,浑身发毛。他决不会原谅我的,我们的友谊就此完了。

我还记得自己如何出神凝视着前面的挡风玻璃,对飞一般掠过的路景视而不见,那几个字犹在耳边回响。沉默之中,几分钟过去了,几分钟就意味着汽车又驶过好几英里的路程,我想,这一回什么都完了,再也不会一起坐车出游了。也许明天他就离开这里,而范-霍珀夫人则将病愈起床。一切还同从前一样,她带着我在平台上散步,而那边,旅馆仆役正把他的箱笼搬下楼来,经过行李专用电梯时,正好让我瞥见,箱笼上全是新贴上去的行李标签。接着便是忙乱的起程和无可换回的永别,初时还能听到他的汽车在拐弯时换档的声音,接着,连这一点儿声音也汇入车水马龙的喧闹之中,被融化了去,永远消失了。

我专心想象这一幕情景,甚至看到仆役收下他的小费,返身走进旅馆转门时对门房说了些什么。我只管胡思乱想,因此连车子正在逐渐减速也不曾觉得。直到车子在公路边停下,我才再次回到现实中来。他端坐不动,因为没戴帽子,脖子上又围了条白围巾,看上去特别像画框里的中世纪人物。在这明快的自然景色中,他显得格格不入。他应该出现在一座阴森可怕的大教堂的石阶上,大氅拖地;脚边,乞丐正拼命抢捡他撒下的金币。

在他身上已看不到仁慈而随和的挚友形象;嘲笑我咬指甲的那位兄长也不见了。他成了一个陌生人。我弄不明白自己为什么傍着他坐在汽车里。

他转过脸来对我说:“刚才你谈到一种发明,一种可以擒获记忆的办法。你还说,你希望在某一特定时刻回过头去体验往事。恐怕我的想法与你恰好相反。回忆全是辛酸的,我宁愿永远不去理会过去的一切。一年前发生的事整个儿改变了我的生活,我要把一生中到那时为止的一切统统忘记干净。那段生活已经告终,从我的记忆里抹去了。我的生活得从头开始。第一天见面时,你的那位范-霍珀夫人问我,为什么到蒙特卡洛来。那是因为我想借此把你希望能重新唤起的种种回忆统统隔断。当然,这样做不见得总能奏效,有时候,香水的气味太浓,瓶子关不住,熏得我受不了。再说,附在人身上的魔鬼就像探头探脑偷看别人隐私的家伙,老是想把瓶塞打开。我们俩第一次坐车出游时,爬上高山,俯瞰深谷,那就是因为魔鬼打开了瓶塞。几年前,我曾带我妻子到过那地方。你间我景色是否依旧,那地方有什么变化。一切都和以前一模一样,只是——我感恩不尽地发现——那座山丝毫不带任何个性特征,决不会使人想到上一回,她和我没有留下任何痕迹。这也许是因为那天你陪着我。你知道,你替我抹去往昔的影子,你的力量比灯红酒绿的蒙特卡洛要大得多。要不是你,我早就离开这儿,继续自己的行程,先到意大利,再去希腊,也许还得到更远的地方去。是你使我省去漫无目的东奔西走的麻烦。哼,让你刚才那种情教徒式一本正经的说教见鬼去吧!还有,你居然认为我是在做慈善好事!我邀请你是因为我需要你,需要你陪着我。如果你不相信,那么你此刻就可以下车,自己寻路回去。好吧,打开车门,下去!”

我呆呆地坐着,双手放在膝上,不知道他是不是真的要赶我下车。

“说吧,你准备怎么样?”他问。

要是早一两年遇上这种局面,我肯定会哭鼻子。小孩一发急,泪水总是一下子涌上眼眶。当时,我只感觉到泪水在眼睛里打滚,血直往脸上冲。在挡风玻璃上方的小镜子里,我突然看见自己那副尊容:两眼困惑慌乱,双颊绯红,长发散乱地披在宽边帽下。一副鬼样子!

“我想回家,”我差点哭出来。他默默地把车子发动起来,松开制动闸,掉过头往回驶去。

车在飞驰。我觉得它跑得太快,太不费力了、四下里寂寥的乡野无动于衷地注视着我们驶过。我们回到公路上的拐弯处,就是刚才我想把记忆封存起来的那个拐角。农家女已不知去向;周围的色彩也是一片惨淡。原来,它同任何一条公路上的任何一个拐角完全一样,每天有无数旅客驾车打这儿经过。它那迷人之处已随着我的好心情一起化为乌有。想到这里,我木然的脸突然因为激动而抽搐起来,成年人的自尊再也无法抵御低贱的泪水。泪水则因为最后得胜,欢快地涌上眼眶,又顺着双颊淌下。

我无法止住泪水,这是不由自主的事情。如果我到衣袋里会掏手绢,定会遭他发现。所以我只得听任泪水横流,让那咸味儿灼我的双唇,体验着极度的羞辱。我一直用泪眼盯着前面的路,因此不知道他是不是转过脸来看我。不过,突然间,他把手伸过来,抓住我的手,吻了一下,可仍然不说话。接着,他把自己的手帕扔在我怀里。我怕丢脸,不敢拿。
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j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-02#21
[FONT=宋体]I thought of all those heroines of fiction who looked pretty when they cried, and what a contrast I must make with blotched and swollen face, and red rims to my eyes. It was a dismal finish to my morning, and the day that stretched ahead of me was long. I had to lunch with Mrs Van Hopper in her room because the nurse was going out, and afterwards she would make me play bezique with all the tireless energy of the convalescent. I knew I should stifle in that room. There was something sordid about the tumbled sheets, the sprawling blankets, and the thumped pillows, and that bedside table dusty with powder, spilt scent, and melting liquid rouge. Her bed would be littered with the separated sheets of the daily papers folded anyhow, while French novels with curling edges and the covers torn kept company with American magazines. The mashed stubs of cigarettes lay everywhere - in cleansing cream, in a dish of grapes, and on the floor beneath the bed. Visitors were lavish with their flowers, and the vases stood cheek-by-jowl in any fashion, hot-house exotics crammed beside mimosa, while a great beribboned casket crowned them all, with tier upon tier of crystallized fruit. Later her friends would come in for a drink, which I must mix for them, hating my task, shy and ill-at-ease in my corner hemmed in by their parrot chatter, and I would be a whipping-boy again, blushing for her when, excited by her little crowd, she must sit up in bed and talk too loudly, laugh too long, reach to the portable gramophone and start a record, shrugging her large shoulders to the tune. I preferred her irritable and snappy, her hair done up in pins, scolding me for forgetting her Taxol. All this awaited me in the suite, while he, once he had left me at the hotel, would go away somewhere alone, towards the sea perhaps, feel the wind on his cheek, follow the sun; and it might happen that he would lose himself in those memories that I knew nothing of, that I could not share, he would wander down the years that were gone. The gulf that lay between us was wider now than it had ever been, and he stood away from me, with his back turned, on the further shore. I felt young and small and very much alone, and now, in spite of my pride, I found his handkerchief and blew my nose, throwing my drab appearance to the winds. It could never matter. 'To hell with this, ' he said suddenly, as though angry, as though bored, and he pulled me beside him, and put his arm round my shoulder, still looking straight ahead of him, his right hand on the wheel. He drove, I remember, even faster than before. 'I suppose you are young enough to be my daughter, and I don't know how to deal with you, ' he said. The road narrowed then to a corner, and he had to swerve to avoid a dog. I thought he would release me, but he went on holding me beside him, and when the corner was passed, and the road came straight again he did not let me go. 'You can forget all I said to you this morning, ' he said; 'that's all finished and done with. Don't let's ever think of it again. My family always call me Maxim, I'd like you to do the same. You've been formal with me long enough. ' He felt for the brim of my hat, and took hold of it, throwing it over his shoulder to the back seat, and then bent down and kissed the top of my head. 'Promise me you will never wear black satin, ' he said. I smiled then, and he laughed back at me, and the morning was gay again, the morning was a shining thing. Mrs Van Hopper and the afternoon did not matter a flip of the finger. It would pass so quickly, and there would be tonight, and another day tomorrow. I was cocksure, jubilant; at that moment I almost had the courage to claim equality. I saw myself strolling into Mrs Van Hopper's bedroom rather late for my bezique, and when questioned by her, yawning carelessly, saying, 'I forgot the time. I've been lunching with Maxim. ' I was still child enough to consider a Christian name like a plume in the hat, though from the very first he had called me by mine. The morning, for all its shadowed moments, had promoted me to a new level of friendship, I did not lag so far behind as I had thought. He had kissed me too, a natural business, comforting and quiet. Not dramatic as in books. Not embarrassing. It seemed to bring about an ease in our relationship, it made everything more simple. The gulf between us had been bridged after all. I was to call him Maxim. And that afternoon playing bezique with Mrs Van Hopper was not so tedious as it might have been, though my courage failed me and I said nothing of my morning. For when, gathering her cards together at the end, and reaching for the box, she said casually, 'Tell me, is Max de Winter still in the hotel?' I hesitated a moment, like a diver on the brink, then lost my nerve and my tutored self-possession, saying, 'Yes, I believe so - he comes into the restaurant for his meals. ' Someone has told her, I thought, someone has seen us together, the tennis professional has complained, the manager has sent a note, and I waited for her attack. But she went on putting the cards back into the box, yawning a little, while I straightened the tumbled bed. I gave her the bowl of powder, the rouge compact, and the lipstick, and she put away the cards and took up the hand glass from the table by her side. 'Attractive creature, ' she said, 'but queer-tempered I should think, difficult to know. I thought he might have made some gesture of asking one to Manderley that day in the lounge, but he was very close. ' I said nothing. I watched her pick up the lipstick and outline a bow upon her hard mouth. 'I never saw her, ' she said, holding the glass away to see the effect, 'but I believe she was very lovely. Exquisitely turned out, and brilliant in every way. They used to give tremendous parties at Manderley. It was all very sudden and tragic, and I believe he adored her. I need the darker shade of powder with this brilliant red, my dear: fetch it, will you, and put this box back in the drawer?' And we were busy then with powder, scent, and rouge, until the bell rang and her visitors came in. I handed them their drinks, dully, saying little; I changed the records on the gramophone, I threw away the stubs of cigarettes. 'Been doing any sketching lately, little lady?' The forced heartiness of an old banker, his monocle dangling on a string, and my bright smile of insincerity: 'No, not very lately; will you have another cigarette?' It was not I that answered, I was not there at all. I was following a phantom in my mind, whose shadowy form had taken shape at last. Her features were blurred, her colouring indistinct, the setting of her eyes and the texture of her hair was still uncertain, still to be revealed. She had beauty that endured, and a smile that was not forgotten. Somewhere her voice still lingered, and the memory of her words. There were places she had visited, and things that she had touched. Perhaps in cupboards there were clothes that she had worn, with the scent about them still. In my bedroom, under my pillow, I had a book that she had taken in her hands, and I could see her turning to that first white page, smiling as she wrote, and shaking the bent nib. Max from Rebecca. It must have been his birthday, and she had put it amongst her other presents on the breakfast table. And they had laughed together as he tore off the paper and string. She leant, perhaps, over his shoulder, while he read. Max. She called him Max. It was familiar, gay, and easy on the tongue. The family could call him Maxim if they liked. Grandmothers and aunts. And people like myself, quiet and dull and youthful, who did not matter. Max was her choice, the word was her possession; she had written it with so great a confidence on the fly-leaf of that book. That bold, slanting hand, stabbing the white paper, the symbol of herself, so certain, so assured. How many times she must have written to him thus, in how many varied moods. Little notes, scrawled on half-sheets of paper, and letters, when he was away, page after page, intimate, their news. Her voice, echoing through the house, and down the garden, careless and familiar like the writing in the book. And I had to call him Maxim.

我想起小说里的那些女主角,她们在啜泣的时候,照样讨人喜欢。而我呢?浮肿的垢面,加上一对哭红的眼目,与她们相比起来,定是天上地下!整个上午就要这样郁郁地过去,而这一天剩下的时间还长着呢!护士即将离去,所以我又得同范-霍珀夫人一道在房间里吃中饭。饭后,她可能叫我一道玩贝西克①,而由于流感初愈,肯定兴致特别高,劲头特别足。我知道,关在那个房间里我迟早会闷死。乱作一团的床单,四散拖地的毯子,横七竖八的枕头,污秽的床边柜上沾着灰尘的香粉,泼翻的香水和溶化的口红——一想到这些,简直叫人恶心。她的床上一定又乱七八糟摊着各种报纸,看过随手胡乱一折就扔在那儿了;纸页卷着边、封面已残破不全的法国小说和美国杂志作了伴。在香膏瓶里,在葡萄果盘里,在床底下的地板上,到处是被捻熄的烟蒂。客人慷慨地送来许多鲜花,花瓶比肩接踵,杂乱无章。含羞草被暖房培养的奇花异卉挤得水泄不透,而在这一堆花草之上是一只缀着缎带的大花盒,排着一层又一层的蜜饯水果。再过一会儿,她的朋友们又会来串门,我就得为他们调制饮料。我痛恨这个差使。我还得躲在角落里听他们鹦鹉一样地饶舌,臊红着脸,手脚都不知往哪儿搁才好。客人一多,她就兴奋,所以准会在床上坐起,高声叫嚷,爆发出连串的笑声,伸手去打开手提式唱机放唱片,随着音乐的节拍晃动她肥大的肩胛。这时,我就又成了一个代主人受过的小厮,替她难为情。我宁愿她生气,宁愿看她用扣针扎起头发,责骂我忘记买回塔克索尔牌香烟时的样子——

①一种按规定凑花色的纸牌游戏,两人或四人玩,玩时用六十四张纸牌。

这一切都在旅馆房间里等待着我,而他呢?在把我扔在旅馆之后就可以独自出游。也许到海边去,让微风吹拂脸颊,追赶着太阳。也许他又会陷入那些我既无所知也无法共享的回忆之中,在逝去的岁月里漫步游荡。

我们之间的鸿沟张着大嘴,从来没像此刻这么不可逾越。他仿佛背向我站在辽远的彼岸。我深感自己幼稚而渺小,子然一身,于是再也顾不上面子,拿起他的手帕就擤鼻子。反正已经到了这种地步,我的样子再难看也无所谓了。

“见鬼去吧!”他突然说,好像是发火,又好像终于不耐烦了。他把我拉到身边,用手臂搂着我的肩头,一面仍然笔直地望着前方,用右手操纵方向盘。我还记得当时他甚至把车开得更快。“你还年轻,差不多可以做我的女儿,我实在不知道怎么对付你才好,”他说。这时,路面变狭,前面出现一个弯角。他不得不绕个圈避开一条狗。我以为他要放开我了,但他仍然把我搂在身边,转弯以后,公路又笔直地向前伸展,他还是没放开我。

“把今天早上我说的一切全忘了吧,”他说。“这些全是过去的事,统统都已了却。今后咱们再不许想这些往事。家里人都叫我迈克西姆,我要你也这样称呼我。你对我一本正经得够了。”他摸索着我的帽沿,接着把帽子抓在手里,摞到后座,他弯身吻我的前额。“答应我,你一辈子不穿黑缎子衣服,”他说。我破涕为笑。他也笑了,龃龉顿时冰释,早晨又变得光明灿烂!范-霍珀夫人和下午一切不愉快的事情都算不了什么,下午会很快过去,接着是夜晚,夜晚之后就是明天!我洋洋自得,欣喜若狂,在那一刻简直有勇气要求别人平等待我。我仿佛看到自己误了玩贝酉克的时间,很晚才懒洋洋走进范-霍珀夫人的卧室,一面漫不经心地打着阿欠回答她的问话:“我玩过头了,刚和迈克西姆一道吃了中饭。”

我实在还是个孩子,竟把一个教名看作非常值得炫耀的东西。事实上,从一开始,他就一直用教名称呼我。尽管出现过阴霾,这天的早晨把我推到友谊的一个新高度。原来我并不像自己想象的那样糟糕。他还吻了我,自然而又安静的一吻,使人很舒服,压根儿没有书本里描写的那种戏剧性,也不使人发窘。这一吻似乎使得我俩的关系变得自然而无拘无束,一切都简单多了。两人当中横着的沟壑终于填平;今后我要叫他迈克西姆了。那天下午陪范-霍珀夫人玩贝西克似乎也不像平时那么单调无味。不过我的勇气还不足,没敢跟她谈起早上的事情。牌局终了,她收起纸牌,伸手去取牌盒,这时她无心地问起他:“迈克斯-德温特还没离开吧?”我像潜水员离岸时那样稍稍迟疑一下,终于失却了勇气和苦练多时的自制力,回答道:“嗯,我想是吧。他——我看见他到餐厅吃饭来着。”

一定有谁看到我俩在一起,去对她说了。也许网球职业教练来告过状;也许旅馆经理写过条子给她。我等着她发起进攻。可她仍自顾自把纸牌收进盒子,打着呵欠,由我在一旁收拾皱乱的床铺。我把香粉罐、胭脂盒和口红一样一样递过去。她收好纸牌,从身边桌上拿起一面小镜子,又说起他:“挺诱人的家伙。我看就是脾气有点儿古怪,难以理解。那天在休息室里,我原以为他会作一点表示,邀请别人到曼陀丽去,没想到他的嘴咬得这么紧。”

我没答话,看着她拿着口红,在自己硬撅撅的嘴上勾出血红的弓形线条。她把镜子拿得远些,看着化妆效果如何,一面接着说:“我从来没见过她,但我相信她一定长得非常可爱、穿着考究,举止出众。在曼陀丽过去常常举行盛大的宴会。她的死实在是意外的悲剧。看来他一定深深爱她。我得敷上颜色深一点的脂粉才能与这儿的鲜红相配。亲爱的,给我拿点深色的粉来好吗?把这盒放回抽屉里去。”

接着,我就帮她涂脂抹粉,洒香水,搽口红,忙得不可开交,直到铃响客来。我迟钝地端上饮料,说不出几句应酬话;我在唱机上换唱片;我去拾掇烟蒂。

“小姑娘,最近画过什么素描吗?”一个老银行家装着热情的样子问我,单片眼镜悬在线上摆荡着。我言不由衷地装出一个明快的笑容回答他:“没有,最近没有。再来支烟吧?”

说这话的不是我,我的心根本不在那儿。我的思想在追逐一个幻影,她那影影绰绰的轮廊终于逐渐显露。不过,她的面貌依然隐晦,肤色尚不清晰;她那眼睛的长相和头发的色泽都还不甚分明,有待于显现。

她的秀美是永恒的;她那甜密的笑使人终生不忘。她的声音还在某处余音缭绕;她说过的话还留在人们记忆中。她曾涉足的地方景色依旧;到处都还有她亲手抚摸过的东西。也许柜子里还收藏着她穿过的衣服,上边仍然遗留着香水的气味。在我的卧室里,压在枕头底下的那本书,她就曾经捧在手里。我仿佛看见她打开空白的第一页,脸上挂着微笑,一挥弯曲的笔尖,在纸上写下:“给迈克斯——吕蓓卡赠”。那天一定是他生日,她把这本诗集连同其他礼物一起放在早餐桌上。当他撕开包装纸,解开丝线的时候,他们俩一起开怀大笑;当他翻阅诗集的时候,也许她曾伏在他的肩头。迈克斯!她叫他迈克斯!这称呼多亲昵,多帅,叫起来自在极了。家里人可以叫他迈克西姆,也就是说祖母、外婆、姨妈、婶婶都这么叫他,再有就是像我这样沉默寡言、平庸无趣、毫不相干的年轻人。而迈克斯是她选定的称呼,这个名字只属于她一人。诗集的扉页上,她就是带着这种自负写上这个名字的。那种粗大的斜体字,在白纸上飞扬跋扈,这本身就象征着她:如此旁若无人!如此自信!

多少次她就这样挥笔给他写信,报告自己的喜怒哀乐。其中有信手写在半张纸上的便条,也有当他出门时寄去的整页整页别人不能看的家信,上面写着只有他们俩才知道的事情。她的嗓音在屋子里回响,传到花园,无忧无虑,亲切流畅,就像她在书上留下的字迹一样。

可是,我只能叫他迈克西姆!
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j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-04#22
[FONT=宋体]第06章

打点行装!起程真烦死人:忙着寻找失落的钥匙,领取空白的行李标签,包装薄纸狼藉一地,我讨厌这一切。即使在今天,我已习惯于动身出门,或者像俗话说的那样以旅馆为家,打点行装依然叫我心烦。今天,砰砰关上抽屉,打开旅馆或临时租赁别墅内那些毫无个性的衣橱和衣架,整理行装,已经成为生活里有条不紊的常规,但我仍感到悲凉,若有所失。这里毕竟是我俩住过的地方,在这里我们一起度过愉快的时光。不管逗留的时间何其短暂,即使只有区区两个夜晚,这地方曾经属于我们,这里留下了我们的痕迹。这并不是指留在梳妆台上的一枚发针,阿斯匹林药片的空瓶或枕头底下的手绢。不,不是指这些物质的有形痕迹;我们留下的是一生中的一个时刻,是思想和心境,是一种难以名状的东西。

这所房子曾接纳我们,我们在这儿互诉衷情,相亲相爱。但那已是昨天的事。今天,我们继续赶路,从此再也看不见这所房子。我俩身上都发生了些微的变化,再也不与昨天的自己完全一样了。有时我们在路边小客店歇响吃饭,我走进一间黑糊糊的陌生屋子去解手。我是第一次捏到这个门把,第一次看到这剥落成条的糊壁纸和洗手盆上方那面映像滑稽的小破镜。此刻,这一切都属于我,我和这些物件彼此相识。这一切都属于此时此刻,不是以往,也不是未来。此时此刻我在这儿洗手,破镜子映出我的脸,超越了时间的流逝。镜子里出现的是我,这一刻仿佛凝滞了。

接着,我打开门,走进饭厅。他正坐在桌旁等我。我顿时意识到倏忽之间自己又年长了一些,在人生的道路上向着未知的命运又跨出一步。

我俩相视而笑,一起点菜用饭,一面天南地北地闲聊。可是我暗暗对自己说,同五分钟前离开他时的自我相比,我已稍有改变;那个女人犹在往昔流连,我已变成另外一个人,一个更年长,更成熟的人……

前几天,我在报上看到蒙特卡洛的“蔚蓝海岸”旅馆换了经理,改了名,房间都重新布置,里面整个儿变样了。二层楼上当年范-霍珀夫人租用的那一套房间可能已经不复存在;我的那间小卧室大概连一点痕迹都没留下。那天,我跪在地上,笨手笨脚地替她的皮箱上锁,当时就有一去不返的预感。

皮箱啪地一声上了锁,我也就结束这一段遐想。望望窗外,我觉得自己仿佛在影集里翻开了另外一页。远近的屋顶和大海不再归我所有,而是属于昨日,属于往昔。随身衣物收拾停当之后,房间显得空荡荡,似乎巴不得我们快走,准备明天接待新客。大件行李已捆扎就绪,上了锁就放在外面的走廊里;小件衣物还得收拾。废纸篓塞满乱七八糟的东西,快撑不住了。这里有她的药瓶(里面还装着半瓶药)、丢弃的雪花膏罐、撕碎的账单和信件。抽屉洞开着,镶镜衣柜已空空如也。

前一天晨餐时,我正替她斟咖啡,她丢过来一封信,并告诉我:“海伦星期六坐船去纽约。小南希可能生了阑尾炎,所以他们打电报催海伦快口去。这一来我的主意打定了,我们也马上动身。欧洲委实无聊得要命,不妨等到初秋再来,怎么样,带你观光纽约这个主意不错吧?”

这主意比坐牢更可怕。我一定愁形于色,所以她始而惊讶地望着我,接着就生气了:

“你这孩子简直荒唐,不识好歹!我真不懂你是怎么想的。你难道不知道,只有在美国,像你这种没钱没势的年轻姑娘才能过得舒心。男朋友成群,那才有劲呢!都是些和你门当户对的小伙子。你可以自己找几个朋友,也不必像现在这样成天听我使唤。我原以为你并不怎么喜欢蒙特卡洛。”

“我只不过是在这儿住惯了,”我可怜巴巴地想出这个站不住脚的借口,心里可直嘀咕。

“那么,你就必须使自己也习惯于纽约的生活。行啦,就这么定了。我们得赶上海伦的那班船,所以立刻就得联系车票。你马上到楼下接待室跑一趟,让那小伙子办事麻利些。这一整天可够你忙的。哼,这样也好,省得你有时间为离开蒙特卡洛发愁。”她阴险地一笑,把香烟捻熄在黄油里,接着就去打电话通知朋友们。

我没有勇气马上到接待室去办这件事,于是,就走进浴室,锁上门,双手抱头坐在软木垫毯上、事情终于发生,得准备动身了。一切都完啦!明天晚上我将坐上火车,像个女佣人一样,抱着她的首饰盒子和她在车上用的护膝毛毯。卧车车厢里,她坐在我对面的位置上,头戴其大无比的崭新女帽,上插一支孤零零的鸟羽,身子缩在毛皮上衣里。我们将在那阿塞的小房间里漱洗。因为车行震动,房门呕嘟呕嘟作声,脸盆里溅出水来。毛巾湿漉漉的;肥皂上沾着一根头发;餐桌上的饮料瓶装着半瓶水;壁上则是千篇一律的通告:“Sonslelavabosetrouveunevase①”。列车吼叫着前进,每一次哐啷,每一下震动和摇晃都在宣告,我正离他越来越远。而他呢?他也许正坐在餐厅里我熟悉的那张桌旁看书,既不想念,也不留恋——

①法语:盥洗盆下有便壶。

动身前,也许会在休息室里跟他道声再会,但因为夫人在场,仅仅只能偷偷做个仓促的表示。道别之后,也许会有短暂的沉默,接着相互一笑,说几句客套话,诸如:“当然啦,一定得来信啊!”“喔,你真客气,我可不知道怎么感谢你才好!”“务必把照片寄来啊!”“请问你的地址?”“我一定奉告,”等等,等等。接着,他若无其事地掏出烟来,招呼从身边走过的侍者送个火,而我却在一旁黯然神伤:“再过四分半钟,我就再也见不到他了。”

因为我即将离开,因为我俩之间的友谊就此告终,一下子倒反而不知说什么好。我们就像素昧平生的路人,在此邂逅,既是最后一次,也是唯一的一次。但是我的心在剧痛中嚎叫:“我多么爱你,又多么不幸!这一切对我说来是生平头一遭,今后也决不会有了。”可是脸上还要装出平常的一本正经的假笑,嘴上还得哺哺胡说些什么:“看,那老头儿多滑稽!他是谁,大概是旅馆的新客。”就这样,我们在一起嘲笑一个陌生人,浪费了这最后的时刻。我们所以会这样做是因为此时我们自己也已经成了陌生人。

“但愿那些照片印出来还不错,”绝望之中,我只好老调重弹。他回答说:“是啊。广场上照的那张大概相当不错,那天光线恰到好处。”两人就这么漫无边际地胡扯,大家都心照不宣,按着一样的口径说话。其实,照片印出来是不是模糊,或者是否印得出,我根本不在乎,因为这已是最后话别的时刻。

我脸上挂着凄戚的苦笑,再一次向他道谢:“嗯,真得再好好谢谢你,玩得实在很‘来劲’①……”说话时用上几个平素不用的字眼。“来劲”,这个词儿什么意思?天知道。我可不管,用了再说。那原是女学生观看曲棍球时使用的词,拿来形容过去几周悲喜交集的感受极不恰当——

①原文为“ripPing”。

接着,电梯门大开,范-霍珀夫人出现在眼前,我穿过休息室向她走去,;他则信步走回自己的一隅,随手捡起一张报纸。

坐在浴室的地上,我就这样做着一连串可笑的想象,还想到了旅途和到达纽约时的情景。我想到海伦尖利的嗓音,那女人简直是她母亲惟妙惟肖的翻版;还有南希,海伦的女儿,一个成天哭闹的小淘气。我想到范-霍珀夫人将介绍我认识的那些大学男生以及和我地位相当的银行小职员,都是些长着塌鼻子的油滑少年,轻佻地对我说:“星期三晚上出去逛逛好吗?”“喜欢爵士音乐吗?”而我还不得不装作礼数周到的样子。到那时,我一定也会像此刻一样,只想关在浴室里独自出神遐思

她来了,砰砰地撞门:“你在干什么?”

“啊,好了,好了。对不起,我这就来。”我故意打开水龙头,在里边忙乎一阵,把一块毛巾搭上横木。

我打开门,她疑惑地打量着我说:“你怎么在里头呆了老半天?今儿早上可没时间让你胡思乱想,要干的事情多着呢?”

几周之内他自然要回曼陀丽去,这点我敢肯定。大厅里,一大堆来信等着他,我在船上匆匆写出一封信也混在其中。这是一封言不由衷的信,闲话同船旅伴,仅仅想博他一笑。读完以后,他把信往吸墨纸台里随手一插,直到几个星期以后,某一个星期天的早上,午饭之前,他在付账时偶然发现了,这才匆匆目覆。以后,音讯告绝,一直到圣诞节才寄张贺年卡,让受件人再次痛感你只不过是无足轻重之辈。圣诞贺年片,上印的可能就是满地白霜的曼陀丽庄园。贺辞是烫金的印刷文字:“祝圣诞愉快,新年如意。迈克西米利安-德温特。”不过,为了表示友好,他可能破例用笔把贺年片上印着的名字划去,在底下亲笔写上:“迈克西姆赠”,而倘若贺年片上还有空余的地方,至多再加上一句:“希望你在纽约过的愉快。”接着,用舌尖舔湿信封的胶水,贴上邮票,把它往一大堆待发的信件中一扔完事。

“明天就走?太遗憾了。”旅馆接待室的职员一手拿着电话筒一面对我说。“下星期上演芭蕾舞,范-霍珀夫人知道吗?”基地,我从曼陀丽的圣诞节回到火车卧车的现实中来。

那天,范-霍珀夫人在餐厅吃中饭,这是她患流行性感冒以来第一次进餐厅。跟她走进大厅,我直觉得胸口阵阵灼痛。关于他的行止,我只知道他白天到戛纳去了,这是上一天他自己告诉我的。可我还是提心吊胆,生怕侍者唐突地跑来问我:“小姐今天是不是同往常一样与先生一道进餐?”所以,每当侍者走近餐桌,我就捏把汗,幸好他什么也没说。

一整天都在收拾行李。晚上,人们跑来告别。晚饭是在起居室里吃的,饭后她立刻上床。到这时为止,我还没见到他。九点半钟的时候,我借口索取行李标签,下楼到休息室去,可他不在那里,接待室那个令人厌恶的职员冲着我笑笑说:“如果你是找德温特先生,那是白费心了,戛纳方面来电话说,他在半夜以前不会回来。”

“我要一纸袋行李标签,”我回答说。但从他的眼色我看出他根本不相信我的话。

这么说来,连最后一个夜晚也被剥夺了。整个白天,我一直期待着这个宝贵的时刻,这样一来,也只得由我独自关在房间里苦挨苦度,呆呆地望着我那破旧的皮箱和塞得满满的帆布袋出神。不过,这样也好,因为倘若那晚和他在一起,我一定是个很糟的伴儿,他可能从我脸上看出我的心思。

我记得那一夜把头深埋在枕头里大哭了一场,年轻姑娘辛酸的眼泪滚滚不住。那时我才二十一岁,换了今天,就不可能哭得这么伤心。那天晚上真是哭得昏天黑地,两眼红肿,咽喉干涩。早上起来,我急得要命,用海绵浸着冷水洗脸,搽花露水,偷偷地敷粉,想把夜里大哭的痕迹掩盖过去。我平时不搽粉,这么一来其实反而招眼。同时,我还怕情不自禁地再哭,嘴角抽搐几下就可能引起灾祸,引出涌泉似的泪水。我记得自己曾推开窗户,探出身子,希望早晨清新的空气能拂散脂粉底下眼圈上的红肿,别让人一看就知道我哭过。太阳似乎从来没有像今天这样明亮;白昼也从来没有像今天这样和煦晴朗。蒙特卡洛突然变得友善而妩媚,成了世间唯一诚挚待人的地方。我爱蒙特卡洛,我的心头充满着柔情。我多么希望一辈子都住在这里。可是,今天就得离开!我站在这面镜子前最后一次梳理头发;我在这脸盆里最后一次漱洗;我再也不会睡在这张床上过夜;我再也不会去扭这个开关熄灯。我穿着晨衣在这普普通通的旅馆房间里踱步,沉浸在离别的怅惘之中,不能自拔。

“你没受凉吧?”吃早饭的时候她问我。

“不,大概没有。”这倒是根救命稻草。如果我的眼圈过分红肿,待会儿可以用这个去搪塞一阵。

“我不喜欢在打好行李之后还拖沓着不走,”她咕哝着说。“我们本应打定主意坐早一班车走。要是想想办法,大概能弄到票的。这样,我们在巴黎就可以多呆些时候。打个电报给海伦,叫她不要凑我们时间了,另外想法子碰头。不知道——”她看看表,接着说:“我看让他们调车票还来得及,不管怎么样,可以试一试,你下楼去问问看。”

“好吧。”我是个十足的傀儡,由她随心所欲地差遣。我走进卧室,脱了晨衣,穿上那件从不离身的法兰绒裙子,套上自己缝的短褂。对于她,这会儿,我已不但是抱着冷淡态度,我开始恨她。这样一来,一切全完了,连早上这点时间也从我手里夺去,甚至无法在庭院里花半个小时——即使短短的十分钟也好——说一声再见!而唯一的原因就是没有料到早饭那么快就吃完,她厌烦了。好吧,既然这样,我也顾不得什么清规戒律,什么分寸和脸面。我砰地关上起居室的门,沿走廊奔去,等不及电梯来,就一步三级跑上扶梯,直登四楼。我知道他住在148号房间,我满脸通红,上气不接下气地擂起门来。

“进来!”他叫道。我一边推门,一边已经有点后悔,勇气渐渐消失。因为昨夜睡得晚,他此刻也许刚刚醒来,头发蓬乱地躺在床上,火气特别大。

他正站在打开的窗户旁刮脸,睡衣外面套着一件驼毛茄克。与他一比,穿着法兰绒衣裙和大皮鞋的我显得十分臃肿,原先我还以为自己这样寻上门来颇有点戏剧性,殊不知不过是出洋相。

“怎么啦?”他问道。“发生什么事了?”

“我是来告别的,”我说。“今天早上我们就要走了。”

他直愣愣地看着我,接着把剃刀放在洗睑架上,要我把门关上。

我带上门。局促不安地垂手站着。“你在胡说八道些什么?”他问我。

“真的,我们今天就走。本来决定晚一班车走,可是现在她又想赶乘早班车。我怕再也见不到你,我感到走以前必须再见你一面,说声谢谢。”

在我的想象中,这是两个毫无意义的字,但它们还是笨拙地滚了出来。我浑身僵直麻木,觉得说不出的别扭。一刹那之间,我甚至想用“来劲”这个词儿形容他的为人。

“为什么不事先告诉我?”

“她昨天才匆匆决定。她女儿星期六坐船去纽约,我们要同她一路走,所以要到巴黎去会合,然后再到瑟堡会。”

“她要把你带到纽约去吗?”

“是的。可我不想去。我恨纽约之行。我会很苦恼的。”

“那干吗还要跟她去?”

“我不得不跟她去,这你是知道的。我在挣钱,和她分手,对我说来损失太大。”

他又捡起剃刀,把脸上的肥皂弄掉。“坐下,”他对我说。“只要一会儿,我到浴室里去穿衣服,五分钟就好。”

他从椅子里拿起衣服,扔在浴室地上,接着走进浴室,砰地把门关上。我在床边坐下,开始咬指甲。整个儿事情像在做梦;我觉得自己像个木偶。不知道他这会儿作何感想,准备怎么办。我环顾四周,这是普普通通的一个男子的卧室,凌乱而缺乏个性。鞋子很多,多得根本穿不了;还有成串的领带;镜台上空荡荡的,只有一大瓶洗发液和一对象牙梳子。没有照片,没有小影,这类东西一点也没有。我凭着直觉寻找这类东西,以为房间里至少会有一帧照片,也许放在床头,也许在壁炉架搁板的当中,一帧镶着皮边镜框的大照片,但是没有。我只看到一些书,还有一箱香烟。

果然,五分钟之内他穿好了衣服。“走,下楼到平台去,陪我吃早饭。”

我看看表说:“没时间了。我这会儿本来早该在服务台换车票了。”

“别管这些,我一定得跟你谈一谈,”他说。

我们沿走廊走去,他按铃招呼电梯。我暗暗想,他自然不知道再过一个半小时左右,早班车就要开车。一会儿,范-霍珀夫人一定会打电话到服务台去问,我是不是在那儿。

我们乘电梯下楼,一路没说话,又沉默着走上平台,早餐桌子都已布置停当。

“你吃点什么?”

“我吃过早饭了,”我告诉他。“无论如何我在这里只能再果四分钟。”

“咖啡、煮鸡蛋、吐司、果酱。再来一客蜜桔。”他吩咐侍者拿早饭来,接着就从衣袋里取出一块刚石片,开始修挫指甲。

“这么说来,范-霍珀夫人对蒙特卡洛厌倦了,她想回家。我跟她一样,也想回家。她回纽约,我回曼陀丽,你爱上哪儿?自己选择吧。”

“别开玩笑,这时候还说笑话真不该,”我说,“看来,我得去弄票了,就在这儿告别吧。”

“如果你以为我是那种在吃早饭时故作滑稽的人,你就错了,”他说。“清早总是我脾气最坏的时候。我再说一遍:要末跟范-霍珀夫人去美国,要末跟我回曼陀丽老家,两条路由你选择。”

“你是说,你想雇一个秘书之类的人?”

“不,我是要你嫁给我,你这个小傻瓜!”

侍者送来早饭,我两手放在膝上,看他把咖啡壶和牛奶壶一一摆上桌子。

“你不懂,”侍者走开后,我说。“男人可不找我这样的人结婚。”

他放下小匙,瞪眼望着我,问道:“你这话究竟是什么意思?”

我看着一只苍蝇落在果酱上,他不耐烦地一挥手把它赶走。

“我说不上来,”我一字一顿地说。“说不清,至少有一点:我不是你那个圈子里的人。”

“什么圈子?”

“曼陀丽啊,你知道我的意思。”

他拿起舀匙,吃了一点果酱。

“你简直和范-霍珀夫人一样无知,愚蠢。关于曼陀丽你知道些什么呢?你是不是属于那个圈子,只有我才能下判断。你以为我是一时冲动才向你求婚的吗?因为你说了不愿去纽约?你以为我要你嫁给我,就像我开车带你出去一样;对了,还有第一次请你吃饭,都仅仅为了表示我的仁慈?难道你不是这样想的吗?”

“我正是这样想的,”我想。

他一面把果酱厚厚地涂在吐司上,一面说:“总有一天,你会发现慈善决不是我的优良品质。眼下,我看你什么也不明白。你还没给我一个答复。你打算嫁给我吗?”

即使在神魂颠倒、忘乎所以的时刻,我也从未想过这种可能性。有一次,同他一起乘车出去,走了好几里路两人一言不发,我就开始胡思乱想,想象他病了,病得厉害,甚至昏迷着说胡话。他派人叫我去护理。我一直幻想着,刚想象到我把花露水敷在他头上,汽车回到旅馆了,故事也就此收场。还有一次,我想象自己住在曼陀丽地界上的一座小屋里,他有时也跑来看我,两人坐在炉火前。可突然谈到婚姻,弄得我六神无主,甚至大为震惊,就好比求婚的是英王。这事听上去不像是真实的;可他在一边自顾自吃着果酱,好像这一切都挺自然。在书上,男人跪在地上向女人求婚,还得有月光陪衬。根本不像这样,在吃早饭的时候谈婚姻大事。

“看来我的建议并不太对你的胃口,”他说。“遗憾!我还以为你爱我呢。这对我的自负倒是一个很好的教训。”

“我确实是爱你的,”我说。“非常非常爱。你弄得我好苦。整个晚上我都在哭,因为我想大概从此再也见不到你了。”

我说这话的时候,我记得,他笑了,并从餐桌那头向我伸过手来。“为此,愿上帝保佑你,”他说。“你对我说过,做个三十五岁的神气女人是你的抱负,到了那一天,我还要跟你提起此时此地的情景。当然,你一定不会相信我的话,但我要说,要是你不会变老多好!”

这时,我已开始感到羞怯,并因为他笑我而着恼。这么说来,女人不该向男人作这样的表白,这类事情,我还得好好学一学。

“好,就这么定了,行不行?”他一边说,一边继续吃涂果酱的吐司。“你不再是范-霍珀夫人的伴侣,而是开始和我作伴。你的职责几乎同以前完全一样,我也爱读图书馆新到的书报,也要人在客厅里摆上鲜花;饭后我也爱玩玩贝西克,也需要有人替我斟茶。唯一的区别在于我不抽塔克索尔牌香烟,而喜欢伊诺公司的出品。另外,你得及时替我准备好我用惯的那种牙膏。”

我用手指弹着桌面,弄不清自己和他是怎么回事。他是不是在嘲弄我?也许这一切全是开个玩笑?他抬起头来,看到我脸上焦虑的表情。“对你说来,我大概是个狠心的家伙,对吗?”他说,“这种求婚方式大概不合你的理想。在你看来,我们应该在音乐院里谈这种事;你手执玫瑰,穿一件雪白的衣裳,远远传来小提琴奏出的华尔兹舞曲。而我呢?我应该在一棵芭蕉树后狂热地向你求爱。这样一来,也许你才觉得自己有了身价。可怜的小宝贝,不害臊吗?不要紧,我带你到威尼斯去度蜜月,手挽手去乘冈陀拉①游玩。不过我们不能呆太久,因为我要带你看看曼陀丽。”——

①意大利威尼斯运河上的一种窄长平底船。

他要带我看看曼陀丽……突然间,我意识到这一切都是行将发生的真事!我将做他的妻子,我俩将在花园里并肩散步,信步穿过幽谷小径,向海滨沙滩走去。我想象着自已如何在早餐之后站在石级上,眺望天色,把面包残属向鸟群撤去;接着,我又如何戴上遮阳帽,手持大剪刀,走出屋子去剪专为室内陈设使用的鲜花。我现在才明白童年时候为什么买下那张彩图明信片。原来,这是一种预兆,是茫茫然之中向未来跨出的一步。

他要带我看看曼陀丽……我的思想自由自在地驰骋开了,眼前出现各种各样的人物,一幕又一幕的情景。与此同时,他却始终只管吃着蜜桔,时而给我递上一片,看着我吃。我俩将被客人团团围在中间,他把我介绍给大家:“各位大概还没见到过我妻子吧。”德温特夫人。我将成为德温特夫人。我反复掂量着这个名字。在支票上、商人的账单和邀客赴宴的请来上,都将签上这个名字。我仿佛还听到自己在打电话:“这个周末请到曼陀丽来好吗?”客人,总是大群大群的客人。“啊,她实在迷人,你一定得结识她——”人群外圈有谁低声这么说。我马上转过身去,假装不曾听见。我又想象自己挎着装满葡萄和梨子的果篮,走到门房看望一位生病的老妇人,她向我伸出双手:“夫人,您真太好了,愿主保佑您。”我回答说:“你要什么,就叫人到宅子来说一声。”德温特夫人,我将成为德温特夫人。我仿佛看到餐厅里擦得亮堂堂的餐桌和长蜡烛。迈克西姆坐在餐桌的一端,一桌共二十四人的宴会。我头发上插着一朵鲜花。大家都看着我,举起酒杯:“一定得为新娘的健康干一杯!”接着,我又听到迈克西姆对我说:“我从来没看见你像今天这么可爱。”一间间摆满鲜花的凉爽的大房间。我的卧室,冬天生着火。有人敲门,进来的是一位笑容可掬的女人。这是迈克西姆的姐姐。我听得她说:“你能使他那么幸福,这真不简单!大家都高兴极了。你真行!”德温特夫人,我将成为德温特夫人。

“剩下的这点桔子太酸,不吃了,”他说。我睁大眼睛望着他,这才慢慢听懂他的意思。接着,我低下头去看看自己的盘子,那四分之一个桔子果然僵缩得变了颜色,的确酸得走味儿。我满嘴的苦涩,这会儿才感觉到。

“谁去跟范-霍珀夫人谈这件事儿?你去还是我去?”他间。

他折起餐巾,推开盘子。我不明白,他怎么能这样漫不经心地说话,好像这事一点没什么大不了,只不过是对计划作些微调整而已。可是对我,这是颗碎片横飞的重磅炸弹。

“你去跟她说,”我回答。“她一定会气个半死!”

我们从桌边站起身来。我双颊绯红。因为想到未来而激动得浑身颤抖。我不知道他会不会挽起我的手臂,微笑着告诉侍者:“祝贺我们吧。小姐和我决定结婚了。”然后,全体侍者都会听说这消息,微笑着向我们鞠躬。我俩相偕走进休息室,只听得背后有人兴奋地议论,另一些人则交头接耳,都想一睹我俩的丰采。

可是他什么也没说,一言不发离开平台。我跟着他往电梯走去。经过接待室服务台时,人们连看都不朝我们看。那职员忙着对付一扎票据文件,正转过头去对他的助手说话。我暗想,他还不知道我就要成为德温特夫人,我将居住在曼陀丽,曼陀丽将归我所有。

我们乘电梯来到二楼,沿着走廊走去。他一边走,一边执着我的手摇晃。“你觉得四十二岁是不是太老了?”他问。

“啊,不,”我忙不迭回答,那神态也许显得过分急切。“我不喜欢毛头小伙子。”

“你可从没跟毛头小伙子打过交道,”他说。

我们来到范-霍珀夫人的套房门口。他说:“我看最好还是让我独自来处理。告诉我,你是不是很在乎我俩什么时候结婚?你不会要妆奁吧?你不喜欢这一套吧?这事儿要不了几天,很容易就能办妥,找个办事机构,弄到一张证书,然后就乘车出发到威尼斯或者随便哪个你喜欢的地方去。”

“不在教堂里行礼吗?”我问。“不穿白色礼服,不请女傧相,没有钟声,没有唱诗班的童子?你的亲戚朋友也不请吗?”

“你忘啦,”他说。“那样的婚礼我以前曾行过。”

我们仍旧站在房门前。我注意到报纸还在信箱里塞着,那是因为吃早饭的时候太忙,没空看报。

“怎么样?”他说,“就这样办行吗?”

“当然行啦!”我回答。“刚才我还以为咱们得回到家再结婚。什么教堂,客人,我可不向往这些,我不喜欢那一套。”

我向他微笑,装出兴高采烈的样子。“这不是挺有趣吗?”我说。

可是他已经转过身去,推开了房门。我们走进套间狭小的门廊。

范-霍珀夫人在起居室里大叫起来:“是你吗?老天爷,你究竟捣什么鬼?我给服务台挂了三次电话,他们都说没见你人影。”

一时间,我既想笑,又想哭,想同时又笑又哭,另外我还觉得胸口发闷。一阵心慌意乱之中,我甚至希望这一切都未发生,要是此刻独自在一个什么地方吹着口哨散步多好。

“大概都怪我不好,”他说着走进起居室,随手带上门。我听见她惊诧地大叫一声。

我走进自己的卧室,在打开的窗户边坐下,这滋味就像在医生手术室的前厅坐等。我应该随手找本杂志来翻阅,浏览那些毫不相干的照片和那些根本读不进去的文章,等待护士走出来报信。护士来了,脸色开朗,模样很干练,但是因为长年与消毒剂打交道,人情味已被冲洗得荡然无存。“一切都好,手术很顺利,不用担心,我要回家去睡一会了。”

房间的墙相当厚实,隔壁的谈话声一点儿也听不见,他跟她说些什么呢?怎么措词?也许,他说:“您知道,第一次见面,我就爱上了她。这些日子,我们每天见面。”她的回答是:“嗬,德温特先生,这实在是我听说过的恋爱事件中最最罗曼蒂克的!”罗曼蒂克,这就是我乘电梯上楼时一路苦思而又始终没想起来的词儿。是啊,当然啦,够罗曼蒂克的!人们都会这么说。事情很突然,非常罗曼蒂克。两人一下子决定结婚,而且说到立刻做到。不啻是奇遇!在临窗的座位上,我抱着双膝,甜滋滋地对着自己笑,这一切多么美好,我将何等幸福!我要同自己心爱的男子结婚,我将成为德温特夫人!在这么幸福的时刻,居然还感到胸口发问,委实荒唐。当然,这是神经在作怪。正像在手术室前厅坐等结果。看来,如果两人手牵手一道走进起居室跟她说清楚,就更有意思,也更自然一些,两人相视一笑,一面由他站出来向她宣布:“我们决定结婚,我俩深深相爱着。”

相爱。到现在为止,他还未说过这话,也许是没来得及。方才吃早饭那阵子多匆忙,一边还得往嘴里送果酱、咖啡和蜜桔。那有闲暇?那蜜桔的味道可真糟糕。是的,他还没说到相爱之类的话,他只说到结婚,口气就事论事,毋庸置疑,倒也别致。正因为方式别致,他的求婚才更合我的意,显得更真诚。他可不同于一般的芸芸众生,不像那些毛头小伙子,那种人也许满嘴胡言乱语,心里却远不是那样想;那种人连篇的山盟海誓,热烈得让人受不了,但却前言不搭后语。这一次的求婚也不像他头一次对吕蓓卡……我决不能想到这上头去,快把这念头遣开。是魔鬼在诱使我去闯这思想的禁区。滚到后边去,撒旦!这些事绝对不能想,永远想不得,永远,永远!他爱我,他要带我看看曼陀丽。那边两人的谈话还有个完没有?他们究竟是不是还打算把我叫过去?

那部诗集就搁在床边。他已忘了借书给我这回事,可见这些诗对他是无关紧要的。“去!”魔鬼在耳边轻声怂恿。“翻开扉页。你心里难道不正想这么做吗?去翻开扉页。”胡扯!我说。我只是想把书放进行李堆去。我打个呵欠,漫不经心地往床头柜走去,信手捡起诗集。我被床灯的电线绊了一下,差一点摔倒,诗集从我手中掉到地板上,恰好散开在扉页。“给迈克斯——吕蓓卡赠。”她死了,人们不该去想起死者。死者已经长眠,青草掩埋了他们的坟墓。不过,她的字迹多么活泼,多么道劲!那一手不凡的斜体字,还有那墨水渍,仿佛是昨天刚刚写上的。我从化妆盒里取出指甲剪子,把这页纸剪下来;一边剪,一边做贼心虚地往后张望。

这一页被我剪得一干二净,连毛边也没留下。剪掉这一页后,诗集显得洁白,变成一部没人翻阅过的新书。我把剪下的扉页撕成碎片,丢入废纸篓。接着,我又在临窗的座位坐下,可是心里还尽想着纸篓里的碎片。过了一会儿,我不得不站起身来,再去看看纸篓,即使在撕碎以后,墨水还是又浓又黑地出现在眼前,字迹并没有毁掉。我拿了一盒火柴,把碎纸片点着。火舌吐出美丽的火焰,仿佛在给纸片涂色,卷得纸边起皱,使上面的斜体字无从辨认。纸片抖散,变得褐色的灰烬。最后消失的是字母R,它向外扭曲着,显得比原先更雄伟,接着也在火焰中成了齑粉。留下的不是灰烬,而是一种轻盈的细尘……

我走向脸盆,洗了手,顿时觉得好过一些。好过多了,就好像新年之初墙上挂的日历掀在元月一日,我有一种一切从头开始的洁净感,觉得一切都春意盎然,充满欢快的信念。门开了,他走进房间来。

“一切顺利,”他说。“开始她惊诧得说不出话来,不过这会儿已开始恢复,我现在下楼到服务台去给她弄车票,保证让她赶上第一班车。她曾犹豫了一下。我想她是想当我们的证婚人。我可是坚决不同意。去吧,跟她谈谈去。”

什么高兴、幸福,这类话他都没说,他也没有挽起我的手臂,陪我去起居室。他只是朝我一笑,挥挥手,就独自沿着走廊走开了。

我惴喘不安又难以为情地去见范-霍珀夫人,那模样活像一个通过别人之手递上辞呈的女佣。

她临窗站着抽烟。我从此再也见不到这个肥胖的矮怪物了;肥大的胸部那儿上衣绷得紧紧的,那顶可笑的女帽歪斜地覆在脑门上。

“啊,”她的声音干巴巴,冷冰冰,一定与对他说话时的腔调完全不一样。“看来我得付你双倍工资。你这人城府实在深。这事怎么给你办成的?”

我不知道怎么回答才好。我讨厌她那种奸笑。

“算你走运,幸亏我患了流行性感冒,”她说。“现在我才知道这些日子你是怎么打发的,还有,你为什么这样健忘。天哪,还说在练网球。你知道,你满可以对我说实话。”

“对不起,”我说。

她好奇地打量着我,上下左右,眼光扫过我的身子。“他对我说,过不了几天你们就要结婚。你没有亲人,不会东问西问,这对你说来又是一件幸事。好吧,从现在起这事与我无关,我一点也不管了。我倒是想,他的朋友们会作何感想。不过,得由他自己拿主意。你知道他比你大多了。”

“他才四十二岁,”我说。“而我看上去并不止我这点年纪。”

她笑了,把烟灰往地板上乱撒着说;“这倒不假。”她仍然用从来没有过的异样眼光端详着我。她是在判断我全身的价值,像家畜市场上的行家那样,她的眼光寻根究底,使人觉得难堪。

“你说,”她装出亲呢的样子,像是朋友间说私房话,“你有没有做什么不该做的事情?”

她简直就像提议付我百分之十佣金的女裁缝布莱兹。

“我不明白你在说些什么,”我说。

她又笑了,还耸耸肩。“啊,好吧……没有关系。不过,我常说英国姑娘都是黑马①,别看她们表面上只关心曲棍球,其实很难捉摸。这么说来,我得独自去巴黎,让你留下,等你那位情郎弄到结婚证书。我注意到他并没有邀请我参加婚礼。”——

①指实力难以预见,成绩出人意料的赛马。现常引申指人。

“他大概谁也不请。再说,到时候你反正已经动身了,”我说。

“-,-!”她取出化妆盒,动手往鼻子上扑粉。“想来,你作这个决定总是经过考虑的,”她接着说。“不过,事情毕竟很仓促,对吗?只有几星期的工夫。我看他这人并不怎么随和,你得改变自己的生活去适应他的习惯。你得明白,到目前为止,你一直过着非常闭塞的日子,我也没带你跑过多少地方。你今后要担负曼陀丽女主人的职责,说句老实话,亲爱的,我看你根本对付不了。”

这就像一小时前我对自己说的那一切的回声。

“你没有经验,”她又接着说。“你不了解那种环境。在我的桥牌茶会上,你连两个连贯的句子都说不上来。那么,你能对他的朋友们说些什么呢?她在世的时候,曼陀丽的宴会远近闻名。当然,这一切大概他都跟你说起过?”

我沉吟着没有接话。感谢老天,她不等我回答又接着往下说了:

“我自然希望你幸福;另外,实话对你说吧,他的确很诱人。不过,嗯,请原谅,我个人以为,你犯了个大错,日后会追悔莫及。”

她放下粉盒,回头看我的脸色,也许,她终于说出真心话了,可我决不爱听这样的真心话。我抿着嘴不说话,也许表情有点阴沉,所以她只好一耸肩,往镜子跟前走去,把那顶蘑菇状的的小帽拉直。她终于要走了,我可以从此不再见到她,我打心眼里庆幸。想起与她一起度过的、受雇于她的几个月时光,我不免怨气难平:替她捧着钱袋,跟在她后面东奔西跑,像个呆板、无声的影子。确实,我没有阅历,羞怯幼稚,一个十足的傻瓜。这一切我全明白,用不着她唠叨。我看她刚才说这番话完全是有意的,因为出于某种无法解释的女性立场,她恨这桩婚事,她对于人们各种价值的估计,由此遭到了当头一棒。

我才不管这些,我要忘掉这个女人和她的讥讽。从撕下扉页,烧掉残片时起,我开始产生一种新的自信。往昔对我俩已不复存在,他与我两人正在重新开始生活。过去,就像废纸篓里的灰烬一样,已经烟消云散。我将成为德温特夫人,我将以曼陀丽为家。

她马上就要离去,独个儿坐着卧车哐啷啷赶路。他与我将在旅馆餐厅里共进午餐。仍旧坐在那张餐桌旁,规划着未来。这是意义重大的新生活的起点。也许,她走后,他终于会告诉我他是爱我的,他觉得幸福。到目前为止,还没有时间;另外,这类话毕竟不很容易说出口,一定要等到时机成熟。我抬起头来,正好看到她在镜子里的映像。她盯着我瞧。嘴角挂着隐约的容忍的浅笑。这下子,我以为她终于要做一点友好的姿态了,伸出手来,祝我走运,给我打气,对我说一切将非常顺利。但她还是只管微笑,绞着一绺散开的头发,塞回帽子底下去。

“当然啦,”她说。“你知道他为什么要娶你。你不会自欺欺人地以为他爱着你吧?实际情况是一幢空房子弄得他神经受不了,简直要把他逼疯。你进房间之前,他差不多承认了这一点。要他一个人在那儿生活下去,他硬是受不了……”[/FONT]

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-04#23
[FONT=宋体]Chapter six

Packing up. The nagging worry of departure. Lost keys, unwritten labels, tissue paper lying on the floor. I hate it all. Even now, when I have done so much of it, when I live, as the saying goes, in my boxes. Even today, when shutting drawers and flinging wide an hotel wardrobe, or the impersonal shelves of a furnished villa, is a methodical matter of routine, I am aware of sadness, of a sense of loss. Here, I say, we have lived, we have been happy. This has been ours, however brief the time. Though two nights only have been spent beneath a roof, yet we leave something of ourselves behind. Nothing material, not a hair-pin on a dressing-table, not an empty bottle of Aspirin tablets, not a handkerchief beneath a pillow, but something indefinable, a moment of our lives, a thought, a mood. This house sheltered us, we spoke, we loved within those walls. That was yesterday. Today we pass on, we see it no more, and we are different, changed in some infinitesimal way. We can never be quite the . Same again. Even stopping for luncheon at a wayside inn, and going to a dark, unfamiliar room to wash my hands, the handle of the door unknown to me, the wallpaper peeling in strips, a funny little cracked mirror above the basin; for this moment, it is mine, it belongs to me. We know one another. This is the present. There is no past and no future. Here I am washing my hands, and the tracked mirror shows me to myself, suspended as it were, in time; this is me, this moment will not pass. And then I open the door and go to the dining-room, where he is sitting waiting for me at a table, and I think how in that moment I have aged, passed on, how I have advanced one step towards an unknown destiny. We smile, we choose our lunch, we speak of this and that, but -I say to myself -I am not she who left him five minutes ago. She stayed behind. I am another woman, older, more mature... I saw in a paper the other day that the Hotel Cote d'Azur at Monte Carlo had gone to new management, and had a different name. The rooms have been redecorated, and the whole interior changed. Perhaps Mrs Van Hopper's suite on the first floor exists no more. Perhaps there is no trace of the small bedroom that was mine. I knew I should never go back, that day I knelt on the floor and fumbled with the awkward catch of her trunk. The episode was finished, with the snapping of the lock. I glanced out of the window, and it was like turning the page of a photograph album. Those roof-tops and that sea were mine no more. They belonged to yesterday, to the past. The rooms already wore an empty air, stripped of our possessions, and there was something hungry about the suite, as though it wished us gone, and the new arrivals, who would come tomorrow, in our place. The heavy luggage stood ready strapped and locked in the corridor outside. The smaller stuff would be finished later. Waste-paper baskets groaned under litter. All her half empty medicine bottles and discarded face-cream jars, with torn-up bills and letters. Drawers in tables gaped, the bureau was stripped bare. She had flung a letter at me the morning before, as I poured out her coffee at breakfast. 'Helen is sailing for New York on Saturday. Little Nancy has a threatened appendix, and they've cabled her to go home. That's decided me. We're going too. I'm tired to death of Europe, and we can come back in the early fall. How d'you like the idea of seeing New York?' The thought was worse than prison. Something of my misery must have shown in my face, for at first she looked astonished, then annoyed. 'What an odd, unsatisfactory child you are. I can't make you out. Don't you realize that at home girls in your position without any money can have the grandest fun? Plenty of boys and excitement.

All in your own class. You can have your own little set of friends, and needn't be at my beck and call as much as you are here. I thought you didn't care for Monte?' 'I've got used to it, ' I said lamely, wretchedly, my mind a conflict. 'Well, you'll just have to get used to New York, that's all. We're going to catch that boat of Helen's, and it means seeing about our passage at once. Go down to the reception office right away, and make that young clerk show some sign of efficiency. Your day will be so full that you won't have time to have any pangs about leaving Monte!' She laughed disagreeably, squashing her cigarette in the butter, and went to the telephone to ring up all her friends. I could not face the office right away. I went into the bathroom and locked the door, and sat down on the cork mat, my head in my hands. It had happened at last, the business of going away. It was all over. Tomorrow evening I should be in the train, holding her jewel case and her rug, like a maid, and she in that monstrous new hat with the single quill, dwarfed in her fur-coat, sitting opposite me in the wagon-lit. We would wash and clean our teeth in that stuffy little compartment with the rattling doors, the splashed basin, the damp towel, the soap with a single hair on it, the carafe half-filled with water, the inevitable notice on the wall 'Sous le lavabo se trouve une vase', while every rattle, every throb and jerk of the screaming train would tell me that the miles carried me away from him, sitting alone in the restaurant of the hotel, at the table I had known, reading a book, not minding, not thinking. I should say goodbye to him in the lounge, perhaps, before we left. A furtive, scrambled farewell, because of her, and there would be a pause, and a smile, and words like 'Yes, of course, do write', and 'I've never thanked you properly for being so kind', and 'You must forward those snapshots', 'What about your address?' 'Well, I'll have to let you know". And he would light a cigarette casually, asking a passing waiter for a light, while I thought, 'Four and a half more minutes to go. I shall never see him again. ' Because I was going, because it was over, there would suddenly be nothing more to say, we would be strangers, meeting for the last and only time, while my mind clamoured painfully, crying 'I love you so much. I'm terribly unhappy. This has never come to me before, and never will again. ' My face would be set in a prim, conventional smile, my voice would be saying, 'Look at that funny old man over there; I wonder who he is; he must be new here. ' And we would waste the last moments laughing at a stranger, because we were already strangers to one another. 'I hope the snapshots come out well, ' repeating oneself in desperation, and he 'Yes, that one of the square ought to be good; the light was just right. ' Having both of us gone into all that at the time, having agreed upon it, and anyway I would not care if the result was fogged and black, because this was the last moment, the final goodbye had been attained. 'Well, ' my dreadful smile stretching across my face, 'thanks most awfully once again, it's been so ripping... " using words I had never used before. Ripping: what did it mean? - God knows, I did not care; it was the sort of word that schoolgirls had for hockey, wildly inappropriate to those past weeks of misery and exultation. Then the doors of the lift would open upon Mrs Van Hopper and I would cross the lounge to meet her, and he would stroll back again to his corner and pick up a paper. Sitting there, ridiculously, on the cork mat of the bathroom floor, I lived it all, and our journey too, and our arrival in New York. The shrill voice of Helen, a narrower edition of her mother, and Nancy, her horrid little child. The college boys that Mrs Van Hopper would have me know, and the young bank clerks, suitable to my station. 'Let's make Wednesday night a date. ' 'D'you like Hot music?' Snub-nosed boys, with shiny faces. Having to be polite. And wanting to be alone with my own thoughts as I was now, locked behind the bathroom door... She came and rattled on the door. 'What are you doing?' 'All right - I'm sorry, I'm coming now, ' and I made a pretence of turning on the tap, of bustling about and folding a towel on a rail.[/FONT]

Sinfonia : 2017-02-04#24
终于在家园上看到有讨论原版书的帖子啦~~~
兴奋之余先感谢一下楼主辛苦发帖~~

有点小可惜,不是我喜欢的类型呢。。。
觉得文风有点老旧了,虽然挺有画面感的,但是叙述方式对我来说时实在没有太大的吸引力呢。
不少第一人称的表达方式, 外加大量细腻的场景和联想描述,觉得整个剧情都被拖散了, 削弱了主人公存在感,性格特征也不明显。。于是弃书逃离~~
这类书应该很容易就可以在网上搜到原著的,真的是很佩服楼主那么认真地贴双语章节哦~~

发现sabre了~~

sabre : 2017-02-04#25
终于在家园上看到有讨论原版书的帖子啦~~~
兴奋之余先感谢一下楼主辛苦发帖~~

有点小可惜,不是我喜欢的类型呢。。。
觉得文风有点老旧了,虽然挺有画面感的,但是叙述方式对我来说时实在没有太大的吸引力呢。
不少第一人称的表达方式, 外加大量细腻的场景和联想描述,觉得整个剧情都被拖散了, 削弱了主人公存在感,性格特征也不明显。。于是弃书逃离~~
这类书应该很容易就可以在网上搜到原著的,真的是很佩服楼主那么认真地贴双语章节哦~~

发现sabre了~~
鼓励为主,
文字不错, 适合等车坐车的时候读,
不适合中文,

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-05#26
[FONT=宋体]She glanced at me curiously as I opened the door. 'What a time you've been. You can't afford to dream this morning, you know, there's too much to be done. ' He would go back to Manderley, of course, in a few weeks; I felt certain of that. There would be a great pile of letters waiting for him in the hall, and mine amongst them, scribbled on the boat. A forced letter, trying to amuse, describing my fellow passengers. It would lie about inside his blotter, and he would answer it weeks later, one Sunday morning in a hurry, before lunch, having come across it when he paid some bills. And then no more. Nothing until the final degradation of the Christmas card. Manderley itself perhaps, against a frosted background. The message printed, saying 'A happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year from Maximilian de Winter. ' Gold lettering. But to be kind alone with my own thoughts as I was now, locked behind the bathroom door... She came and rattled on the door. 'What are you doing?' 'All right - I'm sorry, I'm coming now, ' and I made a pretence of turning on the tap, of bustling about and folding a towel on a rail. She glanced at me curiously as I opened the door. 'What a time you've been. You can't afford to dream this morning, you know, there's too much to be done. ' He would go back to Manderley, of course, in a few weeks; I felt certain of that. There would be a great pile of letters waiting for him in the hall, and mine amongst them, scribbled on the boat. A forced letter, trying to amuse, describing my fellow passengers. It would lie about inside his blotter, and he would answer it weeks later, one Sunday morning in a hurry, before lunch, having come across it when he paid some bills. And then no more. Nothing until the final degradation of the Christmas card. Manderley itself perhaps, against a frosted background. The message printed, saying 'A happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year from Maximilian de Winter. ' Gold lettering. But to be kind he would have run his pen through the printed name and written in ink underneath 'from Maxim', as a sort of sop, and if there was space, a message, 'I hope you are enjoying New York'. A lick of the envelope, a stamp, and tossed in a pile of a hundred others. 'It's too bad you are leaving tomorrow, ' said the reception clerk, telephone in hand; 'the Ballet starts next week, you know. Does Mrs Van Hopper know?' I dragged myself back from Christmas at Manderley to the realities of the wagon-lit. Mrs Van Hopper lunched in the restaurant for the first time since her influenza, and I had a pain in the pit of my stomach as I followed her into the room. He had gone to Cannes for the day, that much I knew, for he had warned me the day before, but I kept thinking the waiter might commit an indiscretion and say: 'Will Mademoiselle be dining with Monsieur tonight as usual?' I felt a little sick whenever he came near the table, but he said nothing. The day was spent in packing, and in the evening people came to say goodbye. We dined in the sitting-room, and she went to bed directly afterwards. Still I had not seen him. I went down to the lounge about half past nine on the pretext of getting luggage labels and he was not there. The odious reception clerk smiled when he saw me. 'If you are looking for Mr de Winter we had a message from Cannes to say he would not be back before midnight. ' 'I want a packet of luggage labels, ' I said, but I saw by his eye that he was not deceived. So there would be no last evening after all. The hour I had looked forward to all day must be spent by myself alone, in my own bedroom, gazing at my Revelation suit-case and the stout hold-all. Perhaps it was just as well, for I should have made a poor companion, and he must have read my face. I know I cried that night, bitter youthful tears that could not come from me today. That kind of crying, deep into a pillow, does not happen after we are twenty-one. The throbbing head, the swollen eyes, the tight, contracted throat. And the wild anxiety in the morning to hide all traces from the world, sponging with cold water, dabbing eau-de-Cologne, the furtive dash of powder that is significant in itself. The panic, too, that one might cry again, the tears swelling without control, and a fatal trembling of the mouth lead one to disaster.

I remember opening wide my window and leaning out, hoping the fresh morning air would blow away the tell-tale pink under the powder, and the sun had never seemed so bright, nor the day so full of promise. Monte Carlo was suddenly full of kindliness and charm, the one place in the world that held sincerity. I loved it. Affection overwhelmed me. I wanted to live there all my life. And I was leaving it today. This is the last time I brush my hair before the looking-glass, the last time I shall clean my teeth into the basin. Never again sleep in that bed. Never more turn off the switch of that electric light. There I was, padding about in a dressing-gown, making a slough of sentiment out of a commonplace hotel bedroom. 'You haven't started a cold, have you?' she said at breakfast. 'No, ' I told her, 'I don't think so, ' clutching at a straw, for this might serve as an excuse later, if I was over-pink about the eyes. 'I hate hanging about once everything is packed, ' she grumbled; 'we ought to have decided on the earlier train. We could get it if we made the effort, and then have longer in Paris. Wire Helen not to meet us, but arrange another rendezvous. I wonder' - she glanced at her watch - 'I suppose they could change the reservations. Anyway it's worth trying. Go down to the office and see. ' 'Yes, ' I said, a dummy to her moods going into my bedroom and flinging off my dressing-gown, fastening my inevitable flannel skirt and stretching my home-made jumper over my head. My indifference to her turned to hatred. This was the end then, even my morning must be taken from me. No last half-hour on the terrace, not even ten minutes perhaps to say goodbye. Because she had finished breakfast earlier than she expected, because she was bored. Well then, I would fling away restraint and modesty, I would not be proud any more. I slammed the door of the sitting-room and ran along the passage. I did not wait for the lift, I climbed the stairs, three at a time, up to the third floor. I knew the number of his room, 148, and I hammered at the door, very flushed in the face and breathless. 'Come in, ' he shouted, and I opened the door, repenting already, my nerve failing me; for perhaps he had only just woken up, having been late last night, and would be still in bed, tousled in the head and irritable. He was shaving by the open window, a camel-hair jacket over his pyjamas, and I in my flannel suit and heavy shoes felt clumsy and over dressed. I was merely foolish, when I had felt myself dramatic. 'What do you want?' he said. 'Is something the matter?' 'I've come to say goodbye, ' I said, 'we're going this morning. ' He stared at me, then put his razor down on the washstand. 'Shut the door, ' he said. I closed it behind me, and stood there, rather self-conscious, my hands hanging by my side. 'What on earth are you talking about?' he asked. 'It's true, we're leaving today. We were going by the later train, and now she wants to catch the earlier one, and I was afraid I shouldn't see you again. I felt I must see you before I left, to thank you. ' They tumbled out, the idiotic words, just as I had imagined them. I was stiff and awkward; in a moment I should say he had been ripping. 'Why didn't you tell me about this before?' he said. 'She only decided yesterday. It was all done in a hurry. Her daughter sails for New York on Saturday, and we are going with her. We're joining her in Paris, and going through to Cherbourg. ' 'She's taking you with her to New York?' 'Yes, and I don't want to go. I shall hate it; I shall be miserable. ' 'Why in heaven's name go with her then?' 'I have to, you know that. I work for a salary. I can't afford to leave her. ' He picked up his razor again, and took the soap off his face. 'Sit down, ' he said. 'I shan't be long. I'll dress in the bathroom, and be ready in five minutes. ' He took his clothes off the chair and threw them on the bathroom floor, and went inside, slamming the door. I sat down on the bed and began biting my nails. The situation was unreal, and I felt like a lay-figure. I wondered what he was thinking, what he was going to do. I glanced round the room, it was the, room of any man, untidy and impersonal. Lots of shoes, more than ever were needed, and strings of ties. The dressing-table was bare, except for a large bottle of hair-wash and a pair of ivory hair-brushes. No photographs. No snapshots. Nothing like that.
[/FONT]

[FONT=宋体]
终于在家园上看到有讨论原版书的帖子啦~~~
兴奋之余先感谢一下楼主辛苦发帖~~

有点小可惜,不是我喜欢的类型呢。。。
觉得文风有点老旧了,虽然挺有画面感的,但是叙述方式对我来说时实在没有太大的吸引力呢。
不少第一人称的表达方式, 外加大量细腻的场景和联想描述,觉得整个剧情都被拖散了, 削弱了主人公存在感,性格特征也不明显。。于是弃书逃离~~
这类书应该很容易就可以在网上搜到原著的,真的是很佩服楼主那么认真地贴双语章节哦~~

发现sabre了~~

请问您能给个网上搜到的本书原著链接吗?在此先谢了。曾经从国内带来了大量的国外原著,有书籍、有音像磁带、有 CD 和 DVD,有些还在用。
[/FONT]
鼓励为主,
文字不错, 适合等车坐车的时候读,
不适合中文,

多谢大师鼓励。觉得家园是中文论坛,应中文为主。在英文论坛上,我只偶尔地提到中文,提到最多的是“Wall A Knee!我爱你”,和“恭喜发财!”

Sinfonia : 2017-02-05#27
[FONT=宋体]She glanced at me curiously as I opened the door. 'What a time you've been. You can't afford to dream this morning, you know, there's too much to be done. ' He would go back to Manderley, of course, in a few weeks; I felt certain of that. There would be a great pile of letters waiting for him in the hall, and mine amongst them, scribbled on the boat. A forced letter, trying to amuse, describing my fellow passengers. It would lie about inside his blotter, and he would answer it weeks later, one Sunday morning in a hurry, before lunch, having come across it when he paid some bills. And then no more. Nothing until the final degradation of the Christmas card. Manderley itself perhaps, against a frosted background. The message printed, saying 'A happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year from Maximilian de Winter. ' Gold lettering. But to be kind alone with my own thoughts as I was now, locked behind the bathroom door... She came and rattled on the door. 'What are you doing?' 'All right - I'm sorry, I'm coming now, ' and I made a pretence of turning on the tap, of bustling about and folding a towel on a rail. She glanced at me curiously as I opened the door. 'What a time you've been. You can't afford to dream this morning, you know, there's too much to be done. ' He would go back to Manderley, of course, in a few weeks; I felt certain of that. There would be a great pile of letters waiting for him in the hall, and mine amongst them, scribbled on the boat. A forced letter, trying to amuse, describing my fellow passengers. It would lie about inside his blotter, and he would answer it weeks later, one Sunday morning in a hurry, before lunch, having come across it when he paid some bills. And then no more. Nothing until the final degradation of the Christmas card. Manderley itself perhaps, against a frosted background. The message printed, saying 'A happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year from Maximilian de Winter. ' Gold lettering. But to be kind he would have run his pen through the printed name and written in ink underneath 'from Maxim', as a sort of sop, and if there was space, a message, 'I hope you are enjoying New York'. A lick of the envelope, a stamp, and tossed in a pile of a hundred others. 'It's too bad you are leaving tomorrow, ' said the reception clerk, telephone in hand; 'the Ballet starts next week, you know. Does Mrs Van Hopper know?' I dragged myself back from Christmas at Manderley to the realities of the wagon-lit. Mrs Van Hopper lunched in the restaurant for the first time since her influenza, and I had a pain in the pit of my stomach as I followed her into the room. He had gone to Cannes for the day, that much I knew, for he had warned me the day before, but I kept thinking the waiter might commit an indiscretion and say: 'Will Mademoiselle be dining with Monsieur tonight as usual?' I felt a little sick whenever he came near the table, but he said nothing. The day was spent in packing, and in the evening people came to say goodbye. We dined in the sitting-room, and she went to bed directly afterwards. Still I had not seen him. I went down to the lounge about half past nine on the pretext of getting luggage labels and he was not there. The odious reception clerk smiled when he saw me. 'If you are looking for Mr de Winter we had a message from Cannes to say he would not be back before midnight. ' 'I want a packet of luggage labels, ' I said, but I saw by his eye that he was not deceived. So there would be no last evening after all. The hour I had looked forward to all day must be spent by myself alone, in my own bedroom, gazing at my Revelation suit-case and the stout hold-all. Perhaps it was just as well, for I should have made a poor companion, and he must have read my face. I know I cried that night, bitter youthful tears that could not come from me today. That kind of crying, deep into a pillow, does not happen after we are twenty-one. The throbbing head, the swollen eyes, the tight, contracted throat. And the wild anxiety in the morning to hide all traces from the world, sponging with cold water, dabbing eau-de-Cologne, the furtive dash of powder that is significant in itself. The panic, too, that one might cry again, the tears swelling without control, and a fatal trembling of the mouth lead one to disaster.

I remember opening wide my window and leaning out, hoping the fresh morning air would blow away the tell-tale pink under the powder, and the sun had never seemed so bright, nor the day so full of promise. Monte Carlo was suddenly full of kindliness and charm, the one place in the world that held sincerity. I loved it. Affection overwhelmed me. I wanted to live there all my life. And I was leaving it today. This is the last time I brush my hair before the looking-glass, the last time I shall clean my teeth into the basin. Never again sleep in that bed. Never more turn off the switch of that electric light. There I was, padding about in a dressing-gown, making a slough of sentiment out of a commonplace hotel bedroom. 'You haven't started a cold, have you?' she said at breakfast. 'No, ' I told her, 'I don't think so, ' clutching at a straw, for this might serve as an excuse later, if I was over-pink about the eyes. 'I hate hanging about once everything is packed, ' she grumbled; 'we ought to have decided on the earlier train. We could get it if we made the effort, and then have longer in Paris. Wire Helen not to meet us, but arrange another rendezvous. I wonder' - she glanced at her watch - 'I suppose they could change the reservations. Anyway it's worth trying. Go down to the office and see. ' 'Yes, ' I said, a dummy to her moods going into my bedroom and flinging off my dressing-gown, fastening my inevitable flannel skirt and stretching my home-made jumper over my head. My indifference to her turned to hatred. This was the end then, even my morning must be taken from me. No last half-hour on the terrace, not even ten minutes perhaps to say goodbye. Because she had finished breakfast earlier than she expected, because she was bored. Well then, I would fling away restraint and modesty, I would not be proud any more. I slammed the door of the sitting-room and ran along the passage. I did not wait for the lift, I climbed the stairs, three at a time, up to the third floor. I knew the number of his room, 148, and I hammered at the door, very flushed in the face and breathless. 'Come in, ' he shouted, and I opened the door, repenting already, my nerve failing me; for perhaps he had only just woken up, having been late last night, and would be still in bed, tousled in the head and irritable. He was shaving by the open window, a camel-hair jacket over his pyjamas, and I in my flannel suit and heavy shoes felt clumsy and over dressed. I was merely foolish, when I had felt myself dramatic. 'What do you want?' he said. 'Is something the matter?' 'I've come to say goodbye, ' I said, 'we're going this morning. ' He stared at me, then put his razor down on the washstand. 'Shut the door, ' he said. I closed it behind me, and stood there, rather self-conscious, my hands hanging by my side. 'What on earth are you talking about?' he asked. 'It's true, we're leaving today. We were going by the later train, and now she wants to catch the earlier one, and I was afraid I shouldn't see you again. I felt I must see you before I left, to thank you. ' They tumbled out, the idiotic words, just as I had imagined them. I was stiff and awkward; in a moment I should say he had been ripping. 'Why didn't you tell me about this before?' he said. 'She only decided yesterday. It was all done in a hurry. Her daughter sails for New York on Saturday, and we are going with her. We're joining her in Paris, and going through to Cherbourg. ' 'She's taking you with her to New York?' 'Yes, and I don't want to go. I shall hate it; I shall be miserable. ' 'Why in heaven's name go with her then?' 'I have to, you know that. I work for a salary. I can't afford to leave her. ' He picked up his razor again, and took the soap off his face. 'Sit down, ' he said. 'I shan't be long. I'll dress in the bathroom, and be ready in five minutes. ' He took his clothes off the chair and threw them on the bathroom floor, and went inside, slamming the door. I sat down on the bed and began biting my nails. The situation was unreal, and I felt like a lay-figure. I wondered what he was thinking, what he was going to do. I glanced round the room, it was the, room of any man, untidy and impersonal. Lots of shoes, more than ever were needed, and strings of ties. The dressing-table was bare, except for a large bottle of hair-wash and a pair of ivory hair-brushes. No photographs. No snapshots. Nothing like that.
[/FONT]

[FONT=宋体]

请问您能给个网上搜到的本书原著链接吗?在此先谢了。曾经从国内带来了大量的国外原著,有书籍、有音像磁带、有 CD 和 DVD,有些还在用。
[/FONT]


多谢大师鼓励。觉得家园是中文论坛,应中文为主。在英文论坛上,我只偶尔地提到中文,提到最多的是“Wall A Knee!我爱你”,和“恭喜发财!”

楼主若是爱书之人,就去办个当地的图书卡吧~~~加拿大的书籍资源还是很丰富的,名著经典类的更不用说啦~~
我办理的是多伦多的图书卡,一般都是下载电子书啦,虽然每本最多只能借3周, 然后可以再续借两次。
而且不少图书馆里还有有声读物,朗读者也是超赞的。。。
也可以办理Amazon.ca的 kindle Unlimited, 每月$9.99,再买个Kindle 的读书器, 就可以无限看好多书啦。。
中文翻译过来的外国名著,我看得不多,所以具体的网站就不了解啦。。。
不过呢,Amazon.cn也是有包月读书的哦。每月12元~~~
若是想找免费的也应该不难,google或百度都可以查查。。

楼主若是喜欢国外经典名著类的,可以先去Amazon下载,类似《傲慢与偏见》, 《艾玛》,《小妇人》, 莎士比亚的所有著作都是免费的啦。。。这些名著早过了版权期了。。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-05#28
Toronto Library Card、Kindle 都有了。花钱办事不难,但是想找到免费共享的《Rebecca》 TXT 或 PDF 在线阅读极难(只找到一个 jpg 图片的),不知哪位网友能助一臂之力?

楼主若是爱书之人,就去办个当地的图书卡吧~~~加拿大的书籍资源还是很丰富的,名著经典类的更不用说啦~~
我办理的是多伦多的图书卡,一般都是下载电子书啦,虽然每本最多只能借3周, 然后可以再续借两次。
而且不少图书馆里还有有声读物,朗读者也是超赞的。。。
也可以办理Amazon.ca的 kindle Unlimited, 每月$9.99,再买个Kindle 的读书器, 就可以无限看好多书啦。。
中文翻译过来的外国名著,我看得不多,所以具体的网站就不了解啦。。。
不过呢,Amazon.cn也是有包月读书的哦。每月12元~~~
若是想找免费的也应该不难,google或百度都可以查查。。

楼主若是喜欢国外经典名著类的,可以先去Amazon下载,类似《傲慢与偏见》, 《艾玛》,《小妇人》, 莎士比亚的所有著作都是免费的啦。。。这些名著早过了版权期了。。

sabre : 2017-02-05#29
我的意思是这个中文版的可读性太差了,
这种没情节的文章, 靠文字吸引读者,

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-05#30
我的意思是这个中文版的可读性太差了,
这种没情节的文章, 靠文字吸引读者,

有更好的中文版可推荐吗?

sabre : 2017-02-05#31
有更好的中文版可推荐吗?
有, 你自己写,

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-05#32
有, 你自己写,

众口难调呀,我写的也会有人喜欢、有人不喜欢。凑合着读吧,Better than nothing。:wdb5::wdb31:

sabre : 2017-02-05#33
假如是我感兴趣的作品, 我愿意跟别的网友合作,
我喜欢情色作品, lady chatterley's lover, Lolita, 这类的,

sabre : 2017-02-05#34
众口难调呀,我写的也会有人喜欢、有人不喜欢。凑合着读吧,Better than nothing。:wdb5::wdb31:
假如是你自己的, 别人的兴趣会大一点,
起码, 有个吐槽的对象,

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-05#35
假如是你自己的, 别人的兴趣会大一点,
起码, 有个吐槽的对象,

此贴的兴趣点在英文原著上,中文译文只是为了方便那些英文阅读吃力的。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-05#36
假如是我感兴趣的作品, 我愿意跟别的网友合作,
我喜欢情色作品, lady chatterley's lover, Lolita, 这类的,

有些作品不能上传呀,曾读过一套描写 Wall street 金融人士的故事,特喜欢里面的人物和情节。

sabre : 2017-02-05#37
有些作品不能上传呀,曾读过一套描写 Wall street 金融人士的故事,特喜欢里面的人物和情节。
liar's poker?
wolf of wall street?

sabre : 2017-02-05#38
此贴的兴趣点在英文原著上,中文译文只是为了方便那些英文阅读吃力的。
我的临床经验, 中文翻译不帮助阅读,
不论是什么阅读能力, 一定要坚持不用字典看完一本书,
因为词汇量的贫乏, 在未来的阅读中, 猜的能力特别重要,

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-05#39
我的临床经验, 中文翻译不帮助阅读,
不论是什么阅读能力, 一定要坚持不用字典看完一本书,
因为词汇量的贫乏, 在未来的阅读中, 猜的能力特别重要,

很多人不可避免地会看中文,而且对阅读速度的要求还不能快,否则会很快就坚持不下去的。我有新的感觉:实地经历和文化背景能提高推测的准确性,在去观光过“The Breaker”后,就会发现对《 The Sound of Music 》的理解和体会与以前大不相同。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-05#40
还有。。。。。。

sabre : 2017-02-05#41
很多人不可避免地会看中文,否则会很快坚持不下去的。我有新的感觉:实地经历和文化背景能提高推测的准确性,在去观光过“The Breaker”后,就会发现对《 The Sound of Music 》的理解和体会与以前大不相同。
那是肯定的, alliteration, 你查中英对照字典也没用,
别人怎么开始看的, 我不知道, 我介绍的是我的个人体验,

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-05#42
[FONT=宋体]Instinctively I had looked for them, thinking there would be one photograph at least beside his bed, or in the middle of the mantelpiece. One large one, in a leather frame. There were only books though, and a box of cigarettes. He was ready, as he had promised, in five minutes. 'Come down to the terrace while I eat my breakfast, ' he said. I looked at my watch. 'I haven't time, ' I told him. 'I ought to be in the office now, changing the reservations. ' 'Never mind about that, I've got to talk to you, ' he said. We walked down the corridor and he rang for the lift. He can't realize, I thought, that . The early train leaves in about an hour and a half. Mrs Van Hopper will ring up the office, in a moment, and ask if I am there. We went down in the lift, not talking, and so out to the terrace, where the tables were laid for breakfast. 'What are you going to have?' he said. 'I've had mine already, ' I told him, 'and I can only stay four minutes anyway. ' 'Bring me coffee, a boiled egg, toast, marmalade, and a tangerine, ' he said to the waiter. And he took an emery board out of his pocket and began filing his nails. 'So Mrs Van Hopper has had enough of Monte Carlo, ' he said, 'and now she wants to go home. So do I. She to New York and I to Manderley. Which would you prefer? You can take your choice. ' 'Don't make a joke about it; it's unfair, ' I said; 'and I think I had better see about those tickets, and say goodbye now. ' 'If you think I'm one of the people who try to be funny at breakfast you're wrong, ' he said. 'I'm invariably ill-tempered in the early morning. I repeat to you, the choice is open to you. Either you go to America with Mrs Van Hopper or you come home to Manderley with me. ' 'Do you mean you want a secretary or something?' 'No, I'm asking you to marry me, you little fool. ' The waiter came with the breakfast, and I sat with my hands in my lap, watching while he put down the pot of coffee and the jug of milk. 'You don't understand, ' I said, when the waiter had gone; 'I'm not the sort of person men marry. ' 'What the devil do you mean?' he said, staring at me, laying down his spoon. I watched a fly settle on the marmalade, and he brushed it away impatiently. 'I'm not sure, ' I said slowly. 'I don't think I know how to explain. I don't belong to your sort of world for one thing. ' 'What is my world?' 'Well - Manderley. You know what I mean. ' He picked up his spoon again and helped himself to marmalade. 'You are almost as ignorant as Mrs Van Hopper, and just as unintelligent. What do you know of Manderley? I'm the person to judge that, whether you would belong there or not. You think I ask you this on the spur of the moment, don't you? Because you say you don't want to go to New York. You think I ask you to marry me for the same reason you believed I drove you about in the car, yes, and gave you dinner that first evening. To be kind. Don't you?' 'Yes, ' I said 'One day, ' he went on, spreading his toast thick, 'you may realize that philanthropy is not my strongest quality. At the moment I don't think you realize anything at all. You haven't answered my question. Are you going to marry me?' I don't believe, even in my fiercest moments, I had considered this possibility.

I had once, when driving with him and we had been silent for many miles, started a rambling story in my head about him being very ill, delirious I think, and sending for me and I having to nurse him. I had reached the point in my story where I was putting eau-de-Cologne on his head when we arrived at the hotel, and so it finished there. And another time I had imagined living in a lodge in the grounds of Manderley, and how he would visit me sometimes, and sit in front of the fire. This sudden talk of marriage bewildered me, even shocked me I think. It was as though the King asked one. It did not ring true. And he went on eating his marmalade as though everything were natural. In books men knelt to women, and it would be moonlight. Not at breakfast, not like this. 'My suggestion doesn't seem to have gone too well, ' he said. 'I'm sorry. I rather thought you loved me. A fine blow to my conceit. ' 'I do love you, ' I said. 'I love you dreadfully. You've made me very unhappy and I've been crying all night because I thought I should never see you again. ' When I said this I remember he laughed, and stretched his hand to me across the breakfast table. 'Bless you for that, ' he said; 'one day, when you reach that exalted age of thirty-six which you told me was your ambition, I'll remind you of this moment. And you won't believe me. It's a pity you have to grow up. ' I was ashamed already, and angry with him for laughing. So women did not make those confessions to men. I had a lot to learn. 'So that's settled, isn't it?' he said, going on with his toast and marmalade; 'instead of being companion to Mrs Van Hopper you become mine, and your duties will be almost exactly the same. I also like new library books, and flowers in the drawing-room, and bezique after dinner. And someone to pour out my tea. The only difference is that I don't take Taxol, I prefer Eno's, and you must never let me run out of my particular brand of toothpaste. ' I drummed with my fingers on the table, uncertain of myself and of him. Was he still laughing at me, was it all a joke? He looked up, and saw the anxiety on my face. 'I'm being rather a brute to you, aren't I?' he said; 'this isn't your idea of a proposal. We ought to be in a conservatory, you in a white frock with a rose in your hand, and a violin playing a waltz in the distance. And I should make violent love to you behind a palm tree. You would feel then you were getting your money's worth. Poor darling, what a shame. Never mind, I'll take you to Venice for our honeymoon and we'll hold hands in the gondola. But we won't stay too long, because I want to show you Manderley. ' He wanted to show me Manderley ... And suddenly I realized that it would all happen; I would be his wife, we would walk in the garden together, we would stroll down that path in the valley to the shingle beach. I knew how I would stand on the steps after breakfast, looking at the day, throwing crumbs to the birds, and later wander out in a shady hat with long scissors in my hand, and cut flowers for the house. I knew now why I had bought that picture postcard as a child; it was a premonition, a blank step into the future. He wanted to show me Manderley... My mind ran riot then, figures came before me and picture after picture - and all the while he ate his tangerine, giving me a piece now and then, and watching me. We would be in a crowd of people, and he would say, 'I don't think you have met my wife. ' Mrs de Winter. I would be Mrs de Winter. I considered my name, and the signature on cheques, to tradesmen, and in letters asking people to dinner. I heard myself talking on the telephone: 'Why not come down to Manderley next weekend?'[/FONT]

tanisan : 2017-02-06#43
忙了一个星期,看来坚持不容易啊。继续follow。谢谢楼主。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-07#44
[FONT=宋体]People, always a throng of people. 'Oh, but she's simply charming, you must meet her -' This about me, a whisper on the fringe of a crowd, and I would turn away, pretending I had not heard. Going down to the lodge with a basket on my arm, grapes and peaches for the old lady who was sick. Her hands stretched out to me, "The Lord bless you, Madam, for being so good, ' and my saying, 'Just send up to the house for anything you want. ' Mrs de Winter. I would be Mrs de Winter. I saw the polished table in the dining-room, and the long candles. Maxim sitting at the end. A party of twenty-four. I had a flower in my hair. Everyone looked towards me, holding up his glass. 'We must drink the health of the bride, ' and Maxim saying afterwards, 'I have never seen you look so lovely. ' Great cool rooms, filled with flowers. My bedroom, with a fire in the winter, someone knocking at the door. And a woman comes in, smiling; she is Maxim's sister, and she is saying, 'It's really wonderful how happy you have made him; everyone is so pleased, you are such a success. ' Mrs de Winter. I would be Mrs de Winter. "The rest of the tangerine is sour, I shouldn't eat it, ' he said, and I stared at him, the words going slowly to my head, then looked down at the fruit on my plate. The quarter was hard and pale. He was right. The tangerine was very sour. I had a sharp, bitter taste in my mouth, and I had only just noticed it. 'Am I going to break the news to Mrs Van Hopper or are you?' he said. He was folding up his napkin, pushing back his plate, and I wondered how it was he spoke so casually, as though the matter was of little consequence, a mere adjustment of plans. Whereas to me it was a bombshell, exploding in a thousand fragments. 'You tell her, ' I said; 'she'll be so angry. ' We got up from the table, I excited and flushed, trembling already in anticipation. I wondered if he would tell the waiter, take my arm smilingly and say, 'You must congratulate us, Mademoiselle and I are going to be married. ' And all the other waiters would hear, would bow to us, would smile, and we would pass into the lounge, a wave of excitement following us, a flutter of expectation. But he said nothing. He left the terrace without a word, and I followed him to the lift. We passed the reception desk and no one even looked at us. The clerk was busy with a sheaf of papers, he was talking over his shoulder to his junior. He does not know, I thought, that I am going to be Mrs de Winter. I am going to live at Manderley. Manderley will belong to me. We went up in the lift to the first floor, and so along the passage. He took my hand and swung it as we went along. 'Does forty-two seem very old to you?' he said. 'Oh, no, ' I told him, quickly, too eagerly perhaps. 'I don't like young men. ' 'You've never known any, ' he said. We came to the door of the suite. 'I think I had better deal with this alone, ' he said; 'tell me something - do you mind how soon you marry me? You don't want a trousseau, do you, or any of that nonsense? Because the whole thing can be so easily arranged in a few days. Over a desk, with a licence, and then off in the car to Venice or anywhere you fancy. ' 'Not in a church?' I asked. 'Not in white, with bridesmaids, and bells, and choir boys? What about your relations, and all your friends?' 'You forget, ' he said, 'I had that sort of wedding before. ' We went on standing in front of the door of the suite, and I noticed that the daily paper was still thrust through the letterbox. We had been too busy to read it at breakfast. 'Well?' he said, 'what about it?' 'Of course, ' I answered, 'I was thinking for the moment we would be married at home. Naturally I don't expect a church, or people, or anything like that. ' And I smiled at him. I made a cheerful face. 'Won't it be fun?' I said.

He had turned to the door though, and opened it, and we were inside the suite in the little entrance passage. 'Is that you?' called Mrs Van Hopper from the sitting-room. 'What in the name of Mike have you been doing? I've rung the office three times and I was seized with a sudden desire to laugh, to cry, to do both, and I had a pain, too, at the pit of my stomach. I wished, for one wild moment, that none of this had happened, that I was alone somewhere going for a walk, and whistling. 'I'm afraid it's all my fault, ' he said, going into the sitting-room, shutting the door behind him, and I heard her exclamation of surprise. Then I went into my bedroom and sat down by the open window. It was like waiting in the ante-room at a doctor's. I ought to turn over the pages of a magazine, look at photographs that did not matter and read articles I should never remember, until the nurse came, bright and efficient, all humanity washed away by years of disinfectant: 'It's all right, the operation was quite successful. There is no need to worry at all. I should go home and have some sleep. ' The walls of the suite were thick, I could hear no hum of voices. I wondered what he was saying to her, how he phrased his words. Perhaps he said, 'I fell in love with her, you know, the very first time we met. We've been seeing one another every day. ' And she in answer, 'Why, Mr de Winter, it's quite the most romantic thing I've ever heard. ' Romantic, that was the word I had tried to remember coming up in the lift. Yes, of course. Romantic. That was what people would say. It was all very sudden and romantic. They suddenly decided to get married and there it was. Such an adventure. I smiled to myself as I hugged my knees on the window seat, thinking how wonderful it was, how happy I was going to be. I was to marry the man I loved. I was to be Mrs de Winter. It was foolish to go on having that pain in the pit of my stomach when I was so happy. Nerves of course. Waiting like this; the doctor's ante- room. It would have been better, after all, more natural surely to have gone into the sitting-room hand in hand, laughing, smiling at one another and for him to say 'We're going to be married, we're very much in love. ' In love. He had not said anything yet about being in love. No time perhaps. It was all so hurried at the breakfast table. Marmalade, and coffee, and that tangerine. No time. The tangerine was very bitter. No, he had not said anything about being in love. Just that we would be married. Short and definite, very original. Original proposals were much better. More genuine. Not like other people. Not like younger men who talked nonsense probably, not meaning half they said. Not like younger men being very incoherent, very passionate, swearing impossibilities. Not like him the first time, asking Rebecca... I must not think of that. Put it away. A thought forbidden, prompted by demons. Get thee behind me, Satan. I must never think about that, never, never, never. He loves me, he wants to show me Manderley. Would they ever have done with their talking, would they ever call me into the room? There was the book of poems lying beside my bed. He had forgotten he had ever lent them to me. They could not mean much to him then. 'Go on, ' whispered the demon, 'open the title-page; that's what you want to do, isn't it? Open the title-page. ' Nonsense, I said,

忙了一个星期,看来坚持不容易啊。继续follow。谢谢楼主。
[/FONT]

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-11#45
[FONT=宋体]I'm only going to put the book with the rest of the things. I yawned. I wandered to the table beside the bed. I picked up the book. I caught my foot in the flex of the bedside lamp, and stumbled, the book falling from my hands on to the floor. It fell open, at the title-page. 'Max from Rebecca. ' She was dead, and one must not have thoughts about the dead. They slept in peace, the grass blew over their graves. How alive was her writing though, how full of force. Those curious, sloping letters. The blob of ink. Done yesterday. It was just as if it had been written yesterday. I took my nail scissors from the dressing-case and cut the page, looking over my shoulder like a criminal. I cut the page right out of the book. I left no jagged edges, and the book looked white and clean when the page was gone. A new book, that had not been touched. I tore the page up in many little fragments and threw them into the waste-paper basket. Then I went and sat on the window seat again. But I kept thinking of the torn scraps in the basket, and after a moment I had to get up and look in the basket once more. Even now the ink stood up on the fragments thick and black, the writing was not destroyed. I took a box of matches and set fire to the fragments. The flame had a lovely light, staining the paper, curling the edges, making the slanting writing impossible to distinguish. The fragments fluttered to grey ashes. The letter R was the last to go, it twisted in the flame, it curled outwards for a moment, becoming larger than ever. Then it crumpled too; the flame destroyed it. It was not ashes even, it was feathery dust... I went and washed my hands in the basin. I felt better, much better. I had the clean new feeling that one has when the calendar is hung on the wall at the beginning of the year. January the 1st. I was aware of the same freshness, the same gay confidence. The door opened and he came into the room. 'All's well, ' he said; 'shock made her speechless at first, but she's beginning to recover, so I'm going downstairs to the office, to make certain she will catch the first train. For a moment she wavered; I think she had hopes of acting witness at the wedding, but I was very firm. Go and talk to her. ' He said nothing about being glad, about being happy. He did not take my arm and go into the sitting-room with me. He smiled, and waved his hand, and went off down the corridor alone. I went to Mrs Van Hopper, uncertain, rather self-conscious, like a maid who has handed in her notice through a friend. She was standing by the window, smoking a cigarette, an odd, dumpy little figure I should not see again, her coat stretched tight over her large breasts, her ridiculous hat perched sideways on her head. 'Well, ' she said, her voice dry and hard, not the voice she would have used to him. 'I suppose I've got to hand it to you for a double-time worker. Still waters certainly run deep in your case. How did you manage it?' I did not know what to answer. I did not like her smile. 'It was a lucky thing for you I had the influenza, ' she said. 'I realize now how you spent your days, and why you were so forgetful. Tennis lessons my eye. You might have told me, you know. ' 'I'm sorry, ' I said. She looked at me curiously, she ran her eyes over my figure. 'And he tells me he wants to marry you in a few days. Lucky again for you that you haven't a family to ask questions. Well, it's nothing to do with me any more, I wash my hands of the whole affair. I rather wonder what his friends will think, but I suppose that's up to him. You realize he's years older than you?' 'He's only forty-two, ' I said, 'and I'm old for my age. ' She laughed, she dropped cigarette ash on the floor.

'You certainly are, ' she said. She went on looking at me in a way she had never done before. Appraising me, running her eyes over my points like a judge at a cattle show. There was something inquisitive about her eyes, something unpleasant. 'Tell me, ' she said, intimate, a friend to a friend, 'have you been doing anything you shouldn't?' She was like Blaize, the dressmaker, who had offered me that ten per cent. 'I don't know what you mean, ' I said. She laughed, she shrugged her shoulders. 'Oh, well ... Never mind. But I always said English girls were dark horses, for all their hockey-playing attitude. So I'm supposed to travel to Paris alone, and leave you here while your beau gets a marriage licence? I notice he doesn't ask me to the wedding. ' 'I don't think he wants anyone, and anyway you would have sailed, ' I said. 'H'm, h'm, ' she said. She took out her vanity case and began powdering her nose, I suppose you really do know your own mind, ' she went on; 'after all, the whole thing has been very hurried, hasn't it? A matter of a few weeks. I don't suppose he's too easy, and you'll have to adapt yourself to his ways. You've led an extremely sheltered life up to now, you know, and you can't say that I've run you off your feet. You will have your work cut out as mistress of Manderley. To be perfectly frank, my dear, I simply can't see you doing it. ' Her words sounded like the echo of my own an hour before. 'You haven't the experience, ' she continued, 'you don't know that milieu. You can scarcely string two sentences together at my bridge teas, what are you going to say to all his friends? The Manderley parties were famous when she was alive. Of course he's told you all about them?' I hesitated, but she went on, thank heaven, not waiting for my answer. 'Naturally one wants you to be happy, and I grant you he's a very attractive creature but - well, I'm sorry; and personally I think you are making a big mistake - one you will bitterly regret. ' She put down the box of powder, and looked at me over her shoulder. Perhaps she was being sincere at last, but I did not want that sort of honesty. I did not say anything. I looked sullen, perhaps, for she shrugged her shoulders and wandered to the looking-glass, straightening her little mushroom hat. I was glad she was going, glad I should not see her again. I grudged the months I had spent with her, employed by her, taking her money, trotting in her wake like a shadow, drab and dumb. Of course I was inexperienced, of course I was idiotic, shy, and young. I knew all that. She did not have to tell me. I suppose her attitude was deliberate, and for some odd feminine reason she resented this marriage; her scale of values had received a shock. Well, I would not care, I would forget her and her barbed words. A new confidence had been born in me when I burnt that page and scattered the fragments. The past would not exist for either of us; we were starting afresh, he and I. The past had blown away like the ashes in the waste-paper basket. I was going to be Mrs de Winter. I was going to live at Manderley. Soon she would be gone, rattling alone in the wagon-lit without me, and he and I would be together in the dining-room of the hotel, lunching at the same table, planning the future. The brink of a big adventure. Perhaps, once she had gone, he would talk to me at last, about loving me, about being happy. Up to now there had been no time, and anyway those things are not easily said, they must wait their moment. I looked up, and caught her reflection in the looking-glass. She was watching me, a little tolerant smile on her lips. I thought she was going to be generous after all, hold out her hand and wish me luck, give me encouragement and tell me that everything was going to be all right. But she went on smiling, twisting a stray hair into place beneath her hat. 'Of course, ' she said, 'you know why he is marrying you, don't you? You haven't flattered yourself he's in love with you? The fact is that empty house got on his nerves to such an extent he nearly went off his head. He admitted as much before you came into the room. He just can't go on living there alone... ' [/FONT]

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-12#46
[FONT=宋体]第07章

我们于五月初回到曼陀丽,按迈克西姆的说法,是与第一批燕子和风信子花一起到达。这是盛夏之前最美妙的时节:山谷里杜鹃花浓香泌人心脾,血红的石南花也正怒放。我记得那是一个大雨倾盆的早晨,我们离开伦敦,驱车回家,下午五时左右,已快到达曼陀丽,正可以赶上喝午茶。直到此刻,我还记得当时自己那模样,尽管结婚才七个星期,穿着却同往常一样,不像个新娘:灰黄色的紧宽衫,石貂鼠皮的小圈脖,还披着一件不成样子的胶布雨衣,雨衣大得很不合身,一直拖到脚踝。我当时想,穿上这样的雨衣才能表示出伦敦天气不佳;而且因为雨衣很长,可以使自己的身材显得高大一些。我手里捏着一副齐臂长手套,另外还有一只大皮包。

“这是伦敦的雨,”动身时迈克西姆说。“你等着瞧,待会儿等我们驶近曼陀丽,一定是阳光满地的好天气。”他说得不错,到了埃克塞特,乌云被抛到后面,越飘越远,头顶是一片蔚蓝的天空,前面是白色的大道。

看到太阳我真高兴。因为迷信,我总把雨看作凶兆,伦敦铅灰色的天曾使我郁郁寡欢。

“觉得好过些吗?”迈克西姆问我。我朝他笑笑,执住他的手,心想对他说来,回自己的家该是何其轻松自如:信步走进大厅,随手捡起积压的信件,按铃吩咐送上茶点。可是对于我的局促不安,他能猜出几分?他刚才问我,感到好过些吗?这是不是说他理解我此刻的心情?“没关系,很快就到了。我看你需要用些茶点。”他放开我的手,因为前面是一个弯道,得放慢车速。

我这才知道,他是以为我觉得疲乏,所以不说话,根本没想到此刻我害怕到达曼陀丽的程度决不亚于我在理论上对她的向往。一旦这个时刻临近,我倒又希望它往后挪。最好我们在路边随便找家客店,一起呆在咖啡室里,傍着不带个性特点的炉火。我宁愿自己是个过往旅店,一个热爱丈夫的新娘,而不是初来曼陀丽的迈克西姆-德温特的妻子。我们驶过许多景色明快的村落,农舍的窗户都显出厚道好客的样子。一个农妇,怀抱婴孩,站在门口向我微笑;一个男子,手提吊桶,当啷当啷穿过小路,朝井边走去。

我多么希望我俩也成为他们中的一分子,或者做他们的邻人也行。晚上,迈克西姆斜靠在农舍门上,抽着烟斗,为自己亲手种植的葵薯长得茁壮高大而自豪。我呢?我在打扫得于干净净的厨房里忙乎,铺好桌子,准备吃晚饭。梳妆柜上,一架闹钟滴答滴答走得安详。还有一排擦得亮堂堂的菜盘。饭后,迈克西姆读他的报纸,靴子搁在火炉的挡架上。我则从柜子抽屉里取出一大堆缝补活计。无可怀疑,那样的生活是安详而有规律的,还轻松自如,不必按刻板的准则行事。

“只有两英里了,”迈克西姆告诉我。“你看见那边一长排大树吗?从那儿的山顶倾斜着伸向山谷,过去一点就是大海。那就是曼陀丽,那些树木就是曼陀丽的林子。”

我强作笑容,没有答话。我只感到一阵惊惶,一种无由控制的眩晕。那种狂喜的激动和幸福的自豪感都一股脑儿作了烟云散。我像一个被人牵着第一天上学去的幼童,也像一个初次离家外出求职的稚嫩的年轻使女。结婚以来短短七个星期中好不容易学到的那点微不足道的自制力,这会儿简直成了在风中发抖的一块碎布片。我连最起码的行为准则似乎也忘了个精光,待会儿可能左右手不分,应该站着还是坐下,吃饭时应该使用何种汤匙和餐叉,都会乱了套。

“依我说,把胶布雨衣脱了吧,”他从头到脚打量着我说。“这儿根本没下雨。还有,把你这条可笑的皮围脖拉拉正。可怜的小乖乖,我就这样急急忙忙拖着你回家来了。看来,你本应该在伦敦添置些衣服才是。”

“只要你不介意,我可不在乎,”我说。

“大多数女人成天只考虑穿着,”他心不在焉地说。转弯以后,我们来到一个十字路口。这儿是一堵高墙的起点。

“到了!”他的声音带着一种迄今未有的激动,我则用双手紧抓着汽车的皮椅。

汽车转入弯道,左前方出现两扇大铁门,旁边是看门人的屋子。铁门大开着,进了门便是长长的车道。车进门时,我看到门房黑洞洞的窗子后面有几张窥探的脸。一个小孩从屋后绕出来,睁大眼睛好奇地望着。我慌忙往椅子里一缩,心怦怦直跳。我知道这些人为什么探头探脑,小孩子为什么瞪眼张望。他们是想看看我的模样,这会儿也许已起劲地在小厨房里哄笑着议论开啦:“只看到她那帽顶,”他们会说。“她不肯把脸露出来。不打紧,赶明儿就可以知道这人的长相,宅子里准会有消息传出来。”

也许,对我的怯生的窘态,他终于有几分觉察,所以就抓起我的手,吻了一下,一边笑着说:“这儿的人有些好奇,你可别介意。大家都想看看你是什么样子,也许几个星期以来,他们非此莫谈。你只要态度真诚自然,他们肯定都会喜欢你,至于家务,你一点不用过问,一切全由丹弗斯太太料理,就让她去操持好了。我看,一开始她会对你摆出生硬的态度。这人的性格很怪。可你不必在乎,她的作风就是这样。看到那些灌木吗?紫阳花开的时候,这一带的灌木丛就像一堵深蓝色的围墙。”

我没有吭声。我又想到多年前在那家乡村小铺里买彩图明信片的情景:手指搓着明信片,我走出铺子,来到明亮的阳光下,心里暗暗得意:把这画片收进影集倒挺合适,“曼陀丽”,多美的名字啊!可现在曼陀丽竟成了我的家!我将给朋友们写信:“整个夏天我们将呆在曼陀丽,请你们一定来玩。”这车道现在对我说来既新奇又陌生,但以后我会非常熟悉它,在这儿散步时知道什么地方有一个转弯,什么地方有一个拐角;园丁在哪儿修剪过灌木,在哪儿截去一枝,我能马上看得出来。我顺着车道走进铁门旁的门房,嘘寒问暖:“今天腿觉得怎么样?”那时,那位老太太将不再对我表示好奇,她会欢迎我去厨房作客。我真羡慕迈克西姆,无忧无虑,泰然自若,嘴角挂着微笑,这表明回家来他很高兴。

什么时候我也能像他那样泰然自若,嘴角也能挂上这样的微笑?看来这是太遥远了。我多么希望马上就能达到这一步。可当时我觉得自己慌得傻了眼。只要能摆脱这样的窘态,我甚至宁愿变成一个头发花白,步履蹒跚,久居曼陀丽的老妇人。

铁门砰地一声在我们后面关上,再也看不见尘土飞扬的公路。我发现车道与自己想象中的样子很不相同。我原以为曼陀丽的车道一定是条宽阔的大路,上面铺着沙砾,两边是齐整的草坪;路面经常用耙子和扫帚整理,弄得很平滑。可它不是这样,倒是像条蛇似地扭曲向前,在有些地方并不比一条小径宽阔多少。道旁两排大树,枝条摇曳,交错纠缠,形成教堂穹隆般的浓荫,我们就好比在拱道上穿行。绿叶混成一片,浓密异常,即使正午的太阳也无法透过,只能间或在车道上投下一些斑斑驳驳、时隐时现的温暖金光。四周非常静,鸦雀无声。在公路上曾吹着一阵西风,它欢快地拂着我的脸,使路边的青草一齐弯腰低舞,可是在车道上却一丝儿风也没有。甚至汽车的发动机也变了调子,它低声哼哧,不再像刚才那样放肆轰鸣。

车道倾斜着伸向山谷,大群树木迎面压来,其中有魁梧巨大的榉树,白色的躯干光滑可爱,擎托着一根又一根数不清的枝权。还有许多我叫不出名字的树木。它们迎面压来,我只要一伸手就可触到它们。

我们继续前行,驶过一座小桥,桥下是一条狭溪。这条根本不像汽车道的小路还在向前蜿蜒伸展,就像被使了什么魔法的一根缎带,穿过黑压压的沉寂的树丛,无疑正深入林子的中心。左右看不到豁然开朗的空地,看不到房屋。

车道漫漫,老是不见尽头,我的神经开始受不住了。我想,转过这个弯,或者再往前一点,绕个圈,一定就能看到尽头。但是每当我从椅上挺起身子,总是又一次失望:看不见房屋和田野,看不见令人宽慰的开阔的花园,周围仍是一片死寂的密林。两扇大铁门已经成为逝去的记忆,门外的公路则更遥远,似乎已属另一个世界。

突然,我看见在幽暗的车道前面有一小片开朗的天空,顿时,黑糊糊的林子开始变得稀疏,那种无名的灌木丛也不见了。道旁是远远高出人头的一堵血红色的墙,原来我们已来到石南花丛中。石南出现得那么突然,不但把人弄得不知置身何处,甚至叫你大吃一惊。刚才汽车行在进林子里,我一点没想到会出现这样的奇景。石南花红得像鲜血,着实吓了我一跳。成团成簇的石南,茂盛得难以置信,看不见叶子,也看不见枝干,只有一片象征着杀戮的血红色,因为过分的浓艳,显得非常怪异,完全不像我以前见过的石南花。

我朝迈克西姆膘了一眼,他微笑着问我:“喜欢吗?”

我喘着气答道:“喜欢。”是不是真心话,我自己也不知道。我一向把石南看作一种普普通通的家花,或呈紫色,或呈浅红,整齐地排列在圆形花圃中。可是这儿的石南花根本不像植物,而是一群高耸的密集巨怪,美得反常,大得出奇。

这时我们离宅子已经不远。果然不出我所料,车道由窄变宽,向一片开阔地伸去。在两边血红的石南花的簇拥之下,我们拐了最后一个弯,终于到达曼陀丽!啊,曼陀丽,果然是我想象中的模样,多年前那彩图明信片上的雄伟大宅,优雅,精美,一无瑕疵,比我梦中见到的形象更加完美!宅子由平坦的草地和绒毯似的草坪环绕,座落其间;庭院平台倾斜着伸向花园,花园又通往大海。我们向宽大的石阶驶去,最后在敞开的正门前停车。这时透过一扇带竖框的窗子,我看见大厅里全是人。我听到迈克西姆低声骂了一句:“这鬼女人,她明明知道我不喜欢这一套。”接着便猛地把车刹住了。

“怎么回事?”我问道。“那些人都是谁啊?”

“看来,这下子你得硬硬头皮挺一挺,”他没好气地对我说。“丹弗斯太太把全家和庄园里的仆役都集合起来欢迎我们。不要紧的,你用不着开口,一切由我来对付。”

我摸索着找车门的把手,有些发慌,另外,因为长途坐车,身上阵阵寒颤。正当我乱摸汽车门锁时,仆役总管带着一个跟班走下台阶,他替我打开了车门。

总管是个老头,脸相很和善。我抬头向他微笑,并伸出手去。他大概没有看见,径自拿起毛毯和我的小化妆盒,扶我下车,同时把脸转向迈克西姆。

迈克西姆一边脱手套,一边对总管说:“喂,弗里思,我们回来啦。离开伦敦时下着雨,看来这儿不像下过雨。大家都好吗?”

“都好,老爷,谢谢您关心。是啊,这儿没下雨,一个月来多数是好天。看到您回来真高兴,但愿您身体康健。但愿太太也康健。”

“我俩身体都好,谢谢您,弗里思。只是坐车赶长路有点累,想喝茶了。我可没料到这一套,”迈克西姆说着往大厅那边撇了撇头。

“老爷,这是丹弗斯太太的吩咐。”总管说话时脸上毫无表情。

“我猜到的,”迈克西姆生硬地说,接着便转过脸招呼我进屋,“来,反正不花多少时间,完了就喝茶。”

我俩一起登上石阶,弗里思和跟班抱着毛毯和我的胶布雨衣跟在后面。我又觉得胸口隐隐作痛,同时因为紧张,喉咙于涩难过。

直到此刻,当我闭起眼睛,回忆初到曼陀丽那天,我还能想象自己当时的样子:穿着紧身衣,汗湿的手里抓着一副齐臂长手套,瘦小孱弱,窘态毕露,站在门槛上。闭起眼睛,我又看到了石筑大厅。几扇气派不凡的门打开着通往隔壁的藏书室。大厅墙上挂着彼得-莱利②和范戴克①的作品。精致豪华的楼梯通向吟游诗人画廊。大厅里,前一排后一排站立着大群的人,一直排到那边的石筑市道和餐厅。这些人张大着嘴,露出好奇的神情,盯着我看,就像围着断头台看好戏的观众,而我则像双手反绑等待处决的犯人——

①彼得-莱利(1618-1680),荷兰著名人像画家。

②范戴克(1599-1641),出生在比利时的著名人像及风景画家。

有一个人从队伍里走了出来。此人又瘦又高,穿着深黑色的衣服,那突出的颧骨,配上两只深陷的大眼睛,使人看上去与惨白的骷髅脸没什么两样。

她朝我走来。我向她伸出手去,一边羡慕她那高贵而安详的态度。她握住我的手,我执着的是一只无力而沉重下垂的手,死一样冰冷,没有一点儿生气。

迈克西姆向我介绍:“这就是丹弗斯太太。”她并不抽回自己那只死一样的手,一边开始说话,两只深陷的眼睛始终直勾勾地盯着我的眼睛。我受不住她的逼视,终于移开了目光。直到这时,她的手才蠕动起来,重新有了生气,我觉得浑身都不自在,同时又自渐形秽。

此刻我已记不起她的原话,但我记得她曾以自己个人的名义,并代表全体雇员仆役,欢迎我来到曼陀丽。那是一篇事先练习过的礼节性的欢迎辞,一种干巴巴的官样文章。她的声音和她的手一样,冷冰冰,毫无生气。说完之后,她等着,像是期待我致答辞,我记得自己如何涨红了脸,结结巴巴地说了几句,表示感谢,慌乱之中,竟把两只手套掉落在地上。她弯下身替我捡起手套。当她把手套交给我时,我看到她嘴角隐约绽出轻蔑的微笑。我立刻猜到,她一定在笑话我缺乏教养,她的表情很有点异样,使我怎么也没法定下神,即使当她退回仆役队伍之后,这个黑色的人物仍然显得很突出,与众不同,游离在外、尽管她不作声,我知道她还在死命盯着我。

迈克西姆挽起我的手臂,说了几句表示领情的话。他说得非常自然,毫无窘态,似乎致答辞是轻而易举的事情。说完这番话,他拥着我走进藏书室去喝茶,随手带上门,我俩总算又单独在一起了。

两条西班牙种的长耳狗从炉边跑来迎接我们,用前爪搔着迈克西姆,毛色柔和的长耳朵向后撇着表示亲热,还唤着他的手。过后,狗儿弃了迈克西姆,跑到我身边,唤我的脚跟,露出疑惑而戒备的神态。那条瞎了一只眼的母狗一会儿就对我厌倦了,咕噜一声,走回到炉边去。但是小狗杰斯珀却把鼻子搁在我的手掌里,下巴偎在我膝上,和我亲热起来,当我抚摸着它那柔软的耳朵时,它的眼睛露出深沉的灵性,还僻啪僻啪地甩尾巴。

我脱掉帽子,解下那寒怆的小围脖,连同手套、提包,一起扔到临窗的座位上。这时我才觉得好过一些。房间很深,十分舒适,靠墙排着书架,藏书极多,一直堆到天花板;一个独身男子是一辈子不愿离开这样的藏书室的。大壁炉旁边,摆着厚实的靠背椅,还有一对篓子,那是专为两条狗准备的。但是看来它们从来不进篓子,因为椅子上留着好些凹陷的痕迹。说明它们常在这儿歇息。长窗对着草坪,草坪往外,还能望见大海在远处闪光。

房间里有一种安谧的陈年气味。尽管初夏季节这儿总陈列着紫丁香和玫瑰,花香不断,但房间里的空气似乎始终没有什么改变。从花园或大海吹来的空气,一进屋子,马上就失去原先的清新,成了这一成不变的藏书室的一部分,与那些发霉的、从来没人去读的藏书混成一体,与漩涡花饰的天花板,与浅黑色的护壁镶板,与厚重的帷幕,混成一体了。

这是一种类似苔藓的陈年气味,在那种难得举行礼拜的教堂里,石生青苔,窗绕长藤,你常能闻到这种气味。藏书室就是这么一个静谧的处所,一个供人恍惚冥想的地方。

一会儿,茶点端来了。弗里思和那年轻的跟班神色庄重地把一切布置好,我在一旁不用插手,一直等他们离去。迈克西姆翻阅着一大堆信件,我手里捏弄着往下滴奶油的松煎饼和碎蛋糕,喝下滚烫的热茶。

他不时抬头看我,向我微笑,接着又埋头读信。这些信大概是过去几个月中积压下来的。想到这儿,我才感到对他在曼陀丽的生活,日复一日的常规,对于他的男女朋友,对于他的花销和他治家的那一套,我知道得实在太少。过去的几个星期飞一般逝去,我偎依着他坐车驶过法国和意大利,仅想着我是多么爱他。我用他的眼光去浏览威尼斯,应和他的每一句话,对往昔和未来不提任何问题,满足于眼下的现实,满足于这点小小的荣耀。

他比我原先想象的要活跃得多,也亲切得多。他用各种不同的方式显示他的青春和热情,完全不像我们初次相识时的那种样子,完全不是在餐厅里独占一桌,目光呆滞,神秘莫测的陌生人。他是我的迈克西姆,他笑着,唱着,往水里扔石子,拉着我的手,舒展开眉头,卸下肩上的重负。我把他当作情人、朋友。那几个星期,我忘了他以前那种有条不紊的刻板生活,忘了这种生活还得重新开始,一如既往,而这几个星期只不过是转瞬即逝的假日,倏忽就被抛在脑后。

我看他读信。他一会儿皱眉,一会儿微笑,有时则表情木然地把信扔在一边。我想,要不是仁慈的上帝,我从纽约写来的信此刻也一定在这一大堆来雁往鱼之中,他会用同样冷漠的态度对待,也许一开始为写信人陌生的签名所困惑,然后打着阿欠,把信扔进纸篓,伸手去取茶杯。一想到这些,我不寒而栗,好险哪,差一点儿,此刻他就会独自在这里喝茶,照样过他的日子,也许不怎么想到我,至少不觉得遗憾;而我呢?我在纽约陪着范-霍珀夫人打桥牌,日复一日,翘首期待那永不到来的回信。

我仰靠在椅子里,环顾四周,想给自己多少灌注点儿自信。使自己意识到此刻确实在曼陀丽,在那彩图明信片上的大宅里,在这名扬远近的曼陀丽庄园。我得设法让自己相信,这里所有的一切确实属我所有,既是他的,也都是我的。此刻我坐着的宽敞舒适的椅子,这么许多顶着天花板的藏书,墙上的绘画,花园,林子以及我曾在书报上读到过的曼陀丽的一切,都是属于我的,因为我是迈克西姆的妻子。

岁月荏苒。就在这儿,我俩将白首偕老。到那时,我俩还将这样坐在藏书室里喝茶,迈克西姆和我两人。狗儿和我俩作伴,那将是眼下这两条狗的后裔。藏书室里仍将弥漫着此刻这种陈年霉味。有朝一日,屋子将弄得乱七八糟,狼藉不堪,那是在孩子们——我们的儿子——还未长大的时候。我仿佛看到小家伙们穿着沾泥的皮靴,伸着四肢趴在沙发里,把一大堆棍棒、板球拍子、大折刀、弓箭等带进屋子。那边的桌子,此刻擦试得何其亮堂光滑。到那时,桌上将出现一只丑陋的大盒子,里面盛放着蝴蝶和飞蛾;还有一只用来盛鸟蛋,外面包着粗棉花。那时,我将对孩子们说:“这些乱七八糟的东西不能放在这儿。宝贝儿,拿走,放到你们自己的书房里去。”听我这么一说,孩子们呼啸着奔出屋去,剩下最小的弟弟在后面螨跚学步,比哥哥们安静得多。

开门的声音打断了我的幻想,弗里思和跟班进屋来收拾茶具。等到收抬完毕,弗里思对我说:“太太,丹弗斯太太问您是不是想看看您的房间。”

迈克西姆从一大堆信件里抬起头来问:“东厢那些房间装修得怎么样?”

“老爷,在我看来,装修得真不错哩。当然,工程进行的时候,那边弄得一塌糊涂。丹弗斯太太曾担心在您回来之前不能如期完工。可是,工匠们在星期一总算把活干完了。依我看,老爷您住在那一侧定会觉得很舒适。那边光线更好些。”

“你们在这儿大兴土木改建房屋吗?”我问。

迈克西姆简短地回答:“没什么,只是把东厢那一套房间重新装修粉刷一下,供我俩使用。弗里思说得对,住在那边要爽快得多,从房间能看到玫瑰园,景色很美。我母亲在世时,那侧的房间专门接待宾客。好啦,等我读完这些信,就上楼去找你。去吧,这是个好机会,想法子跟丹弗斯太太交个朋友。”

我慢慢站起身,刚才那种神经质的惶恐再次袭来。我走进大厅,心里多希望能等一等迈克西姆,待他读完信,挽着他的手臂,一起去看房间,我不愿独自跟着丹弗斯太太四处浏览。

这会儿,大厅里人已走光,显得特别空廓。我的脚步落在石板上,回声直冲屋顶。这种声音弄得我很心虚,就像人们在教堂里走路,非常不自在,非常拘束。啪嗒啪嗒,啪嗒啪嗒。这声音多么讨厌。穿着毡靴的弗里思一定觉得我活像个傻瓜。

“这厅堂真大,是不?”我不自然地装出快活的声调,仍是一副女学生模样。不料他却十分庄重地回答说:“是的,太太,曼陀丽是座大宅,当然不及有些公馆那么宏伟,可也够气派了。古时候,这儿是宴会厅。现在逢到大场面,譬如说举行宴会或跳舞会,仍然使用这大厅。另外,太太大概知道,曼陀丽每周开放一次,接纳公众参观。”

“是的,我知道,”我一边回答,一边仍为自己啪嗒啪嗒的脚步声感到难堪。我觉得他领着我向前走去,犹如为一个公众宾客导游,而我自己的举止也确乎像个陌生人:彬彬有礼地左顾右盼,浏览墙上挂着的各种兵器和绘画,抚摸精雕细刻的楼梯扶手。

楼梯口,一个黑衣人站着等我,那惨白的骷髅脸上,两只深陷的眼睛盯着我看。我回过身,想求助于不动感情的弗里思,可他已经穿过大厅,走进那边的甬道不见了。

现在只剩下丹弗斯太太和我两人。我迎着她走上富丽的大楼梯,她还是一动不动地等着,双手交叉握在胸前,眼光始终不肯从我脸上移开。我强作笑容,可她并不报以微笑,这实在也不能怪她,因为这时候的一笑毫无缘由,只是愚蠢地假装心情愉快的一种掩饰。

“让你久等了吧?”

她回答说:“太太,您爱怎么打发时间,全由您自己作主。我只不过是按您的意旨办事。”说完话,她转身穿过画廊的拱门,走进那边的过道。我们沿着一条宽阔的铺着地毯的通道走去,接着向左转弯,走进一扇橡木制的房门。进门后是两级对称的扶梯,先向下,接着又往上,十分狭窄,最后来到一扇房门跟前。她猛地推开门,侧过身子让我进屋。这是一间小巧玲珑的前室,或是专供女人休息、化妆用的闺房,陈设着一张沙发,几把椅子,还有一张写字桌。这屋子通向隔壁宽敞的双人卧室。卧室窗户宽大,连着一间浴室。一进屋,我就向窗口走去,望望外边的景色,下面是玫瑰园和平台的东半部。花园再过去是一片平坦的草地,通往近处的林子。

“原来,从这儿望出去根本看不见大海,”我转身对丹弗斯太太说。

“是的,看不见。从屋子的这一头不但看不见大海,甚至连涛声也听不到。在这一侧,你根本想不到大海就在近处。”

她说话的样子十分特别,像是话里有话。她特别着重在“屋子的这一侧”几个字,仿佛在向我暗示,我们此刻置身其中的这套房间比较低劣。

“太遗憾了。我爱大海,”我说。

她不回答,仍然盯着我看,双手还是交叉着握在胸前。

“不过,房间还是挺美的,”我说。“住在这儿肯定会非常舒服。我听说一切都是赶在我们回来之前弄舒齐的。”

“是的,”她说。

“过去这套房间是个什么样子?”我问。

“这里糊着紫红色的壁纸,还有各种各样的帷幕、帘子等等。德温特先生觉得房间不够明亮,所以除了偶尔接待宾客,这套房间不大使用。这一次,德温特先生在信里特地吩咐说,你们二位将住在这里。”

“这么说,这不是他原来的卧室,”我说。

“不是的,太太。过去他从来没用过东厢的房间。”

“噢。可他从来没有跟我说起。”

我信步走向梳妆台,动手梳理头发。我的行李已打开安放就绪,发刷和梳于都已摆在托盘里,迈克西姆送了我一套头发刷子,此刻正陈列在梳妆台上,让丹弗斯太太一饱眼福。这些都是全新的刷子,价格昂贵,值得我骄傲。

“行李是艾丽斯替您打开的。在您的贴身使女到来之前,由艾丽斯服侍您,”丹弗斯太太说。

我又一次朝她微笑,把刷子放口梳妆台,局促地说:“我没有贴身使女。艾丽斯是这儿的内房女佣吧?就让她来服侍我好啦。”

她脸上又露出在我们第一次见面我笨拙地掉了手套时的那种表情。

“我看长远这样下去不行,”她说。“您知道,像您这样地位的太太总得有贴身使女。”

我摹地涨红脸,又伸出手去拿刷子。她的话里有刺,这我一清二楚。我避开她的目光,回答道:“如果非这样不可,那就请你费心替我办这件事吧,随便给找个想出门找事做的女孩子就行。”

“如果您觉得这样好,”她说,“请尽管吩咐。”

一时,两人都不说话。我希望她走开。我弄不明白这女人为什么老这样站着,双手交叉摆在黑衣服前,目不转睛盯着我看。

“你来曼陀丽好些年了吧?”我说。“大概比谁呆的时间都长,是不?”

“不!弗里思比我来得早,”她的声音一无生气,多么冷酷,同她那双曾在我掌心之中的手一模一样。“老太爷在世的时候,弗里思就来了,那时德温特先生还是个孩子。”

“噢,是这样,”我说。“你是在那以后才来的。”

“不错,”她说。“在那以后。”

我又一次抬头看她,又一次遇到她惨白脸上一对阴沉的眼睛。就是这对眼睛,不知道为什么,使我觉得异样的不安,预感到有什么祸事临头。我想装出一副笑脸,可又实在笑不出。那双眼睛把我整个儿给握住了,那双暗淡无光,没有一丝儿同情表示的眼睛!

“我来时正好是头一位德温特夫人嫁过来的时候。”

我在上面说过,她的声音一直是单调平板的,可是说这句话的时候,声音突然变得尖厉激烈,既有生气,又有寓意,连那嶙峋惨白的颧骨也抹上了一点血色。

这一变化来得突然,我蓦地一惊,甚至觉得几分恐惧。我不知道自己该做些什么,说些什么。她似乎把不得明言的几个字说出了口。这几个字长期以来深埋在她心底,这会儿再也憋不住了。她的眼睛仍然盯着我的脸,眼光里透出某种既有怜悯又有鄙夷的奇怪神色。在她这样的逼视之下,我觉得自己比原先想象的更为稚嫩,对生活里各种人情世故实在知之太少。

我看得出,她瞧不起我,像她这种地位的人都很势利,一眼就看出我根本不是什么贵妇人,只是一个地位微贱、怯懦的弱女子。可是她那眼神里除了蔑视,总还有点别的什么,是确定无疑的仇恨,还是十足的恶意。

我总得找几句话说说,可不能老是这么坐着玩弄发刷,让她看出我既怕她又提防着她。

“丹弗斯太太,”我边听边说,“我希望咱们俩能相互了解,处好关系。你对我得有点耐心,因为这样的生活对我说来完全是新的,与过去大不相同。我一定要努力适应这儿的新生活;当然,首要的还是要让德温特先生过得幸福。我知道一切家务安排全可交给你管,这一点,德温特先生对我说过,你尽可按老规矩管下去,我不会提出任何异议。”

我打住了,说得上气不接下气。我没有所握,不知这番话是不是得体。等我再次抬起头来,她已经走开,这会儿正用手捏着门把,站在门旁。

“好的,”她说。“但愿一切都能遂您的心意。我管家已经一年多,德温特先生从来没表示过不满意。当然,已故的德温特夫人在世时,情形大不相同。那时候,经常招待客人,开宴会,虽然我替她管事,这样的大场面她总爱亲自过问。”

我又一次意识到她在谨慎地选择用词,好像在探索一条通往我内心的道路。她盯着我的脸,看刚才一席话在我身上发生了什么样的作用。

“我可宁愿让你管事,我宁愿这样,”我重复着说。

她的脸上又出现了那种我先前曾注意到的表情,就是头一口在大厅里握手时的那种表情:十足的嘲弄,确定无疑的鄙视。她深知我决不敢跟她较量;她看出来,我怕她。

“还有什么吩咐吗?”她问道。我装模作样地四下瞧一瞧,然后说:“没有什么了。样样都有。我住在这儿一定会觉得很舒服。你把屋子打扮得这么漂亮。”后面一句完全是奉承;为取得她的好感,我作了最后一次尝试。可她依旧扳着脸,耸耸肩说:“我只不过是按德温特先生的吩咐办事罢了。”

她手按门把,在门旁流连不去,像是还有什么要对我说,可又拿不。定主意如何措词,所以就等着我再说些什么,好让她见缝插针。

我但愿她快点走开。她像个影子,站在那儿一直盯着我看,骷髅脸上深陷的双眼端详着我。

“您要是发现什么不称心的地方,务请立刻吩咐,好吗?”她问。

“好的,好的。丹弗斯太太,”我嘴上这么说,可心里明白这并不是她想说的话。如此一间一答之后,又是冷场。

“如果德温特先生问起他那口大衣橱,”她突然转了话题,“请转告说衣橱太大,无法搬动。我们试了一下,因为门太窄,衣橱搬不进来。这里的房间比西厢的房间小。倘若他对这套房间的布置不满意,请他告诉我。我可真不知道该怎么布置这些房间才好。”

“别担心,丹弗斯太太,”我说,“我想他一定会非常满意。只是让你们辛苦了。我根本不知道他要你们重新装修布置这套房间。其实用不着如此兴师动众,要是让我住西厢,我一样会感到很满意,很舒服。”

她用奇怪的目光打量着我,开始扭动房门的把手。“德温特先生说您想住在这一侧。西厢的房间历史悠久,大套间的卧室比这间屋子大一倍,天花板上雕着漩涡花饰,非常华贵。用花毯披挂的椅子全是珍品;壁炉也是雕花的。那个房间是全宅最漂亮的,窗外是草坪,草坪再往外就是大海。”

听了这些话,我觉得很不是滋味,甚至有些羞愧。她为什么带着忿忿然的口吻说话,一边还暗示安顿我的这个房间比较低劣,够不上曼陀丽的标准,只不过是为一个二流角色准备的二流房间而已。

“德温特先生大概是想把最漂亮的房间留着让公众参观吧?”我说。她仍在扭动房门的把手,听到我说话,便又抬头看我,盯着我的双眼,在回话前沉吟了半晌。当她回话时,她的声音竟比先前更沉静,语调也更平板:“卧室是从来不让公众参观的;只向外开放大厅、画廊和楼下的房间。”说到这儿,她顿了一顿,暗暗察看我的反应。“德温特夫人在世时,他们夫妇俩住在西厢,我刚才对您说起的面向大海的那个大房间就是德温特夫人的卧室。”

这时,我看到她脸上掠过一个阴影。她退到墙角,尽量不使自己显眼。原来,外面响起了脚步声,迈克西姆进屋来了。

他问我:“怎么样?行吗?称心吗?”

他环顾房间,高兴得像个小学生,接着说道:“我一直认为这是最美的房间,这些年来一直当客房使用,真可惜了。不过我总觉得有朝一日会用上这个房间的。丹弗斯太太,你干得着实出色,我给你打满分。”

“谢谢,老爷,”她面无表情地答道,然后转过身,走出房间,轻轻带上了门。

迈克西姆走到窗口,探身看外面的景色。“我爱这玫瑰园,”他说。“我对童年的回忆之一就是跟着母亲在玫瑰园里玩,那时候腿骨还不硬,摇摇晃晃地学走路,妈妈在一旁摘去凋谢的玫瑰花穗。这房间有一种和平、幸福的气氛,而且宁静。在这儿,你根本想不到只消走五分钟便可到达海边。”

“丹弗斯太太也这么说,”我告诉她。

他从窗边走开,在房间里踱来踱去,摸摸家具,看看墙上的画片,一会儿又走去把衣橱打开,摸摸已经放好的我的衣服。

他突然问道;“跟丹弗斯太太这老婆子相处得怎么样?”

我转过脸去,又一次对镜梳头发:“她的态度好像有点生硬。”半晌,我又接着说,“也许她以为我要干预这儿的家务。”

“这个我看她才不在乎呢,”他说。我抬起头来,恰好看见他盯着镜子里的我瞧。接着,他又转身走向窗边,一边低声吹着口哨,把身体重量压在脚跟上,一前一后摇晃。

“别管她,”他说。“从很多方面看,这人是有点古怪。别的女人想要跟她处好关系,看来挺不容易。对于这一点,你切不要注意。如果此人实在惹你讨厌,把她赶走得了。不过,你知道,她办事干练,可以代你管家,免得你操心。我看她对其他仆人一定相当霸道,只是还没敢霸到我头上来。她要是敢对我放肆,我早就让她滚蛋了。”

“我看,等她了解我以后,也许能够处好关系,”我赶快接着说。“刚开始时,她有点儿讨厌我毕竟还是很自然的。”

“讨厌你,为什么讨厌你?你说这话到底是什么意思?”

他从窗口转过身来,愠怒地皱着眉头,脸色异常。对这句话他竟这样在乎,我不理解,可同时我又希望自己没说刚才那句话。

“我是说,对一个管家,照顾单身男子毕竟比较容易,”我说。“我看她已习惯于这一套,可能怕我干预得太过分。”

“太过分?上帝啊……要是你以为……”他的话只开了一个头就打住了。他从房间那头走过来,吻着我的前额。

“把丹弗斯太太给忘了吧,”他说。“我对她可不感兴趣。来,让我带你看看曼陀丽去。”

那天晚上,我再也没见到丹弗斯太太,我俩也没再谈论这个人。思想上已把她驱开,我觉得轻松多了,那种把自己看作外来侵犯者的感觉也才淡漠一些。而当迈克西姆搂着我的肩,带我在楼下的房间里四处浏览的时候,我才开始觉得自己终于有点儿像理想中的角色,开始把曼陀丽当作自己的家了。

我的脚步落在大厅的石板上不再发出异样难堪的响声。这会儿迈克西姆打着钉子的皮鞋发出的声音比我的脚步响得多。还有那两条狗啪嗒啪嗒的脚步声,听着既使人安适,又很悦耳。

使我高兴的另一个原因是,这是我俩在曼陀丽度过的第一个夜晚。我们刚回家就忙着浏览墙上的绘画,花去不少时间,所以迈克西姆看看钟说,时间来不及了,晚饭前不必更衣。这么一来,省得我受窘。要不然,那个名叫艾丽斯的使女肯定要问我换哪一套衣服,还要帮我穿着。而我就只得穿上范-霍珀夫人赐的那套衣服(这套衣服她女儿穿着不合身),裸着双肩,忍着寒冷,走下长长的一段楼梯,到大厅去吃饭。我方才就一直担心,生怕一本正经坐在这庄严肃穆的餐厅里用膳。可现在,因为不用更衣,一切又变得轻松而自然,同两人在外面上餐馆没什么两样。穿着原来的紧身衣,我觉得舒服。我笑着谈论在意大利和法国的见闻,我们还把旅途拍的照片放在桌上。弗里思和跟班就像餐馆里没有个性的侍者一样,他们不会像丹弗斯太太那样瞪眼看我。

饭后,我俩坐在藏书室里。一会儿,窗帷放下了,壁炉里添了柴火。虽然已是五月,夜晚仍寒气逼人,幸好炉火熊熊,给我温暖。

饭后两人这样坐在一起还是头一回。在意大利,我们或步行或驾车出去兜风,进小咖啡馆去打发时间,或者并肩斜靠在桥上。

迈克西姆本能地朝壁炉左方他的位子上走去,伸手拿起报纸。他把一个宽大的杭垫塞在脑袋后边,点燃一支香烟。我暗暗想:“这是他的老习惯,多少年来他每天都这样。”

他不朝我这边看,径自读报,露出心满意足、非常舒服的样子。回家来恢复了原先的生活方式,他又是一家之主了。

我坐在一边,双手托着腮帮子沉思。我爱怜地抚摸着长耳狗柔软的耳朵。这时我突然想到,我并不是第一个懒洋洋靠在这张椅子上的人。在我之前,已有人坐过这椅子,椅垫上肯定留下过她身子的印痕;她的手曾搁在这儿的扶手上;她曾从同一具银质咖啡壶中往外斟咖啡,把杯子送到唇边;同我此刻的姿势一样,她也曾俯身去爱抚长耳狗……

我下意识地打了个寒噤,似乎有人在我背后打开了门,引进了股冷风。我是坐在吕蓓卡的椅子上,斜靠着吕蓓卡的椅垫。长耳狗跑来把头搁在我膝上,因为这是它的老习惯,它还记得过去就在这个地方,她曾给它吃糖。

第08章

当然,我从没想到,在曼陀丽的生活竟是如此有条不紊,这样刻板!今天回忆起来,我还记得第一天早晨的情景:迈克西姆很早起身,早饭之前就穿着停当,开始写信。九点过后好大一会儿,我才应着镗镗的小锣声,慌忙下楼。这时他已快吃完早餐,在削着水果了。

他抬起头来朝我笑笑说:“你别介意,这一套你总得设法适应才好。每天这个时候我是没有空闲的。你知道,管理曼陀丽这么一所大宅,非得把全部时间花上去不可。咖啡和热菜都在餐具柜上。早餐的时候我们不用仆人服侍。”我告诉他,我的钟慢了,另外洗澡多花了点时间,可他根本没听,他低着头读一封信,不知为什么皱着眉头。

我还清楚地记得,早餐的丰盛给我留下深刻的印象,甚至使我有点惶然不知所措。在一只银质大壶里盛着热茶,还有咖啡;炒蛋和腊肠在炉子上咝咝冒着热气,另一道热菜是鱼;在另一只特制的炉子上搁着几枚一窝生的煮鸡蛋;在一只银碗里盛着麦片粥;在另一个餐具柜上放着火腿和一方冻腊肠;而在餐桌上刚摆开了面包、吐司,各种各样的果酱和蜂蜜罐。两端是堆得高高的水果盘。我觉得很奇怪,在意大利和法国的时候迈克西姆早饭只吃一客夹心面包卷和水果,只喝一杯咖啡,回家来却摆开这么丰盛的早餐,够一打人吃的了。日复一日,年复一年,也许他对此习以为常,根本不觉得是什么浪费。

我注意到他吃了一小块鱼,我吃了个煮鸡蛋。这么多余下的食物怎么处理呢?这些炒蛋、脆嫩的腊肠、麦片粥、剩下的鱼。也许厨房后门口有些我不认识、一辈子也不会见面的穷人在等着施舍吧,要不,这些东西都一概扔进垃圾桶完事?当然这些我都无从得知。我根本不敢启口过问。

“感谢上帝,幸好我的亲戚不多,不会来多麻烦你,”迈克西姆说。“我只有一个难得见面的姐姐,一个差不多瞎了眼的老奶奶。顺便说一声,我姐姐比阿特丽斯不遂自来,说要来吃顿中饭。我料到她会来的。她大概想见见你。”

“今天就来吗?”我的情绪一下子降到冰点。

“是的。早晨接到她的信,说是今天就来。可她不会在这儿果很久。我想你一定会喜欢她的。这人很直率,想什么就说什么,决不是那种虚伪的角色。她如果对你没有什么好感,就会当着你的面说出来。”

这些话并没有使我得到多少安慰,我倒反觉得一个伪善的人至少不会当面出我的丑,这样是不是更好些。

迈克西姆站起身来,点了一支烟。“今天早上我有一大堆事情要处理。你自个儿去玩,行不行?”他说。“本来想带你到花园里走走,可我必须跟总管事克劳利碰一次头,我已经好久没过问这儿的事务。哦,对了,克劳利也在这儿吃中饭,你不会反对吧?能对付吗?”

“当然不反对,”我说。“我会挺高兴的。”

他捡起信件,走出房去。我记得当时自己很失望,因为在我原先的想象中,第一天的早晨我们应该手挽手到海边去散步,一直玩到人乏兴尽才回来。因为回来得迟,午饭已冷了,我们就在一起单独进餐。吃过午饭。我俩坐在藏书室窗外那棵栗子树下憩息。

这第一顿早饭我吃了好久,故意挨时间,直到弗里思进来,在侍者帷幕后边朝我张望,我才意识到这时已经十点多钟。我顿时跳了起来,觉得很内疚,并为自己在餐桌旁坐得太久说了几句表示歉意的话。弗里思一躬到地,一言不发,他总是这样有礼貌,言行的分寸恰到好处。可是,在他眼睛里我却捕捉到了一闪而过的惊奇的神色。难道我方才这些话又说错了?也许我根本不该道歉。这样一来反而降低了我在他眼中的地位。我多么希望自己能够掌握分寸,知道当时当地应该说什么,做什么。看来弗里思也像丹弗斯太太一样,在怀疑我的身分;他也看出,态度自如、举止优雅而有自信,这些决不是我的素质。而是我要花好长时间,也许得经过痛苦的磨炼才得以学到的东西,而要学会这一套,我得屡受煎熬,付出代价。

事实也的确如此。当我埋着头走出房间时,我在门边的阶梯上绊了一下,弗里思跑来搀我,替我拾起掉在地上的手绢,而那名叫罗伯特的年轻跟班,站在帷幕背后,忙不迭扭过脸去,以免让我看到他在窃笑。

当我穿过大厅时,我还听到两人在小声说话,其中一个,大概又是罗伯特,笑了一声。两人大概正在笑话我。我回到楼上,想独个儿关在卧室里安静一会。可是一推开门,我发现使女们正在打扫房间,一个扫地,另一个抹梳妆台。两人惊愕地望着我。我赶快返了出来。原来我又错了,早晨这个时候不该到卧室去,谁都没想到我会冒冒失失间去,我刚才的举动违反了曼陀丽的日常惯例。

我只得轻手轻脚再次下楼,幸好穿着拖鞋,走在石板上倒没有什么声响。我走进藏书室,里面窗户大开,壁炉里柴火已经堆好,但没有点着,因此寒气逼人。

我关上窗子,四下环顾着想找一盒火柴,可是找来找去没找着,一时不知道该怎么办。我不愿按铃叫人。可是昨晚上炉火熊熊、舒适而温暖的藏书室,此刻简直像座冰窖。楼上卧室里肯定有火柴,但我不愿再去打扰使女们干活,她们的圆脸蛋一个劲儿盯着我瞧,使我受不了。我决定等弗里思和罗伯特两人离开餐厅后,到餐具柜上去取火柴,于是就蹑手蹑脚走进大厅,听那边的动静。他们还在收拾,我听到他们在说话;还有托盘相碰的声音。不大一会儿,一切都安静下来,两人一定是从侍者专用门走进,往厨房方向去了。我穿过大厅,再次走进餐厅。果然,餐具柜上有一盒火柴,我疾步穿过房间,一把抓起火柴。可正在这时,弗里思又回来了。我偷偷摸摸把火柴盒往袋子里塞,但为时已晚,我看到他惊诧地朝我的手掌膘了一眼。

“太太,您要什么?”他问。

“啊,弗里思,”我简直无地自容。“我找火柴。”

他立刻摸出一盒火柴,送到我手里,同时递上香烟。这又着实使我受窘,因为我不吸烟。

“啊,不,”我说。“是这么一回事,藏书室里冷极了。也许是因为刚从国外回来,我觉得这儿的天气很冷,所以我想生个火。”

“太太,藏书室里通常是下午才生火。德温特夫人总是使用晨室的,所以此刻展室里已生了火。当然,要是您吩咐在藏书室里也生火,我马上叫人照办。”

“喔,不必,”我说。“我没有这个意思。好吧,弗里思,谢谢你,我此刻就到晨室去。”

“您如果需要信纸、笔和墨水,那儿都有,太太,”他说。“过去,德温特夫人在早餐后总在那儿写信,打电话,如果您对丹弗斯太太有什么吩咐,家里的内线电话也在那里。”

“谢谢你,弗里思,”我说。

我转身走进大厅,嘴里哼着一支小调,以此来给自己壮胆。我自然不能对他说,我还没到过晨室,前一夜迈克西姆没领我去看过那房问。我知道他正站在餐厅的入口处,看我穿过大厅,所以我一定得装出一种熟谙门路的样子。在大楼梯的左首有一扇门,我鲁莽地朝它走去,一边暗暗祈祷,但愿自己没有走错。可是一推开门,我发现这是一间园艺贮藏室,里面堆着杂七杂八的零碎东西:一张桌子是专供修剪鲜花用的;好些柳条椅堆在墙边;钉子上挂着两三件胶布雨衣。我装出一种目中无人的样子退了回来,朝大厅那头瞥一眼,看见弗里思还站在那里。这么说,我的一举一动都没能逃过他的眼睛。

“太太,您应该走右手这扇门,楼梯这边的门,穿过客厅,到晨室去。您应该笔直穿过小客厅,然后朝左手转弯。”

“谢谢你,弗里思,”我低声下气地说,不再装模作样了。

我按着他的指点,穿过大客厅。这是间很美的屋子,比例对称,外边是草坪,草坪倾斜着通向海滩。我想这儿大概是接纳公众参观的,要是由弗里思来导游讲解,他一定熟知墙上每一幅绘画的历史,熟知房内每一件家具的制作年代。的确,房间很美,这点我也看得出来,这些桌椅可能都是无价之宝,尽管如此,我可不愿在这儿逗留,我怎么也不能设想自己会坐在这样的椅子里,或是站在这精雕细刻的炉边,把手里的书撂在旁边的桌上。房间肃穆得犹如博物馆的陈列室。在那种陈列室里,壁龛前拉着绳子,门口椅子上还坐着身穿大氅、头戴宽边帽的看守人,活像法国城堡的卫兵。

我赶快穿过客厅,向左转弯,终于来到这间我还没有见过的晨室。

看到两条狗已蹲在炉火前,我心里才好过些。小狗杰斯珀立刻摇着尾巴朝我奔来,把鼻子伸到我手里,那条老母狗听到我走过来,只是抬了抬鼻子,用瞎眼朝着我进门的方向。它用鼻子嗅了一阵,发觉我不是它等待的那个人,于是就咕噜了一声,把头转开,又盯着炉火出神去了。接着,杰斯珀也撇下我,跑到老狗旁边安顿下来,舔着自己的身子,它们像弗里思一样,都知道藏书室在下午以前不生火,因此,很久以来就养成了跑到晨室来度过早上这段时间的习惯。

不知什么缘故,我还没走到窗口就猜到,房间外面一定是石南花丛。果然,在打开的窗子底下聚集着大簇大簇鲜血一般红得过分的石南,就是昨天傍晚我见到过的那些花。它们已经蔓延着侵入车道。花丛中间有一小片草地,那是平整得像地毯一样的苦鲜。草地中央立着一座小小的雕像,那是一个吹着风笛的森林之神。塑像以猩红色的石南花为背景,而小草地则如同戏台,任他在这儿起舞表演。

这个房间不同于藏书室,没有那种霉味儿。这里没有那些年长月久被坐得陈旧了的椅子,没有摊满书报的桌子。藏书室里摊着许多书报,其实并没有人读这些东西,只是老习惯罢了,迈克西姆的父亲,或许甚至是他的老祖父,喜欢这样摆摆样子。

晨室则显示出十足的女性,既优雅又妩媚。看得出来,房间的女主人曾精心挑选每一件家具,因此这儿的椅子、花瓶,乃至每一件小摆设,彼此都很协调,与女主人自己的性格亦相和谐。我仿佛看见她在曼陀丽收藏的宝物中凭着自己高明的直觉,一件一件挑出自己最中意的珍品,把那第二流的、平凡的东西统统撇在一边;她挑得如此有把握,我似乎听见她在发号施令:“我要这件,还有这件,这件。”房间以浑然一体的格调布置,家具都是同一代的制品。因此,房间美得出奇,无懈可击,完全不像向公众开放的客厅那样死板而冷漠。展室栩栩如生,鲜明而光彩夺目,有点像窗下大簇大簇的石南花。我还注意到,石南花并不单单充斥在窗外的草地上,而且已经侵占到房间内部,那娇艳的脸孔正从壁炉架上俯视着我;沙发边的茶几上也有一大瓶;写字桌上,金烛台的旁边,也是它们亭亭玉立的倩影。房间里到处是石南花,连墙壁也染上了血红色,在早上的阳光中浓艳得耀眼。石南是房间里唯一的鲜花,我怀疑这是不是一种有意的安排,这屋子陈设布置成这个样子,也许本来就是仅仅为了摆石南花的吧?不然的话为什么其他房间里都不摆石南花?餐厅的藏书室里也放鲜花,但都修剪得整整齐齐,搁在适当的地位作为陪衬,不像这儿的石南花那么多。

我走过去,在写字桌边坐下。使我惊奇的是这个彩色缤纷的精美的房间同时竟也专作办事的地方使用。我本以为,用这样高雅的趣味打扮起来的房间,尽管鲜花多得过分,只不过是一个用来显示装饰美,供人在倦慵时私下休息的去处。可是这张写字桌,纵然纤巧精致,却决不是女人的小玩意儿,由你坐在旁边,咬着笔杆,信手写就短柬便条,然后把吸墨纸台歪歪斜斜地一丢,接着漫不经心地走开。写字桌上设有鸽笼式的文件架,上边贴着“待复信件”、“须保存信件””、“家务”、“田庄”、“菜单”、“杂项”、“通讯地址”等标签。标签是用一手我已熟悉的尖细的草体字写成的。一下子认出这笔迹,简直把我吓了一跳,因为自从把诗集的扉页销毁之后,我还没再见过这笔迹。另外,我也没有想到还会见到它。

我胡乱地拉开一只抽屉,一眼又看见她的笔迹。这回是出现在一本打开的皮封面记事册上,册子的标题是《曼陀丽宾客录》,内容按星期和月份编排,上面记录着来往宾客姓名,他们住过的房间以及他们的伙食。我一页一页翻着,发现册子上记载了整整一年中曼陀丽来往宾客的情况。这样,女主人只需打开册子一看,就知道到今天,甚至到此刻为止,哪一天有哪位客人在她家过夜。来客宿在哪一个房间,女主人为他准备什么样的饭菜。抽屉里还有些雪白的硬信纸,是专供落笔很重的人草书用的,此外还有印着纹章和地址的家用信笺,以及盛在小盒子里的雪白的名片。

我从盒子里取出一张,拆开外面包装的薄纸。名片上印着“M-德温特夫人”的字样,名片的一角还有“曼陀丽”三个字。我把名片放回小盒子,并关上抽屉。突然之间,有一种做贼心虚的感觉袭来;仿佛我是在别人家里作客,女主人对我说:“当然可以,去吧,到我书桌上去写信好了。”可我却在鬼鬼祟祟偷看她的私信,这实在是难以宽恕的行为。现在她随时可能走进房间来,发现我坐在写字桌前,放肆地打开了她的抽屉。

突然间,面前写字桌上的电话铃声大作,把我吓得一下子跳了起来,以为这F被人逮住了。我双手颤抖着拿起话筒,问道:“哪一位?您找谁?”线路那头传来一阵陌生的嘤嘤声,接着就响起一个低沉粗鲁的嗓音:“是德温特夫人吗?”我听不出说话的是男人还是女人。

“恐怕您弄错了吧,”我说。“德温特夫人过世已经一年多了。”我坐在位子上,默默地望着话筒,等候对方回话。直到对方用大惑不解的语气,稍微提高嗓门,再问一遍名字,我才意识到自己说漏了嘴,犯了个不可挽回的错误,于是蓦地涨红了脸。

对方在电话里说:“太太,我是丹弗斯太太,我是在内线电话上跟您说话。”我方才失常的表现实在无法掩饰,愚蠢得太不像话,要是不对此有所表示那只会使自己进一步出丑,尽管方才的洋相已出得相当可以了。所以我就结巴费力地表示歉意:一对不起,丹弗斯太太。电话铃把我吓了一跳,我自己也不明白胡说了些什么。我没想到你是找我说话,我不知道这是内线电话。”

她回答说:“太太,请原谅我打扰了您。”我想,她一定猜到我在这儿乱翻写字桌上的东西。接着她又说:“我只是想问一声,您是不是要找我,今天的菜单是不是合意?”

“啊,”我说。“啊,我想肯定可以的。我是说我对菜单完全满意。你看着办好了。丹弗斯太太,不用征求我的意见。”

“我看您最好还是过过目,”对方接着说。“它就搁在您手边的吸墨纸台上。”

我手忙脚乱地在左近处翻了一阵,终于找到了这张我先前未注意到的纸片,我匆匆扫了一眼:咖喱龙虾、烤牛肉、龙须菜、巧克力奶油冻,等等。这是午饭还是正餐,我不知道。大概是午饭。

“很好,丹弗斯太太,”我说。“挺合适的,确实好极了。”

“您要是想换菜,请吩咐,我马上就叫他们照办。请您看一下,在调味两字的边上我留出了空白,您爱哪一种,就请填在上面。我还不知道您吃烤牛肉时习惯用哪一种调味汁。过去德温特夫人非常讲究调味汁,我总得问过她本人才敢决定。”

“呃,”我说。“呃,这个……让我想一想。丹弗斯太太,我说不上来。我看你们还是按通常的老规矩办吧。德温特夫人喜欢什么,你们就看着办好了。”

“您自己没有什么特别的喜好吗,太太?”

“不,没有。我真的说不上来,丹弗斯太太。”

“要是德温特夫人在世,我看她肯定点葡萄酒调味汁。”

“那么就用这种调味计好了。”

“太太,请原谅我在您写信的时候打扰了您。”

“不、不,别这么说,你根本没有打扰我。”

“我们这儿都是中午发信,您要付邮的信罗伯特会去拿的,贴邮票的事也归他管。您只要打个电话跟他说一声就行了。倘若您有什么急件要付邮,他会叫人立刻到邮局去寄发的。”

“谢谢你,丹弗斯太太。”说完之后,我手持听筒等着,可她没再说什么。听到对方滴铃一声挂断电话,我才放下听筒。

我的眼光又转向写字桌,望着那些随时备用的信纸和吸墨纸台。我面前的鸽笼式文件架好像在盯着我看,那些上边写着“待复信件”、“田庄”、“杂项”等字样的标签都在责备我为什么闲坐着无所事事。以前曾坐在我这个位子上的女人可不像我这样浪费时间,她伸手抓起内线电话的听筒,干脆利落、斩钉截铁地发号施令,菜单上要是有哪一项不合她的意,她就提笔勾掉。她可不像我这样只会说:“行啊,丹弗斯太太”,“当然啦,丹弗斯太太”。等打完电话,她开始写信,五封,六封,七封,写个没完,用的就是那手我已熟悉的不同寻常的斜体字。她一张一张撕下光滑的白信纸。在每封私人信件底下,她签上自己的名字:吕蓓卡。那个倾斜的R字母特别高大,相形之下,其他字母都显得十分矮小。

我用手指敲击着写字桌面。文件架都已空空如也,没有待复的信件,我也不知道有什么待付的账单。方才丹弗斯太太说,要是有什么急件要付邮,可以打电话给罗伯特,由他叫人送邮局。过去吕蓓卡一定有许多急件要付邮,那些信不知道都写给谁的。也许是给裁缝写的吧:“那件白缎子衣服星期四一定得做好。”也许是写给理发师:“下星期五我要来做头发,下午三点叫安东尼先生等着我,我要洗发、按摩、电烫成形、修指甲。”不,不会。这类信犯不着花费时间,她只要弗里思接通伦敦,打个电话就行了。弗里思会在电话里告诉对方:“德温特夫人要我通知您……”

我用手指敲击着写字桌面。我实在想不出需要给谁写封信。只有范-霍珀夫人。此刻,在我自己的家里,坐在自己的写字桌前,我竟闲得发慌,只能给范-霍珀夫人这样一个我极其厌恶而又永远不会再见面的女人写封信!想到这些,我觉得不免有些荒唐,真是莫大的讽刺!

我取了一张信纸,拿起一支笔杆细巧、笔尖锃亮的钢笔开始写信:“亲爱的范-霍珀夫人”。我写写停停,非常费力,在信上祝愿她旅途愉快,但愿她女儿身体比以前更好,但愿纽约天气晴朗和暖。我一面写,一面生平第一次注意到自己的字迹竟如此歪歪扭扭,不成样子,既没有个性,也谈不上风格,甚至不像出自受过教育的人之手。这笔迹只有一个二流学校的劣等生才写得出来。[/FONT]

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-14#47
chapter seven

We came to Manderley in early May, arriving, so Maxim said, with the first swallows and the bluebells. It would be the best moment, before the full flush of summer, and in the valley the azaleas would be prodigal of scent, and the blood-red rhododendrons in bloom. We motored, I remember, leaving London in the morning in a heavy shower of rain, coming to Manderley about five o'clock, in time for tea. I can see myself now, unsuitably dressed as usual, although a bride of seven weeks, in a tan-coloured stockinette frock, a small fur known as a stone marten round my neck, and over all a shapeless mackintosh, far too big for me and dragging to my ankles. It was, I thought, a gesture to the weather, and the length added inches to my height. I clutched a pair of gauntlet gloves in my hands, and carried a large leather handbag. 'This is London rain, ' said Maxim when we left, 'you wait, the sun will be shining for you when we come to Manderley'; and he was right, for the clouds left us at Exeter, they rolled away behind us, leaving a great blue sky above our heads and a white road in front of us. I was glad to see the sun, for in superstitious fashion I looked upon rain as an omen of ill-will, and the leaden skies of London had made me silent. 'Feeling better?' said Maxim, and I smiled at him, taking his hand, thinking how easy it was for him, going to his own home, wandering into the hall, picking up letters, ringing a bell for tea, and I wondered how much he guessed of my nervousness, and whether his question 'Feeling better?' meant that he understood. 'Never mind, we'll soon be there. I expect you want your tea, ' he said, and he let go my hand because we had reached a bend in the road, and must slow down. I knew then that he had mistaken my silence for fatigue, and it had not occurred to him I dreaded this arrival at Manderley as much as I had longed for it in theory. Now the moment was upon me I wished it delayed. I wanted to draw up at some wayside inn and stay there, in a coffee-room, by an impersonal fire. I wanted to be a traveller on the road, a bride in love with her husband.

Not myself coming to Manderley for the first time, the wife of Maxim de Winter. We passed many friendly villages where the cottage windows had a kindly air. A woman, holding a baby in her arms, smiled at me from a doorway, while a man clanked across a road to a well, carrying a pail. I wished we could have been one with them, perhaps their neighbours, and that Maxim could lean over a cottage gate in the evenings, smoking a pipe, proud of a very tall hollyhock he had grown himself, while I bustled in my kitchen, clean as a pin, laying the table for supper. There would be an alarm clock on the dresser ticking loudly, and a row of shining plates, while after supper Maxim would read his paper, boots on the fender, and I reach for a great pile of mending in the dresser drawer. Surely it would be peaceful and steady, that way of living, and easier, too, demanding no set standard? 'Only two miles further, ' said Maxim; 'you see that great belt of trees on the brow of the hill there, sloping to the valley, with a scrap of sea beyond? That's Manderley, in there. Those are the woods. ' I forced a smile, and did not answer him, aware now of a stab of panic, an uneasy sickness that could not be controlled. Gone was my glad excitement, vanished my happy pride. I was like a child brought to her first school, or a little untrained maid who has never left home before, seeking a situation. Any measure of self-possession I had gained hitherto during the brief seven weeks of marriage, was like a rag now, fluttering before the wind; it seemed to me that even the most elementary knowledge of behaviour was unknown to me now, I should not know my right hand from my left, whether to stand or sit, what spoons and forks to use at dinner. 'I should shed that mackintosh, ' he said, glancing down at me, 'it has not rained down here at all, and put your funny little fur straight.


[FONT=宋体][/FONT]

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-14#48
Poor lamb, I've bustled you down here like this, and you probably ought to have bought a lot of clothes in London. ' 'It doesn't matter to me, as long as you don't mind, ' I said. 'Most women think of nothing but clothes, ' he said absently, and turning a corner we came to a crossroad, and the beginning of a high wall. 'Here we are, ' he said, a new note of excitement in his voice, and I gripped the leather seat of the car with my two hands. The road curved, and before us, on the left, were two high iron gates beside a lodge, open wide to the long drive beyond. As we drove through I saw faces peering through the dark window of the lodge, and a child ran round from the back, staring curiously. I shrank back against the seat, my heart beating quickly, knowing why the faces were at the window, and why the child stared. They wanted to see what I was like. I could imagine them now, talking excitedly, laughing in the little kitchen. 'Only caught sight of the top of her hat, ' they would say, 'she wouldn't show her face. Oh, well, we'll know by tomorrow. Word will come from the house. ' Perhaps he guessed something of my shyness at last, for he took my hand, and kissed it, and laughed a little, even as he spoke. 'You mustn't mind if there's a certain amount of curiosity, ' he said; 'everyone will want to know what you are like. They have probably talked of nothing else for weeks. You've only got to be yourself and they will all adore you. And you don't have to worry about the house, Mrs Danvers does everything. Just leave it all to her. She'll be stiff with you at first, I dare say, she's an extraordinary character, but you mustn't let it worry you. It's just her manner. See those shrubs? It's like a blue wall along here when the hydrangeas are in bloom. ' I did not answer him, for I was thinking of that self who long ago bought a picture postcard in a village shop, and came out into the bright sunlight twisting it in her hands, pleased with her purchase, thinking "This will do for my album. "Manderley", what a lovely name. ' And now I belonged here, this was my home. I would write letters to people saying, 'We shall be down at Manderley all the summer, you must come and see us, ' and I would walk along this drive, strange and unfamiliar to me now, with perfect knowledge, conscious of every twist and turn, marking and approving where the gardeners had worked, here a cutting back of the shrubs, there a lopping of a branch, calling at the lodge by the iron gates on some friendly errand, saying, 'Well, how's the leg today?' while the old woman, curious no longer, bade me welcome to her kitchen.

[FONT=宋体]不要勉强地坚持,只要不停息地跟进。就当是看电视剧了,熏眼目、熏脑海。

忙了一个星期,看来坚持不容易啊。继续follow。谢谢楼主。
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majorshenzhen : 2017-02-14#49
哎!中文都快看不懂了

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-14#50
I envied Maxim, careless and at ease, and the little smile on his lips which meant he was happy to be coming home. It seemed remote to me, and far too distant, the time when I too should smile and be at ease, and I wished it could come quickly; that I could be old even, with grey hair and slow of step, having lived here many years - anything but the timid, foolish creature I felt myself to be. The gates had shut to with a crash behind us, the dusty high road was out of sight, and I became aware that this was not the drive I had imagined would be Manderley's, this was not a broad and spacious thing of gravel, flanked with neat turf at either side, kept smooth with rake and brush. This drive twisted and turned as a serpent, scarce wider in places than a path, and above our heads was a great colonnade of trees, whose branches nodded and intermingled with one another, making an archway for us, like the roof of a church. Even the midday sun would not penetrate the interlacing of those green leaves, they were too thickly entwined, one with another, and only little flickering patches of warm light would come in intermittent waves to dapple the drive with gold. It was very silent, very still. On the high road there had been a gay west wind blowing in my face, making the grass on the hedges dance in unison, but here there was no wind. Even the engine of the car had taken a new note, throbbing low, quieter than before. As the drive descended to the valley so the trees came in upon us, great beeches with lovely smooth white stems, lifting their myriad branches to one another, and other trees, trees I could not name, coming close, so close that I could touch them with my hands. On we went, over a little bridge that spanned a narrow stream, and still this drive that was no drive twisted and turned like an enchanted ribbon through the dark and silent woods, penetrating even deeper to the very heart surely of the forest itself, and still there was no clearing, no space to hold a house.

The length of it began to nag at my nerves; it must be this turn, I thought, or round that further bend; but as I leant forward in my seat I was for ever disappointed, there was no house, no field, no broad and friendly garden, nothing but the silence and deep woods. The lodge gates were a memory, and the high road something belonging to another time, another world. Suddenly I saw a clearing in the dark drive ahead, and a patch of sky, and in a moment the dark trees had thinned, the nameless shrubs had disappeared, and on either side of us was a wall of colour, blood-red, reaching far above our heads. We were amongst the rhododendrons. There was something bewildering, even shocking, about the suddenness of their discovery. The woods had not prepared me for them. They startled me with their crimson faces, massed one upon the other in incredible profusion, showing no leaf, no twig, nothing but the slaughterous red, luscious and fantastic, unlike any rhododendron plant I had seen before. I glanced at Maxim. He was smiling. 'Like them?' he said. I told him 'Yes, ' a little breathlessly, uncertain whether I was speaking the truth or not, for to me a rhododendron was a homely, domestic thing, strictly conventional, mauve or pink in colour, standing one beside the other in a neat round bed. And these were monsters, rearing to the sky, massed like a battalion, too beautiful I thought, too powerful; they were not plants at all. We were not far from the house now, I saw the drive broaden to the sweep I had expected, and with the blood-red wall still flanking us on either side, we turned the last corner, and so came to Manderley. Yes, there it was, the Manderley I had expected, the Manderley of my picture postcard long ago. A thing of grace and beauty, exquisite and faultless, lovelier even than I had ever dreamed, built in its hollow of smooth grassland and mossy lawns, the terraces sloping to the gardens, and the gardens to the sea. As we drove up to the wide stone steps and stopped before the open door, I saw through one of the mullioned windows that the hall was full of people, and I heard Maxim swear under his breath.

'Damn that woman, ' he said; 'she knows perfectly well I did not want this sort of thing, ' and he put on the brakes with a jerk. 'What's the matter?' I said. 'Who are all those people?' 'I'm afraid you will have to face it now, ' he said, in irritation. 'Mrs Danvers has collected the whole damned staff in the house and on the estate to welcome us. It's all right, you won't have to say anything, I'll do it all. ' I fumbled for the handle of the door, feeling slightly sick, and cold now too from the long drive, and as I fumbled with the catch the butler came down the steps, followed by a footman, and he opened the door for me. He was old, he had a kind face, and I smiled up at him, holding out my hand, but I don't think he could have seen, for he took the rug instead, and my small dressing-case, and turned to Maxim, helping me from the car at the same time. 'Well, here we are, Frith, ' said Maxim, taking off his gloves. 'It was raining when we left London. You don't seem to have had it here. Everyone well?' 'Yes, sir, thank you, sir. No, we have had a dry month on the whole. Glad to see you home, and hope you have been keeping well. And Madam too. ' 'Yes, we are both well, thank you, Frith. Rather tired from the drive, and wanting our tea. I didn't expect this business. ' He jerked his head to the hall. 'Mrs Danvers' orders, sir, ' said the man, his face expressionless. 'I might have guessed it, ' said Maxim abruptly. 'Come on' -he turned to me - 'it won't take long, and then you shall have your tea. ' We went together up the flight of steps, Frith and the footman following with the rug and my mackintosh, and I was aware of a little pain at the pit of my stomach, and a nervous contraction in my throat. I can close my eyes now, and look back on it, and see myself as I must have been, standing on the threshold of the house, a slim, awkward figure in my stockinette dress, clutching in my sticky hands a pair of gauntlet gloves. I can see the great stone hall, the wide doors open to the library, the Peter Lelys and the Vandykes on the walls, the exquisite staircase leading to the minstrels' gallery, and there, ranged one behind the other in the hall, overflowing to the stone passages beyond, and to the dining-room, a sea of faces, open-mouthed and curious, gazing at me as though they were the watching crowd about the block, and I the victim with my hands behind my back. Someone advanced from the sea of faces, someone tall and gaunt, dressed in deep black, whose prominent cheek-bones and great, hollow eyes gave her a skull's face, parchment-white, set on a skeleton's frame. She came towards me, and I held out my hand, envying her for her dignity and her composure; but when she took my hand hers was limp and heavy, deathly cold, and it lay in mine like a lifeless thing.

中文看懂看不懂不要紧,重要的是读原著,只要读中文对读原著有帮助就足够了。

哎!中文都快看不懂了

天涯 : 2017-02-15#51
这里能不能买到《关山明月》这本小说,是我大学的同班同学写的,获得甘肃黄河文学奖的。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-15#52
'This is Mrs Danvers, ' said Maxim, and she began to speak, still leaving that dead hand in mine, her hollow eyes never leaving my eyes, so that my own wavered and would not meet hers, and as they did so her hand moved in mine, the life returned to it, and I was aware of a sensation of discomfort and of shame. I cannot remember her words now, but I know that she bade me welcome to Manderley, in the name of herself and the staff, a stiff, conventional speech rehearsed for the occasion, spoken in a voice as cold and lifeless as her hands had been. When she had finished she waited, as though for a reply, and I remember blushing scarlet, stammering some sort of thanks in return, and dropping both my gloves in my confusion. She stooped to pick them up, and as she handed them to me I saw a little smile of scorn upon her lips, and I guessed at once she considered me ill-bred. Something, in the expression of her face, gave me a feeling of unrest, and even when she had stepped back, and taken her place amongst the rest, I could see that black figure standing out alone, individual and apart, and for all her silence I knew her eye to be upon me. Maxim took my arm and made a little speech of thanks, perfectly easy and free from embarrassment, as though the making of it was no effort to him at all, and then he bore me off to the library to tea, closing the doors behind us, and we were alone again. Two cocker spaniels came from the fireside to greet us. They pawed at Maxim, their long, silken ears strained back with affection, their noses questing his hands, and then they left him and came to me, sniffing at my heels, rather uncertain, rather suspicious. One was the mother, blind in one eye, and soon she had enough of me, and took herself with a grunt to the fire again, but Jasper, the younger, put his nose into my hand, and laid a chin upon my knee, his eyes deep with meaning, his tail a-thump when I stroked his silken ears. I felt better when I had taken my hat off, and my wretched little fur, and thrown them both beside my gloves and my bag on to the window-seat. It was a deep, comfortable room, with books lining the walls to the ceiling, the sort of room a man would move from never, did he live alone, solid chairs beside a great open fireplace, baskets for the two dogs in which I felt they never sat, for the hollows in the chairs had tell-tale marks. The long windows looked out upon the lawns, and beyond the lawns to the distant shimmer of the sea.

There was an old quiet smell about the room, as though the air in it was little changed, for all the sweet lilac scent and the roses brought to it throughout the early summer. Whatever air came to this room, whether from the garden or from the sea, would lose its first freshness, becoming part of the unchanging room itself, one with the books, musty and never read, one with the scrolled ceiling, the dark panelling, the heavy curtains. It was an ancient mossy smell, the smell of a silent church where services are seldom held, where rusty lichen grows upon the stones and ivy tendrils creep to the very windows. A room for peace, a room for meditation. Soon tea was brought to us, a stately little performance enacted by Frith and the young footman, in which I played no part until they had gone, and while Maxim glanced through his great pile of letters I played with two dripping crumpets, crumbled cake with my hands, and swallowed my scalding tea. Now and again he looked up at me and smiled, and then returned to his letters, the accumulation of the last months I supposed, and I thought how little I knew of his life here at Manderley, of how it went day by day, of the people he knew, of his friends, men and women, of what bills he paid, what orders he gave about his household. The last weeks had gone so swiftly, and I - driving by his side through France and Italy -thought only of how I loved him, seeing Venice with his eyes, echoing his words, asking no questions of the past and future, content with the little glory of the living present. For he was gayer than I had thought, more tender than I had dreamed, youthful and ardent in a hundred happy ways, not the Maxim I had first met, not the stranger who sat alone at the table in the restaurant, staring before him, wrapped in his secret self. My Maxim laughed and sang, threw stones into the water, took my hand, wore no frown between his eyes, carried no burden on his shoulder. I knew him as a lover, as a friend, and during those weeks I had forgotten that he had a life, orderly, methodical, a life which must be taken up again, continued as before, making vanished weeks a brief discarded holiday.

I watched him read his letters, saw him frown at one, smile at another, dismiss the next with no expression, and but for the grace of God I thought, my letter would be lying there, written from New York, and he would read it in the same indifferent fashion, puzzled at first perhaps by the signature, and then tossing it with a yawn to the pile of others in the basket, reaching for his cup of tea. The knowledge of this chilled me; how narrow a chance had stood between me and what might-have-been, for he would have sat here to his tea, as he sat now, continuing his home life as he would in any case, and perhaps he would not have thought of me much, not with regret anyway, while I, in New York, playing bridge with Mrs Van Hopper, would wait day after day for a letter that never came. I leant back in my chair, glancing about the room, trying to instil into myself some measure of confidence, some genuine realization that I was here, at Manderley, the house of the picture postcard, the Manderley that was famous. I had to teach myself that all this was mine now, mine as much as his, the deep chair I was sitting in, that mass of books stretching to the ceiling, the pictures on the walls, the gardens, the woods, the Manderley I had read about, all of this was mine now because I was married to Maxim. We should grow old here together, we should sit like this to our tea as old people, Maxim and I, with other dogs, the successors of these, and the library would wear the same ancient musty smell that it did now. It would know a period of glorious shabbiness and wear when the boys were young - our boys - for I saw them sprawling on the sofa with muddy boots, bringing with them always a litter of rods, and cricket bats, great clasp-knives, bows-and-arrows. On the table there, polished now and plain, an ugly case would stand containing butterflies and moths, and another one with birds' eggs, wrapped in cotton wool. 'Not all this junk in here, ' I would say, 'take them to the schoolroom, darlings, ' and they would run off, shouting, calling to one another, but the little one staying behind, pottering on My vision was disturbed by the opening of the door, and Frith came in with the footman to clear the tea.

'Mrs Danvers wondered, Madam, whether you would like to see your room, ' he said to me, when the tea had been taken away. Maxim glanced up from his letters. 'What sort of job have they made of the east wing?' he said. 'Very nice indeed, sir, it seems to me; the men made a mess when they were working, of course, and for a time Mrs Danvers was rather afraid it would not be finished by your return. But they cleared out last Monday. I should imagine you would be very comfortable there, sir; it's a lot lighter of course on that side of the house. ' 'Have you been making alterations?' I asked. 'Oh, nothing much, ' said Maxim briefly, 'only redecorating and painting the suite in the east wing, which I thought we would use for ours. As Frith says, it's much more cheerful on that side of the house, and it has a lovely view of the rose-garden. It was the visitors' wing when my mother was alive. I'll just finish these letters and then I'll come up and join you. Run along and make friends with Mrs Danvers; it's a good opportunity. ' I got up slowly, my old nervousness returning, and went out into the hall. I wished I could have waited for him, and then, taking his arm, seen the rooms together. I did not want to go alone, with Mrs Danvers. How vast the great hall looked now that it was empty. My feet rang on the flagged stones, echoing to the ceiling, and I felt guilty at the sound, as one does in church, self-conscious, aware of the same constraint. My feet made a stupid pitter-patter as I walked, and I thought that Frith, with his felt soles, must have thought me foolish. 'It's very big, isn't it?' I said, too brightly, too forced, a schoolgirl still, but he answered me in all solemnity. 'Yes, Madam, Manderley is a big place. Not so big as some, of course, but big enough. This was the old banqueting hall, in old days. It is used still on great occasions, such as a big dinner, or a ball. And the public are admitted here, you know, once a week. ' 'Yes, ' I said, still aware of my loud footsteps, feeling, as I followed him, that he considered me as he would one of the public visitors, and I behaved like a visitor too, glancing politely to right and left, taking in the weapons on the wall, and the pictures, touching the carved staircase with my hands. A black figure stood waiting for me at the head of the stairs, the hollow eyes watching me intently from the white skull's face. I looked round for the solid Frith, but he had passed along the hall and into the further corridor. I was alone now with Mrs Danvers. I went up the great stairs towards her, and she waited motionless, her hands folded before her, her eyes never leaving my face. I summoned a smile, which was not returned, nor did I blame her, for there was no purpose to the smile, it was a silly thing, bright and artificial.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-16#53
'I hope I haven't kept you waiting, ' I said. 'It's for you to make your own time, Madam, ' she answered, 'I'm here to carry out your orders, ' and then she turned, through the archway of the gallery, to the corridor beyond. We went along a broad, carpeted passage, and then turned left, through an oak door, and down a narrow flight of stairs and up a corresponding flight, and so to another door. This she flung open, standing aside to let me pass, and I came to a little anteroom, or boudoir, furnished with a sofa, chairs, and writing-desk, which opened out to a large double bedroom with wide windows and a bathroom beyond. I went at once to the window, and looked out. The rose-garden lay below, and the eastern part of the terrace, while beyond the rose-garden rose a smooth grass bank, stretching to the near woods. 'You can't see the sea from here, then, ' I said, turning to Mrs Danvers. 'No, not from this wing, ' she answered; 'you can't even hear it, either. You would not know the sea was anywhere near, from this wing. ' She spoke in a peculiar way, as though something lay behind her words, and she laid an emphasis on the words 'this wing', as if suggesting that the suite where we stood now held some inferiority. 'I'm sorry about that; I like the sea, ' I said. She did not answer; she just went on staring at me, her hands folded before her. 'However, it's a very charming room, ' I said, 'and I'm sure I shall be comfortable. I understand that it's been done up for our return. ' 'Yes, ' she said. 'What was it like before?' I asked. 'It had a mauve paper, and different hangings; Mr de Winter did not think it very cheerful. It was never much used, except for occasional visitors. But Mr de Winter gave special orders in his letters that you would have this room. ' "Then this was not his bedroom originally?' I said. 'No, Madam, he's never used the room in this wing before. ' 'Oh, ' I said, 'he didn't tell me that, ' and I wandered to the dressing-table and began combing my hair. My things were already unpacked, my brushes and comb upon the tray. I was glad Maxim had given me a set of brushes, and that they were laid out there, upon the dressing-table, for Mrs Danvers to see. They were new, they had cost money, I need not be ashamed of them. 'Alice has unpacked for you and will look after you until your maid arrives, ' said Mrs Danvers. I smiled at her again. I put down the brush upon the dressing-table.

'I don't have a maid, ' I said awkwardly; 'I'm sure Alice, if she is the housemaid, will look after me all right. ' She wore the same expression that she had done on our first meeting, when I dropped my gloves so gauchely on the floor. 'I'm afraid that would not do for very long, ' she said; 'it's usual, you know, for ladies in your position to have a personal maid. ' I flushed, and reached for my brush again. There was a sting in her words I understood too well. 'If you think it necessary perhaps you would see about it for me, ' I said, avoiding her eyes; 'some young girl perhaps, wanting to train. ' 'If you wish, ' she said. 'It's for you to say. ' There was silence between us. I wished she would go away. I wondered why she must go on standing there, watching me, her hands folded on her black dress. 'I suppose you have been at Manderley for many years, ' I said, making a fresh effort, 'longer than anyone else?' 'Not so long as Frith, ' she said, and I thought how lifeless her voice was, and cold, like her hand when it had lain in mine; 'Frith was here when the old gentleman was living, when Mr de Winter was a boy. ' 'I see, ' I said; 'so you did not come till after that?' 'No, ' she said, 'not till after that. ' Once more, I glanced up at her and once more I met her eyes, dark and sombre, in that white face of hers, instilling into me, I knew not why, a strange feeling of disquiet, of foreboding. I tried to smile, and could not; I found myself held by those eyes, that had no light, no flicker of sympathy towards me. 'I came here when the first Mrs de Winter was a bride, ' she said, and her voice, which had hitherto, as I said, been dull and toneless, was harsh now with unexpected animation, with life and meaning, and there was a spot of colour on the gaunt cheek-bones. The change was so sudden that I was shocked, and a little scared. I did not know what to do, or what to say. It was as though she had spoken words that were forbidden, words that she had hidden within herself for a long time and now would be repressed no longer. Still her eyes never left my face; they looked upon me with a curious mixture of pity and of scorn, until I felt myself to be even younger and more untutored to the ways of life than I had believed. I could see she despised me, marking with all the snobbery of her class that I was no great lady, that I was humble, shy, and diffident. Yet there was something beside scorn in those eyes of hers, something surely of positive dislike, or actual malice? I had to say something, I could not go on sitting there, playing with my hair-brush, letting her see how much I feared and mistrusted her. 'Mrs Danvers, ' I heard myself saying, 'I hope we shall be friends and come to understand one another. You must have patience with me, you know, because this sort of life is new to me, I've lived rather differently.

And I do want to make a success of it, and above all to make Mr de Winter happy. I know I can leave all household arrangements to you, Mr de Winter said so, and you must just run things as they have always been run; I shan't want to make any changes. ' I stopped, a little breathless, still uncertain of myself and whether I was saying the right thing, and when I looked up again I saw that she 'Very good, ' she said; 'I hope I shall do everything to your satisfaction. The house has been in my charge now for more than a year, and Mr de Winter has never complained. It was very different of course when the late Mrs de Winter was alive; there was a lot of entertaining then, a lot of parties, and though I managed for her, she liked to supervise things herself. ' Once again I had the impression that she chose her words with care, that she was feeling her way, as it were, into my mind, and watching for the effect upon my face. 'I would rather leave it to you, ' I repeated, 'much rather, ' and into her face came the same expression I had noticed before, when first I had shaken hands with her in the hall, a look surely of derision, of definite contempt. She knew that I would never withstand her, and that I feared her too. 'Can I do anything more for you?' she said, and pretended to glance round the room. 'No, ' I said. 'No, I think I have everything. I shall be very comfortable here. You have made the room so charming' - this last a final crawling sop to win her approval. She shrugged her shoulders, and still she did not smile. 'I only followed out Mr de Winter's instructions, ' she said. She hesitated by the doorway, her hand on the handle of the open door. It was as though she still had something to say to me, and could not decide upon the words, yet waited there, for me to give her opportunity. I wished she would go; she was like a shadow standing there, watching me, appraising me with her hollow eyes, set in that dead skull's face. 'If you find anything not to your liking you will tell me at once?' she asked. 'Yes, ' I said. 'Yes, of course, Mrs Danvers, ' but I knew this was not what she had meant to say, and silence fell between us once again. 'If Mr de Winter asks for his big wardrobe, ' she said suddenly, 'you must tell him it was impossible to move. We tried, but we could not get it through these narrow doorways. These are smaller rooms than those in the west wing. If he doesn't like the arrangement of this suite he must tell me. It was difficult to know how to furnish these rooms. ' 'Please don't worry, Mrs Danvers, ' I said. 'I'm sure he will be pleased with everything. But I'm sorry it's given you so much trouble.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-17#54
I had no idea he was having rooms redecorated and furnished. He shouldn't have bothered. I'm sure I should have been just as happy and comfortable in the west wing. ' She looked at me curiously, and began twisting the handle of the door. 'Mr de Winter said you would prefer to be on this side, ' she said, 'the rooms in the west wing are very old. The bedroom in the big suite is twice as large as this; a very beautiful room too, with a scrolled ceiling. The tapestry chairs are very valuable, and so is the carved mantelpiece. It's the most beautiful room in the house. And the windows look down across the lawns to the sea. ' I felt uncomfortable, a little shy. I did not know why she must speak with such an undercurrent of resentment, implying as she did at the same time that this room, where I found myself to be installed, was something inferior, not up to Manderley standard, a second-rate room, as it were, for a second-rate person. 'I suppose Mr de Winter keeps the most beautiful room to show to the public, ' I said. She went on twisting the handle of the door, and then looked up at me again, watching my eyes, hesitating before replying, and when she spoke her voice was quieter even, and more toneless, than it had been before. 'The bedrooms are never shown to the public, ' she said, 'only the hall and the gallery, and the room below. ' She paused an instant, feeling me with her eyes. "They used to live in the west wing and use those rooms when Mrs de Winter was alive. That big room, I was telling you about, that looked down to the sea, was Mrs de Winter's bedroom. ' Then I saw a shadow flit across her face, and she drew back against the wall, effacing herself, as a step sounded outside and Maxim came into the room. 'How is it?' he said to me. 'All right? Do you think you'll like it?' He looked round with enthusiasm, pleased as a schoolboy. 'I always thought this a most attractive room, ' he said. 'It was wasted all those years as a guest-room, but I always thought it had possibilities.

You've made a great success of it, Mrs Danvers: I give you full marks. ' "Thank you, sir, ' she said, her face expressionless, and then she turned, and went out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. Maxim went and leant out of the window. 'I love the rose-garden, ' he said: 'one of the first things I remember is walking after my mother, on very small, unsteady legs, while she picked off the dead heads of the roses. There's something peaceful and happy about this room, and it's quiet too. You could never tell you were within five minutes of the sea, from this room. ' "That's what Mrs Danvers said, ' I told him. He came away from the window, he prowled about the room, touching things, looking at the pictures, opening wardrobes, fingering my clothes, already unpacked. 'How did you get on with old Danvers?' he said abruptly. I turned away, and began combing my hair again before the looking-glass. 'She seems just a little bit stiff, ' I said, after a moment or two; 'perhaps she thought I was going to interfere with the running of the house. ' 'I don't think she would mind your doing that, ' he said. I looked up and saw him watching my reflection in the looking-glass, and then he turned away and went over to the window again, whistling quietly, under his breath, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. 'Don't mind her, ' he said; 'she's an extraordinary character in many ways, and possibly not very easy for another woman to get on with. You mustn't worry about it. If she really makes herself a nuisance we'll get rid of her. But she's efficient, you know, and will take all housekeeping worries off your hands. I dare say she' s a bit of a bully to the staff. She doesn't dare bully me though. I'd have given her the sack long ago if she had tried. ' 'I expect we shall get on very well when she knows me better, ' I said quickly; 'after all, it's natural enough that she should resent me a bit at first. ' 'Resent you? Why resent you?

What the devil do you mean?' he said. He turned from the window, frowning, an odd, half angry expression on his face. I wondered why he should mind, and wished I had said something else. 'I mean, it must be much easier for a housekeeper to look after a man alone, ' I said. 'I dare say she had got into the way of doing it, and perhaps she was afraid I should be very overbearing. ' 'Overbearing, my God ... ' he began, 'if you think ... " and then he stopped, and came across to me, and kissed me on the top of my head. 'Let's forget about Mrs Danvers, ' he said; 'she doesn't interest me very much, I'm afraid. Come along, and let me show you something of Manderley. ' I did not see Mrs Danvers again that evening and we did not talk about her any more. I felt happier when I had dismissed her from my thoughts, less of an interloper, and as we wandered about the rooms downstairs, and looked at the pictures, and Maxim put his arm around my shoulder, I began to feel more like the self I wanted to become, the self I had pictured in my dreams, who made Manderley her home. My footsteps no longer sounded foolish on the stone flags of the hall, for Maxim's nailed shoes made far more noise than mine, and the pattering feet of the two dogs was a comfortable, pleasing note. I was glad, too, because it was the first evening and we had only been back a little while and the showing of the pictures had taken time, when Maxim, looking at the clock, said it was too late to change for dinner, so that I was spared the embarrassment of Alice, the maid, asking what I should wear, and of her helping me to dress, and myself walking down that long flight of stairs to the hall, cold, with bare shoulders, in a dress that Mrs Van Hopper had given me because it did not suit her daughter.

I had dreaded the formality of dinner in that austere dining-room, and now, because of the little fact that we had not changed, it was quite all right, quite easy, just the same as when we had dined together in restaurants. I was comfortable in my stockinette dress, I laughed and talked about things we had seen in Italy and France, we even had the snapshots on the table, and Frith and the footman were impersonal people, as the waiters had been; they did not stare at me as Mrs Danvers had done. We sat in the library after dinner, and presently the curtains were drawn, and more logs thrown on the fire; it was cool for May, I was thankful for the warmth that came from the steady burning logs. It was new for us to sit together like this, after dinner, for in Italy we had wandered about, walked or driven, gone into little cafes, leant over bridges. Maxim made instinctively now for the chair on the left of the open fireplace, and stretched out his hand for the papers. He settled one of the broad cushions behind his head, and lit a cigarette. 'This is his routine, ' I thought, 'this is what he always does: this has been his custom now for years. ' He did not look at me, he went on reading his paper, contented, comfortable, having assumed his way of living, the master of his house. And as I sat there, brooding, my chin in my hands, fondling the soft ears of one of the spaniels, it came to me that I was not the first one to lounge there in possession of the chair; someone had been before me, and surely left an imprint of her person on the cushions, and on the arm where her hand had rested. Another one had poured the coffee from that same silver coffee pot, had placed the cup to her lips, had bent down to the dog, even as I was doing. Unconsciously, I shivered as though someone had opened the door behind me and let a draught into the room. I was sitting in Rebecca's chair, I was leaning against Rebecca's cushion, and the dog had come to me and laid his head upon my knee because that had been his custom, and he remembered, in the past, she had given sugar to him there.


第八章

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-20#55
第08章

当然,我从没想到,在曼陀丽的生活竟是如此有条不紊,这样刻板!今天回忆起来,我还记得第一天早晨的情景:迈克西姆很早起身,早饭之前就穿着停当,开始写信。九点过后好大一会儿,我才应着镗镗的小锣声,慌忙下楼。这时他已快吃完早餐,在削着水果了。

他抬起头来朝我笑笑说:“你别介意,这一套你总得设法适应才好。每天这个时候我是没有空闲的。你知道,管理曼陀丽这么一所大宅,非得把全部时间花上去不可。咖啡和热菜都在餐具柜上。早餐的时候我们不用仆人服侍。”我告诉他,我的钟慢了,另外洗澡多花了点时间,可他根本没听,他低着头读一封信,不知为什么皱着眉头。

我还清楚地记得,早餐的丰盛给我留下深刻的印象,甚至使我有点惶然不知所措。在一只银质大壶里盛着热茶,还有咖啡;炒蛋和腊肠在炉子上咝咝冒着热气,另一道热菜是鱼;在另一只特制的炉子上搁着几枚一窝生的煮鸡蛋;在一只银碗里盛着麦片粥;在另一个餐具柜上放着火腿和一方冻腊肠;而在餐桌上刚摆开了面包、吐司,各种各样的果酱和蜂蜜罐。两端是堆得高高的水果盘。我觉得很奇怪,在意大利和法国的时候迈克西姆早饭只吃一客夹心面包卷和水果,只喝一杯咖啡,回家来却摆开这么丰盛的早餐,够一打人吃的了。日复一日,年复一年,也许他对此习以为常,根本不觉得是什么浪费。

我注意到他吃了一小块鱼,我吃了个煮鸡蛋。这么多余下的食物怎么处理呢?这些炒蛋、脆嫩的腊肠、麦片粥、剩下的鱼。也许厨房后门口有些我不认识、一辈子也不会见面的穷人在等着施舍吧,要不,这些东西都一概扔进垃圾桶完事?当然这些我都无从得知。我根本不敢启口过问。

“感谢上帝,幸好我的亲戚不多,不会来多麻烦你,”迈克西姆说。“我只有一个难得见面的姐姐,一个差不多瞎了眼的老奶奶。顺便说一声,我姐姐比阿特丽斯不遂自来,说要来吃顿中饭。我料到她会来的。她大概想见见你。”

“今天就来吗?”我的情绪一下子降到冰点。

“是的。早晨接到她的信,说是今天就来。可她不会在这儿果很久。我想你一定会喜欢她的。这人很直率,想什么就说什么,决不是那种虚伪的角色。她如果对你没有什么好感,就会当着你的面说出来。”

这些话并没有使我得到多少安慰,我倒反觉得一个伪善的人至少不会当面出我的丑,这样是不是更好些。

迈克西姆站起身来,点了一支烟。“今天早上我有一大堆事情要处理。你自个儿去玩,行不行?”他说。“本来想带你到花园里走走,可我必须跟总管事克劳利碰一次头,我已经好久没过问这儿的事务。哦,对了,克劳利也在这儿吃中饭,你不会反对吧?能对付吗?”

“当然不反对,”我说。“我会挺高兴的。”

他捡起信件,走出房去。我记得当时自己很失望,因为在我原先的想象中,第一天的早晨我们应该手挽手到海边去散步,一直玩到人乏兴尽才回来。因为回来得迟,午饭已冷了,我们就在一起单独进餐。吃过午饭。我俩坐在藏书室窗外那棵栗子树下憩息。

这第一顿早饭我吃了好久,故意挨时间,直到弗里思进来,在侍者帷幕后边朝我张望,我才意识到这时已经十点多钟。我顿时跳了起来,觉得很内疚,并为自己在餐桌旁坐得太久说了几句表示歉意的话。弗里思一躬到地,一言不发,他总是这样有礼貌,言行的分寸恰到好处。可是,在他眼睛里我却捕捉到了一闪而过的惊奇的神色。难道我方才这些话又说错了?也许我根本不该道歉。这样一来反而降低了我在他眼中的地位。我多么希望自己能够掌握分寸,知道当时当地应该说什么,做什么。看来弗里思也像丹弗斯太太一样,在怀疑我的身分;他也看出,态度自如、举止优雅而有自信,这些决不是我的素质。而是我要花好长时间,也许得经过痛苦的磨炼才得以学到的东西,而要学会这一套,我得屡受煎熬,付出代价。

事实也的确如此。当我埋着头走出房间时,我在门边的阶梯上绊了一下,弗里思跑来搀我,替我拾起掉在地上的手绢,而那名叫罗伯特的年轻跟班,站在帷幕背后,忙不迭扭过脸去,以免让我看到他在窃笑。

当我穿过大厅时,我还听到两人在小声说话,其中一个,大概又是罗伯特,笑了一声。两人大概正在笑话我。我回到楼上,想独个儿关在卧室里安静一会。可是一推开门,我发现使女们正在打扫房间,一个扫地,另一个抹梳妆台。两人惊愕地望着我。我赶快返了出来。原来我又错了,早晨这个时候不该到卧室去,谁都没想到我会冒冒失失间去,我刚才的举动违反了曼陀丽的日常惯例。

我只得轻手轻脚再次下楼,幸好穿着拖鞋,走在石板上倒没有什么声响。我走进藏书室,里面窗户大开,壁炉里柴火已经堆好,但没有点着,因此寒气逼人。

我关上窗子,四下环顾着想找一盒火柴,可是找来找去没找着,一时不知道该怎么办。我不愿按铃叫人。可是昨晚上炉火熊熊、舒适而温暖的藏书室,此刻简直像座冰窖。楼上卧室里肯定有火柴,但我不愿再去打扰使女们干活,她们的圆脸蛋一个劲儿盯着我瞧,使我受不了。我决定等弗里思和罗伯特两人离开餐厅后,到餐具柜上去取火柴,于是就蹑手蹑脚走进大厅,听那边的动静。他们还在收拾,我听到他们在说话;还有托盘相碰的声音。不大一会儿,一切都安静下来,两人一定是从侍者专用门走进,往厨房方向去了。我穿过大厅,再次走进餐厅。果然,餐具柜上有一盒火柴,我疾步穿过房间,一把抓起火柴。可正在这时,弗里思又回来了。我偷偷摸摸把火柴盒往袋子里塞,但为时已晚,我看到他惊诧地朝我的手掌膘了一眼。

“太太,您要什么?”他问。

“啊,弗里思,”我简直无地自容。“我找火柴。”

他立刻摸出一盒火柴,送到我手里,同时递上香烟。这又着实使我受窘,因为我不吸烟。

“啊,不,”我说。“是这么一回事,藏书室里冷极了。也许是因为刚从国外回来,我觉得这儿的天气很冷,所以我想生个火。”

“太太,藏书室里通常是下午才生火。德温特夫人总是使用晨室的,所以此刻展室里已生了火。当然,要是您吩咐在藏书室里也生火,我马上叫人照办。”

“喔,不必,”我说。“我没有这个意思。好吧,弗里思,谢谢你,我此刻就到晨室去。”

“您如果需要信纸、笔和墨水,那儿都有,太太,”他说。“过去,德温特夫人在早餐后总在那儿写信,打电话,如果您对丹弗斯太太有什么吩咐,家里的内线电话也在那里。”

“谢谢你,弗里思,”我说。

我转身走进大厅,嘴里哼着一支小调,以此来给自己壮胆。我自然不能对他说,我还没到过晨室,前一夜迈克西姆没领我去看过那房问。我知道他正站在餐厅的入口处,看我穿过大厅,所以我一定得装出一种熟谙门路的样子。在大楼梯的左首有一扇门,我鲁莽地朝它走去,一边暗暗祈祷,但愿自己没有走错。可是一推开门,我发现这是一间园艺贮藏室,里面堆着杂七杂八的零碎东西:一张桌子是专供修剪鲜花用的;好些柳条椅堆在墙边;钉子上挂着两三件胶布雨衣。我装出一种目中无人的样子退了回来,朝大厅那头瞥一眼,看见弗里思还站在那里。这么说,我的一举一动都没能逃过他的眼睛。

“太太,您应该走右手这扇门,楼梯这边的门,穿过客厅,到晨室去。您应该笔直穿过小客厅,然后朝左手转弯。”

“谢谢你,弗里思,”我低声下气地说,不再装模作样了。

我按着他的指点,穿过大客厅。这是间很美的屋子,比例对称,外边是草坪,草坪倾斜着通向海滩。我想这儿大概是接纳公众参观的,要是由弗里思来导游讲解,他一定熟知墙上每一幅绘画的历史,熟知房内每一件家具的制作年代。的确,房间很美,这点我也看得出来,这些桌椅可能都是无价之宝,尽管如此,我可不愿在这儿逗留,我怎么也不能设想自己会坐在这样的椅子里,或是站在这精雕细刻的炉边,把手里的书撂在旁边的桌上。房间肃穆得犹如博物馆的陈列室。在那种陈列室里,壁龛前拉着绳子,门口椅子上还坐着身穿大氅、头戴宽边帽的看守人,活像法国城堡的卫兵。

我赶快穿过客厅,向左转弯,终于来到这间我还没有见过的晨室。

看到两条狗已蹲在炉火前,我心里才好过些。小狗杰斯珀立刻摇着尾巴朝我奔来,把鼻子伸到我手里,那条老母狗听到我走过来,只是抬了抬鼻子,用瞎眼朝着我进门的方向。它用鼻子嗅了一阵,发觉我不是它等待的那个人,于是就咕噜了一声,把头转开,又盯着炉火出神去了。接着,杰斯珀也撇下我,跑到老狗旁边安顿下来,舔着自己的身子,它们像弗里思一样,都知道藏书室在下午以前不生火,因此,很久以来就养成了跑到晨室来度过早上这段时间的习惯。

不知什么缘故,我还没走到窗口就猜到,房间外面一定是石南花丛。果然,在打开的窗子底下聚集着大簇大簇鲜血一般红得过分的石南,就是昨天傍晚我见到过的那些花。它们已经蔓延着侵入车道。花丛中间有一小片草地,那是平整得像地毯一样的苦鲜。草地中央立着一座小小的雕像,那是一个吹着风笛的森林之神。塑像以猩红色的石南花为背景,而小草地则如同戏台,任他在这儿起舞表演。

这个房间不同于藏书室,没有那种霉味儿。这里没有那些年长月久被坐得陈旧了的椅子,没有摊满书报的桌子。藏书室里摊着许多书报,其实并没有人读这些东西,只是老习惯罢了,迈克西姆的父亲,或许甚至是他的老祖父,喜欢这样摆摆样子。

晨室则显示出十足的女性,既优雅又妩媚。看得出来,房间的女主人曾精心挑选每一件家具,因此这儿的椅子、花瓶,乃至每一件小摆设,彼此都很协调,与女主人自己的性格亦相和谐。我仿佛看见她在曼陀丽收藏的宝物中凭着自己高明的直觉,一件一件挑出自己最中意的珍品,把那第二流的、平凡的东西统统撇在一边;她挑得如此有把握,我似乎听见她在发号施令:“我要这件,还有这件,这件。”房间以浑然一体的格调布置,家具都是同一代的制品。因此,房间美得出奇,无懈可击,完全不像向公众开放的客厅那样死板而冷漠。展室栩栩如生,鲜明而光彩夺目,有点像窗下大簇大簇的石南花。我还注意到,石南花并不单单充斥在窗外的草地上,而且已经侵占到房间内部,那娇艳的脸孔正从壁炉架上俯视着我;沙发边的茶几上也有一大瓶;写字桌上,金烛台的旁边,也是它们亭亭玉立的倩影。房间里到处是石南花,连墙壁也染上了血红色,在早上的阳光中浓艳得耀眼。石南是房间里唯一的鲜花,我怀疑这是不是一种有意的安排,这屋子陈设布置成这个样子,也许本来就是仅仅为了摆石南花的吧?不然的话为什么其他房间里都不摆石南花?餐厅的藏书室里也放鲜花,但都修剪得整整齐齐,搁在适当的地位作为陪衬,不像这儿的石南花那么多。

我走过去,在写字桌边坐下。使我惊奇的是这个彩色缤纷的精美的房间同时竟也专作办事的地方使用。我本以为,用这样高雅的趣味打扮起来的房间,尽管鲜花多得过分,只不过是一个用来显示装饰美,供人在倦慵时私下休息的去处。可是这张写字桌,纵然纤巧精致,却决不是女人的小玩意儿,由你坐在旁边,咬着笔杆,信手写就短柬便条,然后把吸墨纸台歪歪斜斜地一丢,接着漫不经心地走开。写字桌上设有鸽笼式的文件架,上边贴着“待复信件”、“须保存信件””、“家务”、“田庄”、“菜单”、“杂项”、“通讯地址”等标签。标签是用一手我已熟悉的尖细的草体字写成的。一下子认出这笔迹,简直把我吓了一跳,因为自从把诗集的扉页销毁之后,我还没再见过这笔迹。另外,我也没有想到还会见到它。

我胡乱地拉开一只抽屉,一眼又看见她的笔迹。这回是出现在一本打开的皮封面记事册上,册子的标题是《曼陀丽宾客录》,内容按星期和月份编排,上面记录着来往宾客姓名,他们住过的房间以及他们的伙食。我一页一页翻着,发现册子上记载了整整一年中曼陀丽来往宾客的情况。这样,女主人只需打开册子一看,就知道到今天,甚至到此刻为止,哪一天有哪位客人在她家过夜。来客宿在哪一个房间,女主人为他准备什么样的饭菜。抽屉里还有些雪白的硬信纸,是专供落笔很重的人草书用的,此外还有印着纹章和地址的家用信笺,以及盛在小盒子里的雪白的名片。

我从盒子里取出一张,拆开外面包装的薄纸。名片上印着“M-德温特夫人”的字样,名片的一角还有“曼陀丽”三个字。我把名片放回小盒子,并关上抽屉。突然之间,有一种做贼心虚的感觉袭来;仿佛我是在别人家里作客,女主人对我说:“当然可以,去吧,到我书桌上去写信好了。”可我却在鬼鬼祟祟偷看她的私信,这实在是难以宽恕的行为。现在她随时可能走进房间来,发现我坐在写字桌前,放肆地打开了她的抽屉。

突然间,面前写字桌上的电话铃声大作,把我吓得一下子跳了起来,以为这F被人逮住了。我双手颤抖着拿起话筒,问道:“哪一位?您找谁?”线路那头传来一阵陌生的嘤嘤声,接着就响起一个低沉粗鲁的嗓音:“是德温特夫人吗?”我听不出说话的是男人还是女人。

“恐怕您弄错了吧,”我说。“德温特夫人过世已经一年多了。”我坐在位子上,默默地望着话筒,等候对方回话。直到对方用大惑不解的语气,稍微提高嗓门,再问一遍名字,我才意识到自己说漏了嘴,犯了个不可挽回的错误,于是蓦地涨红了脸。

对方在电话里说:“太太,我是丹弗斯太太,我是在内线电话上跟您说话。”我方才失常的表现实在无法掩饰,愚蠢得太不像话,要是不对此有所表示那只会使自己进一步出丑,尽管方才的洋相已出得相当可以了。所以我就结巴费力地表示歉意:一对不起,丹弗斯太太。电话铃把我吓了一跳,我自己也不明白胡说了些什么。我没想到你是找我说话,我不知道这是内线电话。”

她回答说:“太太,请原谅我打扰了您。”我想,她一定猜到我在这儿乱翻写字桌上的东西。接着她又说:“我只是想问一声,您是不是要找我,今天的菜单是不是合意?”

“啊,”我说。“啊,我想肯定可以的。我是说我对菜单完全满意。你看着办好了。丹弗斯太太,不用征求我的意见。”

“我看您最好还是过过目,”对方接着说。“它就搁在您手边的吸墨纸台上。”

我手忙脚乱地在左近处翻了一阵,终于找到了这张我先前未注意到的纸片,我匆匆扫了一眼:咖喱龙虾、烤牛肉、龙须菜、巧克力奶油冻,等等。这是午饭还是正餐,我不知道。大概是午饭。

“很好,丹弗斯太太,”我说。“挺合适的,确实好极了。”

“您要是想换菜,请吩咐,我马上就叫他们照办。请您看一下,在调味两字的边上我留出了空白,您爱哪一种,就请填在上面。我还不知道您吃烤牛肉时习惯用哪一种调味汁。过去德温特夫人非常讲究调味汁,我总得问过她本人才敢决定。”

“呃,”我说。“呃,这个……让我想一想。丹弗斯太太,我说不上来。我看你们还是按通常的老规矩办吧。德温特夫人喜欢什么,你们就看着办好了。”

“您自己没有什么特别的喜好吗,太太?”

“不,没有。我真的说不上来,丹弗斯太太。”

“要是德温特夫人在世,我看她肯定点葡萄酒调味汁。”

“那么就用这种调味计好了。”

“太太,请原谅我在您写信的时候打扰了您。”

“不、不,别这么说,你根本没有打扰我。”

“我们这儿都是中午发信,您要付邮的信罗伯特会去拿的,贴邮票的事也归他管。您只要打个电话跟他说一声就行了。倘若您有什么急件要付邮,他会叫人立刻到邮局去寄发的。”

“谢谢你,丹弗斯太太。”说完之后,我手持听筒等着,可她没再说什么。听到对方滴铃一声挂断电话,我才放下听筒。

我的眼光又转向写字桌,望着那些随时备用的信纸和吸墨纸台。我面前的鸽笼式文件架好像在盯着我看,那些上边写着“待复信件”、“田庄”、“杂项”等字样的标签都在责备我为什么闲坐着无所事事。以前曾坐在我这个位子上的女人可不像我这样浪费时间,她伸手抓起内线电话的听筒,干脆利落、斩钉截铁地发号施令,菜单上要是有哪一项不合她的意,她就提笔勾掉。她可不像我这样只会说:“行啊,丹弗斯太太”,“当然啦,丹弗斯太太”。等打完电话,她开始写信,五封,六封,七封,写个没完,用的就是那手我已熟悉的不同寻常的斜体字。她一张一张撕下光滑的白信纸。在每封私人信件底下,她签上自己的名字:吕蓓卡。那个倾斜的R字母特别高大,相形之下,其他字母都显得十分矮小。

我用手指敲击着写字桌面。文件架都已空空如也,没有待复的信件,我也不知道有什么待付的账单。方才丹弗斯太太说,要是有什么急件要付邮,可以打电话给罗伯特,由他叫人送邮局。过去吕蓓卡一定有许多急件要付邮,那些信不知道都写给谁的。也许是给裁缝写的吧:“那件白缎子衣服星期四一定得做好。”也许是写给理发师:“下星期五我要来做头发,下午三点叫安东尼先生等着我,我要洗发、按摩、电烫成形、修指甲。”不,不会。这类信犯不着花费时间,她只要弗里思接通伦敦,打个电话就行了。弗里思会在电话里告诉对方:“德温特夫人要我通知您……”

我用手指敲击着写字桌面。我实在想不出需要给谁写封信。只有范-霍珀夫人。此刻,在我自己的家里,坐在自己的写字桌前,我竟闲得发慌,只能给范-霍珀夫人这样一个我极其厌恶而又永远不会再见面的女人写封信!想到这些,我觉得不免有些荒唐,真是莫大的讽刺!

我取了一张信纸,拿起一支笔杆细巧、笔尖锃亮的钢笔开始写信:“亲爱的范-霍珀夫人”。我写写停停,非常费力,在信上祝愿她旅途愉快,但愿她女儿身体比以前更好,但愿纽约天气晴朗和暖。我一面写,一面生平第一次注意到自己的字迹竟如此歪歪扭扭,不成样子,既没有个性,也谈不上风格,甚至不像出自受过教育的人之手。这笔迹只有一个二流学校的劣等生才写得出来。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-21#56
Chapter eight

I had never realized, of course, that life at Manderley would be so orderly and planned. I remember now, looking back, how on that first morning Maxim was up and dressed and writing letters, even before breakfast, and when I got downstairs, rather after nine o'clock, a little flurried by the booming summons of the gong, I found he had nearly finished, he was already peeling his fruit. He looked up at me and smiled. 'You mustn't mind, ' he said; 'this is something you will have to get used to. I've no time to hang about at this hour of the day. Running a place like Manderley, you know, is a full-time job. The coffee and the hot dishes are on the sideboard. We always help ourselves at breakfast. ' I said something about my clock being slow, about having been too long in the bath, but he did not listen, he was looking down at a letter, frowning at something. How impressed I was, I remember well; impressed and a little overawed by the magnificence of the breakfast offered to us. There was tea, in a great silver urn, and coffee too, and on the heater, piping hot, dishes of scrambled eggs, of bacon, and another of fish. There was a little clutch of boiled eggs as well, in their own special heater, and porridge, in a silver porringer. On another sideboard was a ham, and a great piece of cold bacon. There were scones too, on the table, and toast, and various pots of jam, marmalade, and honey, while dessert dishes, piled high with fruit, stood at either end. It seemed strange to me that Maxim, who in Italy and France had eaten a croissant and fruit only, and drunk a cup of coffee, should sit down to this breakfast at home, enough for a dozen people, day after day probably, year after year, seeing nothing ridiculous about it, nothing wasteful. I noticed he had eaten a small piece of fish. I took a boiled egg. And I wondered what happened to the rest, all those scrambled eggs, that crisp bacon, the porridge, the remains of the fish. Were there menials, I wondered, whom I should never know, never see, waiting behind kitchen doors for the gift of our breakfast? Or was it all thrown away, shovelled into dustbins? I would never know, of course, I would never dare to ask. "Thank the Lord I haven't a great crowd of relations to inflict upon you, ' said Maxim, 'a sister I very rarely see, and a grandmother who is nearly blind. Beatrice, by the way, asks herself over to lunch. I half expected she would. I suppose she wants to have a look at you. ' 'Today?' I said, my spirits sinking to zero. 'Yes, according to the letter I got this morning. She won't stay long. You'll like her, I think. She's very direct, believes in speaking her mind. No humbug at all. If she doesn't like you she'll tell you so, to your face. ' I found this hardly comforting, and wondered if there was not some virtue in the quality of insincerity.

Maxim got up from his chair, and lit a cigarette. I've a mass of things to see probably, year after year, seeing nothing ridiculous about it, nothing wasteful. I noticed he had eaten a small piece of fish. I took a boiled egg. And I wondered what happened to the rest, all those scrambled eggs, that crisp bacon, the porridge, the remains of the fish. Were there menials, I wondered, whom I should never know, never see, waiting behind kitchen doors for the gift of our breakfast? Or was it all thrown away, shovelled into dustbins? I would never know, of course, I would never dare to ask. "Thank the Lord I haven't a great crowd of relations to inflict upon you, ' said Maxim, 'a sister I very rarely see, and a grandmother who is nearly blind. Beatrice, by the way, asks herself over to lunch. I half expected she would. I suppose she wants to have a look at you. ' 'Today?' I said, my spirits sinking to zero. 'Yes, according to the letter I got this morning. She won't stay long. You'll like her, I think. She's very direct, believes in speaking her mind. No humbug at all. If she doesn't like you she'll tell you so, to your face. ' I found this hardly comforting, and wondered if there was not some virtue in the quality of insincerity. Maxim got up from his chair, and lit a cigarette. I've a mass of things to see to this morning, do you think you can amuse yourself?' he said. 'I'd like to have taken you round the garden, but I must see Crawley, my agent. I've been away from things too long. He'll be in to lunch, too, by the way. You don't mind, do you? You will be all right?' 'Of course, ' I said, 'I shall be quite happy. ' Then he picked up his letters, and went out of the room, and I remember thinking this was not how I imagined my first morning; I had seen us walking together, arms linked, to the sea, coming back rather late and tired and happy to a cold lunch, alone, and sitting afterwards under that chestnut tree I could see from the library window. I lingered long over my first breakfast, spinning out the time, and it was not until I saw Frith come in and look at me, from behind the service screen, that I realized it was after ten o'clock. I sprang to my feet at once, feeling guilty, and apologized for sitting there so late, and he bowed, saying nothing, very polite, very correct, and I caught a flicker of surprise in his eyes. I wondered if I had said the wrong thing. Perhaps it did not do to apologize. Perhaps it lowered me in his estimation. I wished I knew what to say, what to do. I wondered if he suspected, as Mrs Danvers had done, that poise, and grace, and assurance were not qualities inbred in me, but were things to be acquired, painfully perhaps, and slowly, costing me many bitter moments. As it was, leaving the room, I stumbled, not looking where I was going, catching my foot on the step by the door, and Frith came forward to help me, picking up my handkerchief, while Robert, the young footman, who was standing behind the screen, turned away to hide his smile. I heard the murmur of their voices as I crossed the hall, and one of them laughed - Robert, I supposed. Perhaps they were laughing about me. I went upstairs again, to the privacy of my bedroom, but when I opened the door I found the housemaids in there doing the room; one was sweeping the floor, the other dusting the dressing-table. They looked at me in surprise. I quickly went out again. It could not be right, then, for me to go to my room at that hour in the morning. It was not expected of me. It broke the household routine. I crept downstairs once more, silently, thankful of my slippers that made no sound on the stone flags, and so into the library, which was chilly, the windows flung wide open, the fire laid but not lit.

I shut the windows, and looked round for a box of matches. I could not find one. I wondered what I should do. I did not like to ring. But the library, so snug and warm last night with the burning logs, was like an ice-house now, in the early morning. There were matches upstairs in the bedroom, but I did not like to go for them because it would mean disturbing the housemaids at their work. I could not bear their moon faces staring at me again. I decided that when Frith and Robert had left the dining-room I would fetch the matches from the sideboard. I tiptoed out into the hall and listened. They were still clearing, I could hear the sound of voices, and the movement of trays. Presently all was silent, they must have gone through the service doors into the kitchen quarters, so I went across the hall and into the dining-room once more. Yes, there was a box of matches on the sideboard, as I expected. I crossed the room quickly and picked them up, and as I did so Frith came back into the room. I tried to cram the box furtively into my pocket, but I saw him glance at my hand in surprise. 'Did you require anything, Madam?' he said. 'Oh, Frith, ' I said awkwardly, 'I could not find any matches. ' He at once proffered me another box, handing me the cigarettes too, at the same time. This was another embarrassment, for I did not smoke. 'No, the fact is, ' I said, 'I felt rather cool in the library, I suppose the weather seems chilly to me, after being abroad and I thought perhaps I would just put a match to the fire. ' 'The fire in the library is not usually lit until the afternoon, Madam, ' he said. 'Mrs de Winter always used the morning-room. There is a good fire in there. Of course if you should wish to have the fire in the library as well I will give orders for it to be lit. ' 'Oh, no, ' I said, 'I would not dream of it. I will go into the morning-room. Thank you, Frith. ' 'You will find writing-paper, and pens, and ink, in there, Madam, ' he said. 'Mrs de Winter always did all her correspondence and telephoning in the morning-room, after breakfast. The house telephone is also there, should you wish to speak to Mrs Danvers. ' "Thank you, Frith, ' I said. I turned away into the hall again, humming a little tune to give me an air of confidence. I could not tell him that I had never seen the morning-room, that Maxim had not shown it to me the night before.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-22#57
At any moment she might come back into the room and she would see me there, sitting before her open drawer, which I had no right to touch. And when the telephone rang, suddenly, alarmingly, on the desk in front of me, my heart leapt and I started up in terror, thinking I had been discovered. I took the receiver off with trembling hands, and 'Who is it?' I said, 'who do you want?' There was a strange buzzing at the end of the line, and then a voice came, low and rather harsh, whether that of a woman or a man I could not tell, and 'Mrs de Winter?' it said, 'Mrs de Winter?' 'I'm afraid you have made a mistake, ' I said; 'Mrs de Winter has been dead for over a year. ' I sat there, waiting, staring stupidly into the mouthpiece, and it was not until the name was repeated again, the voice incredulous, slightly raised, that I became aware, with a rush of colour to my face, that I had blundered irretrievably, and could not take back my words. 'It's Mrs Danvers, Madam, ' said the voice. 'I'm speaking to you on the house telephone. ' My faux pas was so palpably obvious, so idiotic and unpardonable, that to ignore it would show me to be an even greater fool, if possible, than I was already. 'I'm sorry, Mrs Danvers, ' I said, stammering, my words tumbling over one another; 'the telephone startled me, I didn't know what I was saying, I didn't realize the call was for me, and I never noticed I was speaking on the house telephone. ' 'I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Madam, ' she said; and she knows, I thought, she guesses I have been looking through the desk. 'I only wondered whether you wished to see me, and whether you approved of the menus for today. ' 'Oh, ' I said. 'Oh, I'm sure I do; that is, I'm sure I approve of the menus. Just order what you like, Mrs Danvers, you needn't bother to ask me. ' 'It would be better, I think, if you read the list, ' continued the voice; 'you will find the menu of the day on the blotter, beside you. ' I searched feverishly about me on the desk, and found at last a sheet of paper I had not noticed before. I glanced hurriedly through it: curried prawns, roast veal, asparagus, cold chocolate mousse - was this lunch or dinner? I could not see; lunch, I suppose. 'Yes, Mrs Danvers, ' I said, 'very suitable, very nice indeed. ' 'If you wish anything changed please say so, ' she answered, 'and I will give orders at once.

You will notice I have left a blank space beside the sauce, for you to mark your preference. I was not sure what sauce you are used to having served with the roast veal. Mrs de Winter was most particular about her sauces, and I always had to refer to her. ' 'Oh, ' I said. 'Oh, well... Let me see, Mrs Danvers, I hardly know; I think we had better have what you usually have, whatever you think Mrs de Winter would have ordered. ' 'You have no preference, Madam?' 'No, ' I said. 'No, really, Mrs Danvers. ' 'I rather think Mrs de Winter would have ordered a wine sauce, Madam. ' 'We will have the same then, of course, ' I said. 'I'm very sorry I disturbed you while you were writing, Madam. ' 'You didn't disturb me at all, ' I said; 'please don't apologize. ' "The post leaves at midday, and Robert will come for your letters, and stamp them himself, ' she said; 'all you have to do is ring through to him, on the telephone, if you have anything urgent to be sent, and he will give orders for them to be taken in to the post-office immediately. ' "Thank you, Mrs Danvers, ' I said. I listened for a moment, but she said no more, and then I heard a little click at the end of the telephone, which meant she had replaced the receiver. I did the same. Then I looked down again at the desk, and the notepaper, ready for use, upon the blotter. In front of me stared the ticketed pigeon-holes, and the words upon them 'letters unanswered', 'estate', 'miscellaneous', were like a reproach to me for my idleness. She who sat here before me had not wasted her time, as I was doing. She had reached out for the house telephone and given her orders for the day, swiftly, efficiently, and run her pencil perhaps through an item in the menu that had not pleased her. She had not said 'Yes, Mrs Danvers, ' and 'Of course, Mrs Danvers, ' as I had done. And then, when she had finished, she began her letters, five, six, seven perhaps to be answered, all written in that same curious, slanting hand I knew so well. She would tear off sheet after sheet of that smooth white paper, using it extravagantly, because of the long strokes she made when she wrote, and at the end of each of her personal letters she put her signature, 'Rebecca', that tall sloping R dwarfing its fellows. I drummed with my fingers on the desk. The pigeon-holes were empty now.

There were no 'letters unanswered' waiting to be dealt with, no bills to pay that I knew anything about. If I had anything urgent, Mrs Danvers said, I must telephone through to Robert and he would give orders for it to be taken to the post. I wondered how many urgent letters Rebecca used to write, and who they were written to. Dressmakers perhaps - 'I must have the white satin on Tuesday, without fail, ' or to her hairdresser - 'I shall be coming up next Friday, and want an appointment at three o'clock with Monsieur Antoine himself. Shampoo, massage, set, and manicure. ' No, letters of that type would be a waste of time. She would have a call put through to London. Frith would do it. Frith would say 'I am speaking for Mrs de Winter. ' I went on drumming with my fingers on the desk. I could think of nobody to write to. Only Mrs Van Hopper. And there was something foolish, rather ironical, in the realization that here I was sitting at my own desk in my own home with nothing better to do than to write a letter to Mrs Van Hopper, a woman I disliked, whom I should never see again. I pulled a sheet of notepaper towards me. I took up the narrow, slender pen, with the bright pointed nib. 'Dear Mrs Van Hopper, ' I began. And as I wrote, in halting, laboured fashion, saying I hoped the voyage had been good, that she had found her daughter better, that the weather in New York was fine and warm, I noticed for the first time how cramped and unformed was my own handwriting; without individuality, without style, uneducated even, the writing of an indifferent pupil taught in a second-rate school.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-23#58
[FONT=宋体]第09章

车道上有汽车的声音响起,我猛地惊跳起来,一定是比阿特丽斯夫妇到了。我看看时钟,刚才十二点,没想到他们这么早就来。迈克西姆还没回家。我不知道能不能跳出窗子,躲到花园里去。这样,如果弗里思把他们领到晨室,看见我不在,就会说:“太太大概出去了。”这是很自然的事,客人们也不会觉得有什么反常。

我向窗子奔去,两条狗带着询问的目光望着我,杰斯珀还摇着尾巴跟着跑过来。窗子外面是平台,再过去一点是小草地。正当我准备擦过石南花跳出窗子时,我听见人声渐近,于是又赶快退回房间。肯定,弗里思告诉他们这会儿我正在展室,他们便从花园这条路进屋来了。

我快步走进大客厅,直奔左首近处的一扇门而去。门外是一条长长的石筑甬道。我沿着甬道狂奔,完全意识到自己又在犯愚蠢的错误。这种突发性的神经质使我鄙视自己,但是我知道这会儿无论如何没法见客人。

甬道大概通往宅子的后部。转过一个弯,我来到另一段楼梯跟前。在这儿我碰上一个从没见过的女佣,她提着拖把和木桶,大概是打杂的女工。她惊异地望着我,仿佛见了鬼,显然是没料到会在这儿遇到我。我心慌意乱地说一声“早安”,就向楼梯奔去。她回了一句:“早安,太太”,一面大张着嘴,眼睛瞪得滚圆,好奇地望着我登上楼梯。

我想走上楼梯一定便是卧室,我能在东厢找到自己的那套房间,然后往里边一躲,直到午饭时分世俗礼仪逼得我非下楼不可时再说。

我大概把方向弄错了。因为穿过楼梯口的一扇门,我发现自己来到一条长长的走廊上。这条走廊我没见到过,多少同东厢的走廊相似,只是更宽大,另外,因为墙上嵌镶着护壁板,比东厢的也更黝暗。

我迟疑一下,接着往左拐弯,来到另一个宽敞的楼梯口平台。这儿一片死寂,光线暗淡,周围一个人也没有。要是早上曾有使女在这儿打扫,那么这会儿已经完工下楼,没有留下任何痕迹,没有那种清扫地毯之后散发出来的灰尘味儿。我独自站在那儿,不知该往哪个方向走。四下静得出奇,简直就像人去楼空的大宅,置身其中使人觉得相当压抑。

我随手打开一扇门,来到一间黑屋子。百叶窗全关着,一点光线也透不进来,但我影影绰绰地看到房间中央裹在白罩单里的家具轮廊。房间里很闷,有股霉味儿,就像那种实在难得使用的房间,不住人时,把各种摆设往床铺当中一堆,罩上一条被单。也许从去年夏天以来,窗帷一直不曾拉开过,现在你要是走去拉开它,打开那吱咯作声的百叶窗,也许会有一只在里边关了好几个月的死飞蛾掉在地毯上,与一枚早已被人遗忘的扣针并排着作了伴,还有一片枯叶,那是上一次关窗之前被风吹进房间的。

我轻轻关上门,无所适从地沿走廊向前。两边都是关着的房间。最后我来到一个从外边墙头凹陷进来的小壁角前。这儿有一扇大窗,总算给我带来了亮光。从这儿望出去,下面是平整的草地,草地往外延伸,便是大海。海上吹着一阵西风,在明亮的绿色水面上激起粼粼白浪,飞快地从岸边荡漾开去。

大海近在咫尺,比我原先想象的要近得多。大海就在草地下边一个小树丛脚下奔腾,打这儿去只要五分钟便可以走到。如果我把耳朵贴近窗户,我还能听到浪花拍击近处什么地方一个小海湾的声响。

这时我才知道自己兜了一个大圈,此刻正站在西厢的走廊里。丹弗斯太太说得不错,是的,在这儿确能听到大海的涛声。人们甚至可以想象,在冬天,大海会爬上陆地,淹没草坪,危及房屋本身。即使在此刻,因为风大,窗玻璃上也已经蒙上一层水汽,像是有人在上头呵了一口气,这是从海上吹来的带盐味的轻雾。

一片乌云在天空这没了太阳。大海顿时变得黝暗,阵阵白浪也狂暴地奔腾起来,不再像我刚才看见的那种欢快闪光的样子。

不知道什么缘故,我因为自己住在东厢而庆幸,我还是宁愿观赏玫瑰园,我可不爱听大海的咆哮!

我走回到楼梯口的那一方平台,一手扶着栏杆准备下楼。这时我听见背后的房门打开,丹弗斯太太出现了。我们两人谁也不说话,瞪着眼睛对视了一会。她一见到我,立刻戴上一副假面具,使我无法判断她的眼睛射出的是怒火还是好奇的目光。虽然她什么也没说,我却又心虚起来,羞愧得犹如擅自闯入别人屋子而被逮了个正着。我的脸涨得通红,无异是告诉她我心中鬼。

“我走错路了,”我说。“我本想到自己的房里去。”

“您走到屋子的另一头来了,”她说。“这儿是西厢。”

“是的,我知道”,我说。

“您有没有走进哪个房间看看?”她问。

“不,”我赶快回答。“没有。我只是打开过一扇房门看了看,没有进屋,那里暗极了,东西都蒙着罩单。我很抱歉,我并没有想弄乱东西的意思。你大概希望把这儿的一切都锁在屋子里收藏好。”

“要是您想打开看看,我立刻照办,”她说。“您只要吩咐一声就行了。这些房间都是布置好的,随时可以使用。”

“喔,不,”我说。“我没有这个意思,请别这么想。”

“也许您希望我带您看看西厢所有的房间吧?”

我忙摇头说:“不,我可没有这个想法,喔,我得下楼去了。”我沿着楼梯走下,她跟在我身边,就像押解犯人的卫兵。

“随便什么时候,只要您有空,跟我说一声,我就带您看看西厢的这些房间。”她一而再、再而三地要带我看房间,这使我隐约觉得不安。其中原因,我也不明白。她紧钉着不放的口吻使我回想到童年时代有一次到朋友家玩,那家有一个年龄比我大的女儿,她拉着我的手臂,在我耳畔低语:“我知道在妈妈卧室的橱里藏着一本书,怎么样?去看看吗?”我记得她在说话时脸激动得煞白,闪亮的眼睛睁得滚圆,一面还不住捏我的膀子。

“我可以把罩单取走,这样您就能见到这些房间的本来面貌,”丹弗斯太太说。“本来今天早晨我就可以带您参观,但是我以为您在晨室里写信。您什么时候有事吩咐,请打个电话到我房间来。把这些房间打扫一下,布置停当,不花多少时间。”

这时,我们已走下那一小段楼梯。她推开一扇门,侧身让我走过去。她那阴沉的眼睛察看着我的脸。

“丹弗斯太太,你太好了,”我说。“以后再麻烦你吧。”

我们一起走到门外的楼梯口,这时我才发现自己是站在大楼梯的顶端,就在吟游诗人画廊的背后。

“您怎么会走错路的?”她问我。“通往西厢的门与这扇门很不相像哩。”

“我不是从这个方向走的,”我说。

“那您一定是从后面,从石筑甬道到西侧去的罗?”她说。

“是的。”我不敢与她的眼光相遇。“我是从石筑道的方向走的。”

她仍然一个劲儿盯着我,仿佛要我解释一下为什么突然张皇失措地离开晨室,跑到宅子的后部去。我蓦地意识到,她一定在暗里看着我的一举一动,也许从我一闯进西厢时起,她就在门缝里窥视着我。

“莱西夫人和莱西少校已到了好一会儿,”她告诉我。“十二点钟刚敲过,我听到他们汽车驶近的声音。”

“哎哟,”我说。“我可不知道!”

“弗里思一定把他们领到晨室去了,这会儿怕快十二点半了吧。现在您知道该往哪个方向走了吗?”

“知道了,丹弗斯太太,”我说着下了大楼梯,走进大厅。我知道她一定还站在上面,盯着我看。

这一下非得回到展室去见迈克西姆的姐姐和姐夫不可了,再也不能跑到卧室去躲起来。走进客厅时,我扭头朝后望去。果然,丹弗斯太太还站在楼梯口,像个黑衣哨兵似的监视着我。

手按在门上,我在晨室外稍稍伫立一会,谛听屋里说话的声音。房里好像有很多人。这么说来,我在楼上那工夫,迈克西姆已经回来,也许还带着他的总管事。我顿时觉得一阵紧张,心像是悬在半空,童年时代被人召去向客人行礼常有这种感觉。

我扭动门把,冒失地闯了进去。大家都不说话了,一张张脸孔全朝我这边转过来。

“啊,她总算来了,”迈克西姆说,“你躲到哪儿去了?我们正准备派人分头去找你。这是比阿特丽斯,这是贾尔斯,这是弗兰克-克劳利。嗨,当心,你差一点踩在狗身上。”

比阿特丽斯个子很高,肩膀宽宽的,长得很好看,眼睛和颌部同迈克西姆很相像。不过她不像我原先想象的那么漂亮,比阿特丽斯粗犷得像个男子,完全是那种养狗成癖、擅长骑射的人物。她没有吻我,只是紧紧捏着我的手一握,一面还笔直地看着我的眼睛。她转过脸去对迈克西姆说:“跟我想象的大不相同。完全不像你描述的那样子。”

众人都笑了。我也只好附和着咧咧嘴,心里则在狐疑,大家是不是在笑话我;还有,她想象中的我是什么样子?迈克西姆又怎样向她描绘我的长相?

迈克西姆碰碰我的膀子,介绍我和贾尔斯见面。贾尔斯伸出一只肥大的巴掌,紧紧与我握手,把我的手指都捏得麻木了。他那温和的双眼在角质边框眼镜的背后向我微笑。

“这是弗兰克-克劳利,”迈克西姆把总管事介绍给我。此人脸无血色,瘦骨嶙峋,喉结突出。当他看着我的时候,我在他的眼光里发现了一种如释重负的表情。这是为什么?可还没等我细想,弗里思进来了,给我端上雪利酒。比阿特丽斯也来找我说话:“迈克西姆说你们昨天晚上刚到。我可不知道,要不然,我们自然不会今天就跑来打扰你们。嗯,你觉得曼陀丽边地方怎么样?”

“我还没来得及好好看看,”我回答道。“当然,这地方挺美。”

不出我所料,她从头到脚不住打量着我,不过态度直率而坦然,不像丹弗斯太太那样充满着恶意和敌视。她是有权对我作出鉴定的,因为她毕竟是迈克西姆的姐姐。

迈克西姆走过来,挽着我的手臂,给我打气。

比阿特丽斯侧着头,端详着迈克西姆,对他说:“老弟,你的气色好多了,感谢上帝,过去那种莫名其妙出神的样子总算不见了。”接着,她朝我点点头说:“我想,为此我们还得谢谢你呢。”

迈克西姆不耐烦地回答说:“我一直很健康,从来不生病。在你看来,谁要是不像贾尔斯那么胖,谁就准是病了。”

“胡址,”比阿特丽斯说。“你自己也很清楚,半年之前你差不多完全垮啦。上一次我来看你,真把我吓得不轻,我想你准要病倒,从此一蹶不振。贾尔斯,你来说说,上一次来的时候,迈克西姆的样子是不是够吓人的?还有,我是不是说过这一回他肯定会病倒?”

贾尔斯说:“嗯,老弟,我得说一句,你看上去简直换了一个人。幸亏出去跑一趟。克劳利,他看上去挺健康,是吗?”

迈克西姆的肌肉在的我的手臂下担紧,我知道他是在强压着怒气。不知什么缘故,谈论他的健康使他不快,甚至引他发火。而那个比阿特丽斯真不会察颜观色,偏偏老是这样说个没完,非证明自己对不可。

“迈克西姆晒黑了,”我羞答答地插话说。“所以看上去样样都好。你们还没看见他在威尼斯时候的样子呢,在凉台上吃早饭,故意想把自己晒黑,他以为这样一来更漂亮些。”

大家都笑了。克劳利先生接着说:“德温特夫人,威尼斯在这个季节一定美极了,对吗?”我答道:“是的,天气很好,好像只碰上一个下雨天,对吗,迈克西姆?”

就这样,巧妙地转了话题,从他的健康扯到意大利和好天气,而谈论这些题目是万无一失的。这时,气氛又变得自然流畅,不用费劲。迈克西姆和比阿特丽斯夫妇在谈论我家汽车的行驶保养情况;克劳利先生则在一边问我关于运河里现在只行汽船,不再有同陀拉的传说是否属实。我心里明白,即使今天威尼斯大运河里停泊着大轮船,与他也一点不相干。他这么问只是为了助我一臂之力,使我把谈话从迈克西姆的健康状况引开。管事先生其貌不扬,却是个好帮手,我很感激他。

比阿特丽斯用脚踢着狗说:“杰斯珀得锻炼锻炼才行。它还不满两岁,就长得这么肥。迈克西姆,你拿什么喂它?”

迈克西姆说:“亲爱的比阿特丽斯,它还不是跟你家的狗一样?算啦,别在这儿卖弄了,就好像是对于动物你比我懂得更多似的。”

“我的好老弟,你出门好几个月,怎么会知道他们拿什么喂杰斯珀?我压根儿不相信弗里思每天两次带它跑到大门口。从它的毛色看,这条狗好几个星期没有遛腿了。”

“我宁愿看它长得肥壮,总比你家那条吃不饱的笨狗强,”迈克西姆说。

“我家的‘雄师’二月份在克拉夫跑狗赛中得了两个第一名,你竟说这种糊涂话!”

气氛又紧张起来,这点我从迈克西姆嘴角绷紧的肌肉就看得出来。我真奇怪,难道姐弟碰在一起非得这样拌嘴不可,弄得旁边的人也陪着受罪。我多希望弗里思这时跑来通报开饭。也许,这儿是用锣声召人进餐厅用膳的?曼陀丽的一套规矩我还不了解。

我在比阿特丽斯身边坐下问她;“你们住得远吗?到这儿来是不是一早就得出发?”

“我们离这儿五十英里,亲爱的,我们住在特鲁切斯特过去一点的邻郡。我们那儿打猎的条件比这儿好得多,什么时候迈克西姆肯放你出来,到我们那儿住几天,让贾尔斯教你骑马。”

“我不会打猎,”我不得不说实话。“儿童时代,我学过骑马,但很不行,现在更是忘得差不多了。”

“那就再学嘛!住在乡下不会骑马怎么行?那样就会成天无所事事。迈克西姆说你会画画儿,那自然不坏,只是对身体没什么好处。那玩意儿只能在下雨天没其他事情做的时候给你解解闷气。”

迈克西姆说:“我的好比阿特丽斯,我们可不像你,没有新鲜空气就活不了。”

“没跟你说话,老弟!谁都知道你就喜欢在曼陀丽的花园里散步想心事,连脚步快一点都不愿意。”

我赶快接上去说:“我也爱散步,看来在曼陀丽散步,我一辈子不会觉得厌烦。等天气暖和些,,还可以洗海水浴。”

比阿特丽斯说:“亲爱的,你把事情看得太轻巧罗!我记得好像从来没在这一带洗过海水浴。水太凉,而且海滩上全是圆卵石。”

“那有什么关系?”我说。“我爱洗海水浴,只要潮水不太猛就行。这儿的海湾浴场安全吗?”

谁都没回答我的问题。突然,我意识到自己说了不该说的话。我的心怦怦剧跳,脸红得像火烧。张皇失措之中,我只好俯身去抚摸杰斯珀的长耳朵。

比阿特丽斯打破了沉默:“杰斯珀该去游水,减少一点脂肪。不过在海湾里游水,这畜生可能吃不住。对吗?亲爱的杰斯珀,我的好家伙?”我们俩一起爱抚着长耳狗,谁也不看对方一眼。

迈克西姆嚷了起来:“我可实在饿坏了。怎么搞的,午饭开不出来啦?”

克劳利先生说;“你看炉架上的钟,还不到一点。”

“那钟总是快的,”比阿特丽斯说。

“好几个月以来这钟都走得挺准,”迈克西姆说。

就在这时,门户开处,弗里思进来通报午饭已经准备就绪。

贾尔斯瞧瞧自己的手说:“看来我得洗洗手。”

大家站起身来,我如释重负地信步穿过客厅往大厅走去。比阿特丽斯挽着我的手臂,稍稍超前,走在头里。

“亲爱的弗里思老头,”她说。“他看上去总是老样子。一看见他,我又回到了姑娘时代。你知道——不过对我的话可别介意——你比我原先想象的还要年轻。迈克西姆对我提起过你的年龄,可你实实在在还是个小孩子!告诉我,你很爱他吗?”

我没想到她会提这样的问题。她一定看到了我脸上惊讶的表情,于是就轻声一笑,捏了捏我的膀子说:“不用口答我的怪问题。我理解你。我这个人老爱管闲事,真够讨厌的,是吗?别生我的气。你知道,尽管我俩见了面总爱顶嘴,我是深爱迈克西姆的。再说一遍,他的气色变好了,为此真该向你道喜。去年这个时候大家都替他捏把汗。那件事情的经过你当然都知道罗。”

说到这儿,我们已来到餐厅,她就停住了,因为周围有仆人,走在后面的人也都进了屋。可是,当我坐下展开餐巾的时候,我心里还在想,要是比阿特丽斯知道,对于去年在这儿海湾里发生的悲剧我一无所知,迈克西姆根本不同我说起这些,我也从不问他,她会怎么说呢?

那顿午饭吃得比我想象的要顺利,没有再发生什么口角,也许比阿特丽斯终于变得圆通了些。姐弟俩谈论着曼陀丽的家务,谈论着她的马群,谈论着花园和两人都认识的朋友,而坐在我左手的弗兰克-克劳利则很自然而随和地同我聊天,根本不用我费劲,这使我很感激他。贾尔斯忙着吃喝,不大说话,只是时而记起有女主人在场,这才信口对我说上一句。

“还是原来的厨子吗,迈克西姆?”贾尔斯问道,一面让罗伯特给自己端上第二客冰蛋白牛奶酥。“我常对比①说,曼陀丽是全英国的仅存硕果,在这儿总算还能吃到像样的食物。这类蛋白牛奶酥我很久以前吃过,至今记忆犹新。”——

①比阿特丽斯的爱称。

“厨子大概是过一段时间总要换人的,”迈克西姆说。“不过烹调水平保持不变。食谱都由丹弗斯太太保存,她指点厨子们工作。”

“那位丹弗斯太太是个不简单的女人,”贾尔斯说着转过脸来问我,“你说呢?”

“啊,是的,”我说。“看来丹弗斯太大确实了不起。”

“不过那副尊容可实在上不了油画,是吗?”贾尔斯说着,呵呵大笑。弗兰克-克劳利没说话。我抬起头来,正好看到比阿特丽斯盯着我瞧。立刻,她又转过脸去和迈克西姆扯话了。

克劳利问我:“德温特夫人,您打高尔夫球吗?”

“不,我不玩这个,”我回答说,同时松了口气,因为话题一转,丹弗斯太太就被置诸脑后。尽管我从不打高尔夫球,对此一无所知,我还是准备听他侈谈球术,他爱讲多久,我就奉陪着听多久,高尔夫球是个实际、沉闷的题目,不会让人受窘为难。

我们吃了干酪,喝了咖啡。我不知道这时是不是应该站起身离开餐桌了。我老是朝迈克西姆望,可他没有表示,而贾尔斯在一旁却又打开了话匣子,在讲述一个从雪堆里扒出一辆汽车的故事。我不明白他的思路怎么突然转到这上头,故事很难懂,可我还得彬彬有礼地听他唠叨,不住地点头微笑,一面却感觉到迈克西姆坐在自己的位置上有点不耐烦了。

贾尔斯终于收住了话头。我看到迈克西姆的眼色,他微微皱着眉,朝着门的方向偏了偏头。

我立即站起身来,拖开椅子。可是因为身体撞了餐桌,把贾尔斯的一杯红葡萄酒打翻了。“哎呀,天哪!”我叫了一声,站在一旁,不知道怎么办才好,伸手去拿餐巾又抓了个空,迈克西姆说,“算啦,让弗里思收抬吧,你只会越帮越忙。比阿特丽斯,带她到花园里去走走,她还没来得及四处看看。”

他看上去一脸倦容,很不耐烦。我想要是客人们不来多好。他们把这一天给糟蹋了。招待他们得费很大气力,就像我们昨天回家时一样。我也觉得疲乏、烦躁。而方才迈克西姆提议到花园去走走的时候,简直有点火冒三丈的样子。我真笨,竟会撞翻酒杯!我们步出屋子,来到平台,接着又走上平整的绿草坪。

比阿特丽斯说:“依我看,你们这么匆忙回到曼陀丽来有点失策。要是在意大利逛上三四个月,待到仲夏节再回来,要好得多。这样,不但从你的角度看,适应起来要容易些,对迈克西姆也大有好处。我不能不认为一开始你会觉得样样事情都会有些棘手。”

我说:“不,我倒不这么想。我觉得我会爱上曼陀丽的。”

她不作声了。我们在草坪上来口溜达。

过了一会,她才又开口说话:“给我讲点你的情况吧。当时你在法国南部干什么?迈克西姆说你跟一个讨厌的美国女人呆在一起。”

我讲了范-霍珀夫人和以后发生的事。她好像显示出同情的样子,但态度暖昧,有些心不在焉。

待我讲完,她才说:“是啊,正像你所说,一切都发生得很突然。不过,亲爱的,我们大家都为此感到高兴,真希望你俩过得幸福。”

“谢谢你,比阿特丽斯,”我说。“非常感谢,”我嘴上这么说,心里却在纳闷,为什么她说“希望”我俩过得幸福,而不说“肯定”。这个人心肠好,很直率,我喜欢他。但是她的话音里微微带一点疑虑,这又使我不安。

她挽起我的手臂继续说:“当迈克西姆写信来告诉我这个消息的时候,说实话,我很奇怪。他说他在法国南部遇到你,还说你很年轻,长得不错。当然,大家都以为你一定是个交际花之类的时髦人物,脸上涂得红红绿绿。在那种地方碰上这样的人是不稀奇的。午饭前你进晨室的时候,简直弄得我目瞪口呆。”

她笑了,我也随着笑起来。可是她没说,看到我的长相,究竟使她失望还是让她宽心。

“可怜的迈克西姆,”她说。“他曾经度过上段可怕的日子,但愿你已让他忘掉一切。当然,他深深爱着曼陀丽。”

我有点儿希望她就这样自然而平易地往下说,多告诉我一点过去的事情;可是,在心底,我又暗暗觉得,我不想知道这一切,我不愿再听说下去。

“你知道,迈克西姆跟我是完全不一样的人,”她说。“我们的性格截然相反。我这人喜怒哀乐全表现在脸上,对别人的好恶一点儿也藏不住,迈克西姆则完全不同,他很沉默,感情从不外露。你根本猜不透他那古怪的脑袋里装着些什么样的想法。谁稍微惹我一下,我就按捺不住,大发雷霆,但过后马上就忘个精光。迈克西姆一年里难得发一两次脾气,可是一发作起来,那真是不得了。我看对你他大概不会这样,你是个沉静的小乖乖。”

她微笑着捏捏我的膀子。我想“沉静”这两个字听上去多么安详而舒适。膝盖上摊着针线活,脸色平和,不慌不忙,不急不躁,无忧无虑。我可根本不是这种人;时而贪求,时而恐惧,撕拉着咬得不成样子的指甲,不知何去何从!

她接着说:“有句话要对你说,请你不要见怪好吗?我觉得你的头发得好好弄一弄。为什么不去烫一下?你不觉得你的长发太平直吗?散在帽子底下一定够难看的。为什么不拢到耳朵背后去?”

我顺从地用手掠掠头发。等着她表示赞许,她侧着头挑剔地看了一会说:“不行,不行,这样更糟。这种发式过于老成。对你不合适。看来你是得去烫一烫,把头发扎起来就行了。我可从来不喜欢那种圣女贞德①式或是换个别的什么名字的时髦发式。迈克西姆怎么说?也许他觉得这样好?”——

①一译为冉-达克。历史上百年战争末期抗击英军的法国女英雄,后被处火刑。

“我不知道,”我说。“他从来没提起过。”

“啊,这么说,他可能喜欢你留这样的头发,那就别听我的。你在伦敦和巴黎有没有添置衣服?”

“没有,”我说。“时间来不及。迈克西姆急着要回家。再说,要做新衣等回来以后随便什么时候写信去定制也不迟。”

“从你的穿着看,你对服饰打扮压根儿不在乎。”

我带着歉意看看身上的法兰绒裙子说:“谁说的?我非常喜欢漂亮衣服。只不过到目前为止,还一直没钱买就是了。”

她说:“我真不明白,迈克西姆为什么不在伦敦呆上个把星期,给你买些像样的衣服。我说他在这点上表现得很自私,不像他平时的为人。通常他对穿着总是很挑剔。”

“是吗?”我说。“他对我可从不挑剔,我看他甚至根本不注意我的穿戴。我觉得他对这些一点也不在乎。”

“啊,那么说来,他的性格大概变了。”

她把眼光从我脸上移开,双手插在袋子里,朝着杰斯珀吹口哨,接着,她抬起头来望着房屋的上部。

她问我:“这么说,西厢那些房间你们现在不用啦。”

我回答道:“不用了。我们的房间在东厢,还都是临时装修的。”

“是吗?”她说。“这我倒不知道。为什么?”

我说:“是迈克西姆的主意。他大概喜欢这样。”

她没说什么,仍然望着窗子,一面吹口哨。

突然,她问我:“你和丹弗斯太太相处得怎么样?”

我俯下身,拍着杰斯珀的头,抚摸它的耳朵,回答道:“我不大见到这个人。我有点儿怕她,过去从来没见过她这样的人。”

“我看你这话不假,”比阿特丽斯说。

杰斯珀抬头望着我,一对大眼睛充满谦卑而羞涩的表情。我吻着它毛色柔和的头顶,把手搁在它的黑鼻子上。

比阿特丽斯说:“你没必要怕她。另外,不管怎么样,别让她看出这一点。当然,我从来不跟这人多罗唆,今后也不想。不过她对我总是彬彬有礼的。”

我还是照样抚摸着杰斯珀的头。

比阿特丽斯又问:“她态度还友好吗?”

“不,”我说。“不大友好。”

比阿特丽斯又吹起了口哨。她用脚擦着杰斯珀的脑袋说道:“要是我的话,除非不得已,就不跟她打交道。”

“不,根本不需要我去干预,她在管家方面挺能干。”

比阿特丽斯说:“啊,那个我看她根本不在乎。”就在前夜,迈克西姆说过同样的话。真奇怪,两人的看法怎么会不谋而合?我本以为惹得丹弗斯太太不高兴的除去旁人的干预不可能还有别的因素。

比阿特丽斯告诉我:“我敢说,过一段时间她会变得好些,不过在一开头的时候她会让你不得安生。这个人妒忌心重得要命。这一点我是料到的。”

我抬头看着她问道:“为什么?她有什么好妒忌的呢?迈克西姆好像并不特别宠她。”

“我的好孩子,她的意中人并不是迈克西姆,”比阿特丽斯说。“对于他,丹弗斯太太只有尊敬或类似尊敬的感情,不会再有别的什么了。”

她说到这儿顿了一下,微微皱着眉头,没有把握地看着我。接着,她又说道:“不。你知道,是这么回事,她讨厌你到这儿来,事情的麻烦就在于此。”

“为什么?”我问。“她为什么讨厌我?”

“我还以为你知道呢,”比阿特丽斯说。“我想迈克西姆肯定跟你说起过。她对吕蓓卡崇拜得五体投地。”“噢,我明白了。”

我俩还是不住地抚摸着杰斯珀。小狗难得受到这般宠爱,一个翻身,肚子朝天,大喜过望。

“男人们过来了,”比阿特丽斯说。“搬几张椅子出来,到栗子树下去坐一坐。贾尔斯怎么胖成这个样子?站在迈克西姆旁边一比,简直叫人作呕。我看弗兰克这就得回办事处去。这人无聊得很,从来说不出一句有意思的话。嗨,你们大家在谈些什么?又在谈论世道不良,人心险恶吧?”她边说边笑,男人们朝我们走来,最后大家都站定了。贾尔斯扔出一段细树枝让杰斯珀去衔回来,大家都看着狗的动作。

克劳利先生看看手表说:“我得走了。德温特夫人,非常感谢您招待我午餐。”

我与他握握手说:“今后得常来啊!”

我不知道其他人是不是也准备走了。他们是仅仅来吃顿中饭,还是来玩一整天的。我希望他们也快点告辞,好让我跟迈克西姆单独呆在一起,就像在意大利时一样。

大家到栗子树下坐定,椅子和毛毯是罗伯特送来的。贾尔斯仰天躺着,帽子歪在头上遮住眼睛,不大一会儿就打起呼噜来。

“闭上嘴,贾尔斯!”比阿特丽斯叫了一声。贾尔斯睁开眼睛,咕哝着说“我又没睡着”,完了马上又闹起眼睛。我觉得他毫无吸引人的地方。比阿特丽斯为什么要嫁给他?总不至于爱上这样的人吧。兴许,此刻比阿特丽斯也正对我作同样的感想。我不时看到她那困惑而沉思的目光落在我身上,似乎正在问自己:“迈克西姆究竟看中她哪一点呢?”可同时她的目光又带着同情,没有一点不友善的意味。这会儿,姐弟俩正谈论老祖母。

“我们得去看看她老人家。”这是迈克西姆在说话。比阿特丽斯接着说:“可怜的老奶奶,她老糊涂了,吃东西的时候漏了一下巴。”

我偎着迈克西姆的手臂,。把下颌搁在他袖子上,听他们说话。他心不在焉地抚摸着我的手,一边照样跟比阿特丽斯谈天。

我暗暗想:“我对杰斯珀不也是这样?这会儿我傍着他简直就是他的杰斯珀。当他记起我在一边时,他就拍拍我,我也就高兴了,往他身边更挨紧些。他喜欢我与我喜欢杰斯珀真是一模一样。”

风停了,午后的宁静使人昏昏欲睡。草地刚经修剪,发出浓郁的新草香味,仿佛夏天已经来临。一只蜜蜂在贾尔斯头上嗡嗡打转,他挥着帽子驱赶它。杰斯珀跑下草坡,来到我们脚边,因为太热,伸着舌头。它扑通一声在我身边躺下,舔着自己的肚子,那对大眼睛露出抱愧的神情。太阳照耀着带竖框的窗子,把绿色的草坪和庭院都映进我的眼里。近处的烟囱,有淡淡的青烟袅袅飘起,我想他们大概已按惯例把藏书室的炉火点着了。

一只画眉在草地上飞过,落在餐厅窗外的木兰树上。我坐在草坪上能闻到淡淡的木兰花清香。一切都是那么安详,那么静谧。远远地,从下面的海湾外传来阵阵涛声。这会儿大概是退潮。

蜜蜂又飞来了,在我们头上嗡嗡打转,还不时停下品尝栗子花蜜。我想:“这就是我想象中并一直向往的曼陀丽的生活。”

我希望一直坐在这儿,不说话,也不必听人说话,把这一刻变成永恒的宝贵的记忆。此刻,大家都悠闲自得,像头顶嗡嗡作声的蜜蜂一样倦慵怠情。可是片刻之后,一切都不再是原样。接着就是明天的到来,后来的到来,如此日复一日,积累成整整一个年头。我们这些人也会随着光阴的流逝发生变化,不可能再同此刻完全一样,坐在这儿休息。我们中可能有人离此他去,有人可能命途多舛,有人可能与世长逝。未来,那未知的、不能预见的未来,就在我们面前,也许与我们所希望所规划的完全不同。不过,这一刻的幸福是稳当无虞的,不会受到损害。迈克西姆和我二人此刻手执着手坐在这儿,无论过去或未来与我们毫不相干。这一刻是可靠的。可就是这么微不足道的一小段时间,日后他再也不会回忆起,甚至连想也不去想。他丝毫不会觉得这一刻有什么神圣之处。你看他不是正在大谈要把车道上的树丛砍掉一些吗。比阿特丽斯表示赞同,还提出自己的想法。她打断他的话头,并把草块向贾尔斯扔去。对他们说来,这一刻与其他日子的任何时刻没什么两样,只不过是一个普通的午后,三点一刻。他们同我不一样,并不想把这一刻的记忆牢牢保存在心间,这是因为他们不受恐惧的折磨。

“看来我们得走啦,”比阿特丽斯掸去裙上的草说。“我们请了卡特赖特夫妇来吃饭,迟回去可不好。”

“老维拉好吗?”迈克西姆问。

“还是老样子,总是说身体不好。她丈夫也老多了。两人肯定都会问起你们二位。”

“那就代我问个好,”迈克西姆说。

大家站起身来,贾尔斯抖掉帽子上的尘土。迈克西姆打了个哈欠,伸伸懒腰。太阳钻进了云层。我抬头望望天空,这才发现天色已经变得十分灰暗,空中鱼鳞状的云块,一层一层飞也似地集拢来。

迈克西姆说:“又起风了。”

贾尔斯接着说:“但愿别碰上雨才好。”

比阿特丽斯也说:“看来天要变坏。”

我们漫步朝着车道和停在那里的汽车走去。

迈克西姆说:“你们还没看看经过装修的东厢房间。”我接着提议:“上楼看看吧,反正不花多少时间。”

我们一道走进厅堂,登上大楼梯,男人跟在我们后面。

比阿特丽斯曾在这儿住过多年,姑娘时代曾沿着这些楼梯跑上跑下,想到这些,很有意思。她出生在这里,又在这儿长大成人,她了解这儿的一切,比起我来,不论什么时候,她总是更有资格做这儿的主人。在她的心底一定珍藏着许多对往事的回忆。我不知道她是否曾想起逝去的岁月,想起自己幼时的形象:一个扎着长辫子的女孩,与今天的她——一位四十五岁、精力充沛、性格定型的太太——完全不一样。

我们来到东厢的那些房间,贾尔斯在低矮的进门处不得不弯下腰来。他说:“啊,真有趣!这样一改装好多了。是吗,比?”比阿特丽斯对迈克西姆说:“依我说,老弟,你倒真会花钱。新窗帷、新床,样样都是新的!贾尔斯,记得吗?上一回你腿坏了,起不来,我们就住在这个房间里。那时候这房间简直一塌糊涂。不错,妈根本不懂怎样享福。另外,迈克西姆,过去从不在这儿安顿客人的,对吗?除非客人太多,房间不够用,才把一些单身汉安顿到这儿来。啊,房间布置得挺美。窗外是玫瑰园,这始终是这个房间的一大优点。让我搽点粉好吗?”

男人们下楼去了。比阿特丽斯望着镜子对我说:“这一切都是丹弗斯那老婆子替你们料理的?”

“是的,”我说。“我觉得她干得很出色。”

“受过她那种训练的人,这点事情肯定能办好,”比阿特丽斯说。“就不知道得花多少钱。我看总得花上一大笔。你问过吗?”

“没有。我不问的,”我说。

“钱花得再多,丹弗斯太太也决不心痛,让我用用你的梳子好吗?多漂亮的发刷!结婚礼物吗?”

“迈克西姆给我买的。”

“嗯,我挺喜欢。对啦,我们总得送你点什么。你喜欢什么东西?”

“啊,我说不上来,请不必费心,”我说。

“亲爱的,别说傻话。尽管你们没邀请我们参加婚礼,我也决不会吝啬到不肯送礼的程度!”

“你可千万别见怪,在国外结婚是迈克西姆的主意。”

“我当然不见怪。你俩这样做很有见识。毕竟这不像……”她说到一半,突然打住,把手提包掉在地上。“见鬼,没把搭扣跌碎吧?啊,还好,没碎。我刚才说什么来着?我记不起来了。噢,对了,在说结婚礼物。得想出个好主意。你不太喜欢珠宝首饰吧?”我没有回答。

她接着说:“这同一般的年轻夫妻多不一样!前几天一个朋友的女儿结婚,还不是那老一套,送衬衣、咖啡用具、餐厅座椅之类的东西。我送了盏很漂亮的烛台式电灯,是在哈罗德百货公司买的,花了五英镑。你要是到伦敦去添置衣服,务必去找我的女裁缝卡罗克斯太太。此人很有审美力,而且不会乱敲竹杠。”

她从梳妆台旁站起身,拉拉裙子问我:“你看会有很多客人来吗?”

“不知道。迈克西姆还没有谈起过。”

“真是个怪人,谁也猜不透他。一度,曼陀丽老是挤得水泄不通,甭想找张空床位。我怎么也不能想象你……”她突兀地打住,拍拍我的手臂,接着又说:“啊,以后再看吧。真遗憾,你既不骑马,又不打猎,这样就会损失好多玩乐的机会。你总不会爱驾艇出海吧?”

“不,”我说。

“感谢上帝。”

她朝门口走去,我跟着她穿过走廊。

她说:“什么时候愿意,就来看看我们。我总是希望别人不邀自来,生命是短促的,哪有那么多时间成天向人发请帖。”

“谢谢你的好意,”我说。

我们来到俯瞰着大厅的楼梯口。迈克西姆他们正站在门外的台阶上。贾尔斯喊道:“快来,比,我身上已滴着一点雨水,我们把车子的遮雨蓬打开了。迈克西姆说,晴雨表标志着有雨。”

比阿特丽斯执着我的手,弯下身,匆匆在我脸上吻一下。她说:“再见,要是我向你提了一些无礼的问题,说了一些不该说的话,那末请原谅吧。我这个人实在不懂什么叫圆滑,这一点迈克西姆会告诉你的。再说一遍,你完全不是我想象中的模样。”她直视着我,嘟起嘴吹了一声口哨,接着从手提包里取出一支香烟,点着了打火机。

“你知道。”她啪地一声关上打火机,边走下楼梯边说,“你跟吕蓓卡多么不一样!”

我们一起走到台阶上,这时太阳已经钻进云层,开始下起蒙蒙细雨。罗伯特正匆匆走过草坪,去把椅子搬回来




Chapter nine
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j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-02-24#59
Chapter nine

When I heard the sound of the car in the drive I got up in sudden panic, glancing at the clock, for I knew that it meant Beatrice and her husband had arrived. It was only just gone twelve; they were much earlier than I expected. And Maxim was not yet back. I wondered if it would be possible to hide, to get out of the window, into the garden so that Frith, bringing them to the morning-room, would say, 'Madam must have gone out, ' and it would seem quite natural, they would take it as a matter of course. The dogs looked up inquiringly as I ran to the window, and Jasper followed me, wagging his tail. The window opened out on to the terrace and the little grass clearing beyond, but as I prepared to brush past the rhododendrons the sound of voices came close, and I backed again into the room. They were coming to the house by way of the garden, Frith having told them doubtless that I was in the morning-room. I went quickly into the big drawing-room, and made for a door near me on the left. It led into a long stone passage, and I ran along it, fully aware of my stupidity, despising myself for this sudden attack of nerves, but I knew I could not face these people, not for a moment anyway. The passage seemed to be taking me to the back regions, and as I turned a corner, coming upon another staircase, I met a servant I had not seen before, a scullery-maid perhaps; she carried a mop and pail in her hands. She stared at me in wonder, as though I were a vision, unexpected in this part of the house, and 'Good morning, ' I said, in great confusion, making for the stairway, and 'Good morning, Madam, ' she returned, her mouth open, her round eyes inquisitive as I climbed the stairs. They would lead me, I supposed, to the bedrooms, and I could find my suite in the east wing, and sit up there a little while, until I judged it nearly time for lunch, when good manners would compel me to come down again. I must have lost my bearings, for passing through a door at the head of the stairs I came to a long corridor that I had not seen before, similar in some ways to the one in the east wing, but broader and darker - dark owing to the panelling of the walls. I hesitated, then turned left, coming upon a broad landing and another staircase. It was very quiet and dark. No one was about. If there had been housemaids here, during the morning, they had finished their work by now and gone downstairs. There was no trace of their presence, no lingering dust smell of carpets lately swept, and I thought, as I stood there, wondering which way to turn, that the silence was unusual, holding something of the same oppression as an empty house does, when the owners have gone away. I opened a door at hazard, and found a room in total darkness, no chink of light coming through the closed shutters, while I could see dimly, in the centre of the room, the outline of furniture swathed in white dust-sheets. The room smelt close and stale, the smell of a room seldom if ever used, whose ornaments are herded together in the centre of a bed and left there, covered with a sheet.

It might be too that the curtain had not been drawn from the window since some preceding summer, and if one crossed there now and pulled them aside, opening the creaking shutters, a dead moth who had been imprisoned behind them for many months would fall to the carpet and lie there, beside a forgotten pin, and a dried leaf blown there before the windows were closed for the last time. I shut the door softly, and went uncertainly along the corridor, flanked on either side by doors, all of them closed, until I came to a little alcove, set in an outside wall, where a broad window gave me light at last. I looked out, and I saw below me the smooth grass lawns stretching to the sea, and the sea itself, bright green with white-tipped crests, whipped by a westerly wind and scudding from the shore. It was closer than I had thought, much closer; it ran, surely, beneath that little knot of trees below the lawns, barely five minutes away, and if I listened now, my ear to the window, I could hear the surf breaking on the shores of some little bay I could not see. I knew then I had made the circuit of the house, and was standing in the corridor of the west wing. Yes, Mrs Danvers was right. You could hear the sea from here. You might imagine, in the winter, it would creep up on to those green lawns and threaten the house itself, for even now, because of the high wind, there was a mist upon the window-glass, as though someone had breathed upon it. A mist salt-laden, borne upwards from the sea. A hurrying cloud hid the sun for a moment as I watched, and the sea changed colour instantly, becoming black, and the white crests with them very pitiless suddenly, and cruel, not the gay sparkling sea I had looked on first. Somehow I was glad my rooms were in the east wing. I preferred the rose-garden, after all, to the sound of the sea. I went back to the landing then, at the head of the stairs, and as I prepared to go down, one hand upon the banister, I heard the door behind me open, and it was Mrs Danvers. We stared at one another for a moment without speaking, and I could not be certain whether it was anger I read in her eyes or curiosity, for her face became a mask directly she saw me.

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Although she said nothing I felt guilty and ashamed, as though I had been caught trespassing, and I felt the tell-tale colour come up into my face. 'I lost my way, ' I said, 'I was trying to find my room. ' 'You have come to the opposite side of the house, ' she said; 'this is the west wing. ' 'Yes, I know, ' I said. 'Did you go into any of the rooms?' she asked me. 'No, ' I said. 'No, I just opened a door, I did not go in. Everything was dark, covered up in dust-sheets. I'm sorry. I did not mean to disturb anything. I expect you like to keep all this shut up. ' 'If you wish to open up the rooms I will have it done, ' she said; 'you have only to tell me. The rooms are all furnished, and can be used. ' 'Oh, no, ' I said. 'No. I did not mean you to think that. ' 'Perhaps you would like me to show you all over the west wing?' she said. I shook my head. 'No, I'd rather not, ' I said. 'No, I must go downstairs. ' I began to walk down the stairs, and she came with me, by my side, as though she were a warder, and I in custody. 'Any time, when you have nothing to do, you have only to ask me, and I will show you the rooms in the west wing, ' she persisted, making me vaguely uncomfortable. I knew not why. Her insistence struck a chord in my memory, reminding me of a visit to a friend's house, as a child, when the daughter of the house, older than me, took my arm and whispered in my ear, 'I know where there is a book, locked in a cupboard, in my mother's bedroom. Shall we go and look at it?' I remembered her white, excited face, and her small, beady eyes, and the way she kept pinching my arm. 'I will have the dust-sheets removed, and then you can see the rooms as they looked when they were used, ' said Mrs Danvers. 'I would have shown you this morning, but I believed you to be writing letters in the morning-room. You have only to telephone through to my room, you know, when you want me. It would only take a short while to have the rooms in readiness. ' We had come down the short flight of stairs, and she opened another door, standing aside for me to pass through, her dark eyes questing my face. 'It's very kind of you, Mrs Danvers, ' I said. 'I will let you know some time. ' We passed out together on to the landing beyond, and I saw we were at the head of the main staircase now, behind the minstrel's gallery. 'I wonder how you came to miss your way?' she said, 'the door through the west wing is very different to this. ' 'I did not come this way, ' I said. 'Then you must have come up the back way, from the stone passage?' she said. 'Yes, ' I said, not meeting her eyes. 'Yes, I came through a stone passage. '

She went on looking at me, as though she expected me to tell her why I left the morning-room in sudden panic, going through the back regions, and I felt suddenly that she knew, that she must have watched me, that she had seen me wandering perhaps in that west wing from the first, her eye to a crack in the door. 'Mrs Lacy, and Major Lacy, have been here some time, ' she said. 'I heard their car drive up shortly after twelve. ' 'Oh!' I said. 'I had not realized that. ' 'Frith will have taken them to the morning-room, ' she said: 'it must be getting on for half past twelve. You know your way now, don't you?' 'Yes, Mrs Danvers, ' I said. And I went down the big stairway into the hall, knowing she was standing there above me, her eyes watching me. I knew I must go back now, to the morning-room, and meet Maxim's sister and her husband. I could not hide in my bedroom now. As I went into the drawing-room I glanced back, over my shoulder, and I saw Mrs Danvers still standing there at the head of the stairs, like a black sentinel. I stood for a moment outside the morning-room, with my hand on the door, listening to the hum of voices. Maxim had returned, then, while I had been upstairs, bringing his agent with him I supposed, for it sounded to me as if the room was full of people. I was aware of the same feeling of sick uncertainty I had experienced so often as a child, when summoned to shake hands with visitors, and turning the handle of the door I blundered in, to be met at once, it seemed, with a sea of faces and a general silence. 'Here she is at last, ' said Maxim. 'Where have you been hiding? We were thinking of sending out a search party.

Here is Beatrice, and this is Giles, and this is Frank Crawley. Look out, you nearly trod on the dog. ' Beatrice was tall, broad-shouldered, very handsome, very much like Maxim about the eyes and jaw, but not as smart as I had expected, much tweedier; the sort of person who would nurse dogs through distemper, know about horses, shoot well. She did not kiss me. She shook hands very firmly, looking me straight in the eyes, and then turned to Maxim. 'Quite different from what I expected. Doesn't answer to your description at all. ' Everyone laughed, and I joined in, not quite certain if the laugh was against me or not, wondering secretly what it was she had expected, and what had been Maxim's description. And 'This is Giles, ' said Maxim, prodding my arm, and Giles stretched out an enormous paw and wrung my hand, squeezing the fingers limp, genial eyes smiling from behind horn-rimmed glasses. 'Frank Crawley, ' said Maxim, and I turned to the agent, a colourless, rather thin man with a prominent Adam's apple, in whose eyes I read relief as he looked upon me. I wondered why, but I had no time to think of that, because Frith had come in, and was offering me sherry, and Beatrice was talking to me again. 'Maxim tells me you only got back last night. I had not realized that, or of course we would never have thrust ourselves upon you so soon. Well, what do you think of Manderley?' 'I've scarcely seen anything of it yet, ' I answered; 'it's beautiful, of course. ' She was looking me up and down, as I had expected, but in a direct, straightforward fashion, not maliciously like Mrs Danvers, not with unfriendliness. She had a right to judge me, she was Maxim's sister, and Maxim himself came to my side now, putting his arm through mine, giving me confidence. 'You're looking better, old man, ' she said to him, her head on one side, considering him; 'you've lost that fine-drawn look, thank goodness. I suppose we've got you to thank for that?' nodding at me. 'I'm always very fit, ' said Maxim shortly, 'never had anything wrong with me in my life. You imagine everyone ill who doesn't look as fat as Giles. ' 'Bosh, ' said Beatrice; 'you know perfectly well you were a perfect wreck six months ago. Gave me the fright of my life when I came and saw you.

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I thought you were in for a breakdown. Giles, bear me out. Didn't Maxim look perfectly ghastly last time we came over, and didn't I say he was heading for a breakdown?' 'Well, I must say, old chap, you're looking a different person, ' said Giles. 'Very good thing you went away. Doesn't he look well, Crawley?' I could tell by the tightening of Maxim's muscles under my arm that he was trying to keep his temper. For some reason this talk about his health was not welcome to him, angered him even, and I thought it tactless of Beatrice to harp upon it in this way, making so big a point of it. 'Maxim's very sunburnt, ' I said shyly; 'it hides a multitude of sins. You should have seen him in Venice having breakfast on the balcony, trying to get brown on purpose. He thinks it makes him better-looking. ' Everyone laughed, and Mr Crawley said, 'It must have been wonderful in Venice, Mrs de Winter, this time of year, ' and 'Yes, ' I said, 'we had really wonderful weather. Only one bad day, wasn't it, Maxim?' the conversation drawing away happily from his health, and so to Italy, safest of subjects, and the blessed topic of fine weather. Conversation was easy now, no longer an effort. Maxim and Giles and Beatrice were discussing the running of Maxim's car, and Mr Crawley was asking if it were true that there were no more gondolas in the canals now, only motor-boats. I don't think he would have cared at all had there been steamers at anchor in the Grand Canal, he was saying this to help me, it was his contribution to the little effort of steering the talk away from Maxim's health, and I was grateful to him, feeling him an ally, for all his dull appearance. 'Jasper wants exercise, ' said Beatrice, stirring the dog with her foot; 'he's getting much too fat, and he's barely two years old. What do you feed him on, Maxim?' 'My dear Beatrice, he has exactly the same routine as your dogs, ' said Maxim. 'Don't show off and make out you know more about animals than I do. ' 'Dear old boy, how can you pretend to know what Jasper has been fed on when you've been away for a couple of months? Don't tell me Frith walks to the lodge gates with him twice a day. This dog hasn't had a run for weeks. I can tell by the condition of his coat. ' 'I'd rather he looked colossal than half-starved like that halfwit dog of yours, ' said Maxim. 'Not a very intelligent remark when Lion won two firsts at Cruft's last February, ' said Beatrice.

The atmosphere was becoming rather strained again, I could tell by the narrow lines of Maxim's mouth, and I wondered if brothers and sisters always sparred like this, making it uncomfortable for those who listened. I wished that Frith would come in and announce lunch. Or would we be summoned by a booming gong? I did not know what happened at Manderley. 'How far away from us are you?' I asked, sitting down by Beatrice; 'did you have to make a very early start?' 'We're fifty miles away, my dear, in the next county, the other side of Trowchester. The hunting is so much better with us. You must come over and stay, when Maxim can spare you. Giles will mount you. ' 'I'm afraid I don't hunt, ' I confessed. 'I learnt to ride, as a child, but very feebly; I don't remember much about it. ' 'You must take it up again, ' she said. 'You can't possibly live in the country and not ride: you wouldn't know what to do with yourself. Maxim says you paint. That's very nice, of course, but there's no exercise in it, is there? All very well on a wet day when there's nothing better to do. ' 'My dear Beatrice, we are not all such fresh-air fiends as you, ' said Maxim. 'I wasn't talking to you, old boy. We all know you are perfectly happy slopping about the Manderley gardens and never breaking out of a slow walk. ' 'I'm very fond of walking too, ' I said swiftly. 'I'm sure I shall never get tired of rambling about Manderley. And I can bathe too, when it's warmer. ' 'My dear, you are an optimist, ' said Beatrice. 'I can hardly ever remember bathing here. The water is far too cold, and the beach is shingle. ' 'I don't mind that, ' I said. 'I love bathing. As long as the currents are not too strong. Is the bathing safe in the bay?' Nobody answered, and I realized suddenly what I had said. My heart thumped, and I felt my cheeks go flaming red. I bent down to stroke Jasper's ear, in an agony of confusion. 'Jasper could do with a swim, and get some of that fat off, ' said Beatrice, breaking the pause, 'but he'd find it a bit too much for him in the bay, wouldn't you, Jasper? Good old Jasper. Nice old man. ' We patted the dog together, not looking at one another. 'I say, I'm getting infernally hungry.

What on earth is happening to lunch?' said Maxim. 'It's only just on one now, ' said Mr Crawley, 'according to the clock on the mantelpiece. ' "That clock was always fast, ' said Beatrice. 'It's kept perfect time now for months, ' said Maxim. At that moment the door opened and Frith announced that luncheon was served. 'I say, I must have a wash, ' said Giles, looking at his hands. We all got up and wandered through the drawing-room to the hall in great relief, Beatrice and I a little ahead of the men, she taking my arm. 'Dear old Frith, ' she said, 'he always looks exactly the same, and makes me feel like a girl again. You know, don't mind me saying so, but you are even younger than I expected. Maxim told me your age, but you're an absolute child. Tell me, are you very much in love with him?' I was not prepared for this question, and she must have seen the surprise in my face, for she laughed lightly, and squeezed my arm. 'Don't answer, ' she said. 'I can see what you feel. I'm an interfering bore, aren't I? You mustn't mind me. I'm devoted to Maxim, you know, though we always bicker like cat and dog when we meet. I congratulate you again on his looks. We were all very worried about him this time last year, but of course you know the whole story. ' We had come to the dining-room by now, and she said no more, for the servants were there and the others had joined us, but as I sat down, and unfolded my napkin, I wondered what Beatrice would say did she realize that I knew nothing of that preceding year, no details of the tragedy that had happened down there, in the bay, that Maxim kept these things to himself, that I questioned him never. Lunch passed off better than I had dared to hope. There were few arguments, or perhaps Beatrice was exercising tact at last; at any rate she and Maxim chatted about matters concerning Manderley, her horses, the garden, mutual friends, and Frank Crawley, on my left, kept up an easy patter with me for which I was grateful, as it required no effort. Giles was more concerned with food than with the conversation, though now and again he remembered my existence and flung me a remark at hazard. 'Same cook I suppose, Maxim?' he said, when Robert had offered him the cold souffl for the second time. 'I always tell Bee, Manderley's the only place left in England where one can get decent cooking. I remember this souffl of old. ' 'I think we change cooks periodically, ' said Maxim, 'but the standard of cooking remains the same.

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Mrs Danvers has all the recipes, she tells them what to do. ' 'Amazing woman, that Mrs Danvers, ' said Giles, turning to me; 'don't you think so?' 'She's no oil painting though, is she?' said Giles, and he roared with laughter. Frank Crawley said nothing, and looking up I saw Beatrice was watching me. She turned away then, and began talking to Maxim. 'Do you play golf at all, Mrs de Winter?' said Mr Crawley. 'No, I'm afraid I don't, ' I answered, glad that the subject had been changed again, that Mrs Danvers was forgotten, and even though I was no player, knew nothing of the game, I was prepared to listen to him as long as he pleased; there was something solid and safe and dull about golf, it could not bring us into any difficulties. We had cheese, and coffee, and I wondered whether I was supposed to make a move. I kept looking at Maxim, but he gave no sign, and then Giles embarked upon a story, rather difficult to follow, about digging a car out of a snow-drift - what had started the train of thought I could not tell - and I listened to him politely, nodding my head now and again and smiling, aware of Maxim becoming restive at his end of the table. At last he paused, and I caught Maxim's eye. He frowned very slightly and jerked his head towards the door. I got up at once, shaking the table clumsily as I moved my chair, and upsetting Giles's glass of port. 'Oh, dear, ' I said, hovering, wondering what to do, reaching ineffectively for my napkin, but 'All right, Frith will deal with it, ' said Maxim, 'don't add to the confusion. Beatrice, take her out in the garden; she's scarcely seen the place yet. ' He looked tired, rather jaded. I began to wish none of them had come. They had spoilt our day anyway. It was too much of an effort, just as we returned. I felt tired too, tired and depressed. Maxim had seemed almost irritable when he suggested we should go into the garden. What a fool I had been, upsetting that glass of port. We went out on to the terrace and walked down on to the smooth green lawns. 'I think it's a pity you came back to Manderley so soon, ' said Beatrice, 'it would have been far better to potter about in Italy for three or four months, and then come back in the middle of the summer. Done Maxim a power of good too, besides being easier from your point of view. I can't help feeling it's going to be rather a strain here for you at first. ' 'Oh, I don't think so, ' I said. 'I know I shall come to love Manderley. '

She did not answer, and we strolled backwards and forwards on the lawns. 'Tell me a bit about yourself, ' she said at last; 'what was it you were doing in the south of France? Living with some appalling American woman, Maxim said. ' I explained about Mrs Van Hopper, and what had led to it, and she seemed sympathetic but a little vague, as though she was thinking of something else. 'Yes, ' she said, when I paused, 'it all happened very suddenly, as you say. But of course we were all delighted, my dear, and I do hope you will be happy. ' "Thank you, Beatrice, ' I said, 'thank you very much. ' I wondered why she said she hoped we would be happy, instead of saying she knew we would be so. She was kind, she was sincere, I liked her very much, but there was a tiny doubt in her voice that made me afraid. 'When Maxim wrote and told me, ' she went on, taking my arm, 'and said he had discovered you in the south of France, and you were very young, very pretty, I must admit it gave me a bit of a shock. Of course we all expected a social butterfly, very modern and plastered with paint, the sort of girl you expected to meet in those sort of places. When you came into the morning-room before lunch you could have knocked me down with a feather. ' She laughed, and I laughed with her. But she did not say whether or not she was disappointed in my appearance or relieved. 'Poor Maxim, ' she said: 'he went through a ghastly time, and let's hope you have made him forget about it. Of course he adores Manderley. ' Part of me wanted her to continue her train of thought, to tell me more of the past, naturally and easily like this, and something else, way back in my mind, did not want to know, did not want to hear. 'We are not a bit alike, you know, ' she said, 'our characters are poles apart. I show everything on my face: whether I like people or not, whether I am angry or pleased. There's no reserve about me. Maxim is entirely different. Very quiet, very reserved. You never know what's going on in that funny mind of his. I lose my temper on the slightest provocation, flare up, and then it's all over. Maxim loses his temper once or twice in a year, and when he does - my God - he does lose it. I don't suppose he ever will with you, I should think you are a placid little thing. ' She smiled, and pinched my arm, and I thought about being placid, how quiet and comfortable it sounded, someone with knitting on her lap, with calm unruffled brow.

Someone who was never anxious, never tortured by doubt and indecision, someone who never stood as I did, hopeful, eager, frightened, tearing at bitten nails, uncertain which way to go, what star to follow. 'You won't mind me saying so, will you?' she went on, 'but I think you ought to do something to your hair. Why don't you have it waved? It's so very lanky, isn't it, like that? Must look awful under a hat. Why don't you sweep it back behind your ears?' I did so obediently, and waited for her approval. She looked at me critically, her head on one side. 'No, ' she said. 'No, I think that's worse. It's too severe, and doesn't suit you. No, all you need is a wave, just to pinch it up. I never have cared for that Joan of Arc business or whatever they call it. What does Maxim say? Does he think it suits you?' 'I don't know, ' I said, 'he's never mentioned it. ' 'Oh well, ' she said, 'perhaps he likes it. Don't go by me. Tell me, did you get any clothes in London or Paris?' 'No, ' I said, 'we had no time. Maxim was anxious to get home. And I can always send for catalogues. ' 'I can tell by the way you dress that you don't care a hoot what you wear, ' she said. I glanced at my flannel skirt apologetically. 'I do, ' I said. 'I'm very fond of nice things. I've never had much money to spend on clothes up to now. ' 'I wonder Maxim did not stay a week or so in London and get you something decent to wear, ' she said. 'I must say, I think it's rather selfish of him. So unlike him too. He's generally so particular. ' 'Is he?' I said; 'he's never seemed particular to me. I don't think he notices what I wear at all. I don't think he minds. ' 'Oh, ' she said. 'Oh, well, he must have changed then. ' She looked away from me, and whistled to Jasper, her hands in her pockets, and then stared up at the house above us. 'You're not using the west wing then, ' she said. 'No, ' I said. 'No, we have the suite in the east wing. It's all been done up. ' 'Has it?' she said. 'I didn't know that. I wonder why. ' 'It was Maxim's idea, ' I said, 'he seems to prefer it. I She said nothing, she went on looking at the windows, and whistling. 'How do you get on with Mrs Danvers?' she said suddenly. I bent down, and began patting Jasper's head, and stroking his ears. 'I have not seen very much of her, ' I said; 'she scares me a little.

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I've never seen anyone quite like her before. ' 'I don't suppose you have, ' said Beatrice. Jasper looked up at me with great eyes, humble, rather self-conscious. I kissed the top of his silken head, and put my hand over his black nose. 'There's no need to be frightened of her, ' said Beatrice; 'and don't let her see it, whatever you do. Of course I've never had anything to do with her, and I don't think I ever want to either. However, she's always been very civil to me. ' I went on patting Jasper's head. 'Did she seem friendly?' said Beatrice. 'No, ' I said. 'No, not very. ' Beatrice began whistling again, and she rubbed Jasper's head with her foot. 'I shouldn't have more to do with her than you can help, ' she said. 'No, ' I said. 'She runs the house very efficiently, there's no need for me to interfere. ', 'Oh, I don't suppose she'd mind that, ' said Beatrice. That was what Maxim had said, the evening before, and I thought it odd that they should both have the same opinion. I should have imagined that interference was the one thing Mrs Danvers did not want. 'I dare say she will get over it in time, ' said Beatrice, 'but it may make things rather unpleasant for you at first. Of course she's insanely jealous. I was afraid she would be. ' 'Why?' I asked, looking up at her, 'why should she be jealous? Maxim does not seem to be particularly fond of her. ' 'My dear child, it's not Maxim she's thinking of, ' said Beatrice; 'I think she respects him and all that, but nothing more very much. 'No, you see, ' - she paused, frowning a little, looking at me uncertainly - 'she resents your being here at all, that's the trouble. ' 'Why?' I said, 'why should she resent me?' 'I thought you knew, ' said Beatrice; 'I thought Maxim would have told you. She simply adored Rebecca. ' 'Oh, ' I said. 'Oh, I see. ' We both went on patting and stroking Jasper, who, unaccustomed to such attention, rolled over on his back in ecstasy. 'Here are the men, ' said Beatrice, 'let's have some chairs out and sit under the chestnut. How fat Giles is getting, he looks quite repulsive beside Maxim. I suppose Frank will go back to the office. What a dull creature he is, never has anything interesting to say. Well, all of you. What have you been discussing? Pulling the world to bits, I suppose. ' She laughed, and the others strolled towards us, and we stood about. Giles threw a twig for Jasper to retrieve. We all looked at Jasper. Mr Crawley looked at his watch. 'I must be off, ' he said; 'thank you very much for lunch, Mrs de Winter, ' 'You must come often, ' I said, shaking hands.

I wondered if the others would go too. I was not sure whether they had just come over for lunch or to spend the day. I hoped they would go. I wanted to be alone with Maxim again, and that it would be like we were in Italy. We all went and sat down under the chestnut tree. Robert brought out chairs and rugs. Giles lay down on his back and tipped his hat over his eyes. After a while he began to snore, his mouth open. 'Shut up, Giles, ' said Beatrice. 'I'm not asleep, ' he muttered, opening his eyes, and shutting them again. I thought him unattractive. I wondered why Beatrice had married him. She could never have been in love with him. Perhaps that was what she was thinking about me. I caught her eye upon me now and again, puzzled, reflective, as though she was saying to herself 'What on earth does Maxim see in her?' but kind at the same time, not unfriendly. They were talking about their grandmother. 'We must go over and see the old lady, ' Maxim was saying, and 'She's getting gaga, ' said Beatrice, 'drops food all down her chin, poor darling. ' I listened to them both, leaning against Maxim's arm, rubbing my chin on his sleeve. He stroked my hand absently, not thinking, talking to Beatrice. 'That's what I do to Jasper, ' I thought. 'I'm being like Jasper now, leaning against him. He pats me now and again, when he remembers, and I'm pleased, I get closer to him for a moment. He likes me in the way I like Jasper. ' The wind had dropped. The afternoon was drowsy, peaceful. The grass had been new-mown; it smelt sweet and rich, like summer. A bee droned above Giles's head, and he flicked at it with his hat. Jasper sloped in to join us, too warm in the sun, his tongue lolling from his mouth. He flopped beside me, and began licking his side, his large eyes apologetic. The sun shone on the mullioned windows of the house, and I could see the green lawns and the terrace reflected in them. Smoke curled thinly from one of the near chimneys, and I wondered if the library fire had been lit, according to routine. A thrush flew across the lawn to the magnolia tree outside the dining-room window. I could smell the faint, soft magnolia scent as I sat here, on the lawn. Everything was quiet and still. Very distant now came the washing of the sea in the bay below. The tide must have gone out.

The bee droned over us again, pausing to taste the chestnut blossom above our heads. "This is what I always imagined, ' I thought, 'this is how I hoped it would be, living at Manderley. ' I wanted to go on sitting there, not talking, not listening to the others, keeping the moment precious for all time, because we were peaceful, all of us, we were content and drowsy even as the bee who droned above our heads. In a little while it would be different, there would come tomorrow, and the next day, and another year. And we would be changed perhaps, never sitting quite like this again. Some of us would go away, or suffer, or die; the future stretched away in front of us, unknown, unseen, not perhaps what we wanted, not what we planned. This moment was safe though, this could not be touched. Here we sat together, Maxim and I, hand-in-hand, and the past and the future mattered not at all. This was secure, this funny fragment of time he would never remember, never think about again. He would not hold it sacred; he was talking about cutting away some of the undergrowth in the drive, and Beatrice agreed, interrupting with some suggestion of her own, and throwing a piece of grass at Giles at the same time. For them it was just after lunch, quarter past three on a haphazard afternoon, like any hour, like any day. They did not want to hold it close, imprisoned and secure, as I did. They were not afraid. 'Well, I suppose we ought to be off, ' said Beatrice, brushing the grass from her skirt; 'I don't want to be late, we've got the Cartrights dining. ' 'How is old Vera?' asked Maxim. 'Oh, same as ever, always talking about her health. He's getting very old. They're sure to ask all about you both. ' 'Give them my love, ' said Maxim. We got up. Giles shook the dust off his hat. Maxim yawned and stretched. The sun went in. I looked up at the sky. It had changed already, a mackerel sky. Little clouds scurrying in formation, line upon line. 'Wind's backing, ' said Maxim. 'I hope we don't run into rain, ' said Giles. 'I'm afraid we've had the best of the day, ' said Beatrice. We wandered slowly towards the drive and the waiting car. 'You haven't seen what's been done to the east wing, ' said Maxim. 'Come upstairs, ' I suggested; 'it won't take a minute. ' We went into the hall, and up the big staircase, the men following behind. It seemed strange that Beatrice had lived here for so many years.

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She had run down these same stairs as a little girl, with her nurse. She had been born here, bred here; she knew it all, she belonged here more than I should ever do. She must have many memories locked inside her heart. I wondered if she ever thought about the days that were gone, ever remembered the lanky pig-tailed child that she had been once, so different from the woman she had become, forty-five now, vigorous and settled in her ways, another person ... We came to the rooms, and Giles, stooping under the low doorway, said, 'How very jolly; this is a great improvement, isn't it, Bee?' and 'I say, old boy, you have spread yourself, ' said Beatrice: 'new curtains, new beds, new everything. You remember, Giles, we had this room that time you were laid up with your leg? It was very dingy then. Of course Mother never had much idea of comfort. And then, you never put people here, did you, Maxim? Except when there was an overflow. The bachelors were always dumped here. Well, it's charming, I must say. Looks over the rose-garden too, which was always an advantage. May I powder my nose?' The men went downstairs, and Beatrice peered in the mirror. 'Did old Danvers do all this for you?' she said. 'Yes, ' I said. 'I think she's done it very well. ' 'So she should, with her training, ' said Beatrice. 'I wonder what on earth it cost. A pretty packet, I bet. Did you ask?' 'No, I'm afraid I did not, ' I said. 'I don't suppose it worried Mrs Danvers, ' said Beatrice. 'Do you mind if I use your comb? These are nice brushes. Wedding present?' 'Maxim gave them to me. ' 'H'm. I like them. We must give you something of course. What do you want?' 'Oh, I don't really know. You mustn't bother, ' I said. 'My dear, don't be absurd. I'm not one to grudge you a present, even though we weren't asked to your wedding!' 'I hope you did not mind about that. Maxim wanted it to be abroad. ' 'Of course not. Very sensible of you both. After all, it wasn't as though ... " she stopped in the middle of her sentence, and dropped her bag. 'Damn, have I broken the catch? No, all is well.

What was I saying? I can't remember. Oh, yes, wedding presents. We must think of something. You probably don't care for jewellery. ' I did not answer. 'It's so different from the ordinary young couple, ' she said. 'The daughter of a friend of mine got married the other day, and of course they were started off in the usual way, with linen, and coffee sets, and dining-room chairs, and all that. I gave rather a nice standard lamp. Cost me a fiver at Harrods. If you do go up to London to buy clothes mind you go to my woman, Madame Carroux. She has damn good taste, and she doesn't rook you. ' She got up from the dressing-table, and pulled at her skirt. 'Do you suppose you will have a lot of people down?' she said. 'I don't know. Maxim hasn't said. ' 'Funny old boy, one never quite knows with him. At one time one could not get a bed in the house, the place would be chock-a-block. I can't somehow see you ... ' she stopped abruptly, and patted my arm. 'Oh, well, ' she said, 'we'll see. It's a pity you don't ride or shoot, you miss such a lot. You don't sail by any chance, do you?' 'No, ' I said. 'Thank God for that, ' she said. She went to the door, and I followed her down the corridor. 'Come and see us if you feel like it, ' she said. 'I always expect people to ask themselves. Life is too short to send out invitations. ' 'Thank you very much, ' I said. We came to the head of the stairs looking down upon the hall. The men were standing on the steps outside. 'Come on, Bee, ' shouted Giles. 'I felt a spot of rain, so we've put on the cover. Maxim says the glass is falling. ' Beatrice took my hand, and bending down gave me a swift peck on my cheek. 'Goodbye, ' she said; 'forgive me if I've asked you a lot of rude questions, my dear, and said all sorts of things I shouldn't. Tact never was my strong point, as Maxim will tell you. And, as I told you before, you're not a bit what I expected. ' She looked at me direct, her lips pursed in a whistle, and then took a cigarette from her bag, and flashed her lighter. 'You see, ' she said, snapping the top, and walking down the stairs, 'you are so very different from Rebecca. ' And we came out on to the steps and found the sun had gone behind a bank of cloud, a little thin rain was falling, and Robert was hurrying across the lawn to bring in the chairs.

第10章

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[FONT=宋体]第10章

我们目送着比阿特丽斯他们的汽车驶去,直到它在车道弯角处消失。迈克西姆抓起我的手臂说;“感谢上帝,总算结束了。快去穿件衣服,再出来,这场该死的雨,我倒正想散步呢!老半天这么坐着实在受不了。”他脸色苍白,显得十分疲乏。我真不明白,接待自己的姐姐和姐夫竟要他花费这么许多气力。

“你等着,我上楼去穿件衣眼,”我回答道。

他不耐烦地说:“花房里有一大堆胶布雨衣,随便穿上一件得了。女人一进卧室,不拖上半个钟头就不肯出来。罗伯特,到花房去给德温特夫人拿件雨衣来。好吗?人们前前后后丢在那里的雨衣起码总有六七件。”说着,他已站在车道上,一边招呼杰斯珀:“过来,你这小懒鬼,走,去遛遛腿,跑掉点脂肪。”杰斯珀绕着他的脚跟打转,因为就要出发去溜达而激动得汪汪直叫。迈克西姆说:“住嘴,傻瓜!这个罗伯特,怎么磨蹭个没完?”

罗伯特抱着一件雨衣从屋子里奔出来。我匆匆把它套上,胡乱拉了拉领子。雨衣显然太大又太长,可是没时间再去换一件了。就这样,我们穿过草坪向林子走去,杰斯珀在前开路。

迈克西姆说:“我发现我们家虽然人不多,但在性格方面却是五花八门。比阿特丽斯是世界上最好的人,可她总是把事情弄糟。”

我不知道比阿特丽斯做错了什么事,再一想,最好还是别问。也许午饭前那场关于他健康状况的谈话直到此刻还使他耿耿于怀。

迈克西姆问我:“你对她印象如何?”

“我喜欢她,”我说。“她待我很好。”

“吃过中饭,她在外边跟你谈什么来着?”

“喔,这我可说不上来。好像主要都是我一个人在说话。我跟她谈起范-霍珀夫人,你我见面的经过,以及诸如此类的事情。她说我同她原先想象的大不一样。”

“她想象中的你究竟是什么样子?”

“我想,她以为我一定既漂亮又老练,用她的话来说,是个交际花。”

迈克西姆好一会儿没作声。他弯身扔出一段树枝,让杰斯珀去衔回。“比阿特丽斯有时候真是笨到极点,”他说。

我们登上草坪边上的草坡,钻进林子。树木长得很密,林子里十分幽暗。我们踏过断技残叶,不时还踩上刚刚露头的羊齿嫩绿的梗茎和行将开花的野风信子的新枝。此刻,杰斯珀已变得很老实,不住地用鼻子嗅着地面。我挽起迈克西姆的手臂。

“你喜欢我头发的样子吗?”我问。

他惊讶地低头凝视着我说:“你的头发?怎么会想到这上头去的?我当然喜欢。头发怎么啦?”

“没什么,”我说,“我只不过随口问一问。”

“你这人真怪!”他说。

我们来到林中的一片空地。这儿有两条方向恰好相反的小径。杰斯珀毫不犹豫地走上右手那条。

迈克西姆叫道:“别走那儿,回来,你这家伙。”

狗回过头来看看我们,不住地摇尾巴,可是照样站在原地,不肯跑回来。我问迈克西姆:“它干吗要走这条路?”

迈克西姆简短地说:“我想它大概是走惯了吧。打这儿过去是一个小海湾,以前我们一直有条船泊在那里。嗨,回来,杰斯珀!”

我俩不再说话,折入左手的小径。回过头去,我看见杰斯珀也跟着跑来了。

迈克西姆说:“这条路通向我曾跟你说起过的那个山谷,你马上就会闻到杜鹃花香。雨没什么关系,反而会使香味更浓一些。”

看来,这会儿他又恢复发了常态,神情轻松愉快。这才是我所了解并深爱着的迈克西姆。

他开始谈到总管事弗兰克-克劳利,说这个人怎么怎么好,多么周到,何其可靠,对曼陀丽确是赤胆忠心。

我想:“两人这样在一起多好,这才像在意大利度蜜月的那些日子。”我抬头朝他微笑,把他的手臂挽得更紧些。看到他脸上刚才那种反常的疲惫神态渐渐散去,我松了一口气。我一边应着“是的”,“真的吗”,“真想不到,亲爱的”等等,一边却又不由自主地想起比阿特丽斯。姐姐来访为什么使他不高兴呢?她做错了什么事?我还想到她关于迈克西姆的脾气的那些话,说什么他在一年里头总要发作一两次,等等。

当然,她是了解他的,毕竟是姐姐嘛!可她说的这些与我理想中的迈克西姆不是一回事。我能够想象他郁郁寡欢,跟人闹别扭的样子,也许有时脾气也很急躁;可我无法想象她话里所暗示的迈克西姆:金刚怒目,大发雷霆。也许她在夸张,人们对于自己亲人的看法往往是不正确的。

迈克西姆突然叫起来:“喂,看那边!”

我们正站在一座草木青葱的小山坡上,脚下小径蜿蜒,通向一个山谷,山谷边是一条潺潺的溪流。这儿没有黑压压的大树,也没有纷乱交错的矮树丛。小径两边是杜鹃和石南。这儿的石南花与车道上血红色的巨怪也不同,有的呈检红,有的呈白色和金黄,在蒙蒙夏雨之中低垂着婀娜娇柔的花穗,既秀美又优雅。

空气里洋溢着花香,其甜美熏人欲醉。我觉得鲜花的芬芳仿佛和潺潺的溪水融合在一起,同落地的雨滴以及我们脚下湿漉漉的茂盛的苦薛融成了一体。这儿除了小溪流水声和恬静的雨声,再没有别的声响。迈克西姆说话的时候,把声音压得很低,很轻,仿佛不想去打扰四下的宁静。

他告诉我:“我们把它叫做‘幸福谷’。”

我们默不作声地站着,观赏距我们最近的那些洁白的花朵。迈克西姆弯身捡起一片落地花瓣,塞在我手里。花瓣已经压碎,皱卷的边沿处开始变色,可是当我搓着手里的花瓣时,仍然闻到浓香,简直同长在树上那活生生的鲜花没什么两样。

接着,鸟儿开始啾鸣。起初是一只画眉,它的歌声清越而爽朗,在泪泪流水之上飘过。过了一会儿,藏在我们背后林子里的鸟儿应和着唱起来,四下的沉寂顿时化作一片嘈杂的鸟语。鸟儿的歌声尾随我们步入山谷;白色花瓣的清香一路伴着我们。这儿简直像个魔境,我不禁一怔。我没想到一切竟是如此之美……

天空乌云密布,十分阴沉,与午饭后的晴朗相经,大不一样。雨不住地下着,却丝毫不去惊扰山谷的静谧。雨声和溪水声交融在一起,而画眉那婉转的曲调在湿润的空气里回荡,与前面两者非常协调。我一路走去,身子擦过杜鹃往下渐沥滴水的花朵。杜鹃花沿着小径的边沿生长,成簇成团。小水滴从浸湿透了的花瓣里落在我手上。我的脚边也有不少花瓣,因浸泡多时已开始变色,可芳泽犹存,甚至变得更浓郁,同时却又不免带点陈腐。此外,还有多年苔藓的清香,泥土的苦涩味,羊齿梗和扭曲入地的树根的气息。我紧紧抓着迈克西姆的手,不敢出声。幸福谷的魔力把我整个儿摄住了。这儿才是曼陀丽的精随,我将熟识这个地方,并逐渐爱上它。站在这儿,我忘记了给我留下第一个印象的车道,忘记了黑糊糊的密林,和那色彩过于俗艳、姿态过于矜持、冲着你瞪眼的石南花。此外,我也忘了曼陀丽大宅,忘了那回响着脚步声的肃穆的大厅和蒙着罩单的哑寂的西侧厢房。在屋子里,我是个冒昧闯入的外人,在那些陌生的房间里来回浏览;我坐在那写字桌旁的椅子上,但桌椅都不归我所有。在这儿,情形完全两样,就幸福谷而论,无所谓冒昧闯入不闯入的问题。

我们走到小径的尽头,鲜花在我们头顶构成拱形,我们不得不弓着腰从下边钻过去。当我再次站直身子,抹去头发上的雨珠时,我发现幸福谷已同杜鹃花和树林一起被抛在后头。好几个星期前的一个下午,迈克西姆在蒙特卡洛曾对我描绘过这儿的景色。一点不错,我们此刻正站在一个狭小的海湾上,脚下是坚硬的白色圆卵石。再过去一点,流潮冲刷着海岸。

迈克西姆低头看着我脸上痴狂的表情,微微一笑。他说:“太美了,对吗?谁都没想到在这儿会突然见到大海。景色的骤变出人意料,甚至有点惊心动魄哩。”她拾起一块石子,丢到海滩那一头,让杰斯珀去追逐。小狗飞奔而去,它那黑色的长耳朵在风中啪啪扇动着。

于是,我俩不再痴狂出神,就好像魔法突然被解除了,我俩又变成在海滨嬉戏的普通凡人。我俩走到水边又扔出不少石片,看它们在水面上漂削而过;我们伸手到水里去捞取随波逐流的木片。涨潮了!波浪冲进海湾。小礁岩顿时被海水淹没,流潮带着水草,冲上岩石。我们捞起一块漂浮的木板,把它拖上岸,搁在满潮水标上方。迈克西姆大笑着向我转过身来,把技在眼睛处的头发掠上去。我卷起被海水打湿的胶布雨衣袖子。接着,我们回头四望,这才发现杰斯珀不见了。我们吆喝着,打着唿哨,可小狗还是没有出现。我焦急地朝海湾口子望去,只见潮水冲刷着礁岩。

迈克西姆说:“不会的,要是被海水卷走,我们肯定会看见的;它不会掉进大海。杰斯珀,你这个笨蛋,你在哪里?杰斯珀!杰斯珀!”

我说:“会不会它跑回幸福谷去了?”

刚才它还在那块礁岩旁边,嗅着一只死海鸥。”迈克西姆一路呼唤:“杰斯珀!杰斯珀!”

远远地,从海滩右边的礁石堆背后传来一声短促而凶恶的狗吠声。我对迈克西姆说:“听见吗?它从它儿翻越到那边去了。”说着,我便爬上那些滑溜溜的礁岩,朝狗吠方向赶去。

迈克西姆厉声喝住我:“回来!别朝那边走,这条笨狗,让它去吧!”

我站在礁岩上,往下张望,迟疑着说:“也许它摔下去了。可怜的小家伙,让我去把它带过来。”这时候,杰斯珀的吠声再次传来,不过,这回像是离得更远。我接着说:“啊,你听。我得把它叫回来,该不会有危险吧?潮水不会把它隔绝在那一边吧?”

迈克西姆暴躁地说:“它才不会出事呢!要你操什么心?它认得路,自己会跑回家去。”

我装作没听见,径自爬过礁岩,朝杰斯珀那边跑去。嶙峋的巨石遮住了视线。我在潮湿的礁岩上时而滑一下,时而绊一下,可还是尽快赶过去。我想,迈克西姆真忍心,竟扔下杰斯珀不管。这究竟是什么缘故?况且,这会儿正在涨潮。

我爬到那块遮住视线的巨石边,举目四望。我惊奇地发现脚下又是一个小海湾,与方才那个海湾很相似,只是略宽阔一些,环形的海岸线也比较整齐。海湾里横贯着一道防波石堤,防波堤里边,海湾便形成一个天然的小埠头。那里有一只浮筒,但没有船泊。这儿的海滩,同我背后的海滩一样,也全是白色的圆卵石,但这儿的滩头更陡峭些,突兀地探头伸入大海。树林一直蔓延过来,与满潮水标处的水草交错缠绕,几乎要长到礁岩上去了。树林边有一座狭长低矮的屋子,既像海滨小别墅,又像是一座船库。屋子是用造防波堤的那类石块砌成的。

海滩上有一个人,可能是渔夫,穿着长统靴和油布雨衣。杰斯珀正冲着此人吠叫,绕着他打转,还不时扑向他的靴子。可这人根本不予理会,自管自弯腰在砂石中摸索。我向长耳狗大声吆喝:杰斯珀!杰斯珀!过来。”

长耳狗摇着尾巴,抬头看看,但并不服从命令,仍然一个劲儿朝着海滩上这孤独的陌生人吠叫。

我回头望望,仍不见迈克西姆的影子。我只好翻过礁岩,朝下面的海滩走去,圆卵石上响着我嘎吱嘎吱的脚步声。听到这声音一,那陌生人抬起头来。这时,我才发现此人长着一双白痴那样眯缝着的眼睛和一张流口水的发红的嘴巴。他朝我笑笑,张开的嘴巴里没有牙齿,只有光秃秃的牙床。

“白天好,”他说,“真是邋遢天气,对吗?”

“下午好,”我回答道,“是的,天气是不太好。”

他饶有兴味地打量着我,一边憨笑不止。他向我说明:“我是在挖贝壳。吃中饭前就在挖了。可是这儿没有贝壳。”

“啊,”我说。“那可太遗憾了。”

“真的,这儿没有贝壳。”

我呼唤着长耳狗:“来,杰斯珀,天不早了。快来,亲爱的。”

可是,也许因为海上起了风浪,惹得它过分激动,杰斯珀这会儿火气正旺。它缩着身子从我身边循开,莫名其妙地吠个不停,一边又开始在海滩上漫无目标地乱窜乱跑。看来手边没有牵狗绳,它是不会乖乖跟我走的。

我转身对那陌生汉子说道(这时他弯着身子开始了一无收获的挖掘):“你有绳子吗?”

“啊?”

我只好重复一遍:“你有绳子吗?”

“这儿没有贝壳,”他摇摇头说。“吃中饭前就在挖了。”接着,他朝我点点头,还擦了擦他那水汪汪的淡蓝色眼睛。

“我想找根绳子拴着狗,”我说。“它不肯跟我走。”

“啊?”他又露出了那种白痴般的憨笑。

“没有的话就算了,没有关系的。”

他茫然看着我,接着弯身向前,用手戳戳我的胸口说:“我认识这条狗,它是宅子里养的。”

“不错,”我说。“现在我要它跟我回去。”

“它又不是你的狗。”

我轻声说:“它是德温特先生的狗,我要把它带回宅子去。”

“啊?”

我又一次呼唤杰斯珀,可它正在追逐一支随风飘荡的羽毛。我想在船库里大概总找得着一根绳子,于是就沿着海滩朝那小屋走去。这儿原先肯定是一座花园,可现在杂草丛生,同乱蓬蓬的芝麻连成了一片。窗子已经用木板钉死,由此看来门也一定上着锁。我把弹簧锁往上一拨,心里可没存多大希望。可是出乎意料,虽然开始时有点不灵活,门还是打开了。

门楣很低,我弓着腰走进去。我本以为这儿一定是个寻常的船库,因为经久不用,肯定脏得到处都是灰尘,绳子、木块和船桨会难得一地。不错,屋子里确实蒙着灰尘,也有不少污渍,但根本没有绳子、木块之类的杂物。整座小屋是一个家具齐全的房间。屋角放着一张书桌,另外还有一张桌子,几把椅子,靠墙放着一张坐卧两用的长沙发。镜台上放着杯碟;书架上堆满了书,架子顶上还有几具游艇模型。我第一个念头是这房间一定住人——也许海滩上那个可怜虫就以此为家。但是再四下一看,这才发现这屋子已好久没人来过。炉格生锈,证明炉子里已多时没生过火;蒙着厚厚灰尘的地板上没有脚印;镜台上的瓷器因为潮湿的缘故,也带上了不少蓝色的零斑。屋子里有一股怪异的霉味儿。蜘蛛在游艇模型上结网,给它们披挂狰狞可怕的帆桅索具。

房间里肯定不住人!这是一所人迹不至的弃屋。刚才推门时,铰链曾吱咯作响;而雨点啪嗒啪嗒地敲打着屋顶和钉着木板的窗户,声音又显得那么空洞!两用长沙发的套子已被耗子咬破,露着锯齿状的裂口和皱叠的破边。屋子里很潮湿,阴冷不堪,显得幽暗而压抑。我害怕,不想再呆在这儿。我讨厌雨点拍打屋顶发出的那种空洞的声音,这声音似乎在屋子里处处引起回响,我还听到生锈炉格里边漏水的滴答声。

我环顾四周想找根绳子,可是房间里根本没有可以用来拴狗的东西。房间的另一头还有一扇门。我走过去把门推开,这时我已经有点战战兢兢,感到一种莫名其妙的恐惧,生怕不知不觉中会碰上某种我不愿看见的怪物,某种会加害于我的极其可怕的怪物。

这一切当然都绝顶荒谬。一打开那扇门,我发现我只不过是进了一座十足的船库,这儿有我想象中的绳子和木块,还有两三张船帆、一些护舷用的材料、一艘小小的平底船、几口漆锅和那些驾船出海时省不了的缆索杂物。架子上放着一团双股麻线,边上还有一把生了锈的折叠式小刀。有这些东西,足够对付杰斯珀了。于是,我就把刀打开,割下一段麻线,然后又回到刚才那房间里。雨还是滴滴答答地敲打着屋顶,漏进炉架。

我不敢朝那张破沙发、那些发霉的瓷器和游艇模型上的蜘蛛网再看一眼,头也不回地穿过吱咯作响的门,快步冲出小屋,来到白色的海滩上。

陌生人这会儿已停止了挖掘,他瞠目望着我,杰斯珀在一旁守着他。

“来,杰斯珀,”我向长耳狗吆喝。“过来,宝贝儿。”我弯下身,这一口它倒由我抓着颈子上的项圈听任摆弄了。

“在小屋里我找到了一段绳子,”我对陌生人说。可他仍然一言不发。

我把绳子松松地挂在项圈上,拉着杰斯珀,一面对陌生人说了声“再见”。他点点头,同时仍用那白痴似的小眼睛盯着我,说道:“我看见你跑进那儿去了。”

“是的,”我说。“没关系,德温特先生不会责怪的。”

“她现在不再上那儿去了,”陌生人说。

“是啊,现在不去了。”

“她出海了,对吗?她不会再回来了,是吗?”

“是的,不会再回来了。”

“我可什么也没说,对吗?”

“当然,当然,别担心。”

他又弯下身子去挖掘,一边含糊不清地自言自语。我穿过布满回卵石的海滩,这才看到迈克西姆双手插在衣袋里,站在礁岩旁等我。

我说:“对不起,杰斯珀不肯回来,我只好去找绳子。”

他蓦地转过身,朝林子走去。

我问他;“不从礁石堆翻过去吗?”

“干吗要翻礁石?这不到了吗?”他简短地说。

我们经过海滨小屋,走上一条林间小径。“对不起,我走开了这么久。都是杰斯珀不好,”我说。“它冲着那陌生人吠叫,那人是谁?”

“噢,那人叫贝恩,”迈克西姆说。“一个与世无争的可怜虫。他老父亲过去是曼陀丽的看守人,家子就住在庄园附近。这根绳子你是从哪儿弄来的?”

“从那海滨小屋,”我说。

“小屋的门开着吗?”他问。

“是的,我一推,门就开了,绳子是在里屋贮藏室找到的,那儿有一艘小船,还堆着些帆篷。”

“噢,明白啦,”他应了一句,不再说什么。过了好一会,他才又接着说:“那小屋应该是上锁的,怎么会开着门呢?”

我没有回答,这不关我的事。

“是贝恩告诉你小屋的门开着吗?”

“不,看上去,这个人对我的问话一点也不明白。”

“他是装傻,让别人以为他什么也不懂,”迈克西姆说。“其实,他可以把话说得既清楚又明白。也许他一直在那小屋里进进出出,只是不想让人知道罢了。”

“不会吧,”我回答说。“那屋子看上去不像有人进出,到处积着灰尘,上面没有脚印。屋子里非常潮湿,恐怕会把那些书都给毁了,还有那些椅子和沙发。老鼠很多,已经咬破不少椅面。”

迈克西姆没有回答我的话。尽管从海滩上坡的路很陡,他还是迈着大步走。这儿的景色与幸福谷大相径庭。黑糊糊的树木长得很密,道旁也没有杜鹃花。雨水从粗大的树枝上成串滴下,打在我的衣领上,一点一点顺着我的脖子淌下。我打着寒颤,这种滋味实在不好受,就像有一只冰冷的手指按着你的颈脖。方才在礁岩上攀爬了一阵,过去又不习惯于这样的运动,我的双腿酸痛得厉害。杰斯珀因为刚才发疯似的蹦跳,这会儿也累了,吐着舌头,落在我俩后面。

迈克西姆喝道:“杰斯珀,看上帝面上,跑快点!”接着他又对我说:“设法让它跟上,你不能把绳子收紧些吗?或者想个别的办法?比阿特丽斯的话不错,这条狗确实太肥了。”

我口答说:“这是你不好,你走得那么快,我和杰斯珀都跟不上。”

“要是刚才你听了我的话,而不是那样疯疯癫癫地翻越礁岩赶去,这会儿我们早到家了。杰斯珀熟悉这儿的路,自己能跑回去。我简直不懂你为什么非去找它不可。”

“我怕它摔着了,而且正好又是涨潮的时候,”我说。

“要是有一点儿淹水的危险,我会丢下狗不管吗?我叫你别去爬那些岩石,你不听,这会儿却又累得叫苦连天。”

“我没有叫苦,即使长了一双铁腿,按这样的步子走路,也会累坏的。我去找杰斯珀的时候,总以为你会陪着我,谁知你就是不肯过来。”

“我才不跟着这条该死的畜生去乱跑呢!不累死人吗?”

“跟着杰斯珀爬岩石,并不见得比在海滩上奔跑着追逐水里漂流的浮水梗累一些,”我回答说。“你这么说是因为你找不到其他借口。”

“我的好乖乖,我要找借口干什么?”

我厌倦地答道:“这个,我不知道。算了,不谈这些了。”

“干吗不谈?是你先挑起来的。你说我是想找借口,这话到底什么意思?我要找借口干什么?”

“我觉得你要找个借口,说明你不跟我一起翻越礁岩是有理的。”

“那么,你认为我不愿到这边的海滩上来是为什么?”

“喔,这我怎么知道?我又不是那种一眼就能看出别人思想活动的人。我只知道你不愿到这边来,这点我从你脸上看出来了。”

“你在我脸上看到了什么?”

“我不是告诉你了?我看得出你不愿过来。喔,算了,到此为止吧。对于这个话题,我实在腻啦。”

“女人在说不过别人而理亏时,都用这个法宝。好吧,就算我不愿跑到这边的海滩上来,这下你称心了吧?我决不走近这鬼地方,还有那该死的海滩小屋!要是你头脑里同样保存着我对往事的种种记忆,你也会不愿走近,不愿谈论这鬼地方,甚至想也不愿想。行啦,这些话你自己去理解消化吧。但愿这一下你满意了。”

他脸色发白,眼睛里又露出我头一回见到他时的那种深这莫测的表情,惶恐而凄苦。我伸出手去,紧紧握住他的手,说道:“喔,迈克西姆,迈克西姆!”

“什么事?”他粗暴地说。

“我不要你这样,看着叫人心都碎了。求求你,迈克西姆,把刚才这一切全忘了吧,一场无谓的、愚蠢的争论。亲爱的,我难过,我真难过。算了,讲和吧。”

“我们应该留在意大利,”他说。“我们原不该再回曼陀丽来。啊,上帝,我多蠢,干吗要回来?”

他性急火燎地穿过树林走去,步子更快了。我噙着眼泪,不得不气喘吁吁地急奔着赶上他,一边还狠命拉着身后可怜的杰斯珀。

我们终于走到这条上坡小径的顶端,这时我才看到一条同样的小路向左拐去,通向幸福谷。原来,我们这会儿攀上来的这小径,就是下午散步开始时杰斯珀想走的那条路。现在我懂得长耳狗为什么一下子就往这条路上跑,因为这条路通向它最熟悉的海滩和小屋,这是它走惯了的老路。

我们走出林子来到草坪上,然后又默不作声地穿过草坪回到屋里。迈克西姆绷着脸,不带任何表情。他径直穿过大厅,走进藏书室,压根儿不看我一眼。弗里思正在大厅里迎候。

“马上把茶送来,”迈克西姆吩咐完,随即关上藏书室的门。

我使劲忍着眼泪。可不能让弗里思瞧见啊!不然的话,他会以为我俩吵架了,那样他就会跑到仆役中间去闹个满城风雨:“太太这会儿正在大厅里哭鼻子,看来事情不妙啊!”我转过身去,不让弗里思看到我的脸。可是他竟朝我走来,帮我脱下胶布雨衣。

“太太,我来把雨衣放到花房去,”他说。

“谢谢你,弗里思,”我回答说,仍把脸偏在一边。

“太太,这样的天气散步恐怕不太理想吧。”

“是的,是的,不太理想。”

“太太,这是您的手绢?”他从地上拾起了什么东西,我顺手把它塞进衣袋,说了一声谢谢。

我一时拿不定主意,究竟是上楼呢,还是跟着迈克西姆进藏书室。弗里思拿着雨衣到花房去了。我站在那儿咬指甲,进退维谷。弗里思又回来了,他看到我还在原地,露出很诧异的神色。

“太太,藏书室里这会儿已生了火。”

“谢谢你,弗里思。”我慢慢穿过大厅向藏书室走去。我推开门,进了房间,只见迈克西姆坐在老位子上,杰斯珀躺在他的脚边,那条老狗则趴在自己的篓子里。他不在读报,虽然报纸就搁在他身边椅子的扶手上。我走过去,挨着他跪下,把自己的脸凑近他。

我轻轻说:“别再生我气啦!”

他双手捧着我的脸,用疲乏而惶恐的目光望着我,说道:“我没有生你的气。”

“不。是我惹你不高兴的,这就等于惹你生气。你的内心受了伤,看着你这种样子我实在不忍心。我多么爱你!”

“真的?真的爱我吗?”他紧紧搂着我,以深邃阴郁而游移不定的目光询问似地望着我,那是一个孩子在担惊受怕时的痛苦的眼神。

“怎么啦?亲爱的,”我问他。“你的脸色为什么这样难看”?

没等他回答,我听见门开了,于是就赶快把身子缩回来,仿佛刚才是在伸手取木柴,准备投进壁炉。弗里思和罗伯特一前一后走进来,午后用茶的那一套仪式又开始了。

还是跟上一天一样,拉开桌子,铺上雪白的台布,端上蛋糕、松饼和放在小火炉上的银质水壶。杰斯珀摇尾贴耳,望着我的脸,期望能一饱口福。两个仆人大概过了足足五分钟才离开,这时我再看看迈克西姆,才发现他脸上重新有了血色,那疲乏而茫然的表情消失了,他正伸手去取一块三明治。

他说:“事情就坏在请了那么些人来吃午饭。可怜的比阿特丽斯,她老是惹我,小时候,我俩就像两条狗似地斗嘴吵架,闹个没完。尽管如此,我还是深深爱她,祈求上帝保佑她。不过,幸好这对夫妇住得离我们不算太近。说到这儿,我倒想起来了,我们还得找个时间去看看老奶奶。宝贝儿,给我倒茶,刚才我对你太粗暴,原谅我吧。”

事情总算过去了,这一段插曲就此收场,决不能再提起。他把茶杯举在嘴边,向我微笑,接着就伸手去拿搁在椅子扶手上的报纸。这一笑就算是对我的酬报,正像在杰斯珀头上轻轻拍一下,意思是说:可爱的小狗,快躺下,别再来打扰我。这样,我又变成了杰斯珀似的角色,恢复了原来的地位。我取了一块松饼,分给两条狗吃。我自己则是一点也不饿,什么也吃不下。我只觉得十分厌倦,没精打采,心力交瘁。

我又朝迈克西姆望望,他正在读报,而且已经翻到另一页上。我的手指沾满松饼上的黄油,于是就伸手到衣袋去摸手绢。我从袋里抽出一方绣花边的小手帕,我皱着眉头,盯着它看,因为手帕不是我的。这时,我才记起刚才弗里思从大厅的石板地上拾起的就是这块手帕,那大概是从胶布雨衣的袋子里掉出来的。我把它拿在拿里翻来复去地端详。手帕很脏,上面沾着一小团一小团雨衣口袋里的绒毛,看来,它在雨衣袋里一定已放了好久。手帕角上绣着字;一个高大的斜体字母“R”横穿着与“德温”等字母构成交织图案。与“R”相比,其他的字母显得非常矮小;“R”的那一捺拖得特别长,从绣花边一直伸到细麻纱手帕的中央。手帕只是小小的一方,被捏作一团,就被遗忘在雨衣袋里了。

自从有人用那方手帕以来,我一定是第一个穿上这件胶布雨衣的人。这么说来,上一回穿这件雨衣的女人身材颀长,亭亭玉立,肩膀比我丰满。我穿着雨衣不是觉得既大又长吗?袖子把手腕都这没了。雨衣上缺几颗纽扣。那女人压根儿没想到把它们缝上去,她大概把雨衣当作一件斗篷,随手往肩上一披,或是把手插在口袋里,听其自然地让雨衣敞开着……

手帕上有一块粉红色的标记,这是口红的痕迹。她曾用手帕擦过嘴唇,接着就把它捏作一团,塞进衣袋。用手帕擦着手指的当儿,我注意到手帕上还留着一点隐约的香味。

我辨出这是一种我熟悉的香味。我闭上眼睛,费力地回忆着。这是一种飘忽不定、难以名状的清淡的幽香。我曾在什么地方闻到过这种香味,肯定就在这天下午的哪个时候。

我明白了,手帕上那遗留的气息正是幸福谷中被碾碎的白色杜鹃花瓣的香味!
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Chapter ten

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-07#66
Chapter ten

We watched the car disappear round the sweep of the drive, and then Maxim took my arm and said, "Thank God that's that. Get a coat quickly, and come out. Damn the rain, I want a walk. I can't stand this sitting about. ' He looked white and strained, and I wondered why the entertaining of Beatrice and Giles, his own sister and brother-in-law, should have tired him so. 'Wait while I run upstairs for my coat, ' I said. "There's a heap of mackintoshes in the flower-room, get one of them, ' he said impatiently, 'women are always half an hour when they go to their bedrooms. Robert, fetch a coat from the flower-room, will you, for Mrs de Winter? There must be half a dozen raincoats hanging there left by people at one time or another. ' He was already standing in the drive, and calling to Jasper, 'Come on, you lazy little beggar, and take some of that fat off. ' Jasper ran round in circles, barking hysterically at the prospect of his walk. 'Shut up, you idiot, ' said Maxim. 'What on earth is Robert doing?' Robert came running out of the hall carrying a raincoat, and I struggled into it hurriedly, fumbling with the collar. It was too big, of course, and too long, but there was no time to change it, and we set off together across the lawn to the woods, Jasper running in front. 'I find a little of my family goes a very long way, ' said Maxim. 'Beatrice is one of the best people in the world, but she invariably puts her foot in it. ' I was not sure where Beatrice had blundered, and thought it better not to ask. Perhaps he still resented the chat about his health before lunch. 'I liked her very much, ' I said; 'she was very nice to me. ' 'What did she talk to you about out here, after lunch?' 'Oh, I don't know. I think I did most of the talking. I was telling her about Mrs Van Hopper, and how you and I met, and all that. She said I was quite different from what she expected. ' 'What the devil did she expect?' 'Someone much smarter, more sophisticated, I imagine. A social butterfly, she said. ' Maxim did not answer for a moment; he bent down, and threw a stick for Jasper. 'Beatrice can sometimes be infernally unintelligent, ' he said. We climbed the grass bank above the lawns, and plunged into the woods. The trees grew very close together, and it was dark. We trod upon broken twigs, and last year's leaves, and here and there the fresh green stubble of the young bracken, and the shoots of the bluebells soon to blossom. Jasper was silent now, his nose to the ground. I took Maxim's arm. 'Do you like my hair?' I said. He stared down at me in astonishment. 'Your hair?' he said. 'Why on earth do you ask? Of course I like it. What's the matter with it?' 'Oh, nothing, ' I said, 'I just wondered. ' 'How funny you are, ' he said. We came to a clearing in the woods, and there were two paths, going in opposite directions.

Jasper took the right-hand path without hesitation. 'Not that way, ' called Maxim; 'come on, old chap. ' The dog looked back at us and stood there, wagging his tail, but did not return. 'Why does he want to go that way?' I asked. 'I suppose he's used to it, ' said Maxim briefly; 'it leads to a small cove, where we used to keep a boat. Come on, Jasper, old man. ' We turned into the left-hand path, not saying anything, and presently I looked over my shoulder and saw that Jasper was following us. 'This brings us to the valley I told you about, ' said Maxim, 'and you shall smell the azaleas. Never mind the rain, it will bring out the scent. ' He seemed all right again now, happy and cheerful, the Maxim I knew and loved, and he began talking about Frank Crawley and what a good fellow he was, so thorough and reliable, and devoted to Manderley. 'This is better, ' I thought; 'this is like it was in Italy', and I smiled up at him, squeezing his arm, relieved that the odd strained look on his face had passed away, and while I said 'Yes, ' and 'Really?' and 'Fancy, darling, ' my thoughts wandered back to Beatrice, wondering why her presence should have disturbed him, what she had done; and I thought too of all she had said about his temper, how he lost it, she told me, about once or twice a year. She must know him, of course; she was his sister. But it was not what I had thought; it was not my idea of Maxim. I could see him moody, difficult, irritable perhaps, but not angry as she had inferred, not passionate. Perhaps she had exaggerated; people very often were wrong about their relatives. 'There, ' said Maxim suddenly, 'take a look at that. ' We stood on a slope of a wooded hill, and the path wound away before us to a valley, by the side of a running stream. There were no dark trees here, no tangled undergrowth, but on either side of the narrow path stood azaleas and rhododendrons, not blood-coloured like the giants in the drive, but salmon, white, and gold, things of beauty and of grace, drooping their lovely, delicate heads in the soft summer rain. The air was full of their scent, sweet and heady, and it seemed to me as though their very essence had mingled with the running waters of the stream, and become one with the falling rain and the dank rich moss beneath our feet.

There was no sound here but the tumbling of the little stream, and the quiet rain. When Maxim spoke, his voice was hushed too, gentle and low, as if he had no wish to break upon the silence. 'We call it the Happy Valley, ' he said. We stood quite still, not speaking, looking down upon the clear white faces of the flowers closest to us, and Maxim stooped, and picked up a fallen petal and gave it to me. It was crushed and bruised, and turning brown at the curled edge, but as I rubbed it across my hand the scent rose to me, sweet and strong, vivid as the living tree from which it came. Then the birds began. First a blackbird, his note clear and cool above the running stream, and after a moment he had answer from his fellow hidden in the woods behind us, and soon the still air about us was made turbulent with song, pursuing us as we wandered down into the valley, and the fragrance of the white petals followed us too. It was disturbing, like an enchanted place. I had not thought it could be as beautiful as this. The sky, now overcast and sullen, so changed from the early afternoon, and the steady insistent rain could not disturb the soft quietude of the valley; the rain and the rivulet mingled with one another, and the liquid note of the blackbird fell upon the damp air in harmony with them both. I brushed the dripping heads of azaleas as I passed, so close they grew together, bordering the path. Little drops of water fell on to my hands from the soaked petals. There were petals at my feet too, brown and sodden, bearing their scent upon them still, and a richer, older scent as well, the smell of deep moss and bitter earth, the stems of bracken, and the twisted buried roots of trees. I held Maxim's hand and I had not spoken. The spell of the Happy Valley was upon me. This at last was the core of Manderley, the Manderley I would know and learn to love. The first drive was forgotten, the black, herded woods, the glaring rhododendrons, luscious and overproud. And the vast house too, the silence of that echoing hall, the uneasy stillness of the west wing, wrapped in dust-sheets. There I was an interloper, wandering in rooms that did not know me, sitting at a desk and in a chair that were not mine. Here it was different. The Happy Valley knew no trespassers. We came to the end of the path, and the flowers formed an archway above our heads.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-08#67
We bent down, passing underneath, and when I stood straight again, brushing the raindrops from my hair, I saw that the valley was behind us, and the azaleas, and the trees, and, as Maxim had described to me that afternoon many weeks ago in Monte Carlo, we were standing in a little narrow cove, the shingle hard and white under our feet, and the sea was breaking on the shore beyond us. Maxim smiled down at me, watching the bewilderment on my face. 'It's a shock, isn't it?' he said; 'no one ever expects it. The contrast is too sudden; it almost hurts. ' He picked up a stone and flung it across the beach for Jasper. 'Fetch it, good man, ' and Jasper streaked away in search of the stone, his long black ears flapping in the wind. The enchantment was no more, the spell was broken. We were mortal again, two people playing on a beach. We threw more stones, went to the water's edge, flung ducks and drakes, and fished for driftwood. The tide had turned, and came lapping in the bay. The small rocks were covered, the seaweed washed on the stones. We rescued a big floating plank and carried it up the beach above high-water mark. Maxim turned to me, laughing, wiping the hair out of his eyes, and I unrolled the sleeves of my mackintosh caught by the sea spray. And then we looked round, and saw that Jasper had disappeared. We called and whistled, and he did not come. I looked anxiously towards the mouth of the cove where the waves were breaking upon the rocks. 'No, ' said Maxim, 'we should have seen him, he can't have fallen. Jasper, you idiot, where are you? Jasper, Jasper?' 'Perhaps he's gone back to the Happy Valley?' I said. 'He was by that rock a minute ago, sniffing a dead seagull, ' said Maxim. We walked up the beach towards the valley once again. 'Jasper, Jasper?' called Maxim. In the distance, beyond the rocks to the right of the beach, I heard a short, sharp bark. 'Hear that?' I said. 'He's climbed over this way. ' I began to scramble up the slippery rocks in the direction of the bark. 'Come back, ' said Maxim sharply; 'we don't want to go that way. The fool of a dog must look after himself. ' I hesitated, looked down from my rock. 'Perhaps he's fallen, ' I said, 'poor little chap. Let me fetch him. ' Jasper barked again, further away this time. 'Oh, listen, ' I said, 'I must get him. It's quite safe, isn't it? The tide won't have cut him off?' 'He's all right, ' said Maxim irritably; 'why not leave him? He knows his own way back. ' I pretended not to hear, and began scrambling over the rocks towards Jasper.

Great jagged boulders screened the view, and I slipped and stumbled on the wet rocks, making my way as best I could in Jasper's direction. It was heartless of Maxim to leave Jasper, I thought, and I could not understand it. Besides, the tide was coming in. I came up beside the big boulder that had hidden the view, and looked beyond it. And I saw, to my surprise, that I was looking down into another cove, similar to the one I had left, but wider and more rounded. A small stone breakwater had been thrown out across the cove for shelter, and behind it the bay formed a tiny natural harbour. There was a buoy anchored there, but no boat. The beach in the cove was white shingle, like the one behind me, but steeper, shelving suddenly to the sea. The woods came right down to the tangle of seaweed marking high water, encroaching almost to the rocks themselves, and at the fringe of the woods was a long low building, half cottage, half boat-house, built of the same stone as the breakwater. There was a man on the beach, a fisherman perhaps, in long boots and a sou'wester, and Jasper was barking at him, running round him in circles, darting at his boots. The man took no notice; he was bending down, and scraping in the shingle. 'Jasper, ' I shouted, 'Jasper, come here. ' The dog looked up, wagging his tail, but he did not obey me. He went on baiting the solitary figure on the beach. I looked over my shoulder. There was still no sign of Maxim. I climbed down over the rocks to the beach below. My feet made a crunching noise across the shingle, and the man looked up at the sound. I saw then that he had the small slit eyes of an idiot, and the red, wet mouth. He smiled at me, showing toothless gums. 'G'day, ' he said. 'Dirty, ain't it?' 'Good afternoon, ' I said. 'No. I'm afraid it's not very nice weather. ' He watched me with interest, smiling all the while. 'Diggin' forshell, ' he said. 'No shell here. Been diggin' since forenoon. ' 'Oh, ' I said, 'I'm sorry you can't find any. ' 'That's right, ' he said, 'no shell here. ' 'Come on, Jasper, ' I said, 'it's getting late. Come on, old boy. ' But Jasper was in an infuriating mood. Perhaps the wind and the sea had gone to his head, for he backed away from me, barking stupidly, and began racing round the beach after nothing at all. I saw he would never follow me, and I had no lead.

I turned to the man, who had bent down again to his futile digging. 'Have you got any string?' I said. 'Eh?' he said. 'Have you got any string?' I repeated. 'No shell here, ' he said, shaking his head. 'Been diggin' since forenoon. ' He nodded his head at me, and wiped his pale blue watery eyes. 'I want something to tie the dog, ' I said. 'He won't follow me. ' 'Eh?' he said. And he smiled his poor idiot's smile. 'All right, ' I said; 'it doesn't matter. ' He looked at me uncertainly, and then leant forward, and poked me in the chest. 'I know that dog, ' he said; 'he comes fro' the house. ' 'Yes, ' I said. 'I want him to come back with me now. ' 'He's Mr de Winter's dog, ' I said gently. 'I want to take him back to the house. ' 'Eh?' he said. I called Jasper once more, but he was chasing a feather blown by the wind. I wondered if there was any string in the boat-house, and I walked up the beach towards it. There must have been a garden once, but now the grass was long and overgrown, crowded with nettles. The windows were boarded up. No doubt the door was locked, and I lifted the latch without much hope. To my surprise it opened after the first stiffness, and I went inside, bending my head because of the low door. I expected to find the usual boat store, dirty and dusty with disuse, ropes and blocks and oars upon the floor. The dust was there, and the dirt too in places, but there were no ropes or blocks. The room was furnished, and ran the whole length of the cottage. There was a desk in the corner, a table, and chairs, and a bed-sofa pushed against the wall. There was a dresser too, with cups and plates. Bookshelves, the books inside them, and models of ships standing on the top of the shelves. For a moment I thought it must be inhabited - perhaps the poor man on the beach lived here - but I looked around me again and saw no sign of recent occupation. That rusted grate knew no fire, this dusty floor no footsteps, and the china there on the dresser was blue-spotted with the damp. There was a queer musty smell about the place. Cobwebs spun threads upon the ships' models, making their own ghostly rigging. No one lived here. No one came here. The door had creaked on its hinges when I opened it. The rain pattered on the roof with a hollow sound, and tapped upon the boarded windows. The fabric of the sofa-bed had been nibbled by mice or rats. I could see the jagged holes, and the frayed edges. It was damp in the cottage, damp and chill. Dark, and oppressive. I did not like it. I had no wish to stay there. I hated the hollow sound of the rain pattering on the roof.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-10#68
It seemed to echo in the room itself, and I heard the water dripping too into the rusted grate. I looked about me for some string. There was nothing that would serve my purpose, nothing at all. There was another door at the end of the room, and I went to it, and opened it, a little fearful now, a little afraid, for I had the odd, uneasy feeling that I might come upon something unawares, that I had no wish to see. Something that might harm me, that might be horrible. It was nonsense of course, and I opened the door. It was only a boat store after all. Here were the ropes and blocks I had expected, two or three sails, fenders, a small punt, pots of paints, all the litter and junk that goes with the using of boats. A ball of twine lay on a shelf, a rusted clasp knife beside it. This would be all I needed for Jasper. I opened the knife, and cut a length of twine, and came back into the room again. The rain still fell upon the roof, and into the grate. I came out of the cottage hurriedly, not looking behind me, trying not to see the torn sofa and the mildewed china, the spun cobwebs on the model ships, and so through the creaking gate and on to the white beach. The man was not digging any more; he was watching me, Jasper at his side. 'Come along, Jasper, ' I said; 'come on, good dog. ' I bent down and this time he allowed me to touch him and pull hold of his collar. 'I found some string in the cottage, ' I said to the man. He did not answer, and I tied the string loosely round Jasper's collar. 'Good afternoon, ' I said, tugging at Jasper. " The man nodded, staring at me with his narrow idiot's eyes. 'I saw'ee go in yonder, ' he said. 'Yes, ' I said; 'it's all right, Mr de Winter won't mind. ' 'She don't go in there now, ' he said. 'No, ' I said, 'not now. ' 'She's gone in the sea, ain't she?' he said; 'she won't come back no more?' 'No, ' I said, 'she'll not come back. ' 'I never said nothing, did I?' he said. 'No, of course not; don't worry, ' I said. He bent down again to his digging, muttering to himself. I went across the shingle and I saw Maxim waiting for me by the rocks, his hands in his pockets. 'I'm sorry, ' I said. 'Jasper would not come. I had to get some string. ' He turned abruptly on his heel, and made towards the woods. 'Aren't we going back over the rocks?' I said. 'What's the point? We're here now, ' he said briefly. We went up past the cottage and struck into a path through the woods.

'I'm sorry I was such a time; it was Jasper's fault, ' I said, 'he kept barking at the man. Who was he?' 'Only Ben, ' said Maxim; 'he's quite harmless, poor devil. His old father used to be one of the keepers; they live near the home farm. Where did you get that piece of twine?' 'I found it in the cottage on the beach, ' I said. 'Was the door open?' he asked. 'Yes, I pushed it open. I found the string in the other room, where the 'Oh, ' he said shortly. 'Oh, I see, ' and then he added, after a moment or two: "That cottage is supposed to be locked, the door has no business to be open. ' I said nothing; it was not my affair. 'Did Ben tell you the door was open?' 'No, ' I said, 'he did not seem to understand anything I asked him. ' 'He makes out he's worse than he is, ' said Maxim. 'He can talk quite intelligibly if he wants to. He's probably been in and out of the cottage dozens of times, and did not want you to know. ' 'I don't think so, ' I answered; 'the place looked deserted, quite untouched. There was dust everywhere, and no footmarks. It was terribly damp. I'm afraid those books will be quite spoilt, and the chairs, and that sofa. There are rats there, too; they have eaten away some of the covers. ' Maxim did not reply. He walked at a tremendous pace, and the climb up from the beach was steep. It was very different from the Happy Valley. The trees were dark here and close together, there were no azaleas brushing the path. The rain dripped heavily from the thick branches. It splashed on my collar and trickled down my neck. I shivered; it was unpleasant, like a cold finger. My legs ached, after the unaccustomed scramble over the rocks. And Jasper lagged behind, weary from his wild scamper, his tongue hanging from his mouth. 'Come on, Jasper, for God's sake, ' said Maxim. 'Make him walk up, pull at the twine or something, can't you? Beatrice was right. The dog is much too fat. ' 'It's your fault, ' I said, 'you walk so fast. We can't keep up with you. ' 'If you had listened to me instead of rushing wildly over those rocks we would have been home by now, ' said Maxim. 'Jasper knew his way back perfectly. I can't think what you wanted to go after him for. ' 'I thought he might have fallen, and I was afraid of the tide, ' I said. 'Is it likely I should have left the dog had there been any question of the tide?' said Maxim. 'I told you not to go on those rocks, and now you are grumbling because you are tired. ' 'I'm not grumbling, ' I said. 'Anyone, even if they had legs of iron, would be tired walking at this pace.

I thought you would come with me when I went after Jasper anyway, instead of staying behind. ' 'Why should I exhaust myself careering after the damn dog?' he said. 'It was no more exhausting careering after Jasper on the rocks than it was careering after the driftwood on the beach, ' I answered. 'You just say that because you have not any other excuse. ' 'My good child, what am I supposed to excuse myself about?' 'Oh, I don't know, ' I said wearily; 'let's stop this. ' 'Not at all, you began it. What do you mean by saying I was trying to find an excuse? Excuse for what?' 'Excuse for not having come with me over the rocks, I suppose, ' I said. 'Well, and why do you think I did not want to cross to the other beach?' 'Oh, Maxim, how should I know? I'm not a thought-reader. I know you did not want to, that's all. I could see it in your face. ' 'See what in my face?' I've already told you. I could see you did not want to go. Oh, do let's have an end to it. I'm sick to death of the subject. ' 'All women say that when they've lost an argument. All right, I did not want to go to the other beach. Will that please you? I never go near the bloody place, or that God-damned cottage. And if you had my memories you would not want to go there either, or talk about it, or even think about it. There. You can digest that if you like, and I hope it satisfies you. ' His face was white, and his eyes strained and wretched with that dark lost look they had had when I first met him. I put out my hand to him, I took hold of his, holding it tight. 'Please, Maxim, please, ' I said. 'What's the matter?' he said roughly. 'I don't want you to look like that, ' I said. 'It hurts too much. Please, Maxim. Let's forget all we said. A futile silly argument. I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry. Please let everything be all right. ' 'We ought to have stayed in Italy, ' he said. 'We ought never to have come back to Manderley. Oh, God, what a fool I was to come back. ' He brushed through the trees impatiently, striding even faster than before, and I had to run to keep pace with him, catching at my breath, tears very near the surface, dragging poor Jasper after me on the end of his string. At last we came to the top of the path, and I saw its fellow branching left to the Happy Valley. We had climbed the path then that Jasper had wished to take at the beginning of the afternoon.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-13#69
I knew now why Jasper had turned to it. It led to the beach he knew best, and the cottage. It was his old routine. We came out on to the lawns, and went across them to the house without a word. Maxim's face was hard, with no expression. He went straight into the hall and on to the library without looking at me. Frith was in the hall. 'We want tea at once, ' said Maxim, and he shut the library door. I fought to keep back my tears. Frith must not see them. He would think we had been quarrelling, and he would go to the servants' hall and say to them all, 'Mrs de Winter was crying in the hall just now. It looks as though things are not going very well. ' I turned away, so that Frith should not see my face. He came towards me though, he began to help me off with my mackintosh. 'I'll put your raincoat away for you in the flower-room, Madam, ' he said. 'Thank you, Frith, ' I replied, my face still away from him. 'Not a very pleasant afternoon for a walk, I fear, Madam. ' 'No, ' I said. 'No, it was not very nice. ' 'Your handkerchief, Madam?' he said, picking up something that had fallen on the floor. 'Thank you, ' I said, putting it in my pocket. I was wondering whether to go upstairs or whether to follow Maxim to the library. Frith took the coat to the flower-room. I stood there, hesitating, biting my nails. Frith came back again. He looked surprised to see me still there. "There is a good fire in the library now, Madam. ' 'Thank you, Frith, ' I said. I walked slowly across the hall to the library. I opened the door and went in. Maxim was sitting in his chair, Jasper at his feet, the old dog in her basket. Maxrim was not reading the paper, though it lay on the arm of the chair beside him. I went and knelt down by his side and put my face close to his. 'Don't be angry with me any more, ' I whispered. He took my face in his hands, and looked down at me with his tired, strained eyes. 'I'm not angry with you, ' he said. 'Yes, ' I said. 'I've made you unhappy. It's the same as making you angry. You're all wounded and hurt and torn inside. I can't bear to see you like this. I love you so much. ' 'Do you?' he said. 'Do you?' He held me very tight, and his eyes questioned me, dark and uncertain, the eyes of a child in pain, a child in fear. 'What is it, darling?' I said. 'Why do you look like that?' I heard the door open before he could answer, and I sank back on my heels, pretending to reach for a log to throw on the fire, while Frith came into the room followed by Robert, and the ritual of our tea began.

The performance of the day before was repeated, the placing of the table, the laying of the snow-white cloth, the putting down of cakes and crumpets, the silver kettle of hot water placed on its little flame, while Jasper, wagging his tail, his ears stretched back in anticipation, watched my face. Five minutes must have passed before we were alone again, and when I looked at Maxim I saw the colour had come back into his face, the tired, lost look was gone, and he was reaching for a sandwich. 'Having all that crowd to lunch was the trouble, ' he said. 'Poor old Beatrice always does rub me up the wrong way. We used to scrap like dogs as children. I'm so fond of her too, bless her. Such a relief though that they don't live too near. Which reminds me, we'll have to go over and see Granny some time. Pour out my tea, sweetheart, and forgive me for being a bear to you. ' It was over then. The episode was finished. We must not speak of it again. He smiled at me over his cup of tea, and then reached for the newspaper on the arm of his chair. The smile was my reward. Like a pat on the head to Jasper. Good dog then, lie down, don't worry me any more. I was Jasper again. I was back where I had been before. I took apiece of crumpet and divided it between the two dogs. I did not want it myself, I was not hungry. I felt very weary now, very tired in a dull, spent way. I looked at Maxim but he was reading his paper, he had folded it over to another page. My fingers were messy with the butter from the crumpet, and I felt in my pocket for a handkerchief. I drew it out, a tiny scrap of a thing, lace-edged. I stared at it, frowning, for it was not mine. I remembered then that Frith had picked it up from the stone floor of the hall. It must have fallen out of the pocket in the mackintosh. I turned it over in my hand. It was grubby; little bits of fluff from the pocket clung to it. It must have been in the mackintosh pocket for a long time. There was a monogram in the corner. A tall sloping R, with the letters de W interlaced. The R dwarfed the other letters, the tail of it ran down into the cambric, away from the laced edge. It was only a small handkerchief, quite a scrap of a thing.

It had been rolled in a ball and put away in the pocket and forgotten. I must have been the first person to put on that mackintosh since the handkerchief was used. She who had worn the coat then was tall, slim, broader than me about the shoulders, for I had found it big and overlong, and the sleeves had come below my wrist. Some of the buttons were missing. She had not bothered then to do it up. She had thrown it over her shoulders like a cape, or worn it loose, hanging open, her hands deep in the pockets. There was a pink mark upon the handkerchief. The mark of lipstick. She had rubbed her lips with the handkerchief, and then rolled it in a ball, and left it in the pocket. I wiped my fingers with the handkerchief, and as I did so I noticed that a dull scent clung about it still. A scent I recognized, a scent I knew. I shut my eyes and tried to remember. It was something elusive, something faint and fragrant that I could not name. I had breathed it before, touched it surely, that very afternoon. And then I knew that the vanished scent upon the handkerchief was the same as the crushed white petals of the azaleas in the Happy Valley.



[FONT=宋体]第11章

足足一个星期,天气阴冷,霪雨连绵。初夏季节,这种天气在西部农村是常有的。我们没有再到海滩去过。但是从平台和草坪往外眺望,我仍能看见大海。翻腾的巨浪扫过海岬处的灯塔,汹涌冲进海湾;大海一片昏黑,使人望而生畏。我想象着浪潮如何撞上海湾里的礁石,发出轰然巨响,接着又急骤浩荡地涌往倾斜的海滩。站在平台上,我能听到下边大海的吼声,低沉又忧郁,单调地持续着,一刻不停。因为天气的缘故,海鸥也都飞进陆地来了,它们衷唳着在屋子上空盘旋,拍打着展开的翅膀。直到这时我才开始明白,为什么有些人受不了大海的喧哗,这声音听上去有时候确实悲枪,时而隆隆,进而嘶嘶,不住地住你耳鼓里送,使你的神经受不住。我庆幸我俩住在东厢,从窗子一探头就可以看到玫瑰园。有时候晚上睡不着,我就从床上起来,蹑手蹑脚走过去倚着窗框,享受夜的安宁与寂静。在这儿听不到骚动不已的大海的吵闹,因此我的心境才得以安静,才能不去想那条穿林而过通往褐色小海湾的陡峭幽径,还有那座海滩弃屋。我实在不愿想起那座小屋,可是在白天这办不到。站在平台上一望见大海,我就老是想起它:瓷器上蓝色的霉斑;船艇模型桅杆上的蜘蛛网;坐卧两用沙发上鼠咬的破洞;雨点拍打屋顶的声音。我还想起那个名叫贝恩的陌生人,想起他那水汪汪的蓝色小眼睛和那种白痴般的诡秘怪笑。所有这些扰得我无法平静,不得安生。我想设法忘却这一切;与此同时,我又想弄个明白,是什么原因使得我如此惴惴不安,烦恼重重。尽管我拒不承认,但是在我的心底某处确实已有一种暗自好奇的心理,一种疑惧的种子,在缓慢而又是一刻不停地滋长。一个小孩在被告知“这些事谈论不得,不能让你知道”之后所产生的疑问,以及想打听个究竟的急切心情,我全体验到了。

我忘不了那天走在林中小径上迈克西姆惶恐和茫然若有所失的眼神,还有他那句话:“啊,上帝,我多蠢,干吗要回来?”都是我不好,偏要朝海湾跑,这就又勾起了他对往事的回忆。虽然迈克西姆后来又恢复了常态,虽然我们共桌进餐,同床安寝,携手散步,比肩伏案写信,一起驾车到村子去,每时每刻形影不离,可我总感觉到因为那天的事,我俩之间已有了隔阂。

他像是独自走在大路的另一侧,我可不得越雷池一步地向他靠拢。我老是神经紧张,生怕自己一时大意说漏了嘴,或是在随便的交谈中不当心话锋一转,又会使他露出那种眼神。我怕提到大海,因为说到大海就会使人联想到船只,联想到海难事故,联想到淹死人……有一天,弗兰克-克劳利来吃中饭。他谈起离此三英里地的克里斯港举行划船比赛,甚至这样的谈话也把我吓得像是害了热病,心里如刀扎似地难受,赶快低下头盯着面前的菜盘。可是迈克西姆好像并不在乎,照样谈笑风生。只有我在一旁提心吊胆,浑身直冒汗,不知道这番谈话又会引起什么不愉快的事情。

我记得当时大家正在吃干酪。弗里思刚走开,所以我就站起身,到墙边的餐具柜再去取来一些干酪。这之所以这样做,并不是因为干酪吃光了,而是因为我不想坐在桌旁听他们说话。我一边走,一边哼着小调,这样就可以听不见他们谈话的内容。当然,我的担心毫无道理,甚至有点愚蠢。这种反常的过敏是精神病患者行为的特征,同我平时开朗的性格毫无共同之处。可这完全是情不自禁的,不这样又叫我怎么办?

另外,每当有客来访,我就更加受罪,表现得益发手足无措,呆头呆脑。在返回曼陀丽的头几周里,我记得,本郡左近的邻人络绎来访。接待这些宾客,握手寒暄,无话找话打发这礼尚往来的半点钟——这一切竟比我原先想象的更折磨人,因为现在又增添了一层新的疑虑,生怕这些人会说出一些不该说的话来。一听见车道上有车轮滑行的声音,接着是撕裂耳鼓的门铃,我就心慌意乱地忙着往自己房间里躲。这一切真叫人受罪!躲进房间以后,我手忙脚乱地往鼻子上搽些脂粉,匆匆梳几下头发,接着总是一阵叩门声,仆人送上放在银托盘里的来客名片。

“好,我这就下来。”于是,楼梯上和大厅里响起我啪嗒啪嗒的脚步声。拉开藏书室的门(有时候情况更糟糕,客人被领到那阴冷而无生气的大客厅),里面是一位陌生女宾,也许是两位,或是一对夫妇。

“您好!真对不住,迈克西姆在花园里,弗里思已找他去了。”

“我们觉得应该来拜访二位,向新娘表示敬意。”

应景的一笑,慌乱的几句应酬话,然后宾主就再也找不到话说,只好自我解困地环顾一下屋子。

“曼陀丽还是这般迷人,您爱这地方吗?”

“喔,当然,我挺……”由于腼腆怯生,同时又想讨好这些客人,我不禁又用上平素不用的女学生的语言,什么“啊,挺帅的”,“喔,妙极”,“没说的”,“真来劲儿”等等,都会脱口而出。我记得有一次,竟对着一位手持长柄眼镜的王公未亡人喊出了“呱呱叫”!迈克西姆进屋以后,虽说可以让我松一口气,但同时又使我胆颤心惊,生伯客人无忌讳地说出一些不该说的话。因此,我马上就变成个哑巴,手揣在怀里,唇边挂着尴尬僵化的微笑。客人们一见这阵势,总是转身去跟迈克西姆聊天,谈论那些我一无所知的人物和地方,还不时向我投来大惑不解的疑问的目光。

我想象得出客人坐车离开曼陀丽时的对话:“亲爱的,多么平庸乏味的一个女人!她差不多没有开口说话。”接着便是我头一回从比阿特丽斯嘴里听到的那句话:“她跟自蓓卡多么不一样!”打那次以后,这句话老是缠着我,在每位来客的眼光和言谈中,我仿佛都看到这几个字:“她跟吕蓓卡多么不一样!”

有时候,在这类谈话中我能够搜集到一些零星的材料,以充实内心的秘密仓库。所谓零星的材料,无非是交谈过程中随口漏出的一个词,一个问题,一个短语。要是迈克西姆不在场,听到这类片言只语,我会因为在暗地里窃得一些情况而偷偷觉着一种带痛楚的乐趣。

有时,也许还得对客人进行回拜。在这类事情上,迈克西姆刻板拘泥,不肯放过我。要是他不跟我同行,我就得豁出去,独自去应付这种正式场面。我得搜索枯肠,无话找话,因此宾主之间常出现冷场。每逢这种时候,主人就问:“德温特夫人,你们有没有在曼陀丽经常接待宾客的打算?”我则回答:“我不知道。到目前为止,迈克西姆还没说起过。”“那当然,季节还没到。我记得早先曼陀丽经常是宾客盈门的。”稍稍一顿之后,此人又接着说:“您知道,都是从伦敦下来的客人。那时候经常举行规模很大的宴会。”我只好回答:“是的,我听说过。”又是稍稍一顿,接着说话人压低了嗓门(人们在谈到死者或是在教堂里说话时都这样):“您知道,她非常之得人心,多出众的人物!”“是的,一点不错。”过了一会,我看看被手套遮没的表,说道:“四点多了吧?恐怕我得告辞了。”

“不喝了茶去吗?我家总在四点一刻进午茶”

“不啦,不啦。非常感谢。我出来时跟迈克西姆说好的……”这句话拖长着声音不说完,意思则大家心照不宣。就这样,宾主同时站起身,双方都很清楚对方的告别托辞或挽留表示全是客套虚礼。有时候我也想,要是我把礼仪俗套统统抛到九霄云外,会出现什么样的局面?在坐进汽车并向站在门口台阶上的女主人挥过手之后,突然打开车门说:“我实在并不急着回去。走,再到您家客厅里去坐坐,要是您觉得可以,我吃了晚饭再走,或者干脆就在这儿过夜。”

我常想礼俗以及外乡人讲究的举止风度,能否使主人忍受我上述举动给他们带来的震惊,他们冷冰冰的脸上会不会堆起表示欢迎的假笑:“干吗不呢?你主动提出留下,我真不胜荣幸。”我常想,要是自己有勇气这么试验一次,那才有趣哩。但是实际上,进了汽车,总是砰地一声关上门,接着,汽车慢慢驶过平滑的砂砾面车道,我方才拜会的女主人则懒洋洋走回房去,如释重负地叹了一口气,又恢复了她原来的样子。

邻县设有教堂,那里的主教夫人曾对我说:“您丈夫是否有意重新举办曼陀丽的化装舞会?每次舞会都搞得有声有色,我一辈子也忘不了。”

我只得装出深知此类舞会中奥妙的样子,微微一笑,回答说:“我们还没拿定主意,要做的事情,要商量的问题实在太多。”

“是啊,您一定够忙的。不过我希望你们别取消化装舞会的惯例。您跟他说说嘛。去年当然没举行,可我记得两年前的那一次,我同主教一起去参加,那场面委实动人。在曼陀丽这地方开这样的舞会,真是再合适没有。大厅装饰得五彩缤纷,舞会就在那儿举行。乐队在往廊里演奏。一切都安排得十分得体。举办这么一次舞会肯定得花很大力气去筹备,可是客人都皆大欢喜而归。”

“是的,”我说。“好吧,我一定问问迈克西姆。”

这时,我想起展室那张写字桌上贴着标签的鸽笼式文件架;我想象着她坐在写字桌旁,面前是大叠大叠的请柬,一长串的客人名单和住址。她打算邀请什么人,就在这人的名字旁打一个钩形符号。然后,她伸手取过请柬,把笔伸进墨水瓶一蘸,用那修长的斜体字飞快地、毫不犹豫地在请束上书写着……

主教夫人又说:“有一年夏天,我们还去参加过一次游园会,跟往常一样,场面壮观,美不胜收。我记得那是一个阳光明媚的日子,花儿盛开,客人就在玫瑰园里围坐在一张一张小桌旁进茶点。这主意真绝,换了别人才想不出呢。当然,她聪明过人……”

主教夫人突然打住,微微涨红了脸,担心自己说话不够审慎。为避免双方受窘,我马上接着她的话头表示同意,鼓起勇气,厚着脸皮说:“吕蓓卡-准是个了不起的人物。”

我简直不相信自己终于如吐骨鲠般说出了她的名字。我等着,不知道会出现何种后果。我把这个名字,把“吕蓓卡”三个字终于说出口了,这使我大大松了口气。我仿佛经历了一场洗礼,解除了一种无法忍受的痛苦。“吕蓓卡”,我把她的名字说出口了!

不知道主教夫人有没有看到我脸上的红晕,不管怎么说,反正她还是照样谈笑自如。我在一旁贪婪地洗耳恭听,就像藏在一扇关闭的窗户底下偷听一样。

主教夫人问我:“这么说来,您从未见过她?”我摇摇头。

她沉吟片刻,显得有点为难,不知道该怎么往下说。“我们同她并不熟悉。您知道。我丈夫四年前才在这儿就职。不过尽管这样,当我们去参加舞会和游园会时,她当然还是以礼相待。有一年冬天,我们还去吃过一顿饭。是啊,她真是个尤物,充满奕奕活力。”

我一边翻弄着手套上的流苏,一边用漫不经心的语调若无其事地说:“看来她样样事情都在行,这样聪明漂亮同时又爱娱乐的人可不多见。”

“是啊,是不多见,”主教夫人说。“她的确有才华。此刻我还能回想起舞会那天晚上她的模样:一头乌黑的长发衬着雪白的肌肤,站在楼梯跟前同每一位来客握手。她的化装舞服非常合身。是的,她确实是个出众的美人。”

“她还亲自管家呢,”我微笑着说,仿佛向对方表示:“我一点没有什么不自在,我常跟人谈起她。”接着我又说:“为此,她肯定要花去不少时间和心血,我可是把这些统统交给管家去料理。”

“喔,当然啦,一个人不可能样样都行。您还很年轻,是吗?毫无疑问,过一段时间,等您在这儿住惯了,您也能管起来的。另外,您不是有自己的爱好吗?听人说,您爱写生素描。”

“啊,那个吗?”我说,“简直算不了什么。”

“这可是挺不错的一点本事哩。不是每个人都会画画的。您可别把它丢了,曼陀丽定有不少供您写生的美景。”

“是的,您说得不错,”我说。听了主教夫人的话,我顿时变得灰溜溜的,眼前突然出现了一幅图景:我带着一张帆布折凳,慢腾腾走过草坪,一边的腋下挟一盒铅笔,另一边挟着主教夫人所说的表示“一点本事”的画本儿。“一点本事”,这听上去多不值钱!简直是种不健康的癖好。

“您爱玩哪种游戏?爱骑马,还是射击?”主教夫人又问。

“不,这些我都不行。”接着,我竟又可怜巴巴地补上一句:“不过,我很喜欢散步。”与骑马、射击等相比,这是何其微不足道!

可是主教夫人立即很自然地接上去说:“这是世上最好的运动。主教和我也常散步。”听她这么一说,我就想象主教是不是戴着教会高增的那种铲子形怪帽,系着绑腿套,臂上吊着这位太太,沿着他的大教堂来回转圈子。接着,她又说起他们夫妇俩好些年以前曾在彭奈恩山区徒步旅行,度过假期,还说当时他们俩一天平均要走二十英里。我不住点头,脸上挂着彬彬有礼的微笑,一边则在猜想这彭奈恩到底是什么地方,大概跟南美洲的安第斯山脉差不多吧。后来我才想起学生时代的地图册上有这个名词,好像是在涂着浅红色的英格兰的中部,画着一条毛茸茸的地带,表示这是一支山脉,这就是彭东思。而这位主教大人一定还是戴着他的铲形帽,系着绑腿套。

谈话至此,便又是无可避免的冷场。客厅的钟当当敲了四下,我便完全多余地看看手表,站起来告辞:“我真高兴您在家;希望二位有空来玩。”

“太好啦,不过,主教他老是那么忙。请向您丈夫问好,别忘了一定请他再把曼陀丽的舞会办起来呵。”

“好,我一定跟他说。”我假装自己对这种舞会全盘了解的样子,再次说了假话。

回家的路上,我蜷缩在汽车的角落里,一边啃啮大拇指的指甲,一边恩象舞会的景象:曼陀丽的大厅里挤满穿化装舞眼的来宾,到处是熙攘的客人,一屋子人声笑语;乐队在柱廊里演奏;晚上也许在客厅里排宴,沿墙排着供宾客自取饭菜的长条餐桌;迈克西姆站在楼梯跟前,笑着同众人握手,不时转身向着并肩的伴侣,此人修长苗条,一头黑发——主教夫人说过,一头黑发衬着白的脸蛋——此人眼观四方,所有客人的需求她都能照顾到;她回过头去,对仆役发号施令;此人的举止优雅大方,从不尴尬失措;而当她翩然起舞时,空气中就滞留着一股白杜鹃似的浓香……

“德温特夫人,你们有没有在曼陀丽经常招待宾客的打算?”我的耳畔又响起那位我曾拜访过的住在克里斯那头的夫人的声音,话音充满挑动性,大有打破砂锅问到底的味道。我还想起这位夫人暖昧的眼神,从头到脚打量着我的服饰,同时又用那种人们看新娘时惯用的目光,飞快朝我腹部一瞥,看我是不是怀孕了。

我不愿再见到这个女人,我真不想再见到所有这些宝货。他们到曼陀丽来仅仅是出干好奇,并因为他们喜欢窥探别人的隐私;他们想对我的相貌、举止、身材作一番评论,还想看看迈克西姆与我关系如何,两人是否相爱。这样,待他们回到家,就有闲话的谈资了:“唉,真叫今非昔比。”他们所以来访,是因为想把我与吕蓓卡作一番比较……

我打定主意,从今以后不再对任何人作回拜。我要向迈克西姆讲明这一点。这些人是否会因此说我粗鲁失礼,我一概不在乎。当然,这么一来,供他们评头品足,飞短流长的资料就更多了,他们会说我没有教养:“哼,我早料到,她毕竟是个无名之辈!”接着便是一声冷笑,还轻蔑地一耸肩膀接着又说:“亲爱的,你不知道吗?他是在蒙特卡洛或是别的什么地方偶然把她弄上手的。当时她身无分文,给一个老太婆当女跟班。”又是冷笑,人们竖眉瞪眼表示惊讶。“胡说八道,真的吗?唉,男人都这么怪,特别像迈克西姆这样的人,平时多么挑剔哪,继吕蓓卡之后,他怎么会娶这样一个女人?”

我可一点儿不在乎,他们爱怎么说就由他们怎么说去。

汽车驶进大门时,我在座椅上坐直身子,向住在门房的那个女人微笑示意。她正门前园子里弯身摘花,听到车子的声音,忙直起身来。可是她没看见我在向她微笑。我朝她挥挥手,她却一无表情地瞪眼望着我,大概并不认识我。我只得又缩回到车厢的角落里。

汽车驶上车道,在一个狭转弯处,我看见有一个男子在我们前面不远步行,这是总管事弗兰克-克劳利。听到汽车的声音,他马上站定,司机也把车速放慢了。弗兰克-克劳利见到坐在车里的是我,就除下帽子,微微一笑,看来见到我他是很高兴的。我同样报以微笑。他真好,见到我居然露出愉快的神情。我喜欢这个人,我可不像比阿特丽斯那样,觉得他平庸无趣,这是因为我自己也是一个平庸的角色,我们两人无独有偶,都不善词令,这就叫做;物以类聚。

我敲敲车窗,叫司机停车;“让我下去,我跟克劳利先生一起步行回去。”

克劳利替我打开车门,问道:“作客去了吗,德温特夫人?”

“是的,弗兰克。”我学着迈克西姆的样,叫他弗兰克,可他总是称呼我德温特夫人。他就是那种类型的人,即使我们两人被扔在一座孤岛上,在那儿朝夕相处度过自己的余生,我总还是德温特夫人。

“我去拜访主教,他出去了,只有夫人在家。这一对夫妇喜欢散步,有时候,夫妇俩每天步行二十英里,那是在彭奈思山区。”

弗兰克-克劳利说:“我不熟悉那一带地方,听说山区周围的农村很美,我有个叔叔曾住在那里。”真是标准的弗兰克-克劳利式的谈话:平淡无奇,刻板规矩,万无一失!

“主教夫人想知道,我们什么再在曼陀丽举行化装舞会,”我一边说一边从眼角膘着他。“她说,她参加了上一次的舞会,愉快极了。弗兰克,我可不知道这么一回事哩。”

他显得有些为难,迟疑半晌才回答:“嗯,不错。”又过了片刻他才说:“曼陀丽的舞会通常是一年一度,郡里的名人都来参加,还有好些从伦敦来的客人,是个大场面……

“那一定得花好大力气筹备吧,”我说。

“是的。”

我故意装出漫不经心的样子问道:“大部分筹备工作大概都是吕蓓卡做的吧?”

我笔直望着前面的车道,可我感到他转过脸来看着我,像是想从我的表情中看出一些什么端倪。

他平静地回答道:“我们大家都花不少力气的。”

他说话的时候带着一种古怪的保留态度,他那种怯生生的样子使我想到自己的窘态,同时我又不知道这个人是否曾受上过吕蓓卡。要是的确发生过这种事,那么换了我,也一定会用他此刻这种语调说话。这个念头引出许多新的猜测。羞怯而又平庸的弗兰克,他要是爱上吕蓓卡,那是决不会向任何人,特别是吕蓓卡本人吐露衷情的。

“要是开跳舞会,我这个人恐怕一点都帮不上忙,”我说。“我根本没有安排社交场面的能力。”

“不用您费心,您只消保持平时的本色,就相当漂亮了。”

“弗兰克,承蒙你好心这么说。可是我恐怕连这一点也做不到。”

“我看,您一定能做得很好。”

亲爱的弗兰克-克劳利,多么机智,多么体贴!我差不多要相信他的话了,可马上又想到他是在恭维我。

我问他:“你问问迈克西姆好吗?是否有意开一次舞会?”

“为什么您不亲自问他呢?”他答道。

“不,我不愿问。”

一时,两人都不说话,沿着车道默默朝前走去。我已经打破不愿说出吕蓓卡名字的顾虑,起初是当着主教夫人的面,现在又当着弗兰克-克劳利的面。这么一来,心底竟有一种不停地老想说这三个字的冲动,念叨着吕蓓卡的名字,给我一种异样的满足,这三个字对我犹如一帖兴奋剂。我觉得过不了几分钟,我就得一说她的名字。

“前几天我到海滩去,”我说。“就是靠近防波堤那儿的海滩。杰斯珀真叫人讨厌,它冲着一个可怜虫不停地吠叫,那个人长着一对白痴般的眼睛。”

“您说的一定是贝恩,”这时弗兰克的声音已变得很自然。“他老是在海边游荡。不过这是个好人,您不必怕他,他连一只苍蝇都不会伤害的。”

“啊,我可一点不害怕。”我顿了一顿,哼哼小调来增添一点自信心。“我怕海边那座小屋要烂坏了。”我装得轻描淡写。“那天我进屋去是想找根绳子或是别的什么东西去缚住杰斯珀。屋里的瓷器都发了霉,那些书也已残破不堪,为什么不去处理一下呢?我看怪可惜的。”

我猜想他不会立刻口答,果然,他俯身去结鞋带。

我也佯装着端详灌木丛上的一片叶子。弗兰克一边拾掇自己的鞋子,一边说:“要是迈克西姆有意处理那屋子,我想他会对我说的。”

我问道:“那些都是吕蓓卡的东西吗?”

“是的,”他说。

我扔掉那片叶子,又随手捡起一片,放在手掌中翻来复去玩弄。

“她用那小屋做什么?”我问,“屋子里家具齐全。开始时,从外形看,我还以为是船库呢!”

“起初那小屋确是座船库,”他说,声音又变得很不自然,说话费劲儿的那种样子说明这个话题弄得他很不自在。“后来,呃,后来嘛,她把屋子改装成现在这个样子,摆了家具,还有瓷器。”

我觉得他老是把吕蓓卡称作“她”很有点反常,我原以为他会直呼“吕蓓卡”其名,或是把她称作“德温特夫人”。

“她常用那小屋吗?”我又问。

“是的,她经常用那小屋。什么月下野餐啦,还有,呃,总是那一类的活动呗。”

这时,我们又并肩走着,我还是哼着小调。“多有趣啊,”我装出愉快的样子说。“月下野餐,你也去参加吗?”

“我参加过一两回,”他回答道。他的神态变得十分沉静;他显然极不愿意谈论这些事情。对这一切,我存心视而不见。

“在那小海湾里干吗设着一只浮筒呢?”

“过去拴船用的。”

“什么船?”

“她的船。”

我突然觉得一阵莫名其妙的冲动。我非得这样继续盘问不可。我知道,他不想谈这些。尽管我为他感到难受。同时觉得自己这样做实在不像话,可就是不能自制,我实在无法住嘴。

“她的船后来怎么啦?”我说。“是不是就是后来出事的船?”

“是的,”他不动声色地说。“船翻了,接着就沉没,她被海水冲出船舱。”

“这艘船多大?”

“载重量约莫三吨,船上有一个小舱房。”

“那怎么会翻呢?”

“海湾里有时也会起风浪。”

我想象着黛绿色的大海,吐着泡沫,形成一道道水流,冲过海岬。是突然起的风吗?也许风从山顶的灯塔处像穿过漏斗般地猛吹下来?那小艇是顶着风颤抖着倾侧的吗?白色的船帆也许正对着起风暴的海洋

“难道没有人能去抢救吗?”我说。

“谁也没看见船出事,没人知道她出海去了。”

我小心翼翼,故意不朝他看,而他倒可能看到我脸上惊奇的神色,因为我一直以为事故发生在一次驾艇比赛中,周围有许多船只,都是从克里斯来参加比赛的,还有不少站在山崖上观看比赛的人。我根本不知道她当时独自在海湾里。

“那么宅子里的人肯定知道罗?”我问。

“不,她常常这样独个儿出海,爱什么时候回来,就什么时候回来,夜里宿在海滩小屋。”

“她倒一点不害怕?”

“害怕?”他说。“不,她什么都不怕。”

“那么,呃,迈克西姆也不管吗?让她这样独自出去?”

他顿了片刻,然后就简短地说了一句“我不知道。”我有一种感觉,他似乎忠心地守着什么人的秘密,是为迈克西姆?还是为吕蓓卡?要不,甚至可能是他本人的秘密?这个人很古怪,我实在弄不大懂是怎么一回事情。

“这么说来,她一定是在船沉之后,想往岸边游近时淹死的?”我说。

“是的。”

我能想象那小艇如何颤抖着沉入大海,海水如何涌进驾驶室。海上突然起了可怕的大风,帆把船压得沉了下去。海湾里肯定是一片漆黑,对于一个在水里拼命划游的人来说,海岸一定是非常遥远的。

“那么,过了多久才发现她的尸体呢?”

“大概有两个月之久。”

两个月!我原以为淹死的人过两天就会被人发现,一俟涨潮,他们的尸体就会被冲到近岸处。

“她的尸体是在哪里发现的?”我问。

“埃奇库姆比附近,离此地约四十英里的海峡里,”他说。

我七岁那年,曾在埃奇库姆比度假。那是座大城市,有一个码头,到处是驴子,我还记得自己在沙滩上骑驴的情景。

“人们怎么知道死者就是她?过了两个月还能辨认?”

我不明白为什么他每次回答我的问题,总要字斟句酌地沉吟一会儿。难道他对这个女人有特殊的感情,难道这事情对他创痛至深?

“是迈克西姆到埃奇库姆比去认尸的,”他说。

突然,我什么也不想问了,只觉得自己无聊可鄙。我活像个看热闹的闲人,站在人群外围,听说有人被击倒在地,就好奇心大发。我觉得自己又像住在廉价公寓里的穷房客,公寓里死了人就跑去问能不能让我看看尸体。我恨自己。我提的这些问题真是有失身分,寡廉鲜耻。弗兰克-克劳利一定觉得我这人低贱极了。

于是,我赶快说:“对你们大家说来,那段日子确实不好过。我知道你不愿重提往事;我只不过问问能不能处理一下那海滩小屋,就是这么回事。看着家具潮湿霉烂,挺可惜。”

他什么也没说。我只觉得浑身闷热得难受。他肯定已经意识到我之所以提这么一大堆问题决不是因为关心那座弃屋,而他此刻的沉默则说明他对我的举止感到震惊。两人之间本来已建立了某种令人舒心的牢固的友谊,我曾感到此人是个好帮手,也许,这一切都已被我亲手摧毁,他对我的印象不会再同以前一样了。

“这车道真长,”我说。“老是使我联想起格林童话里王子迷路的密林小径。你总以为就要走到头,其实不然。两旁又长着这样密集的黑压压的树木。”

“不错,车道确实不大平常,”他说。

从他的神态可以看出他仍在留心提防,准备对付我进一步的盘问。谁都能一眼看透,两人的关系变得非常僵。得想个办法挽回一下才好,为此丢尽面子,我也在所不惜。

“弗兰克,”我豁出去了。“我知道这会儿你在想什么。你自然不可能理解我刚才为什么提那么一大堆问题。你以为我秉性反常,刨根问底,一点不顾及别人的感情。实话对你说,不是那么一回事。其中的道理,嗯,说到其中道理,那只不过是因为我有时总不免觉得自己处境不利。曼陀丽的生活对我既新奇又陌生,我过去所受的教养对此不能适应。每当我像今天下午这样去回拜陌生人时,我总意识到别人上下打量不止的目光,同时他们又满腹狐疑,不知道我对于自己的新生活能适应到何种程度。我可以想象这些人在背地里说,‘迈克西姆到底看中她哪一点?’而接下去,弗兰克,我自己也糊涂了,开始怀疑。有一种可怕的念头老缠着我,使我觉得我压根儿不该嫁给迈克西姆,我和他两人是不会幸福的。你知道,每次见生人,我无时无刻不意识到他们全在心里转着同样的念头——她跟吕蓓卡多么不一样!”

我突兀地收住话头,说得上气不接下气,同时却为自己这一阵子发作而感到羞愧。我觉得,把事情和盘托出之后,现在再也没有退路了。

他转过脸来,神情十分关切,同时又好像心事重重。

“德温特夫人,请不要这么想,”他说。“就我而论,您同迈克西姆结婚,我说不上来心里有多高兴。他的生活因此而整个变了样。我敢肯定,您完全能适应新的生活。从我的角度说,这——这既新鲜又可喜,遇上像您这样的人,您这样并不完全——嗯,”他红了脸,想找个适当的字眼,“我们不妨说,对于曼陀丽的这一套并不完全anfait①的人。倘若这儿附近的人给您印象不佳,似乎都在对您评头品足,那是——嗯——那是他们这些人放肆地冒犯了您,仅此而已。我可没听到过一句微词,如果我听见有谁说坏话,我一定亲自于预,决不让这人再信口雌黄。”——

①法语,意指“了如指掌”。

“你真好,弗兰克,”我说。“你这一席话真给我鼓了劲。我明白自己是个没用的笨人,待人接物都不懂,因为以前从来不必在这方面下工夫。我老是猜想曼陀丽在过去大概是什么样子的。那时的女主人无论出身和教养都同这座庄园相配,做什么事情都是驾轻就熟;我每时每刻总意识到自己的缺陷正是她的长处——自信、仪态、美貌、才识、机智——啊,反正对女人说来最重要的素质全有了!想到这些,叫人丧气,弗兰克,真叫人灰心丧气。”

他没作声,仍然愁眉苦脸,心事重重。他掏出手帕擤鼻子,过后才说:“你不能这么讲。”

“为什么不能?都是事实,”我说。

“您所拥有的素质同样重要,甚至比那些重要得多。我这么说也许有点冒失无礼,我毕竟不太了解您。我是个单身汉,对于女人知之不多。您也知道,我在这儿过着多少有点闭塞的生活,可我还是要说:心地善良,待人诚挚,还有,如果你不见怪,谦逊端庄,这些对于男子,对于一个做丈夫的来说,比之世上所有的机智和美貌,价值大得多。”

他看上去内心甚不平静,又擤了一次鼻子。我发现,我挑起了这场谈话纵然使自己难过,但在很大程度上他比我更加不安。认识到这一点之后,我倒反而安静下来,享受到了某种优越感。我不明白,他为什么如此小题大做,毕竟,我又没多罗唆什么,只不过说了像我这样继吕蓓卡之后来到曼陀丽的人有种不安全感。另外,他刚才说到我身上的一些所谓长处,这些素质她一定也有;她肯定是个善良而诚挚的人,不然哪来那么多的朋友?哪会有口皆碑?至于谦逊端庄,我拿不准他指的是什么。这个词儿的确义我始终没能弄明白,我总以为,这个词或多或少就是指走在通往浴室的过道里生怕碰到人……可怜的弗兰克,而比阿特丽斯还曾把他称为无聊人物,说他一辈子说不出一句带个性的话。

“呃,”我尴尬地说,“呃,你说的这些我都不大懂。我并不觉得自己心地善良,待人也不怎么特别真诚;至于谦逊端庄,从小到大我一直处在这样的地位,不得不如此。不过,在蒙特卡洛先是单身借住旅馆,接着匆匆结婚,自然不能算太端庄吧。也许你不计较这些?”

“亲爱的德温特夫人,难道您不明白,我从来不以为你们俩在南方邂逅有任何不能端上桌面的地方?”他低声说。

“哦,我当然不会这么想,”我严肃地说。可爱的弗兰克,看来我真把他吓坏了。“端上桌面,”之么典型的弗兰克式语言。一听到这个词,你马上就会想到桌子底下暗中发生的事。

“我敢肯定,”他开了个头又踌躇起来,仍是一副心神不定的样子。“我敢肯定,倘若迈克西姆了解您的心情,他会犯愁的,还会非常痛苦。大概什么都没觉察到。”

“你不会告诉他吧?”我忙不迭地说。

“不会,当然不会。您把我当什么人了?不过,您得明白,德温特夫人,我很了解迈克西姆这个人,亲眼看他经历了许多……不同的心境。如果他觉得您在为——嗯——为往事伤神,那将是他活在世上最大的痛苦。我说这话有十分的把握。眼下,他气色正好,看上去十分健康。不过莱西夫人那天的话不假,去年,他差一点就要神经失常,当然莱西夫人当着他的面这么说有些失策。所以,对他说来您是何其重要。您年轻,生气勃勃,呃,又明白事理,您与往昔的生活没有一丝瓜葛。忘了吧,德温特夫人,把过去忘掉。感谢老天,他可已经把一切忘了,这儿的其他人也是这样。对我们中的任何人说来,往事都是不堪回首的,对迈克西姆尤其如此。而您知道,能不能引着大家从往昔的羁缚中挣脱出来,全靠您啦。别再把大家推到昔日去吧。”

他是对的,当然,他完全对。可爱的弗兰克好人,我的朋友,我的帮手。我太自私,神经过敏,一味沉溺在自卑感里不能自拔。“我真应该早就跟你这样谈一次,”我说。

“我也这么想,”他说。“那样,我可能会帮您摆脱些烦恼。”

“这会儿我才觉得好受些,”我说。“好受多了。今后不管发生什么事,你总是我的朋友,对吗,弗兰克克?”

“当然对的,”他说。

我们走出黑林子,车道豁然开朗,迎面出现了石南花。石南的季节行将过去,所以花朵已多少过了全盛期,开始褪色凋败。到了下个月,花瓣将从浓艳的花盘上纷纷坠地,园丁就会跑来打扫。石南的美是短暂的,决不能永远驻颜。

“弗兰克,”我说,“但愿我们永远不再谈这个话题,可在谈话结束之前,你能不能如实回答我一个问题?”

他狐疑地看着我,好一会儿才说:“这个要求不太合理。也许您提的问题我无从回答,或者完全答不上来。”

“不,”我说,“不是什么怪问题。决不涉及个人的私生活或类似的方面。”

“那好,我尽力而为,”他说。

我们已拐弯走上车道的开阔地段,曼陀丽座落在草坪环绕的低地上,静谧而安详。每次见到这大宅,我总是为其完美的对称和气派,为其朴实无华而惊诧。

阳光在竖框窗上闪耀。围绕着爬满地衣的石墙,有一种色彩柔和的古色古香的光华。一缕青烟从藏书室烟囱袅袅飘起。我咬着拇指指甲,用眼相打量着弗兰克。“告诉我,”我用若无其事的声调说着,什么顾虑也没有了。“告诉我,吕蓓卡非常美吗?”

弗兰克沉吟半晌,我没法看见他的睑,因为这时他已转过身去面对着宅子。“不错,”他慢条斯理地说。“不错,依我说,她是我有生以来见过的最美的女人。”

然后,我们走上台阶,来到大厅;我按铃让仆人送上茶点[/FONT]

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-15#70
第11章

足足一个星期,天气阴冷,霪雨连绵。初夏季节,这种天气在西部农村是常有的。我们没有再到海滩去过。但是从平台和草坪往外眺望,我仍能看见大海。翻腾的巨浪扫过海岬处的灯塔,汹涌冲进海湾;大海一片昏黑,使人望而生畏。我想象着浪潮如何撞上海湾里的礁石,发出轰然巨响,接着又急骤浩荡地涌往倾斜的海滩。站在平台上,我能听到下边大海的吼声,低沉又忧郁,单调地持续着,一刻不停。因为天气的缘故,海鸥也都飞进陆地来了,它们衷唳着在屋子上空盘旋,拍打着展开的翅膀。直到这时我才开始明白,为什么有些人受不了大海的喧哗,这声音听上去有时候确实悲枪,时而隆隆,进而嘶嘶,不住地住你耳鼓里送,使你的神经受不住。我庆幸我俩住在东厢,从窗子一探头就可以看到玫瑰园。有时候晚上睡不着,我就从床上起来,蹑手蹑脚走过去倚着窗框,享受夜的安宁与寂静。在这儿听不到骚动不已的大海的吵闹,因此我的心境才得以安静,才能不去想那条穿林而过通往褐色小海湾的陡峭幽径,还有那座海滩弃屋。我实在不愿想起那座小屋,可是在白天这办不到。站在平台上一望见大海,我就老是想起它:瓷器上蓝色的霉斑;船艇模型桅杆上的蜘蛛网;坐卧两用沙发上鼠咬的破洞;雨点拍打屋顶的声音。我还想起那个名叫贝恩的陌生人,想起他那水汪汪的蓝色小眼睛和那种白痴般的诡秘怪笑。所有这些扰得我无法平静,不得安生。我想设法忘却这一切;与此同时,我又想弄个明白,是什么原因使得我如此惴惴不安,烦恼重重。尽管我拒不承认,但是在我的心底某处确实已有一种暗自好奇的心理,一种疑惧的种子,在缓慢而又是一刻不停地滋长。一个小孩在被告知“这些事谈论不得,不能让你知道”之后所产生的疑问,以及想打听个究竟的急切心情,我全体验到了。

我忘不了那天走在林中小径上迈克西姆惶恐和茫然若有所失的眼神,还有他那句话:“啊,上帝,我多蠢,干吗要回来?”都是我不好,偏要朝海湾跑,这就又勾起了他对往事的回忆。虽然迈克西姆后来又恢复了常态,虽然我们共桌进餐,同床安寝,携手散步,比肩伏案写信,一起驾车到村子去,每时每刻形影不离,可我总感觉到因为那天的事,我俩之间已有了隔阂。

他像是独自走在大路的另一侧,我可不得越雷池一步地向他靠拢。我老是神经紧张,生怕自己一时大意说漏了嘴,或是在随便的交谈中不当心话锋一转,又会使他露出那种眼神。我怕提到大海,因为说到大海就会使人联想到船只,联想到海难事故,联想到淹死人……有一天,弗兰克-克劳利来吃中饭。他谈起离此三英里地的克里斯港举行划船比赛,甚至这样的谈话也把我吓得像是害了热病,心里如刀扎似地难受,赶快低下头盯着面前的菜盘。可是迈克西姆好像并不在乎,照样谈笑风生。只有我在一旁提心吊胆,浑身直冒汗,不知道这番谈话又会引起什么不愉快的事情。

我记得当时大家正在吃干酪。弗里思刚走开,所以我就站起身,到墙边的餐具柜再去取来一些干酪。这之所以这样做,并不是因为干酪吃光了,而是因为我不想坐在桌旁听他们说话。我一边走,一边哼着小调,这样就可以听不见他们谈话的内容。当然,我的担心毫无道理,甚至有点愚蠢。这种反常的过敏是精神病患者行为的特征,同我平时开朗的性格毫无共同之处。可这完全是情不自禁的,不这样又叫我怎么办?

另外,每当有客来访,我就更加受罪,表现得益发手足无措,呆头呆脑。在返回曼陀丽的头几周里,我记得,本郡左近的邻人络绎来访。接待这些宾客,握手寒暄,无话找话打发这礼尚往来的半点钟——这一切竟比我原先想象的更折磨人,因为现在又增添了一层新的疑虑,生怕这些人会说出一些不该说的话来。一听见车道上有车轮滑行的声音,接着是撕裂耳鼓的门铃,我就心慌意乱地忙着往自己房间里躲。这一切真叫人受罪!躲进房间以后,我手忙脚乱地往鼻子上搽些脂粉,匆匆梳几下头发,接着总是一阵叩门声,仆人送上放在银托盘里的来客名片。

“好,我这就下来。”于是,楼梯上和大厅里响起我啪嗒啪嗒的脚步声。拉开藏书室的门(有时候情况更糟糕,客人被领到那阴冷而无生气的大客厅),里面是一位陌生女宾,也许是两位,或是一对夫妇。

“您好!真对不住,迈克西姆在花园里,弗里思已找他去了。”

“我们觉得应该来拜访二位,向新娘表示敬意。”

应景的一笑,慌乱的几句应酬话,然后宾主就再也找不到话说,只好自我解困地环顾一下屋子。

“曼陀丽还是这般迷人,您爱这地方吗?”

“喔,当然,我挺……”由于腼腆怯生,同时又想讨好这些客人,我不禁又用上平素不用的女学生的语言,什么“啊,挺帅的”,“喔,妙极”,“没说的”,“真来劲儿”等等,都会脱口而出。我记得有一次,竟对着一位手持长柄眼镜的王公未亡人喊出了“呱呱叫”!迈克西姆进屋以后,虽说可以让我松一口气,但同时又使我胆颤心惊,生伯客人无忌讳地说出一些不该说的话。因此,我马上就变成个哑巴,手揣在怀里,唇边挂着尴尬僵化的微笑。客人们一见这阵势,总是转身去跟迈克西姆聊天,谈论那些我一无所知的人物和地方,还不时向我投来大惑不解的疑问的目光。

我想象得出客人坐车离开曼陀丽时的对话:“亲爱的,多么平庸乏味的一个女人!她差不多没有开口说话。”接着便是我头一回从比阿特丽斯嘴里听到的那句话:“她跟自蓓卡多么不一样!”打那次以后,这句话老是缠着我,在每位来客的眼光和言谈中,我仿佛都看到这几个字:“她跟吕蓓卡多么不一样!”

有时候,在这类谈话中我能够搜集到一些零星的材料,以充实内心的秘密仓库。所谓零星的材料,无非是交谈过程中随口漏出的一个词,一个问题,一个短语。要是迈克西姆不在场,听到这类片言只语,我会因为在暗地里窃得一些情况而偷偷觉着一种带痛楚的乐趣。

有时,也许还得对客人进行回拜。在这类事情上,迈克西姆刻板拘泥,不肯放过我。要是他不跟我同行,我就得豁出去,独自去应付这种正式场面。我得搜索枯肠,无话找话,因此宾主之间常出现冷场。每逢这种时候,主人就问:“德温特夫人,你们有没有在曼陀丽经常接待宾客的打算?”我则回答:“我不知道。到目前为止,迈克西姆还没说起过。”“那当然,季节还没到。我记得早先曼陀丽经常是宾客盈门的。”稍稍一顿之后,此人又接着说:“您知道,都是从伦敦下来的客人。那时候经常举行规模很大的宴会。”我只好回答:“是的,我听说过。”又是稍稍一顿,接着说话人压低了嗓门(人们在谈到死者或是在教堂里说话时都这样):“您知道,她非常之得人心,多出众的人物!”“是的,一点不错。”过了一会,我看看被手套遮没的表,说道:“四点多了吧?恐怕我得告辞了。”

“不喝了茶去吗?我家总在四点一刻进午茶”

“不啦,不啦。非常感谢。我出来时跟迈克西姆说好的……”这句话拖长着声音不说完,意思则大家心照不宣。就这样,宾主同时站起身,双方都很清楚对方的告别托辞或挽留表示全是客套虚礼。有时候我也想,要是我把礼仪俗套统统抛到九霄云外,会出现什么样的局面?在坐进汽车并向站在门口台阶上的女主人挥过手之后,突然打开车门说:“我实在并不急着回去。走,再到您家客厅里去坐坐,要是您觉得可以,我吃了晚饭再走,或者干脆就在这儿过夜。”

我常想礼俗以及外乡人讲究的举止风度,能否使主人忍受我上述举动给他们带来的震惊,他们冷冰冰的脸上会不会堆起表示欢迎的假笑:“干吗不呢?你主动提出留下,我真不胜荣幸。”我常想,要是自己有勇气这么试验一次,那才有趣哩。但是实际上,进了汽车,总是砰地一声关上门,接着,汽车慢慢驶过平滑的砂砾面车道,我方才拜会的女主人则懒洋洋走回房去,如释重负地叹了一口气,又恢复了她原来的样子。

邻县设有教堂,那里的主教夫人曾对我说:“您丈夫是否有意重新举办曼陀丽的化装舞会?每次舞会都搞得有声有色,我一辈子也忘不了。”

我只得装出深知此类舞会中奥妙的样子,微微一笑,回答说:“我们还没拿定主意,要做的事情,要商量的问题实在太多。”

“是啊,您一定够忙的。不过我希望你们别取消化装舞会的惯例。您跟他说说嘛。去年当然没举行,可我记得两年前的那一次,我同主教一起去参加,那场面委实动人。在曼陀丽这地方开这样的舞会,真是再合适没有。大厅装饰得五彩缤纷,舞会就在那儿举行。乐队在往廊里演奏。一切都安排得十分得体。举办这么一次舞会肯定得花很大力气去筹备,可是客人都皆大欢喜而归。”

“是的,”我说。“好吧,我一定问问迈克西姆。”

这时,我想起展室那张写字桌上贴着标签的鸽笼式文件架;我想象着她坐在写字桌旁,面前是大叠大叠的请柬,一长串的客人名单和住址。她打算邀请什么人,就在这人的名字旁打一个钩形符号。然后,她伸手取过请柬,把笔伸进墨水瓶一蘸,用那修长的斜体字飞快地、毫不犹豫地在请束上书写着……

主教夫人又说:“有一年夏天,我们还去参加过一次游园会,跟往常一样,场面壮观,美不胜收。我记得那是一个阳光明媚的日子,花儿盛开,客人就在玫瑰园里围坐在一张一张小桌旁进茶点。这主意真绝,换了别人才想不出呢。当然,她聪明过人……”

主教夫人突然打住,微微涨红了脸,担心自己说话不够审慎。为避免双方受窘,我马上接着她的话头表示同意,鼓起勇气,厚着脸皮说:“吕蓓卡-准是个了不起的人物。”

我简直不相信自己终于如吐骨鲠般说出了她的名字。我等着,不知道会出现何种后果。我把这个名字,把“吕蓓卡”三个字终于说出口了,这使我大大松了口气。我仿佛经历了一场洗礼,解除了一种无法忍受的痛苦。“吕蓓卡”,我把她的名字说出口了!

不知道主教夫人有没有看到我脸上的红晕,不管怎么说,反正她还是照样谈笑自如。我在一旁贪婪地洗耳恭听,就像藏在一扇关闭的窗户底下偷听一样。

主教夫人问我:“这么说来,您从未见过她?”我摇摇头。

她沉吟片刻,显得有点为难,不知道该怎么往下说。“我们同她并不熟悉。您知道。我丈夫四年前才在这儿就职。不过尽管这样,当我们去参加舞会和游园会时,她当然还是以礼相待。有一年冬天,我们还去吃过一顿饭。是啊,她真是个尤物,充满奕奕活力。”

我一边翻弄着手套上的流苏,一边用漫不经心的语调若无其事地说:“看来她样样事情都在行,这样聪明漂亮同时又爱娱乐的人可不多见。”

“是啊,是不多见,”主教夫人说。“她的确有才华。此刻我还能回想起舞会那天晚上她的模样:一头乌黑的长发衬着雪白的肌肤,站在楼梯跟前同每一位来客握手。她的化装舞服非常合身。是的,她确实是个出众的美人。”

“她还亲自管家呢,”我微笑着说,仿佛向对方表示:“我一点没有什么不自在,我常跟人谈起她。”接着我又说:“为此,她肯定要花去不少时间和心血,我可是把这些统统交给管家去料理。”

“喔,当然啦,一个人不可能样样都行。您还很年轻,是吗?毫无疑问,过一段时间,等您在这儿住惯了,您也能管起来的。另外,您不是有自己的爱好吗?听人说,您爱写生素描。”

“啊,那个吗?”我说,“简直算不了什么。”

“这可是挺不错的一点本事哩。不是每个人都会画画的。您可别把它丢了,曼陀丽定有不少供您写生的美景。”

“是的,您说得不错,”我说。听了主教夫人的话,我顿时变得灰溜溜的,眼前突然出现了一幅图景:我带着一张帆布折凳,慢腾腾走过草坪,一边的腋下挟一盒铅笔,另一边挟着主教夫人所说的表示“一点本事”的画本儿。“一点本事”,这听上去多不值钱!简直是种不健康的癖好。

“您爱玩哪种游戏?爱骑马,还是射击?”主教夫人又问。

“不,这些我都不行。”接着,我竟又可怜巴巴地补上一句:“不过,我很喜欢散步。”与骑马、射击等相比,这是何其微不足道!

可是主教夫人立即很自然地接上去说:“这是世上最好的运动。主教和我也常散步。”听她这么一说,我就想象主教是不是戴着教会高增的那种铲子形怪帽,系着绑腿套,臂上吊着这位太太,沿着他的大教堂来回转圈子。接着,她又说起他们夫妇俩好些年以前曾在彭奈恩山区徒步旅行,度过假期,还说当时他们俩一天平均要走二十英里。我不住点头,脸上挂着彬彬有礼的微笑,一边则在猜想这彭奈恩到底是什么地方,大概跟南美洲的安第斯山脉差不多吧。后来我才想起学生时代的地图册上有这个名词,好像是在涂着浅红色的英格兰的中部,画着一条毛茸茸的地带,表示这是一支山脉,这就是彭东思。而这位主教大人一定还是戴着他的铲形帽,系着绑腿套。

谈话至此,便又是无可避免的冷场。客厅的钟当当敲了四下,我便完全多余地看看手表,站起来告辞:“我真高兴您在家;希望二位有空来玩。”

“太好啦,不过,主教他老是那么忙。请向您丈夫问好,别忘了一定请他再把曼陀丽的舞会办起来呵。”

“好,我一定跟他说。”我假装自己对这种舞会全盘了解的样子,再次说了假话。

回家的路上,我蜷缩在汽车的角落里,一边啃啮大拇指的指甲,一边恩象舞会的景象:曼陀丽的大厅里挤满穿化装舞眼的来宾,到处是熙攘的客人,一屋子人声笑语;乐队在柱廊里演奏;晚上也许在客厅里排宴,沿墙排着供宾客自取饭菜的长条餐桌;迈克西姆站在楼梯跟前,笑着同众人握手,不时转身向着并肩的伴侣,此人修长苗条,一头黑发——主教夫人说过,一头黑发衬着白的脸蛋——此人眼观四方,所有客人的需求她都能照顾到;她回过头去,对仆役发号施令;此人的举止优雅大方,从不尴尬失措;而当她翩然起舞时,空气中就滞留着一股白杜鹃似的浓香……

“德温特夫人,你们有没有在曼陀丽经常招待宾客的打算?”我的耳畔又响起那位我曾拜访过的住在克里斯那头的夫人的声音,话音充满挑动性,大有打破砂锅问到底的味道。我还想起这位夫人暖昧的眼神,从头到脚打量着我的服饰,同时又用那种人们看新娘时惯用的目光,飞快朝我腹部一瞥,看我是不是怀孕了。

我不愿再见到这个女人,我真不想再见到所有这些宝货。他们到曼陀丽来仅仅是出干好奇,并因为他们喜欢窥探别人的隐私;他们想对我的相貌、举止、身材作一番评论,还想看看迈克西姆与我关系如何,两人是否相爱。这样,待他们回到家,就有闲话的谈资了:“唉,真叫今非昔比。”他们所以来访,是因为想把我与吕蓓卡作一番比较……

我打定主意,从今以后不再对任何人作回拜。我要向迈克西姆讲明这一点。这些人是否会因此说我粗鲁失礼,我一概不在乎。当然,这么一来,供他们评头品足,飞短流长的资料就更多了,他们会说我没有教养:“哼,我早料到,她毕竟是个无名之辈!”接着便是一声冷笑,还轻蔑地一耸肩膀接着又说:“亲爱的,你不知道吗?他是在蒙特卡洛或是别的什么地方偶然把她弄上手的。当时她身无分文,给一个老太婆当女跟班。”又是冷笑,人们竖眉瞪眼表示惊讶。“胡说八道,真的吗?唉,男人都这么怪,特别像迈克西姆这样的人,平时多么挑剔哪,继吕蓓卡之后,他怎么会娶这样一个女人?”

我可一点儿不在乎,他们爱怎么说就由他们怎么说去。

汽车驶进大门时,我在座椅上坐直身子,向住在门房的那个女人微笑示意。她正门前园子里弯身摘花,听到车子的声音,忙直起身来。可是她没看见我在向她微笑。我朝她挥挥手,她却一无表情地瞪眼望着我,大概并不认识我。我只得又缩回到车厢的角落里。

汽车驶上车道,在一个狭转弯处,我看见有一个男子在我们前面不远步行,这是总管事弗兰克-克劳利。听到汽车的声音,他马上站定,司机也把车速放慢了。弗兰克-克劳利见到坐在车里的是我,就除下帽子,微微一笑,看来见到我他是很高兴的。我同样报以微笑。他真好,见到我居然露出愉快的神情。我喜欢这个人,我可不像比阿特丽斯那样,觉得他平庸无趣,这是因为我自己也是一个平庸的角色,我们两人无独有偶,都不善词令,这就叫做;物以类聚。

我敲敲车窗,叫司机停车;“让我下去,我跟克劳利先生一起步行回去。”

克劳利替我打开车门,问道:“作客去了吗,德温特夫人?”

“是的,弗兰克。”我学着迈克西姆的样,叫他弗兰克,可他总是称呼我德温特夫人。他就是那种类型的人,即使我们两人被扔在一座孤岛上,在那儿朝夕相处度过自己的余生,我总还是德温特夫人。

“我去拜访主教,他出去了,只有夫人在家。这一对夫妇喜欢散步,有时候,夫妇俩每天步行二十英里,那是在彭奈思山区。”

弗兰克-克劳利说:“我不熟悉那一带地方,听说山区周围的农村很美,我有个叔叔曾住在那里。”真是标准的弗兰克-克劳利式的谈话:平淡无奇,刻板规矩,万无一失!

“主教夫人想知道,我们什么再在曼陀丽举行化装舞会,”我一边说一边从眼角膘着他。“她说,她参加了上一次的舞会,愉快极了。弗兰克,我可不知道这么一回事哩。”

他显得有些为难,迟疑半晌才回答:“嗯,不错。”又过了片刻他才说:“曼陀丽的舞会通常是一年一度,郡里的名人都来参加,还有好些从伦敦来的客人,是个大场面……

“那一定得花好大力气筹备吧,”我说。

“是的。”

我故意装出漫不经心的样子问道:“大部分筹备工作大概都是吕蓓卡做的吧?”

我笔直望着前面的车道,可我感到他转过脸来看着我,像是想从我的表情中看出一些什么端倪。

他平静地回答道:“我们大家都花不少力气的。”

他说话的时候带着一种古怪的保留态度,他那种怯生生的样子使我想到自己的窘态,同时我又不知道这个人是否曾受上过吕蓓卡。要是的确发生过这种事,那么换了我,也一定会用他此刻这种语调说话。这个念头引出许多新的猜测。羞怯而又平庸的弗兰克,他要是爱上吕蓓卡,那是决不会向任何人,特别是吕蓓卡本人吐露衷情的。

“要是开跳舞会,我这个人恐怕一点都帮不上忙,”我说。“我根本没有安排社交场面的能力。”

“不用您费心,您只消保持平时的本色,就相当漂亮了。”

“弗兰克,承蒙你好心这么说。可是我恐怕连这一点也做不到。”

“我看,您一定能做得很好。”

亲爱的弗兰克-克劳利,多么机智,多么体贴!我差不多要相信他的话了,可马上又想到他是在恭维我。

我问他:“你问问迈克西姆好吗?是否有意开一次舞会?”

“为什么您不亲自问他呢?”他答道。

“不,我不愿问。”

一时,两人都不说话,沿着车道默默朝前走去。我已经打破不愿说出吕蓓卡名字的顾虑,起初是当着主教夫人的面,现在又当着弗兰克-克劳利的面。这么一来,心底竟有一种不停地老想说这三个字的冲动,念叨着吕蓓卡的名字,给我一种异样的满足,这三个字对我犹如一帖兴奋剂。我觉得过不了几分钟,我就得一说她的名字。

“前几天我到海滩去,”我说。“就是靠近防波堤那儿的海滩。杰斯珀真叫人讨厌,它冲着一个可怜虫不停地吠叫,那个人长着一对白痴般的眼睛。”

“您说的一定是贝恩,”这时弗兰克的声音已变得很自然。“他老是在海边游荡。不过这是个好人,您不必怕他,他连一只苍蝇都不会伤害的。”

“啊,我可一点不害怕。”我顿了一顿,哼哼小调来增添一点自信心。“我怕海边那座小屋要烂坏了。”我装得轻描淡写。“那天我进屋去是想找根绳子或是别的什么东西去缚住杰斯珀。屋里的瓷器都发了霉,那些书也已残破不堪,为什么不去处理一下呢?我看怪可惜的。”

我猜想他不会立刻口答,果然,他俯身去结鞋带。

我也佯装着端详灌木丛上的一片叶子。弗兰克一边拾掇自己的鞋子,一边说:“要是迈克西姆有意处理那屋子,我想他会对我说的。”

我问道:“那些都是吕蓓卡的东西吗?”

“是的,”他说。

我扔掉那片叶子,又随手捡起一片,放在手掌中翻来复去玩弄。

“她用那小屋做什么?”我问,“屋子里家具齐全。开始时,从外形看,我还以为是船库呢!”

“起初那小屋确是座船库,”他说,声音又变得很不自然,说话费劲儿的那种样子说明这个话题弄得他很不自在。“后来,呃,后来嘛,她把屋子改装成现在这个样子,摆了家具,还有瓷器。”

我觉得他老是把吕蓓卡称作“她”很有点反常,我原以为他会直呼“吕蓓卡”其名,或是把她称作“德温特夫人”。

“她常用那小屋吗?”我又问。

“是的,她经常用那小屋。什么月下野餐啦,还有,呃,总是那一类的活动呗。”

这时,我们又并肩走着,我还是哼着小调。“多有趣啊,”我装出愉快的样子说。“月下野餐,你也去参加吗?”

“我参加过一两回,”他回答道。他的神态变得十分沉静;他显然极不愿意谈论这些事情。对这一切,我存心视而不见。

“在那小海湾里干吗设着一只浮筒呢?”

“过去拴船用的。”

“什么船?”

“她的船。”

我突然觉得一阵莫名其妙的冲动。我非得这样继续盘问不可。我知道,他不想谈这些。尽管我为他感到难受。同时觉得自己这样做实在不像话,可就是不能自制,我实在无法住嘴。

“她的船后来怎么啦?”我说。“是不是就是后来出事的船?”

“是的,”他不动声色地说。“船翻了,接着就沉没,她被海水冲出船舱。”

“这艘船多大?”

“载重量约莫三吨,船上有一个小舱房。”

“那怎么会翻呢?”

“海湾里有时也会起风浪。”

我想象着黛绿色的大海,吐着泡沫,形成一道道水流,冲过海岬。是突然起的风吗?也许风从山顶的灯塔处像穿过漏斗般地猛吹下来?那小艇是顶着风颤抖着倾侧的吗?白色的船帆也许正对着起风暴的海洋

“难道没有人能去抢救吗?”我说。

“谁也没看见船出事,没人知道她出海去了。”

我小心翼翼,故意不朝他看,而他倒可能看到我脸上惊奇的神色,因为我一直以为事故发生在一次驾艇比赛中,周围有许多船只,都是从克里斯来参加比赛的,还有不少站在山崖上观看比赛的人。我根本不知道她当时独自在海湾里。

“那么宅子里的人肯定知道罗?”我问。

“不,她常常这样独个儿出海,爱什么时候回来,就什么时候回来,夜里宿在海滩小屋。”

“她倒一点不害怕?”

“害怕?”他说。“不,她什么都不怕。”

“那么,呃,迈克西姆也不管吗?让她这样独自出去?”

他顿了片刻,然后就简短地说了一句“我不知道。”我有一种感觉,他似乎忠心地守着什么人的秘密,是为迈克西姆?还是为吕蓓卡?要不,甚至可能是他本人的秘密?这个人很古怪,我实在弄不大懂是怎么一回事情。

“这么说来,她一定是在船沉之后,想往岸边游近时淹死的?”我说。

“是的。”

我能想象那小艇如何颤抖着沉入大海,海水如何涌进驾驶室。海上突然起了可怕的大风,帆把船压得沉了下去。海湾里肯定是一片漆黑,对于一个在水里拼命划游的人来说,海岸一定是非常遥远的。

“那么,过了多久才发现她的尸体呢?”

“大概有两个月之久。”

两个月!我原以为淹死的人过两天就会被人发现,一俟涨潮,他们的尸体就会被冲到近岸处。

“她的尸体是在哪里发现的?”我问。

“埃奇库姆比附近,离此地约四十英里的海峡里,”他说。

我七岁那年,曾在埃奇库姆比度假。那是座大城市,有一个码头,到处是驴子,我还记得自己在沙滩上骑驴的情景。

“人们怎么知道死者就是她?过了两个月还能辨认?”

我不明白为什么他每次回答我的问题,总要字斟句酌地沉吟一会儿。难道他对这个女人有特殊的感情,难道这事情对他创痛至深?

“是迈克西姆到埃奇库姆比去认尸的,”他说。

突然,我什么也不想问了,只觉得自己无聊可鄙。我活像个看热闹的闲人,站在人群外围,听说有人被击倒在地,就好奇心大发。我觉得自己又像住在廉价公寓里的穷房客,公寓里死了人就跑去问能不能让我看看尸体。我恨自己。我提的这些问题真是有失身分,寡廉鲜耻。弗兰克-克劳利一定觉得我这人低贱极了。

于是,我赶快说:“对你们大家说来,那段日子确实不好过。我知道你不愿重提往事;我只不过问问能不能处理一下那海滩小屋,就是这么回事。看着家具潮湿霉烂,挺可惜。”

他什么也没说。我只觉得浑身闷热得难受。他肯定已经意识到我之所以提这么一大堆问题决不是因为关心那座弃屋,而他此刻的沉默则说明他对我的举止感到震惊。两人之间本来已建立了某种令人舒心的牢固的友谊,我曾感到此人是个好帮手,也许,这一切都已被我亲手摧毁,他对我的印象不会再同以前一样了。

“这车道真长,”我说。“老是使我联想起格林童话里王子迷路的密林小径。你总以为就要走到头,其实不然。两旁又长着这样密集的黑压压的树木。”

“不错,车道确实不大平常,”他说。

从他的神态可以看出他仍在留心提防,准备对付我进一步的盘问。谁都能一眼看透,两人的关系变得非常僵。得想个办法挽回一下才好,为此丢尽面子,我也在所不惜。

“弗兰克,”我豁出去了。“我知道这会儿你在想什么。你自然不可能理解我刚才为什么提那么一大堆问题。你以为我秉性反常,刨根问底,一点不顾及别人的感情。实话对你说,不是那么一回事。其中的道理,嗯,说到其中道理,那只不过是因为我有时总不免觉得自己处境不利。曼陀丽的生活对我既新奇又陌生,我过去所受的教养对此不能适应。每当我像今天下午这样去回拜陌生人时,我总意识到别人上下打量不止的目光,同时他们又满腹狐疑,不知道我对于自己的新生活能适应到何种程度。我可以想象这些人在背地里说,‘迈克西姆到底看中她哪一点?’而接下去,弗兰克,我自己也糊涂了,开始怀疑。有一种可怕的念头老缠着我,使我觉得我压根儿不该嫁给迈克西姆,我和他两人是不会幸福的。你知道,每次见生人,我无时无刻不意识到他们全在心里转着同样的念头——她跟吕蓓卡多么不一样!”

我突兀地收住话头,说得上气不接下气,同时却为自己这一阵子发作而感到羞愧。我觉得,把事情和盘托出之后,现在再也没有退路了。

他转过脸来,神情十分关切,同时又好像心事重重。

“德温特夫人,请不要这么想,”他说。“就我而论,您同迈克西姆结婚,我说不上来心里有多高兴。他的生活因此而整个变了样。我敢肯定,您完全能适应新的生活。从我的角度说,这——这既新鲜又可喜,遇上像您这样的人,您这样并不完全——嗯,”他红了脸,想找个适当的字眼,“我们不妨说,对于曼陀丽的这一套并不完全anfait①的人。倘若这儿附近的人给您印象不佳,似乎都在对您评头品足,那是——嗯——那是他们这些人放肆地冒犯了您,仅此而已。我可没听到过一句微词,如果我听见有谁说坏话,我一定亲自于预,决不让这人再信口雌黄。”——

①法语,意指“了如指掌”。

“你真好,弗兰克,”我说。“你这一席话真给我鼓了劲。我明白自己是个没用的笨人,待人接物都不懂,因为以前从来不必在这方面下工夫。我老是猜想曼陀丽在过去大概是什么样子的。那时的女主人无论出身和教养都同这座庄园相配,做什么事情都是驾轻就熟;我每时每刻总意识到自己的缺陷正是她的长处——自信、仪态、美貌、才识、机智——啊,反正对女人说来最重要的素质全有了!想到这些,叫人丧气,弗兰克,真叫人灰心丧气。”

他没作声,仍然愁眉苦脸,心事重重。他掏出手帕擤鼻子,过后才说:“你不能这么讲。”

“为什么不能?都是事实,”我说。

“您所拥有的素质同样重要,甚至比那些重要得多。我这么说也许有点冒失无礼,我毕竟不太了解您。我是个单身汉,对于女人知之不多。您也知道,我在这儿过着多少有点闭塞的生活,可我还是要说:心地善良,待人诚挚,还有,如果你不见怪,谦逊端庄,这些对于男子,对于一个做丈夫的来说,比之世上所有的机智和美貌,价值大得多。”

他看上去内心甚不平静,又擤了一次鼻子。我发现,我挑起了这场谈话纵然使自己难过,但在很大程度上他比我更加不安。认识到这一点之后,我倒反而安静下来,享受到了某种优越感。我不明白,他为什么如此小题大做,毕竟,我又没多罗唆什么,只不过说了像我这样继吕蓓卡之后来到曼陀丽的人有种不安全感。另外,他刚才说到我身上的一些所谓长处,这些素质她一定也有;她肯定是个善良而诚挚的人,不然哪来那么多的朋友?哪会有口皆碑?至于谦逊端庄,我拿不准他指的是什么。这个词儿的确义我始终没能弄明白,我总以为,这个词或多或少就是指走在通往浴室的过道里生怕碰到人……可怜的弗兰克,而比阿特丽斯还曾把他称为无聊人物,说他一辈子说不出一句带个性的话。

“呃,”我尴尬地说,“呃,你说的这些我都不大懂。我并不觉得自己心地善良,待人也不怎么特别真诚;至于谦逊端庄,从小到大我一直处在这样的地位,不得不如此。不过,在蒙特卡洛先是单身借住旅馆,接着匆匆结婚,自然不能算太端庄吧。也许你不计较这些?”

“亲爱的德温特夫人,难道您不明白,我从来不以为你们俩在南方邂逅有任何不能端上桌面的地方?”他低声说。

“哦,我当然不会这么想,”我严肃地说。可爱的弗兰克,看来我真把他吓坏了。“端上桌面,”之么典型的弗兰克式语言。一听到这个词,你马上就会想到桌子底下暗中发生的事。

“我敢肯定,”他开了个头又踌躇起来,仍是一副心神不定的样子。“我敢肯定,倘若迈克西姆了解您的心情,他会犯愁的,还会非常痛苦。大概什么都没觉察到。”

“你不会告诉他吧?”我忙不迭地说。

“不会,当然不会。您把我当什么人了?不过,您得明白,德温特夫人,我很了解迈克西姆这个人,亲眼看他经历了许多……不同的心境。如果他觉得您在为——嗯——为往事伤神,那将是他活在世上最大的痛苦。我说这话有十分的把握。眼下,他气色正好,看上去十分健康。不过莱西夫人那天的话不假,去年,他差一点就要神经失常,当然莱西夫人当着他的面这么说有些失策。所以,对他说来您是何其重要。您年轻,生气勃勃,呃,又明白事理,您与往昔的生活没有一丝瓜葛。忘了吧,德温特夫人,把过去忘掉。感谢老天,他可已经把一切忘了,这儿的其他人也是这样。对我们中的任何人说来,往事都是不堪回首的,对迈克西姆尤其如此。而您知道,能不能引着大家从往昔的羁缚中挣脱出来,全靠您啦。别再把大家推到昔日去吧。”

他是对的,当然,他完全对。可爱的弗兰克好人,我的朋友,我的帮手。我太自私,神经过敏,一味沉溺在自卑感里不能自拔。“我真应该早就跟你这样谈一次,”我说。

“我也这么想,”他说。“那样,我可能会帮您摆脱些烦恼。”

“这会儿我才觉得好受些,”我说。“好受多了。今后不管发生什么事,你总是我的朋友,对吗,弗兰克克?”

“当然对的,”他说。

我们走出黑林子,车道豁然开朗,迎面出现了石南花。石南的季节行将过去,所以花朵已多少过了全盛期,开始褪色凋败。到了下个月,花瓣将从浓艳的花盘上纷纷坠地,园丁就会跑来打扫。石南的美是短暂的,决不能永远驻颜。

“弗兰克,”我说,“但愿我们永远不再谈这个话题,可在谈话结束之前,你能不能如实回答我一个问题?”

他狐疑地看着我,好一会儿才说:“这个要求不太合理。也许您提的问题我无从回答,或者完全答不上来。”

“不,”我说,“不是什么怪问题。决不涉及个人的私生活或类似的方面。”

“那好,我尽力而为,”他说。

我们已拐弯走上车道的开阔地段,曼陀丽座落在草坪环绕的低地上,静谧而安详。每次见到这大宅,我总是为其完美的对称和气派,为其朴实无华而惊诧。

阳光在竖框窗上闪耀。围绕着爬满地衣的石墙,有一种色彩柔和的古色古香的光华。一缕青烟从藏书室烟囱袅袅飘起。我咬着拇指指甲,用眼相打量着弗兰克。“告诉我,”我用若无其事的声调说着,什么顾虑也没有了。“告诉我,吕蓓卡非常美吗?”

弗兰克沉吟半晌,我没法看见他的睑,因为这时他已转过身去面对着宅子。“不错,”他慢条斯理地说。“不错,依我说,她是我有生以来见过的最美的女人。”

然后,我们走上台阶,来到大厅;我按铃让仆人送上茶点


Chapter Eleven

The weather was wet and cold for quite a week, as it often can be in the west country in the early summer, and we did not go down to the beach again. I could see the sea from the terrace, and the lawns. It looked grey and uninviting, great rollers sweeping in to the bay past the beacon on the headland. I pictured them surging into the little cove and breaking with a roar upon the rocks, then running swift and strong to the shelving beach. If I stood on the terrace and listened I could hear the murmur of the sea below me, low and sullen. A dull, persistent sound that never ceased. And the gulls flew inland too, driven by the weather. They hovered above the house in circles, wheeling and crying, flapping their spread wings. I began to understand why some people could not bear the clamour of the sea. It has a mournful harping note sometimes, and the very persistence of it, that eternal roll and thunder and hiss, plays a jagged tune upon the nerves. I was glad our rooms were in the east wing and I could lean out of my window and look down upon the rose-garden. For sometimes I could not sleep, and getting softly out of bed in the quiet night I would wander to the window, and lean there, my arms upon the sill, and the air would be very peaceful, very still. I could not hear the restless sea, and because I could not hear it my thoughts would be peaceful too.

They would not carry me down that steep path through the woods to the grey cove and the deserted cottage. I did not want to think about the cottage. I remembered it too often in the day. The memory of it nagged at me whenever I saw the sea from the terrace. For I would see once more the blue spots on the china, the spun webs on the little masts of those model ships, and the rat holes on the sofa bed. I would remember the pattering of the rain on the roof. And I thought of Ben, too, with his narrow watery blue eyes, his sly idiot's smile. These things disturbed me, I was not happy about them. I wanted to forget them but at the same time I wanted to know why they disturbed me, why they made me uneasy and unhappy. Somewhere, at the back of my mind, there was a frightened furtive seed of curiosity that grew slowly and stealthily, for all my denial of it, and I knew all the doubt and anxiety of the child who has been told, 'these things are not discussed, they are forbidden. ' I could not forget the white, lost look in Maxim's eyes when we came up the path through the woods, and I could not forget his words. 'Oh, God, what a fool I was to come back'. It was all my fault, because I had gone down into the bay. I had opened up a road into the past again. And although Maxim had recovered, and was himself again, and we lived our lives together, sleeping, eating, walking, writing letters, driving to the village, working hour by hour through our day, I knew there was a barrier between us because of it. He walked alone, on the other side, and I must not come to him. And I became nervous and fearful that some heedless word, some turn in a careless conversation should bring that expression back to his eyes again. I began to dread any mention of the sea, for the sea might lead to boats, to accidents, to drowning ... Even Frank Crawley, who came to lunch one day, put me in a little fever of fear when he said something about the sailing races in Kerrith harbour, three miles away. I looked steadily at my plate, a stab of sickness in my heart at once, but Maxim went on talking quite naturally, he did not seem to mind, while I sat in a sweat of uncertainty wondering what would happen and where the conversation would lead us.

It was during cheese, Frith had left the room, and I remember getting up and going to the sideboard, and taking some more cheese, not wanting it, so as not to be at the table with them, listening; humming a little tune to myself so I could not hear. I was wrong of course, morbid, stupid; this was the hypersensitive behaviour of a neurotic, not the normal happy self I knew myself to be. But I could not help it. I did not know what to do. My shyness and gaucherie became worse, too, making me stolid and dumb when people came to the house. For we were called upon, I remember, during those first weeks, by people who lived near us in the county, and the receiving of them, and the shaking hands, and the spinning out of the formal half-hour became a worse ordeal than I first anticipated, because of this new fear of mine that they would talk about something that must not be discussed. The agony of those wheels on the drive, of that pealing bell, of my own first wild rush for flight to my own room. The scrambled dab of powder on my nose, the hasty comb through my hair, and then the inevitable knock on the door and the entrance of the cards on a silver salver. 'All right. I'll be down immediately. ' The clap of my heels on the stairs and across the hall, the opening of the library door or, worse still, that long, cold, lifeless drawing-room, and the strange woman waiting there, or two of them perhaps, or a husband and a wife. 'How do you do? I'm sorry; Maxim is in the garden somewhere, Frith has gone to find him. ' 'We felt we must come and pay our respects to the bride. ' A little laughter, a little flurry of chat, a pause, a glance round the room. 'Manderley is looking as charming as ever. Don't you love it?' 'Oh, yes, rather ... " And in my shyness and anxiety to please, those schoolgirls' phrases would escape from me again, those words I never used except in moments like these, 'Oh, ripping'; and 'Oh, topping'; and 'absolutely'; and 'priceless'; even, I think, to one dowager who had carried a lorgnette 'cheerio'. My relief at Maxim's arrival would be tempered by the fear they might say something indiscreet, and I became dumb at once, a set smile on my lips, my hands in my lap. They would turn to Maxim then, talking of people and places I had not met or did not know, and now and again I would find their eyes upon me, doubtful, rather bewildered. I could picture them saying to one another as they drove away, 'My dear, what a dull girl.

laox888 : 2017-03-15#71
看标题还以为你在读马列原著呢。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-16#72

She scarcely opened her mouth', and then the sentence I had first heard upon Beatrice's lips, haunting me ever since, a sentence I read in every eye, on every tongue - 'She's so different from Rebecca. ' Sometimes I would glean little snatches of information to add to my secret store. A word dropped here at random, a question, a passing phrase. And, if Maxim was not with me, the hearing of them would be a furtive, rather painful pleasure, guilty knowledge learnt in the dark. I would return a call perhaps, for Maxim was punctilious in these matters and would not spare me, and if he did not come with me I must brave the formality alone, and there would be a pause in the conversation while I searched for something to say. 'Will you be entertaining much at Manderley, Mrs de Winter?' they would say, and my answer would come, 'I don't know, Maxim has not said much about it up to the present. ' 'No, of course not, it's early yet. I believe the house was generally full of people in the old days. ' Another pause. 'People from London, you know. There used to be tremendous parties. ' 'Yes, ' I would say. 'Yes, so I have heard. ' A further pause, and then the lowered voice that is always used about the dead or in a place of worship, 'She was so tremendously popular, you know. Such a personality. ' 'Yes, ' I would say. 'Yes, of course. ' And after a moment or so I would glance at my watch under cover of my glove, and say, 'I'm afraid I ought to be going; it must be after four. ' 'Won't you stay for tea? We always have it at quarter past. ' 'No - No, really, thanks most awfully. I promised Maxim ... " my sentence would go trailing off into nothing, but the meaning would be understood. We would both rise to our feet, both of us knowing I was not deceived about her offer to tea nor she in my mention of a promise to Maxim. I had sometimes wondered what would happen if convention were denied, if, having got into the car and waved a hand to my hostess on the doorstep, I suddenly opened it again, and said, 'I don't think I'll go back after all. Let's go to your drawing-room again and sit down. I'll stay to dinner if you like, or stop the night. ' I used to wonder if convention and good county manners would brave the surprise, ' and whether a smile of welcome would be summoned to the frozen face, 'But of course! How very delightful of you to suggest it. '

I used to wish I had the courage to try. But instead the door would slam, the car would go bowling away down the smooth gravel drive, and my late hostess would wander back to her room with a sigh of relief and become herself again. It was the wife of the bishop in the neighbouring cathedral town who said to me, 'Will your husband revive the Manderley fancy dress ball, do you suppose? Such a lovely sight always; I shall never forget it. ' I had to smile as though I knew all about it and say, 'We have not decided. There have been so many things to do and to discuss. ' 'Yes, I suppose so. But I do hope it won't be dropped. You must use your influence with him. There was not one last year of course. But I remember two years ago, the bishop and I went, and it was quite enchanting. Manderley so lends itself to anything like that. The hall looked wonderful. They danced there, and had the music in the gallery; it was all so in keeping. A tremendous thing to organize, but everybody appreciated it so. 'Yes, ' I said. 'Yes, I must ask Maxim about it. ' I thought of the docketed pigeon-hole in the desk in the morning-room, I pictured the stack upon stack of invitation cards, the long list of names, the addresses, and I could see a woman sitting there at the desk and putting a V beside the names she wanted, and reaching for the invitation cards, dipping her pen in the ink, writing upon them swift and sure in that long, slanting hand. 'There was a garden party, too, we went to one summer, ' said the bishop's wife. 'Everything always so beautifully done. The flowers at their best. A glorious day, I remember. Tea was served at little tables in the rose-garden; such an attractive original idea. Of course, she was so clever... " She stopped, turning a little pink, fearing a loss of tact; but I agreed with her at once to save embarrassment, and I heard myself saying boldly, brazenly, 'Rebecca must have been a wonderful person. ' I could not believe that I had said the name at last. I waited, wondering what would happen. I had said the name. I had said the word Rebecca aloud. It was a tremendous relief. It was as though I had taken a purge and rid myself of an intolerable pain. Rebecca.

I had said it aloud. I wondered if the bishop's wife saw the flush on my face, but she went on smoothly with the conversation, and I listened to her greedily, like an eavesdropper at a shuttered window. 'You never met her then?' she asked, and when I shook my head she hesitated a moment, a little uncertain of her ground. 'We never knew her well personally, you know: the bishop was only inducted here four years ago, but of course she received us when we went to the ball and the garden party. We dined there, too, one winter. Yes, she was a very lovely creature. So full of life. ' 'She seems to have been so good at everything too, ' I said, my voice just careless enough to show I did not mind, while I played with the fringe of my glove. 'It's not often you get someone who is clever and beautiful and fond of sport. ' 'No, I suppose you don't, ' said the bishop's wife. 'She was certainly very gifted. I can see her now, standing at the foot of the stairs on the night of the ball, shaking hands with everybody, that cloud of dark hair against the very white skin, and her costume suited her so. Yes, she was very beautiful. ' 'She ran the house herself, too, ' I said, smiling, as if to say, 'I am quite at my ease, I often discuss her. ' 'It must have taken a lot of time and thought. I'm afraid I leave it to the housekeeper. ' 'Oh, well, we can't all do everything. And you are very young, aren't you? No doubt in time, when you have settled down. Besides, you have your own hobby, haven't you? Someone told me you were fond of sketching. ' 'Oh, that, ' I said. 'I don't know that I can count it for much. ' 'It's a nice little talent to have, ' said the bishop's wife; 'it's not everyone that can sketch. You must not drop it. Manderley must be full of pretty spots to sketch. ' 'Yes, ' I said. 'Yes, I suppose so, ' depressed by her words, having a sudden vision of myself wandering across the lawns with a camp-stool and a box of pencils under one arm, and my 'little talent' as she described it, under the other. It sounded like a pet disease. 'Do you play any games? Do you ride, or shoot?' she asked. 'No, ' I said, 'I don't do anything like that. I'm fond of walking, ' I added, as a wretched anticlimax. "The best exercise in the world, ' she said briskly; 'the bishop and I walk a lot. ' I wondered if he went round and round the cathedral, in his shovel hat and his gaiters, with her on his arm.


看标题还以为你在读马列原著呢。

德语倒是学过点儿皮毛,但是俄语一窍不通,受你的启发,有机会试读一下马克思原著《 Die deutsche Ideologie 》(德意志意识形态)
Die deutsche Ideologie ist ein Manuskriptkonvolut, das in den Jahren 1845–1846 hauptsächlich von Karl Marx und in Teilen von Friedrich Engels und zeitweilig auch von Moses Hess und Joseph Weydemeyer verfasst, damals aber nur zu einem geringen Teil veröffentlicht wurde.


j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-20#73
She began to talk about a walking holiday they had taken once, years ago, in the Pennines, how they had done an average of twenty miles a day, and I nodded my head, smiling politely, wondering about the Pennines, thinking they were something like the Andes, remembering, afterwards, they were that chain of hills marked with a furry line in the middle of a pink England on my school atlas. And he all the time in his hat and gaiters. The inevitable pause, the glance at the watch unnecessary, as her drawing-room clock chimed four in shrill tones, and my rise from the chair. 'I'm so glad I found you in. I hope you will come and see us. ' 'We should love to. The bishop is always so busy, alas. Please remember me to your husband, and be sure to ask him to revive the ball. ' 'Yes, indeed I will. ' Lying, pretending I knew all about it; and in the car going home I sat in my corner, biting my thumb nail, seeing the great hall at Manderley thronged with people in fancy dress, the chatter, hum, and laughter of the moving crowd, the musicians in the gallery, supper in the drawing-room probably, long buffet tables against the wall, and I could see Maxim standing at the front of the stairs, laughing, shaking hands, turning to someone who stood by his side, tall and slim, with dark hair, said the bishop's wife, dark hair against a white face, someone whose quick eyes saw to the comfort of her guests, who gave an order over her shoulder to a servant, someone who was never awkward, never without grace, who when she danced left a stab of perfume in the air like a white azalea. 'Will you be entertaining much at Manderley, Mrs de Winter?' I heard the voice again, suggestive, rather inquisitive, in the voice of that woman I had called upon who lived the other side of Kerrith, and I saw her eye too, dubious, considering, taking in my clothes from top to toe, wondering, with that swift downward glance given to all brides, if I was going to have a baby. I did not want to see her again. I did not want to see any of them again. They only came to call at Manderley because they were curious and prying. They liked to criticize my looks, my manners, my figure, they liked to watch how Maxim and I behaved to each other, whether we seemed fond of one another, so that they could go back afterwards and discuss us, saying, 'Very different from the old days. ' They came because they wanted to compare me to Rebecca... I would not return these calls any more, I decided. I should tell Maxim so. I did not mind if they thought me rude and ungracious. It would give them more to criticize, more to discuss.

They could say I was ill-bred. 'I'm not surprised, ' they would say; 'after all, who was she?' And then a laugh and a shrug of the shoulder. 'My dear, don't you know? He picked her up in Monte Carlo or somewhere; she hadn't a penny. She was a companion to some old woman. ' More laughter, more lifting of the eyebrows. 'Nonsense, not really? How extraordinary men are. Maxim, of all people, who was so fastidious. How could he, after Rebecca?' I did not mind. I did not care. They could say what they liked. As the car turned in at the lodge gates I leant forward in my seat to smile at the woman who lived there. She was bending down, picking flowers in the front garden. She straightened up as she heard the car, but she did not see me smile. I waved, and she stared at me blankly. I don't think she knew who I was. I leant back in my seat again. The car went on down the drive. When we turned at one of the narrow bends I saw a man walking along the drive a little distance ahead. It was the agent, Frank Crawley. He stopped when he heard the car, and the chauffeur slowed down. Frank Crawley took off his hat and smiled when he saw me in the car. He seemed glad to see me. I smiled back at him. It was nice of him to be glad to see me. I liked Frank Crawley. I did not find him dull or uninteresting as Beatrice had done. Perhaps it was because I was dull myself. We were both dull. We neither of us had a word to say for ourselves. Like to like. I tapped on the glass and told the chauffeur to stop. 'I think I'll get out and walk with Mr Crawley, ' I said. He opened the door for me. 'Been paying calls, Mrs de Winter?' he said. 'Yes, Frank, ' I said. I called him Frank because Maxim did, but he would always call me Mrs de Winter. He was that sort of person. Even if we had been thrown on a desert island together and lived there in intimacy for the rest of our lives, I should have been Mrs de Winter. 'I've been calling on the bishop, ' I said, 'and I found the bishop out, but the bishop's lady was at home. She and the bishop are very fond of walking. Sometimes they do twenty miles a day, in the Pennines. ' 'I don't know that part of the world, ' said Frank Crawley; 'they say the country round is very fine. An uncle of mine used to live there. ' It was the sort of remark Frank Crawley always made. Safe, conventional, very correct. "The bishop's wife wants to know when we are going to give a fancy dress ball at Manderley, ' I said, watching him out of the tail of my eye. 'She came to the last one, she said, and enjoyed it very much.

I did not know you have fancy dress dances here, Frank. ' He hesitated a moment before replying. He looked a little troubled. 'Oh, yes, ' he said after a moment, 'the Manderley ball was generally an annual affair. Everyone in the county came. A lot of people from London too. Quite a big show. ' 'It must have taken a lot of organization, ' I said. 'Yes, ' he said. 'I suppose', I said carelessly, 'Rebecca did most of it?' I looked straight ahead of me along the drive, but I could see his face was turned towards me, as though he wished to read my expression. 'We all of us worked pretty hard, ' he said quietly. There was a funny reserve in his manner as he said this, a certain shyness that reminded me of my own. I wondered suddenly if he had been in love with Rebecca. His voice was the sort of voice I should have used in his circumstances, had this been so. The idea opened up a new field of possibilities. Frank Crawley being so shy, so dull, he would never have told anyone, least of all Rebecca. 'I'm afraid I should not be much use if we have a dance, ' I said, 'I'm no earthly use at organizing anything. ' "There would be no need for you to do anything, ' he said, 'you would just be your self and look decorative. ' "That's very polite of you, Frank, ' I said, 'but I'm afraid I should not be able to do that very well either. ' 'I think you would do it excellently, ' he said. Dear Frank Crawley, how tactful he was and considerate. I almost believed him. But he did not deceive me really. 'Will you ask Maxim about the ball?' I said. 'Why don't you ask him?' he answered. 'No, ' I said. 'No, I don't like to. ' We were silent then. We went on walking along the drive. Now that I had broken down my reluctance at saying Rebecca's name, first with the bishop's wife and now with Frank Crawley, the urge to continue was strong within me. It gave me a curious satisfaction, it acted upon me like a stimulant. I knew that in a moment or two I should have to say it again. 'I was down on one of the beaches the other day, ' I said, 'the one with the breakwater. Jasper was being infuriating, he kept barking at the poor man with the idiot's eyes. ' 'You must mean Ben, ' said Frank, his voice quite easy now; 'he always potters about on the shore. He's quite a nice fellow, you need never be frightened of him.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-21#74
He would not hurt a fly. ' 'Oh, I wasn't frightened, ' I said. I waited a moment, humming a tune to give me confidence. 'I'm afraid that cottage place is going to rack and ruin, ' I said lightly. 'I had to go in, to find a piece of string or something to tie up Jasper. The china is mouldy and the books are being ruined. Why isn't something done about it? It seems such a pity. ' I knew he would not answer at once. He bent down to tie up his shoe lace. I pretended to examine a leaf on one of the shrubs. 'I think if Maxim wanted anything done he would tell me, ' he said, still fumbling with his shoe. 'Are they all Rebecca's things?' I asked. 'Yes, ' he said. I threw the leaf away and picked another, turning it over in my hands. 'What did she use the cottage for?' I asked; 'it looked quite furnished. I thought from the outside it was just a boat-house. ' 'It was a boat-house originally, ' he said, his voice constrained again, difficult, the voice of someone who is uncomfortable about his subject. 'Then - then she converted it like that, had furniture put in, and china. ' I thought it funny the way he called her 'she'. He did not say Rebecca or Mrs de Winter, as I expected him to do. 'Did she use it a great deal?' I asked. 'Yes, ' he said. 'Yes, she did. Moonlight picnics, and - and one thing and another. ' We were walking again side by side, I still humming my little tune. 'How jolly, ' I said brightly. 'Moonlight picnics must be great fun. Did you ever go to them?' 'Once or twice, ' he said. I pretended not to notice his manner, how quiet it had become, how reluctant to speak about these things. 'Why is the buoy there in the little harbour place?' I said. 'The boat used to be moored there, ' he said. 'What boat?' I asked. 'Her boat, ' he said. A strange sort of excitement was upon me. I had to go on with my questions. He did not want to talk about it. I knew that, but although I was sorry for him and shocked at my own self I had to continue, I could not be silent. 'What happened to it?' I said. 'Was that the boat she was sailing when she was drowned?' 'Yes, ' he said quietly, 'it capsized and sank. She was washed overboard. ' 'What sort of size boat was it?' I asked. 'About three tons. It had a little cabin. ' 'What made it capsize?' I said. 'It can be very squally in the bay, ' he said. I thought of that green sea, foam-flecked, that ran down channel beyond the headland. Did the wind come suddenly, I wondered, in a funnel from the beacon on the hill, and did the little boat heel to it, shivering, the white sail fiat against a breaking sea? 'Could not someone have got out to her?' I said. 'Nobody saw the accident, nobody knew she had gone, ' he said.

I was very careful not to look at him. He might have seen the surprise in my face. I had always thought it happened in a sailing race, that other boats were there, the boats from Kerrith, and that people were watching from the cliffs. I did not know she had been alone, quite alone, out there in the bay. "They must have known up at the house!' I said. 'No, ' he said. 'She often went out alone like that. She would come back any time of the night, and sleep at the cottage on the beach. ' 'Was not she nervous?' 'Nervous?' he said; 'no, she was not nervous of anything. ' 'Did - did Maxim mind her going off alone like that?' He waited a minute, and then 'I don't know, ' he said shortly. I had the impression he was being loyal to someone. Either to Maxim or to Rebecca, or perhaps even to himself. He was odd. I did not know what to make of it. 'She must have been drowned, then, trying to swim to shore, after the boat sank?' I said. 'Yes, ' he said. I knew how the little boat would quiver and plunge, the water gushing into the steering well, and how the sails would press her down, suddenly, horribly, in that gust of wind. It must have been very dark out there in the bay. The shore must have seemed very far away to anyone swimming there, in the water. 'How long afterwards was it that they found her?' I said. 'About two months, ' he said. Two months. I thought drowned people were found after two days. I thought they would be washed up close to the shore when the tide came. 'Where did they find her?' I asked. 'Near Edgecoombe, about forty miles up channel, ' he said. I had spent a holiday at Edgecoombe once, when I was seven. It was a big place, with a pier, and donkeys. I remembered riding a donkey along the sands. 'How did they know it was her - after two months, how could they tell?' I said. I wondered why he paused before each sentence, as though he weighed his words. Had he cared for her, then, had he minded so much? 'Maxim went up to Edgecoombe to identify her, ' he said. Suddenly I did not want to ask him any more. I felt sick at myself, sick and disgusted. I was like a curious sightseer standing on the fringe of a crowd after someone had been knocked down. I was like a poor person in a tenement building, when someone had died, asking if I might see the body. I hated myself. My questions had been degrading, shameful. Frank Crawley must despise me. 'It was a terrible time for all of you, ' I said rapidly. 'I don't suppose you like being reminded about it.

I just wondered if there was anything one could do to the cottage, that's all. It seems such a pity, all the furniture being spoilt by the damp. ' He did not say anything. I felt hot and uncomfortable. He must have sensed that it was not concern for the empty cottage that had prompted me to all these questions, and now he was silent because he was shocked at me. Ours had been a comfortable, steady sort of friendship. I had felt him an ally. Perhaps I had destroyed all this, and he would never feel the same about me again. 'What a long drive this is, ' I said; 'it always reminds me of the path in the forest in a Grimm's fairy tale, where the prince gets lost, you know. It's always longer than one expects, and the trees are so dark, and close. ' 'Yes, it is rather exceptional, ' he said. I could tell by his manner he was still on his guard, as though waiting for a further question from me. There was an awkwardness between us that could not be ignored. Something had to be done about it, even if it covered me with shame. 'Frank, ' I said desperately, 'I know what you are thinking. You can't understand why I asked all those questions just now. You think I'm morbid, and curious, in a rather beastly way. It's not that, I promise you. It's only that - that sometimes I feel myself at such a disadvantage. It's all very strange to me, living here at Manderley. Not the sort of life I've been brought up to. When I go returning these calls, as I did this afternoon, I know people are looking me up and down, wondering what sort of success I'm going to make of it. I can imagine them saying, "What on earth does Maxim see in her?" And then, Frank, I begin to wonder myself, and I begin to doubt, and I have a fearful haunting feeling that I should never have married Maxim, that we are not going to be happy. You see, I know that all the time, whenever I meet anyone new, they are all thinking I stopped breathless, already a little ashamed of my outburst, feeling that now at any rate I had burnt my boats for all time. He turned to me looking very concerned and troubled. 'Mrs de Winter, please don't think that, ' he said. 'For my part I can't tell you how delighted I am that you have married Maxim. It will make all the difference to his life. I am positive that you will make a great success of it. From my point of view it's - it's very refreshing and charming to find someone like yourself who is not entirely - er -' he blushed, searching for a word 'not entirely au fait, shall we say, with ways at Manderley.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-22#75
And if people around here give you the impression that they are criticizing you, it's - well - it's most damnably offensive of them, that's all. I've never heard a word of criticism, and if I did I should take great care that it was never uttered again. ' 'That's very sweet of you, Frank, ' I said, 'and what you say helps enormously. I dare say I've been very stupid. I'm not good at meeting people, I've never had to do it, and all the time I keep remembering how - how it must have been at Manderley before, when there was someone there who was born and bred to it, did it all naturally and without effort. And I realize, every day, that things I lack, confidence, grace, beauty, intelligence, wit - Oh, all the qualities that mean most in a woman - she possessed. It doesn't help, Frank, it doesn't help. ' He said nothing. He went on looking anxious, and distressed. He pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose. 'You must not say that, ' he said. 'Why not? It's true, ' I said. 'You have qualities that are just as important, far more so, in fact. It's perhaps cheek of me to say so, I don't know you very well. I'm a bachelor, I don't know very much about women, I lead a quiet sort of life down here at Manderley as you know, but I should say that kindness, and sincerity, and - if I may say so - modesty are worth far more to a man, to a husband, than all the wit and beauty in the world. ' He looked very agitated, and blew his nose again. I saw that I had upset him far more than I had upset myself, and the realization of this calmed me and gave me a feeling of superiority. I wondered why he was making such a fuss. After all, I had not said very much. I had only confessed my sense of insecurity, following as I did upon Rebecca. And she must have had these qualities that he presented to me as mine. She must have been kind and sincere, with all her friends, her boundless popularity. I was not sure what he meant by modesty. It was a word I had never understood. I always imagined it had something to do with minding meeting people in a passage on the way to the bathroom ... Poor Frank. And Beatrice had called him a dull man, with never a word to say for himself. 'Well, ' I said, rather embarrassed, 'well, I don't know about all that. I don't think I'm very kind, or particularly sincere, and as for being modest, I don't think I've ever had much of a chance to be anything else.

It was not very modest, of course, being married hurriedly like that, down in Monte Carlo, and being alone there in that hotel, beforehand, but perhaps you don't count that?' 'My dear Mrs de Winter, you don't think I imagine for one moment that your meeting down there was not entirely above board?' he said in a low voice. 'No, of course not, ' I said gravely. Dear Frank. I think I had shocked him. What a Frankish expression, too, 'above board'. It made one think immediately of the sort of things that would happen below board. 'I'm sure, ' he began, and hesitated, his expression still troubled, 'I'm sure that Maxim would be very worried, very distressed, if he knew how you felt. I don't think he can have any idea of it. ' 'You won't tell him?' I said hastily. 'No, naturally not, what do you take me for? But you see, Mrs de Winter, I know Maxim pretty well, and I've seen him through many ... Moods. If he thought you were worrying about - well - about the past, it would distress him more than anything on earth. I can promise you that. He's looking very well, very fit, but Mrs Lacy was quite right the other day when she said he had been on the verge of a breakdown last year, though it was tactless of her to say so in front of him. That's why you are so good for him. You are fresh and young and -and sensible, you have nothing to do with all that time that has gone. Forget it, Mrs de Winter, forget it, as he has done, thank heaven, and the rest of us. We none of us want to bring back the past. Maxim least of all. And it's up to you, you know, to lead us away from it. Not to take us back there again. ' He was right, of course he was right. Dear good Frank, my friend, my ally. I had been selfish and hypersensitive, a martyr to my own inferiority complex. 'I ought to have told you all this before, ' I said. 'I wish you had, ' he said. 'I might have spared you some worry. ' 'I feel happier, ' I said, 'much happier. And I've got you for my friend whatever happens, haven't I, Frank?' 'Yes, indeed, ' he said. We were out of the dark wooded drive and into the light again. The rhododendrons were upon us. Their hour would soon be over. Already they looked a little overblown, a little faded. Next month the petals would fall one by one from the great faces, and the gardeners would come and sweep them away. Theirs was a brief beauty.

Not lasting very long. 'Frank, ' I said, 'before we put an end to this conversation, for ever let's say, will you promise to answer me one thing, quite truthfully?' He paused, looking at me a little suspiciously. "That's not quite fair, ' he said, 'you might ask me something that I should not be able to answer, something quite impossible. ' 'No, ' I said, 'it's not that sort of question. It's not intimate or personal, or anything like that. ' 'Very well, I'll do my best, ' he said. We came round the sweep of the drive and Manderley was before us, serene and peaceful in the hollow of the lawns, surprising me as it always did, with its perfect symmetry and grace, its great simplicity. The sunlight flickered on the mullioned windows, and there was a soft rusted glow about the stone walls where the lichen clung. A thin column of smoke curled from the library chimney. I bit my thumbnail, watching Frank out of the tail of my eye. 'Tell me, ' I said, my voice casual, not caring a bit, 'tell me, was Rebecca very beautiful?' Frank waited a moment. I could not see his face. He was looking away from me towards the house. 'Yes, ' he said slowly, 'yes, I suppose she was the most beautiful creature I ever saw in my life. ' We went up the steps then to the hall, and I rang the bell for tea.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-23#76
[FONT=宋体]第12章

我难得见着丹弗斯太太,她闭门独处,轻易不露面。虽然她每天打内线电话到展室来,让我审定菜单,不过这纯粹是例行公事,而我们平日间的接触也仅止于此。她替我找了个贴身使女,名叫克拉丽斯,是庄园内某个下人的闺女。这姑娘文静,举止得体,很讨人喜欢。幸亏她过去从未当过女佣,因此没有那一套吓人的量人度物的准则。在整个宅子里,我看,只有她还算对我怀有几分敬畏,也只有在她的心目中,我才是这儿的女主人,是德温特夫人。仆役中间传播的那些流言蜚语可能对她没起任何作用。她曾有好一阵子不在庄园。她是在十五英里外的婶母家长大的。从某种意义上说,她和我一样是初来曼陀丽的陌生人。我在她面前感到轻松自如。我可以满不在乎地说:“哦,克拉丽斯,替我补一补袜子行吗?”

先前的女佣艾丽斯,好不神气。我总是偷偷把衬衣和睡衣从抽屉里拿出来自己缝补,不敢偏劳她。有一口,我曾看到她把我的一件内衣搭在手臂上,仔细打量那不怎么值钱的衣料,打量缝在衣服上面寒酸的窄花边。她脸上的那种表情,我这辈子永远也忘不了。她流露出近乎震惊的神色,仿佛她本人的尊严遭到了什么打击似的。以前我从来不怎么留心内衣,只要干净、整洁就行,至于衣料的质地如何,有无花边,在我是无所谓的。在书上曾读到新娘出嫁时,得一下子张罗几十套衣服作为嫁妆,而我压根儿没操过这份心。艾丽斯脸上的那副神情,不啻是给我上了一课,我赶紧向伦敦的一家店铺西索内衣目录。等我选定我要的内衣时,艾丽斯已不再服侍我,克拉丽斯接替了她的位置。为了克拉丽斯的缘故去购置新内衣,似乎太不值得,所以我把内衣目录往抽屉里一塞,再没写信向那店铺定货。

我常在怀疑,艾丽斯是不是曾把这件事在仆役中间捅出去,我的内衣会不会已成了下房里议论的内容。当然,这种事儿不成体统,只能起男仆不在时窃窃私语一番。艾丽斯颇为自矜,所以不会让这事作为笑料闹个满城风雨,例如,在她与弗里思之间就从未有过“把这件女用内衣拿去”之类不登大雅之堂的对话。

不,关于内衣的轶事可不能视同笑料,这事要严重得多,更像是私下打听到一桩离婚案……不管怎么说,艾丽斯把我扔给克拉丽斯,我是很高兴的。克拉丽斯根本分辨不出花边的真假。丹弗斯太太雇她来眼侍我,真可谓体贴周到呢。她一定觉得我和克拉丽斯作伴,乃是天造地设,各得其所。现在我既然已弄清丹弗斯太太厌恶和恼怒的原因所在,反倒觉得好受些了。我明白她为之咬牙切齿的并非我本人,而是我所代表的一切。不管谁来占去吕蓓卡的位置,她都会一视同仁。至少在比阿特丽斯来吃饭那天,我从她的话里听出了这层弦外之音。

“你难道不知道吗?”她这么说。“她对吕蓓卡崇拜得五体投地!”

我当时听了,着实为之一震。不知怎么地,我没料到她会说出这几句话。然而反复思量之后,我原对丹弗斯太太的那种恐惧感却开始淡薄了。我反而可怜起她来。我体会得出她内心的感受。每当别人称呼我“德温特夫人”时,她听了一定很伤心。她每天早晨拿起内线电话跟我说话,而我照例答以“好的,丹弗斯太太”,这时她势必在怀念着另一个人的嗓音。她穿堂越室,到处看到我留下的踪迹——撂在临窗座位上的软帽,搁在椅子上的编结袋——一定会触景生情,联想起以前也曾在屋里四处留下踪迹的另一个人。就连我也难免产生这种念头,说起来我同吕蓓卡还是素不相识的呢?丹弗斯太太可不同了,她熟悉吕蓓卡走路的姿势,听惯了她说话的声调。丹弗斯太太知道她眸子的色泽,她脸上的笑容,还有她发丝的纹路。我对这些一无所知,也从来不向别人打听,可有时候我觉得吕蓓卡对于我,也像对于丹弗斯太太一样,是个音容宛在的亡灵。

弗兰克要我忘掉过去,我自己也想把往事置诸脑后。可是弗兰克不必像我那样,每天坐在晨室里,触摸那支曾夹在她手指间的钢笔。他不必把手按在吸墨纸台上,两眼盯着面前的文件架,望着她留在那上面的字迹。他不必每天看着壁炉上的烛台、时钟、插着鲜花的花瓶,还有墙上的绘画,心里想着这一切原都归她所有,是她生前选中的,没有一样是我的。在餐厅里,弗兰克也无须坐在她的位子上,握着她生前握过的刀叉,还得从她用过的杯子里喝着什么。他未曾把她的雨衣披在肩上,也没有在口袋里摸到过她的手绢。每天我还注意到那条瞎眼老狗的茫然眼神,它蜷缩在藏书室的篓子里,一听到我的脚步声,一个女人的脚步声,总是抬起头来,用鼻子嗅嗅空气,随即又耷拉下脑袋,因为我不是它所期待寻找的人——而这些弗兰克是不会留神顾及的。

这些琐事本身虽则无聊之极,毫无意义,却明摆在那儿,没法熟视无睹,充耳不闻,也不能无动于衰。我的老天,我干吗要去想吕蓓卡!我希望自己幸福,也希望使迈克西姆幸福,我希望我俩能朝夕相处,形影不离。我心中只存此愿,别无他求。然而她偏要闯入我的脑际,侵入我的梦境,我有什么法子呢?当我在她生前溜达过的小径上漫步,在她生前躺过的地方休息时,我身不由已地感到在这曼陀丽庄园,在我自己的家里,我只是个盘恒小住的外客。我确实像个外人,在静候女主人的归来,哪怕是一些无关紧要的闲话,一些无关痛痒的微词,都在每时每刻提醒我别忘了自己的地位。

“弗里思,”一个夏日的早晨,我抱着一大束紫丁香走进藏书室,一面吩咐说,“弗里思,能找个长颈花瓶把这些花插上吗?花房里的花瓶都嫌小。”

“太太,客厅里那只石膏白花瓶,一向是用来插丁香花的。”

“喔,不会把花瓶弄坏吗?怕会碰碎吧。”

“太太,那只石膏花瓶德温特夫人一向用的。”

“喔,喔,那好吧。”

于是,那只石膏花瓶拿来了,里面已装满水。我把浓香扑鼻的丁香花插进去,一枝一枝摆弄舒齐。屋子里洋溢着紫红色花朵散发的芬芳;从敞开的窗户处,还不时飘来刚整修过的草坪的阵阵清香。我暗自寻思;“吕蓓卡也是这么做的。她也像我这样,拿起紫丁香,一枝一枝插入这只白花瓶。我并不是第一个想到要这么做的人。花瓶是吕蓓卡的,丁香花也是昌蓓卡的。”她必然像我一样,信步走进花园,头上戴一顶边沿下垂的园艺帽,就是我曾在花房里看到过压在几个旧靠垫下面的那一顶。她步履轻盈地穿过草地,朝丁香花丛走去,也许一边哼小调,一边打唿哨招呼身后的两条狗,要它们跟上来,手里还拿着我此刻握着的这把剪刀。

“弗里思,把窗口桌子旁的书架挪开一点行吗?我要把丁香花放在那儿。”

“可是,太太,德温特夫人一向把石膏花瓶放在沙发后面的桌子上。”

“哦,是这样……”我手捧花瓶迟疑了一会。弗里思脸上一无表情。当然,要是我说我喜欢把花瓶放在靠窗口的小桌上他是会服从我的,而且会立刻把书架移开。

可是我却说:“好吧,也许放在这张大一点的桌子上看去更美一些。”于是,石膏花瓶又像以往那样,放在沙发后面的桌子上了……

比阿特丽斯没忘记送一件结婚礼物的诺言。一天早晨,邮局送来一只包裹,包裹之大,几乎连罗伯特也搬不了。我正坐在晨室里,刚刚看完当天的菜单。每收到邮包我总像个孩子似地兴奋雀跃。我忙不迭地割断绳子,撕去深褐色的包封。里面包的好像是书。果然不错,是书,是四大部的《绘画史》。第一部里夹着一张纸条,上面写着“但愿此礼投你所好。”下面署名是“爱你的比阿特丽斯。”我能想象出她走进威格莫乐大街那家书店购书的情景。她带着几分男子气,不无唐突地四下一打量。“我想买套书送给一个热中于艺术的朋友。”她可能带几分疑惑的神情,用手抚摸着书。“不错,价钱倒是差不多。这是送人的结婚礼品,我希望能拿得出去。这几部全是关于艺术的?”“对的,是论述艺术的规范作品,”伙计这么回答她。于是比阿特丽斯便写了那张夹在书里的纸条,付了钱,留下地址:“曼陀丽,德温特夫人。”

比阿特丽斯心肠真好。她知道我爱好绘画,特地上伦敦的书店给我买了这些书,其中情意甚笃,想起来简直催人泪下。看来,她可能想象这样一种情景:某个阴雨天,我闲坐着,神情严肃地看着那些插图,然后也许信手取来图画纸和颜料盒,临摹其中一幅。好心的比阿特丽斯。我突然无端地想放声痛哭。我把这几卷大部头的书收拢来,环顾晨室,想找个放书的地方。这几部书与这个小巧玲珑的房间很不相称。没关系,反正现在是我的房间了。我把那几部书放在书桌上,竖成一行,一本斜靠着一本。书摇摇欲倒,好不危险。我往后退一两步,看看效果如何。不知是因为我退得太猛,引起了震动,还是怎么的,总之,那最前面的一部往下一歪,其余的也相继滑倒。书桌上原放着两件摆设:一对烛台和一具小巧的爱神瓷塑。这几部书倒下时,把那尊爱神瓷塑给掀翻了。爱神一头栽过字纸篓里,跌得粉身碎骨。我像个问了祸的顽童,匆忙朝门口瞥了一眼,接着就跪在地板上,把瓷塑碎片扫进手掌,再找了个信封装进去。我把信封藏在书桌的抽屉深处。随后就把这些书拿到藏书室,在书架上找了个空处插了进去。

当我洋洋得意地此书拿给迈克西姆看的时候,他呵呵乐了。

“亲爱的老姐姐比阿特丽斯,”他说,“看来你一定博得她的好感啦。要知道,她非万不得已是不开卷的。”

“她有没有说起——呃——对我有什么看法?”我问他。

“她来吃饭的那天吗?没有,我想她没有谈起过。”

“我还以为她会给你写封信或什么的。”

“比阿特丽斯和我从来不通信,除非家里出了什么重大的事情。写信实在是浪费时间,”迈克西姆说。

看来我是排除在重大事情之外了。我设身处地想想。假如我是比阿特丽斯,有个弟弟,现在这弟弟结婚了,那我当然会说点什么,表示一下自己的意见,或者在信里涂上几笔。除非对那位弟媳全无好感,或者觉得她配不上我弟弟,那自然又当别论。然而比阿特丽斯特地亲自为我上伦敦去买书。要是她果真不喜欢我,那她才不屑这么做呢。

我记得就在第二天午饭后,弗里思将咖啡送进藏书室后,没有立即离开,而是在迈克西姆身后转来转去,过了一会才说:

“老爷,我可以跟您谈件事吗?”迈克西姆将目光从报纸上移开了,抬头朝他看了一眼。

“行啊,费里思,什么事?”他说,感到有点意外。弗里思绷着脸,噘着嘴。我马上想到,会不会是他老婆死了。

“老爷,是关于罗伯特的事儿。他和丹弗斯太太之间闹了点别扭。罗伯特心里很不好受。”

“哦,老天爷,”迈克西姆朝我做了个鬼睑。我弯下身去抚摸杰斯珀,这是我发窘时必有的习惯动作。

“是的,老爷。大概是这么一回事情:丹弗斯太太指责罗伯特私藏了展室里一件值钱的摆设,因为给晨室送花、插花是罗伯特分内的差使。今天早晨丹弗斯太太走进晨室时,鲜花已插在花瓶里,她注意到少了件摆设。她说昨天明明还在的。她指着罗伯特的鼻子说,不是他擅自拿了摆设,就是打碎后把碎片藏了起来。罗伯特矢口否认于过这样的事。他来找我,急得简直要哭了。老爷,也许您注意到午餐时他有点不对头吧。”

“怪不得他给我端上肉片时没给我盘子,”迈克西姆咕哝着。“没想到罗伯特神经这么脆弱。唔,我看这事可能是别人干的。怕是哪个女仆干的吧。”

“不,老爷。丹弗斯太太进晨室时,女仆还没进去收拾房间。打昨儿太太离开以后没有人进去过,而罗伯特又是今天第一个往屋里送花的。老爷,出了这事儿,罗伯特和我都很难堪!”

“那当然罗。这样吧,去把丹弗斯太太叫来,咱们把事情搞个水落石出。噢,究竟是哪件小摆设?”

“那尊爱神瓷塑,老爷,就是放在写字桌上的那尊。”

“啊哟,老天。那可是我家一件宝贝,是不?一定得把它找出来,立刻把丹弗斯太太找来。”

“再好没有了,老爷。”

弗里思走了,房间里又只剩下我们两个。“实在讨厌,”迈克西姆说。“那爱神瓷塑还真值钱呢。再说,看到仆人们吵架我最头痛。我不明白,他们干吗来找我解决。这种事该由你管,我亲爱的。”

我抬起头来,目光从杰斯珀身上移开,脸红得像火烧。“亲爱的,”我说,“我早想告诉你,可是——可是我却忘了。事实上,那尊瓷塑是我昨天在晨室里打碎的。”

“你打碎的?那你刚才在弗里思面前干吗不这么说呢?”

“我也不知道。我不想这么做,我怕他会拿我当傻瓜看。”

“这下子他才真会拿你当大傻瓜看呢。现在你可得把事情向他和丹弗斯太太讲清楚。”

“哦,不要,别这样,迈克西姆,还是你对他们说吧。让我上楼去吧。”

“别干这种傻事。谁都会以为你怕他们哪。”

“我还真有点怕他们。不害怕,那至少也……”

门开了,弗里思领着丹弗斯太太进来。我神色紧张地望着迈克西姆,他耸耸肩,既感到事情有趣,又露出几分温色。

“丹弗斯太太,完全是一场误会。看来是德温特夫人自己把瓷塑打碎了,后来压根儿把这事给忘啦,”迈克西姆说

大家的目光全都集中在我身上,使我再次感到自己是个做了错事的孩子。我感到脸上依然火辣辣的。“真抱歉,”我望着丹弗斯太太说。“没想到结果给罗伯特惹了麻烦。”

“太太,那摆设还能修补一下吗?”丹弗斯太太说。阁下大祸的竟是我,对此她似乎并不感到意外,那张惨白的骷髅脸冲着我,那对黑眼珠紧盯在我身上。我觉得她可能早知道祸是我闯的,而她所以责怪罗伯特,不过是为了看看我是否有胆量站出来承认。

“怕不行了,”我说。“已经摔得粉碎。”

“那些碎片呢?你怎么处理的?”迈克西姆问我。

这光景像是逼着罪犯供出作案的罪证来。我的所作所为连自己听起来也觉得太渺小,太有失体面。“我把碎片装进了一只信封,”我说。

“那你又怎么处理那只信封的呢?”迈克西姆一面点烟一面说,那口吻既像在开玩笑,又含几分怒气。

“我把它放在写字桌的抽屉里边,”我说。

“瞧德温特夫人那副模样,好像你会把她送进监牢似的,丹弗斯太太,对不?”迈克西姆说。“你是不是把信封找出来,把碎片送到伦敦去。如果碎得太厉害没法修补,那也就没法想了。好吧,弗里思,告诉罗伯特,叫他把眼泪擦干,别哭啦。”

弗里思走了,丹弗斯太太还不想离开。“我当然要向罗伯特赔个不是,”她说。“可是从迹象来看真像是他干的。我没想到那瓷塑会是德温特夫人自己打碎的。要是以后再发生这样的事。德温特夫人是不是可以亲口对我讲明,这样我可以把事情处理得当些?这样可使大家免去许多不必要的误会。”

“自然罗,”迈克西姆不耐烦地说。“我不懂她昨天为什么不这么做。你进来的时候,我正想这么对她说呢。”

“也许德温特夫人还不知道这摆设的价值吧?”丹弗斯太太说着,眼光又落在我的身上。

“不,我知道的,”我可怜巴巴地说。“我担心那是非常值钱的玩意儿,所以我才这么当心,把碎片全扫拢来。”

“而且还把它们藏在抽屉的里边,藏在没人能找到的地方,嗯?”迈克西姆呵呵一笑,还耸了耸肩。“这种事只有小丫头才干得出来,丹弗斯太太,你说呢?”

“老爷,晨室里那些贵重的陈设,曼陀丽的小丫头是从来不许碰的,”丹弗斯太太回答说。

“是啊,你当然不会让她们碰这些东西,”迈克西姆说。

“这件事太不幸了,”丹弗斯太太接着说。“我想以前晨室里还没有发生过打碎东西的事儿。那里的东西我们总是格外当心。那里的灰尘一直由我亲自掸拂——我是说从去年开始。我对谁也不放心。德温特夫人在世时,那儿的贵重摆设总是由我俩一起收拾的。”

“可不是?唔——这事也没法挽回了,”迈克西姆说。“就这样吧,丹弗斯太太。”

她走了出去。我坐临窗座位上,眼望窗外,迈克西姆重新捡起报纸。我们谁也没说话。

“亲爱的,真对不起,”过了一会儿,我说。“我太不当心了。我自己也不知道怎么搞的。我只是把那些书排在书桌上,看看它们竖稳了没有,谁知爱神瓷塑就这么倒了下来。”

“别再想它啦,宝贝儿。这有什么关系呢?”

“当然有关系。我应该当心些才是。丹弗斯太太对我一定很恼火。”

“关她什么事,要她恼火?又不是她的瓷器。”

“虽说不是她的,可她为这些东酉感到自豪。想到那儿以前还没打碎过什么东西,格外叫我难受。竟是我开了这个先例。”

“与其让罗伯特倒霉,还不如是你打碎的好。”

“我真希望是罗伯特打碎的。这一来,丹弗斯太太永远不会原谅我了。”

“去他妈的丹弗斯太太,”迈克西姆说。“她难道是万能的主?你简直叫人没法理解。你说怕她,这是什么意思?”

“我并不是说真的怕她,我不常见到她,不是那么回事。到底怎么回事,连我自己也说不清楚。”

迈克西姆说:“你的做法有多离奇,打碎了东西干吗不把她找来,冲着她说:‘喂,丹弗斯太太,把这拿去修补一下。’你这么一说,她例会谅解的。可你呢,反而把碎片一块一块弄进信封,还把它们藏在抽屉里边。我刚才就说过,你的举动哪像个女主人,倒像家里的丫头呢。”

“我确实像个丫头,”我一字一句地说。“我知道自己在好多方面都像个丫头。这就是为什么我和克拉丽斯有那么许多共同点的缘故。我俩地位相当,而这也是她喜欢我的原因。前几天我去看她母亲,你猜她母亲说什么来着?我问她克拉丽斯跟我们一起是否觉得快活;她说,‘哦,那还用说,德温特夫人。看来克拉丽斯挺快活哪。她对我说:‘妈,不像跟一位阔太太在一起,倒像是跟咱们自家人在一起呢。’你觉得她这话算是恭维,还是含有别的意思?”

“谁知道,”迈克西姆回答说。“不过想到这话出自克拉丽斯母亲之口,我认为那是当面凌辱。她的小屋经常乱成一团糟,还发出一阵阵煮白菜的怪味。从前那阵子,她的九个孩子都还不满十一岁,她自己呢,老用袜子裹着头,光着脚丫子,在院子那头的一块地里啪嗒啪嗒奔忙。我们差点儿没把她辞退。想不到克拉丽斯倒出落得这般眉清目秀,干干净净。”

“她一直住在婶母家,”我说,心头直觉得抑郁。“我知道我那条法兰绒裙子前片的下摆上有个污演,不过我还从来没有头裹袜子、光着脚板走路呢。”我这时才明白,为什么克拉丽斯不像艾丽斯那样对我的内衣嗤之以鼻。“也许正是这个缘故,我才宁愿去看望克拉丽斯的母亲,而不想上主教夫人那类上流人家作客吧?”我接着说。“主教夫人可从未说过我像他们自己人。”

“要是你穿上那条邋遏裙子到她家作客,我料想她怎么也不会把你当自己人的,”迈克西姆说。

“我上回去拜访她,当然没穿着那条旧裙子,而是穿了件外套,”我说。“不管怎么说,我觉得那种以衣取人的人,自己也没什么可取之处。”

“我可不认为主教夫人怎么看重衣着,”迈克西姆说。“不过,要是她看到你只敢挨着椅子外圈的边沿坐,像个找工作的小妞似地只知回答‘是’和‘不是’,她倒可能不胜诧异。我们两人在一起只作过一次绝无仅有的回拜,当时你就是那副神态。”

“我在生人面前没法不感到忸怩。”

“这我可以理解,亲爱的。可你就是不想努力加以克眼。”

“你这么说未免太冤枉人了,”我反驳道。“现在每天,每逢外出或是接待来客,我一直试着克服怯生的羞态,总是尽量显得大方些。你不理解,这对你来说丝毫不成问题,你对这种事儿已习以为常,而我呢,可没有受过专为日后应付这种场面的教养。”

“乱弹琴,”迈克西姆说。“这根本不像你所说的是什么教养问题,而是在于自己的努力如何。你总不至于以为我喜欢出门作客吧?这种事真叫人腻烦透了。但是,在眼前这个生活圈子里,即使不愿意也得硬着头皮去应付。”

“我们谈论的事情和腻烦无关,”我说。“感到厌烦的时候,就没有什么好害怕的。如果我只是感到腻烦,事情就不一样了。我讨厌别人拿我当一头得奖的良种母牛看待,上上下下打量个没完。”

“谁拿你上下打量来着?”

“这儿所有的人,没一个例外。”

“就算这样,那又何妨?这会给他们增添点生活的乐趣。”

“我干吗非得充当给别人增添乐趣的角色,任人评头论足呢?”

“因为这儿一带,唯有曼陀丽发生的事儿才能引起人们的兴趣。”

“那我一定使他们大失所望了。”

迈克西姆不再回答我,回过头去继续读报。

“我一定使他们大失所望了,”我重复了一遍,又往下说。“你大概是因为这个缘故才跟我结婚的吧。你知道我这个人呆板无趣,不爱讲话,又没见过世面,所以这儿的人就不属对我飞短流长了。”

迈克西姆把报纸往地上一摔,猛地从椅子上站起。“你这话是什么意思?”他责问道。

他的脸色阴沉得异样,语气粗暴,绝非他平时说话的口气。

“我——我自己也不知道,”说着,我身子往后一靠,倚在窗子上。“我这话没别的意思。你干吗要这副模样?”

“你在这儿听到了些什么流言蜚语?”他说。

“什么也没听到,”我说。他望着我的那副神情真叫人害怕。“我这么说是因为——因为要找点话说说。别这么看着我,迈克西姆,我究竟说了些什么啦?究竟怎么回事?”

“这阵子谁尽在你面前饶舌了?”他慢腾腾地说。

“没有,谁也没有。”

“那你刚才干吗要这么说?”

“我对你说了,我自己也不知道。我正好想到这些,就脱口说了。我刚才恼火,发脾气了。我实在讨厌到那些人家里作客,这种情绪是无法控制的。你还要责怪我怯生怕羞。我又不是存心那样的,真的,迈克西姆,我不是故意的。请相信我吧。”

“说那些话,可不怎么特别悦耳动听,是吗?”他说。

“是的,”我说。“是的,既唐突,又叫人讨厌。”

他郁郁不乐地凝视着我,双手插在口袋里,把身子重量压在脚跟上前后摆动。“我怀疑自己娶你,是不是干了件极其自私的事,”他慢条斯理地说,若有所思。

我感到一股寒气直透心窝,心里很不是滋味。“你这话是什么意思?”我问。

“我对你可不是个好伴侣,是吗?”他说。“我俩年龄悬殊。你应该再等等,设法嫁个同你年龄相仿的小伙子,而不是嫁给一个像我这样已虚度半世人生的家伙。”

“真是无稽之谈,”我赶紧接着说。“你知道,在婚姻上,年龄无关紧要。我俩当然是风雨同舟的终生伴侣罗。”

“是吗?我可不敢说,”他说。

我跪在窗座上,伸手搂住他的肩膀。“干吗跟我讲这些呢?”我说。“你知道我爱你甚于世上的一切。除了你,我什么亲人也没有。你是我的父亲,我的兄长,我的儿子。你是我的一切。”

可我的话他并没听进去,径自说:“该怪我,是我催得你太紧,没让你有机会好好考虑一下。”

“我用不着考虑,”我说。“没有什么好选择的。迈克西姆,你不理解,要是一个人爱上了谁……”

“你在这里可感到快活?”他把目光从我身上移开,凝望窗外,“有时候我不免怀疑。近来你人消瘦了,脸色也不好。”

“我很快活,那还用说?”我说。“我爱曼陀丽,我爱这花园,我爱这儿的一切。要我去拜访别人我也不在乎,我不过是跟你怄气才说了那些话。只要你吩咐,我可以天天出门去作客。随便做什么我都不在乎。跟你结婚,我可从未后悔过,一分钟也没有。这点我不说想必你也知道。”

他带着那种骇人的迷惘神情,轻轻拍了拍我的腮帮子,弯下身,在我头顶上吻了一下。“可怜的羔羊,你没享受到多大的乐趣吧?我这个人恐怕很难相处。”

“一点也不难相处,”我急切地说。“你为人挺随和,同你很容易相处,比我原来想象的要容易得多。我一向以为结了婚,生活就糟糕透啦,丈夫要纵酒,满嘴粗话,见早餐桌上的吐司没烤到家,就要连声抱怨,总而言之,很难说得上有任何动人之处,说不定身上还有一股难闻的怪味。而你全然不是这种模样。”

“我的老天,但愿我不是这样,”迈克西姆说,脸上露出了笑容。

趁他微笑的当儿,我也微微一笑,拿起他的手吻了一下。“说我俩不是情投意合的生活伴侣,有多荒唐,”我说。“不信你瞧,咱俩每天晚上都坐在这儿,你看书读报,而我呢,就在你身边编结毛线,多么相配。我们简直像一对已经白首偕老的恩爱夫妻。我们当然是天造地设的一对。我们当然是快活的。可是听你说起来,好像我们做了什么错误决定似的。迈克西姆,你没有这个意思,是吗?你知道我们的婚姻是美满的,真可谓是天赐良缘,是吗?”

“要是你这么说,那就好啦,”他说。

“不单是我,你也是这么想的,是吧?亲爱的。这不单是我一个人的想法吧?我们很快活,是吧?非常非常快活。”

他没有回答我。他的眼睛还是凝望窗外。我握着他的双手,感到嗓门干涩,简直透不过气来,眼睛也感到火辣辣的。我心想,天哪,我们俩好像是在台上演戏,过一会儿就要幕落,我俩将朝观众鞠躬,然后走下舞台卸装。这决不可能是迈克西姆和我真实生活中的一个瞬间!我又在临窗座位上坐下,放开他的双手。我听到自己用一种冷若冰霜的声调说:“如果你真的觉得我们生活得不愉快,直截了当地说出来,岂不更好。我并不希望你言不由衷。我宁可走开,不再跟你在一起生活。”这席话,自然并非出于真心,这是舞台上那个姑娘的台词,而不是我对迈克西姆说的真心话。我在暗自勾勒那个角色该由什么样的姑娘来扮演,她该是:高高的个儿,苗条的身材,敢作敢为。

“嗳,你干吗不回答我呢?”我说。

他双手捧着我的脸,望着我,记得我们去海滩的那天,弗里思送茶进来时,他也曾像现在这样。

“叫我怎么回答你呢?”他说。“连我自己也搞不清楚。如果你说我们是快活的,那就别再往下说啦。这事我实在说不上来。我相信你的话。我们真的很快活。这不就好了?我们意见一致了。”他又吻了我一下,走到房间的那头。我还是直挺挺地坐在窗旁,双手揣在怀里。

“你这么说是因为你对我失望了,”我又说。“我这个人不善交际,手足无措,不懂衣着打扮,见了生人又欠落落大方。我在蒙特卡洛就曾提醒过你日后会出现什么情况。现在你倒嫌我同曼陀丽的气派格格不入了。”

“别胡扯,”他说。“我可从来没说过你不懂衣着打扮,或是不善交际。这都是你自己的想象。至于怯生嘛,我已对你说过了,你会摆脱的。”

“我们争论来争论去,”我说。“还是兜了个圈子回到原处。所以会引起这场风波,无非是因为我打碎了晨室里那尊爱神瓷塑。要不然,就根本没这回事,说不定这时我们已喝完咖啡,到花园里散步去了。”

“噢,那尊该死的瓷塑,见它的鬼去,”迈克西姆不耐烦地说。“那玩意儿是不是碎成齑粉,你难道真以为我在乎吗?”

“那不是价值连城的古玩吗?”

“谁知道呢。我想是吧。我确实记不起了。”

“晨室里的摆设是不是都很贵重?”

“大概是吧。”

“干吗家里的贵重物品全摆在晨室里?”

“我不知道,也许因为那些玩意儿摆在那儿是适得其所。”

“那些摆设一直就放在那儿的吗?你母亲在世时就在那儿了?”

“不,不,我想不是的。原先它们分散在宅子各处。我记得那几把椅子原是放在杂物房里的。”

“晨室是什么时候布置成现在这个样子的?”

“在我结婚的时候。”

“那么爱神瓷塑是在那时候放在那屋里的罗?”

“是这样吧。”

“也是从杂物房里找出来的吗?”

“不,我想不是的。这个嘛,实际上是件结婚礼品。吕蓓卡对瓷器很在行。”

我没有朝他看,开始修挫起指甲来。他提到那个名字时竟那么自然,那么镇静,口气是那么轻松,过了一会,我飞快瞥了他一眼,看见他站在壁炉旁,双手插在口袋里,眼睛直瞪瞪地盯着前方。我暗自说,他是在想吕蓓卡;他在想,多奇怪的机缘,我的结婚礼品竟把吕蓓卡的结婚礼品毁了。他在想那尊瓷塑,回想是谁送给吕蓓卡的。他在脑海中重温收到邮包时的情景。吕蓓卡如何兴高采烈。她对瓷器很精通。也许她跪在地上,撬开那只装瓷塑的小匣子,这时他走了进来。她一定是抬起头来,朝他看一眼,接着莞尔一笑。“你瞧,迈克斯,”她一定会这么说。“给我们寄什么来了,”说着就把手伸进刨花填料中,拿出一具以一条腿站立的、手持弓箭的爱神塑像。“我们把它放在晨室里吧,”她一定是这么说的,而他呢,也在她身旁跪下来,于是两人一起赏玩那尊爱神。

我还是一个劲儿修锉自己的指甲。指甲难看得不成样子,活像小学男生的指甲。指甲根处的表皮长过了头,不再呈半月形。拇指甲几乎被咬得陷进肉里。我朝迈克西姆瞥了一眼,他仍站在壁炉前。

“你在想什么?”我问。

我的声音沉着而冷静,然而,心儿在胸口怦怦乱跳,脑海中苦恨交加的思潮起伏不已。他点了一支烟,虽然我们刚用过午饭,可他已在抽那天的第二十五支烟了;他把火柴往空荡荡的炉堂里一扔,然后捡起报纸。

“没想什么。怎么啦?”他说。

“哦,我也不知道,”我说。“你神情那么严肃,那么恍惚。”

他漫不经心地吹起口哨,夹在他手指缝里的那支烟卷被扭弯了。“事实上我不过在想,他们是不是选中塞雷板球队,让他们在奥佛尔球场上和中塞克思队交锋,”他说。

他重新在椅子上坐定,把报纸折起。我转脸朝窗外望去。不多一会,杰斯珀来到我跟前,爬上我的膝头
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j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-27#77
Chapter twelve

I did not see much of Mrs Danvers. She kept very much to herself. She still rang the house telephone to the morning-room every day and submitted the menu to me as a matter of form, but that was the limit of our intercourse. She had engaged a maid for me, Clarice, the daughter of somebody on the estate, a nice quiet well-mannered girl, who, thank heaven, had never been in service before and had no alarming standards. I think she was the only person in the house who stood in awe of me. To her I was the mistress: I was Mrs de Winter. The possible gossip of the others could not affect her. She had been away for some time, brought up by an aunt fifteen miles away, and in a sense she was as new to Manderley as I was. I felt at ease with her. I did not mind saying 'Oh, Clarice, would you mend my stocking?" The housemaid Alice had been so superior. I used to sneak my chemise and nightgowns out of my drawer and mend them myself rather than ask her to do them. I had seen her once, with one of my chemises over her arm, examining the plain material with its small edging of lace. I shall never forget her expression. She looked almost shocked, as though her own personal pride had received a blow.

I had never thought about my underclothes before. As long as they were clean and neat I had not thought the material or the existence of lace mattered. Brides one read about had trousseaux, dozens of sets at a time, and I had never bothered. Alice's face taught me a lesson. I wrote quickly to a shop in London and asked for a catalogue of under-linen. By the time I had made my choice Alice was looking after me no longer and Clarice was installed instead. It seemed such a waste buying new underclothes for Clarice that I put the catalogue away in a drawer and never wrote to the shop after all. I often wondered whether Alice told the others, and if my underclothes became a topic of conversation in the servants' hall, something rather dreadful, to be discussed in low tones when the men were nowhere about. She was too superior for it to be made a joking question. Phrases like 'Chemise to you' would never be bandied between her and Frith, for instance. No, my underclothes were more serious than that. More like a divorce case heard in camera... At any rate I was glad when Alice surrendered me to Clarice. Clarice would never know real lace from false. It was considerate of Mrs Danvers to have engaged her. She must have thought we would be fit company, one for the other. Now that I knew the reason for Mrs Danvers' dislike and resentment it made things a little easier. I knew it was not just me personally she hated, but what I represented. She would have felt the same towards anyone who had taken Rebecca's place. At least that was what I understood from Beatrice the day she came to lunch. 'Did not you know?' she had said; 'she simply adored Rebecca. ' The words had shocked me at the time. Somehow I had not expected them. But when I thought it over I began to lose my first fear of Mrs Danvers. I began to be sorry for her. I could imagine what she must feel. It must hurt her every time she heard me called 'Mrs de Winter'. Every morning when she took up the house telephone and spoke to me, and I answered 'Yes, Mrs Danvers, ' she must be thinking of another voice. When she passed through the rooms and saw traces of me about the place, a beret on a window-seat, a bag of knitting on a chair, she must think of another one, who had done these things before.

Even as I did. I, who had never known Rebecca. Mrs Danvers knew how she walked and how she spoke. Mrs Danvers knew the colour of her eyes, her smile, the texture of her hair. I knew none of these things, I had never asked about them, but sometimes I felt Rebecca was as real to me as she was to Mrs Danvers. Frank had told me to forget the past, and I wanted to forget it. But Frank did not have to sit in the morning-room as I did, every day, and touch the pen she had held between her fingers. He did not have to rest his hands on the blotter, and stare in front of him at her writing on the pigeon-holes. He did not have to look at the candlesticks on the mantelpiece, the clock, the vase in which the flowers stood, the pictures on the walls and remember, every day, that they belonged to her, she had chosen them, they were not mine at all. Frank did not have to sit at her place in the dining-room, hold the knife and fork that she had held, drink from her glass. He did not throw a coat over his shoulders which had been hers, nor find her handkerchief in the pocket. He did not notice, every day, as I did, the blind gaze of the old dog in its basket in the library, who lifted its head when it heard my footstep, the footstep of a woman, and sniffing the air drooped its head again, because I was not the one she sought. Little things, meaningless and stupid in themselves, but they were there for me to see, for me to hear, for me to feel. Dear God, I did not want to think about Rebecca. I wanted to be happy, to make Maxim happy, and I wanted us to be together. There was no other wish in my heart but that. I could not help it if she came to me in thoughts, in dreams. I could not help it if I felt like a guest in Manderley, my home, walking where she had trodden, resting where she had lain. I was like a guest, biding my time, waiting for the return of the hostess. Little sentences, little reproofs reminding me every hour, every day. 'Frith, ' I said, coming into the library on a summer morning, my arms full of lilac, 'Frith, where can I find a tall vase for these? They are all too small in the flower-room. ' 'The white alabaster vase in the drawing-room was always used for the lilac, Madam. ' 'Oh, wouldn't it be spoilt? It might get broken. ' 'Mrs de Winter always used the alabaster vase, Madam. ' 'Oh, oh, I see. ' Then the alabaster vase was brought for me, already filled with water, and as I put the sweet lilac in the vase and arranged the sprigs, one by one, the mauve warm scent filling the room, mingling with the smell of the new-mown lawn outside coming from the open window, I thought: 'Rebecca did this.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-03-28#78
She took the lilac, as I am doing, and put the sprigs one by one in the white vase. I'm not the first to do it. This is Rebecca's vase, this is Rebecca's lilac' She must have wandered out into the garden as I did, in that floppy garden hat that I had seen once at the back of the cupboard in the flower-room, hidden under some old cushions, and crossed the lawn to the lilac bushes, whistling perhaps, humming a tune, calling to the dogs to follow her, carrying in her hands the scissors that I carried now. 'Frith, could you move that book-stand from the table in the window, and I will put the lilac there?' 'Mrs de Winter always had the alabaster vase on the table behind the sofa, Madam. ' 'Oh, well... ' I hesitated, the vase in my hands, Frith's face impassive. He would obey me of course if I said I preferred to put the vase on the smaller table by the window. He would move the book-stand at once. 'All right, ' I said, 'perhaps it would look better on the larger table. ' And the alabaster vase stood, as it had always done, on the table behind the sofa ... Beatrice remembered her promise of a wedding present. A large parcel arrived one morning, almost too large for Robert to carry. I was sitting in the morning-room, having just read the menu for the day. I have always had a childish love of parcels. I snipped the string excitedly, and tore off the dark brown paper. It looked like books. I was right. It was books. Four big volumes. A History of Painting. And a sheet of note-paper in the first volume saying 'I hope this is the sort of thing you like, ' and signed 'Love from Beatrice. ' I could see her going into the shop in Wigmore Street and buying them. Looking about her in her abrupt, rather masculine way. 'I want a set of books for someone who is keen on Art, ' she would say, and the attendant would answer, 'Yes, Madam, will you come this way. ' She would finger the volumes a little suspiciously. 'Yes, that's about the price. It's for a wedding present. I want them to look good. Are these all about Art?' 'Yes, this is the standard work on the subject, ' the assistant would say.

And then Beatrice must have written her note, and paid her cheque, and given the address 'Mrs de Winter, Manderley. ' It was nice of Beatrice. There was something rather sincere and pathetic about her going off to a shop in London and buying me these books because she knew I was fond of painting. She imagined me, I expect, sitting down on a wet day and looking solemnly at the illustrations, and perhaps getting a sheet of drawing-paper and a paint-box and copying one of the pictures. Dear Beatrice. I had a sudden, stupid desire to cry. I gathered up the heavy volumes and looked round the morning-room for somewhere to put them. They were out of place in that fragile delicate room. Never mind, it was my room now, after all. I arranged them in a row on the top of the desk. They swayed dangerously, leaning one against the other. I stood back a bit, to watch the effect. Perhaps I moved too quickly, and it disturbed them. At any rate the foremost one fell, and the others slid after him. They upset a little china cupid who had hitherto stood alone on the desk except for the candlesticks. He fell to the ground, hitting the waste-paper basket as he did so, and broke into fragments. I glanced hurriedly at the door, like a guilty child. I knelt on the floor and swept up the pieces into my hand. I found an envelope to put them in. I hid the envelope at the back of one of the drawers in the desk. Then I took the books off to the library and found room for them on the shelves. Maxim laughed when I showed them to him with pride. 'Dear old Bee, ' he said, 'you must have had a success with her. She never opens a book if she can help it. ' 'Did she say anything about - well - what she thought of me?' I asked. 'The day she came to lunch? No, I don't think so. ' 'I thought she might have written or something. ' 'Beatrice and I don't correspond unless there's a major event in the family. Writing letters is a waste of time, ' said Maxim. I supposed I was not a major event. Yet if I had been Beatrice, and had a brother, and the brother married, surely one would have said something, expressed an opinion, written two words? Unless of course one had taken a dislike to the wife, or thought her unsuitable. Then of course it would be different. Still, Beatrice had taken the trouble to go up to London and to buy the books for me. She would not have done that if she disliked me.

It was the following day I remember, when Frith, who had brought in the coffee after lunch to the library, waited a moment, hovering behind Maxim, and said, 'Could I speak to you, sir?' Maxim glanced up from his paper. 'Yes, Frith, what is it?' he said, rather surprised. Frith wore a stiff solemn expression, his lips pursed. I thought at once his wife had died. 'It's about Robert, sir. There has been a slight unpleasantness between him and Mrs Danvers. Robert is very upset. ' 'Oh, Lord, ' said Maxim, making a face at me. I bent down to fondle Jasper, my unfailing habit in moments of embarrassment. 'Yes, sir. It appears Mrs Danvers has accused Robert of secreting a valuable ornament from the morning-room. It is Robert's business to bring in the fresh flowers to the morning-room and place the vases. Mrs Danvers went in this morning after the flowers had been done, and noticed one of the ornaments was missing. It was there yesterday, she said. She accused Robert of either taking the ornament or breaking it and concealing the breakage. Robert denied both accusations most emphatically, and came to me nearly in tears, sir. You may have noticed he was not himself at lunch. ' 'I wondered why he handed me the cutlets without giving me a plate, ' murmured Maxim. 'I did not know Robert was so sensitive. Well, I suppose someone else did it. One of the maids. ' 'No, sir. Mrs Danvers went into the room before the girl had done the room. Nobody had been there since Madam yesterday, and Robert first thing with the flowers. It makes it very unpleasant for Robert and myself, sir. ' 'Yes, of course it does. Well you had better ask Mrs Danvers to come here and we'll get to the bottom of it. What ornament was it, anyway?' 'The china cupid, sir, that stands on the writing-table. ' 'Oh! Oh, Lord. That's one of our treasures, isn't it? It will have to be found. Get hold of Mrs Danvers at once. ' 'Very good, sir. ' Frith left the room and we were alone again. 'What a confounded nuisance, ' said Maxim; 'that cupid is worth a hell of a lot. How I loathe servants' rows too. I wonder why they come to me about it. That's your job, sweetheart. ' I looked up from Jasper, my face red as fire. 'Darling, ' I said, 'I meant to tell you before, but -but I forgot.

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The fact is I broke that cupid when I was in the morning-room yesterday. ' 'You broke it? Well, why the devil didn't you say so when Frith was here?' 'I don't know. I didn't like to. I was afraid he would think me a fool. ' 'He'll think you much more of a fool now. You'll have to explain to him and Mrs Danvers. ' 'Oh, no, please, Maxim, you tell them. Let me go upstairs. ' 'Don't be a little idiot. Anyone would think you were afraid of them. ' 'I am afraid of them. At least, not afraid, but The door opened, and Frith ushered Mrs Danvers into the room. I looked nervously at Maxim. He shrugged his shoulders, half amused, half angry. 'It's all a mistake, Mrs Danvers. Apparently Mrs de Winter broke the cupid herself and forgot to say anything, ' said Maxim. They all looked at me. It was like being a child again. I was still aware of my guilty flush. 'I'm so sorry, ' I said, watching Mrs Danvers, 'I never thought Robert would get into trouble. ' 'Is it possible to repair the ornament, Madam?' said Mrs Danvers. She did not seem to be surprised that I was the culprit. She looked at me with her white skull's face and her dark eyes. I felt she had known it was me all along and had accused Robert to see if I would have the courage to confess. 'I'm afraid not, ' I said, 'it's smashed in little pieces. ' 'What did you do with the pieces?' said Maxim. It was like being a prisoner, giving evidence. How paltry and mean my actions sounded, even to myself. 'I put them all into an envelope, ' I said. 'Well, what did you do with the envelope?' said Maxim, lighting a cigarette, his tone a mixture of amusement and exasperation. 'I put it at the back of one of the drawers in the writing-desk, ' I said. 'It looks as though Mrs de Winter thought you would put her in prison, doesn't it, Mrs Danvers?' said Maxim. 'Perhaps you would find the envelope and send the pieces up to London. If they are too far gone to mend it can't be helped. All right, Frith. Tell Robert to dry his tears. ' Mrs Danvers lingered when Frith had gone. 'I will apologize to Robert of course, ' she said, 'but the evidence pointed so strongly to him. It did not occur to me that Mrs de Winter had broken the ornament herself. Perhaps, if such a thing should happen again, Mrs de Winter will tell me personally, and I will have the matter attended to? It would save everybody a lot of unpleasantness. ' 'Naturally, ' said Maxim impatiently, 'I can't think why she didn't do so yesterday.

I was just going to tell her when you came into the room. ' 'Perhaps Mrs de Winter was not aware of the value of the ornament?' said Mrs Danvers, turning her eyes upon me. 'Yes, ' I said wretchedly. 'Yes, I was afraid it was valuable. That's why I swept the pieces up so carefully. ' 'And hid them at the back of a drawer where no one would find them, eh?' said Maxim, with a laugh, and a shrug of the shoulders. 'Is not that the sort of thing the between-maid is supposed to do, Mrs Danvers?' "The between-maid at Manderley would never be allowed to touch the valuable things in the morning-room, sir, ' said Mrs Danvers. 'No, I can't see you letting her, ' said Maxim. 'It's very unfortunate, ' said Mrs Danvers, 'I don't think we have ever had any breakages in the morning-room before. We were always so particular. I've done the dusting in there myself since - last year. There was no one I could trust. When Mrs de Winter was alive we used to do the valuables together. ' 'Yes, well - it can't be helped, ' said Maxim. 'All right, Mrs Danvers. ' She went out of the room, and I sat on the window-seat, looking out of the window. Maxim picked up his paper again. Neither of us spoke. 'I'm awfully sorry, darling, ' I said, after a moment, 'it was very careless of me. I can't think how it happened. I was just arranging those books on the desk, to see if they would stand, and the cupid slipped. ' 'My sweet child, forget it. What does it matter?' 'It does matter. I ought to have been more careful. Mrs Danvers must be furious with me. ' 'What the devil has she got to be furious about? It's not her bit of china. ' 'No, but she takes such a pride in it all. It's so awful to think nothing in there has ever been broken before. It had to be me. ' 'Better you than the luckless Robert. ' 'I wish it had been Robert. Mrs Danvers will never forgive me. ' 'Damn Mrs Danvers, ' said Maxim, 'she's not God Almighty, is she? I can't understand you. What do you mean by saying you are afraid of her?' 'I did not mean afraid exactly. I don't see much of her. It's not that. I can't really explain. ' 'You do such extraordinary things, ' said Maxim; 'fancy not getting hold of her when you broke the thing and saying, "Here, Mrs Danvers, get this mended. " She'd understand that. Instead of which you scrape up the remains in an envelope and hide 'em at the back of a drawer. Just like a between-maid, as I said, and not the mistress of a house. ' 'I am like a between-maid, ' I said slowly, 'I know I am, in lots of ways: That's why I have so much in common with Clarice.

We are on the same sort of footing. And that's why she likes me. I went and saw her mother the other day. And do you know what she said? I asked her if she thought Clarice was happy with us, and she said, "Oh, yes, Mrs de Winter. Clarice seems quite happy. She says, 'It's not like being with a lady, Mum, it's like being with one of ourselves. ' " Do you suppose she meant it as a compliment or not?' 'God knows, ' said Maxim; 'remembering Clarice's mother, I should take it as a direct insult. Her cottage is generally a shambles and smells of boiled cabbage. At one time she had nine children under eleven, and she herself used to patter about in that patch of garden with no shoes and a stocking round her head. We nearly gave her notice to quit. Why Clarice looks as neat and clean as she does I can't imagine. ' 'She's been living with an aunt, ' I said, feeling rather subdued. 'I know my flannel skirt has a dirty mark down the front, but I've never walked barefoot with a stocking round my head. ' I knew now why Clarice did not disdain my underclothes as Alice had done. 'Perhaps that's why I prefer calling on Clarice's mother to calling on people like the bishop's wife?' I went on. 'The bishop's wife never said I was like one of themselves. ' 'If you wear that grubby skirt when you call on her I don't suppose she does, ' said Maxim. 'Of course I didn't call on her in my old skirt, I wore a frock, ' I said, 'and anyway I don't think much of people who just judge one by one's clothes. ' 'I hardly think the bishop's wife cares twopence about clothes, ' said Maxim, 'but she may have been rather surprised if you sat on the extreme edge of the chair and answered "Yes" and "No" like someone after a new job, which you did the only time we returned a call together. ' 'I can't help being shy. ' 'I know you can't, sweetheart. But you don't make an effort to conquer it. ' 'I think that's very unfair, ' I said. 'I try every day, every time I go out or meet anyone new. I'm always making efforts. You don't understand. It's all very well for you, you're used to that sort of thing. I've not been brought up to it. ' 'Rot, ' said Maxim; 'it's not a question of bringing up, as you put it. It's a matter of application. You don't think I like calling on people, do you? It bores me stiff. But it has to be done, in this part of the world. ' 'We're not talking about boredom, ' I said; 'there's nothing to be afraid of in being bored.

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If I was just bored it would be different. I hate people looking me up and down as though I were a prize cow. ' 'Who looks you up and down?' 'All the people down here. Everybody. ' 'What does it matter if they do? It gives them some interest in life. ' 'Why must I be the one to supply the interest, and have all the criticism?' 'Because life at Manderley is the only thing that ever interests anybody down here. ' 'What a slap in the eye I must be to them then. ' Maxim did not answer. He went on looking at his paper. 'What a slap in the eye I must be to them, ' I repeated. And then, 'I suppose that's why you married me, ' I said; 'you knew I was dull and quiet and inexperienced, so that there would never be any gossip about me. ' Maxim threw his paper on the ground and got up from his chair. 'What do you mean?' he said. His face was dark and queer, and his voice was rough, not his voice at all. 'I-I don't know, ' I said, leaning back against the window, 'I don't mean anything. Why do you look like that?' 'What do you know about any gossip down here?' he said. 'I don't, ' I said, scared by the way he looked at me. 'I only said it because - because of something to say. Don't look at me like that. Maxim, what have I said? what's the matter?' 'Who's been talking to you, ' he said slowly. 'No one. No one at all' 'Why did you say what you did?' 'I tell you, I don't know. It just came to my head. I was angry, cross. I do hate calling on these people. I can't help it. And you criticized me for being shy. I didn't mean it. Really, Maxim, I didn't. Please believe 'It was not a particularly attractive thing to say, was it?' he said. 'No, ' I said. 'No, it was rude, hateful. ' He stared at me moodily, his hands in his pockets, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. 'I wonder if I did a very selfish thing in marrying you, ' he said. He spoke slowly, thoughtfully. I felt very cold, rather sick. 'How do you mean?' I said. 'I'm not much of a companion to you, ami?' he said. 'There are too many years between us. You ought to have waited, and then married a boy of your own age. Not someone like myself, with half his life behind him. ' "That's ridiculous, ' I said hurriedly, 'you know age doesn't mean anything in marriage. Of course we are companions. ' 'Are we? I don't know, ' he said. I knelt up on the window-seat and put my arms round his shoulders. 'Why do you say these things to me?' I said; 'you know I love you more than anything in the world.

There has never been anyone but you. You are my father and my brother and my son. All those things. ' 'It was my fault, ' he said, not listening. 'I rushed you into it. I never gave you a chance to think it over. ' 'I did not want to think it over, ' I said, 'there was no other choice. You don't understand, Maxim. When one loves a person 'Are you happy here?' he said, looking away from me, out of the window, 'I wonder sometimes. You've got thinner. Lost your colour. ' 'Of course I'm happy, ' I said, 'I love Manderley. I love the garden, I love everything. I don't mind calling on people. I just said that to be tiresome. I'll call on people every day, if you want me to. I don't mind what I do. I've never for one moment regretted marrying you, surely you must know that?' He patted my cheek in his terrible absent way, and bent down, and kissed the top of my head. 'Poor lamb, you don't have much fun, do you? I'm afraid I'm very difficult to live with. ' 'You're not difficult, ' I said eagerly, 'you are easy, very easy. Much easier than I thought you would be. I used to think it would be dreadful to be married, that one's husband would drink, or use awful language, or grumble if the toast was soft at breakfast, and be rather unattractive altogether, smell possibly. You don't do any of those things. ' 'Good God, I hope not, ' said Maxim, and he smiled. I seized advantage of his smile, I smiled too, and took his hands and kissed them. 'How absurd to say we are not companions, ' I said; 'why look how we sit here every evening, you with a book or a paper, and me with my knitting. Just like cups of tea. Just like old people, married for years and years. Of course we are companions. Of course we are happy. You talk as though you thought we had made a mistake? You don't mean it like that, do you, Maxim? You know our marriage is a success, a wonderful success?' 'If you say so, then it's all right, ' he said. 'No, but you think it too, don't you, darling? It's not just me? We are happy, aren't we? Terribly happy?' He did not answer. He went on staring out of the window while I held his hands. My throat felt dry and tight, and my eyes were burning. Oh, God, I thought, this is like two people in a play, in a moment the curtain will come down, we shall bow to the audience, and go off to our dressing-rooms.

This can't be a real moment in the lives of Maxim and myself. I sat down on the window-seat, and let go of his hands. I heard myself speaking in a hard cool voice. 'If you don't think we are happy it would be much better if you would admit it. I don't want you to pretend anything. I'd much rather go away. Not live with you any more. ' It was not really happening of course. It was the girl in the play talking, not me to Maxim. I pictured the type of girl who would play the part. Tall and slim, rather nervy. 'Well, why don't you answer me?' I said. He took my face in his hands and looked at me, just as he had before, when Frith had come into the room with tea, the day we went to the beach. 'How can I answer you?' he said. 'I don't know the answer myself. If you say we are happy, let's leave it at that. It's something I know nothing about. I take your word for it. We are happy. All right then, that's agreed!' He kissed me again, and then walked away across the room. I went on sitting by the window, stiff and straight, my hands in my lap. 'You say all this because you are disappointed in me, ' I said. 'I'm gauche and awkward, I dress badly, I'm shy with people. I warned you in Monte Carlo how it would be. You think I'm not right for Manderley. ' 'Don't talk nonsense, ' he said. 'I've never said you dressed badly or were gauche. It's your imagination. As for being shy, you'll get over that. I've told you so before. ' 'We've argued in a circle, ' I said, 'we've come right back to where we started. This all began because I broke the cupid in the morning-room. If I hadn't broken the cupid none of this would have happened. We'd have drunk our coffee, and gone out into the garden. ' 'Oh, damn that infernal cupid, ' said Maxim wearily. 'Do you really think I care whether it's in ten thousand pieces or not?' 'Was it very valuable?' 'Heaven knows. I suppose so. I've really forgotten. ' 'Are all those things in the morning-room valuable?' 'Yes, I believe so. ' 'Why were all the most valuable things put in the morning-room?' 'I don't know. I suppose because they looked well there. ' 'Were they always there? When your mother was alive?' 'No. No, I don't think they were. They were scattered about the house. The chairs were in a lumber room I believe. ' 'When was the morning-room furnished as it is now?' 'When I was married. ' I suppose the cupid was put there then?' I suppose so. ' 'Was that found in a lumber room?' 'No. No, I don't think it was. As a matter of fact I believe it was a wedding-present. Rebecca knew a lot about china. ' I did not look at him. I began to polish my nails. He had said the word quite naturally, quite calmly. It had been no effort to him. After a minute I glanced at him swiftly. He was standing by the mantelpiece, his hands in his pockets. He was staring straight in front of him. He is thinking about Rebecca, I said to myself. He is thinking how strange it was that a wedding present to me should have been the cause of destroying a wedding present to Rebecca. He is thinking about the cupid. He is remembering who gave it to Rebecca. He is going over in his mind how the parcel came and how pleased she was. Rebecca knew a lot about china. Perhaps he came into the room, and she was kneeling on the floor, wrenching open the little crate in which the cupid was packed. She must have glanced up at him, and smiled. 'Look, Max, ' she would have said, 'look what we've been sent. ' And she then would have plunged her hand down into the shavings and brought out the cupid who stood on one foot, his bow in his hand. "We'll have it in the morning-room, ' she must have said, and he must have knelt down beside her, and they must have looked at the cupid together. I went on polishing my nails. They were scrubby, like a schoolboy's nails. The cuticles grew up over the half moons. The thumb was bitten nearly to the quick. I looked at Maxim again. He was still standing in front of the fireplace. 'What are you thinking about?' I said. My voice was steady and cool. Not like my heart, thumping inside me. Not like my mind, bitter and resentful. He lit a cigarette, surely the twenty-fifth that day, and we had only just finished lunch; he threw the match into the empty grate, he picked up the paper. 'Nothing very much, why?' he said. 'Oh, I don't know, ' I said, 'you looked so serious, so far away. ' He whistled a tune absently, the cigarette twisting in his fingers. 'As a matter of fact I was wondering if they had chosen the Surrey side to play Middlesex at the Oval, ' he said. He sat down in the chair again and folded the paper. I looked out of the window. Presently Jasper came to me and climbed on my lap.

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第13章

六月底迈克西姆要去伦敦赴社交宴会。那是涉及本郡公务的一次宴会,只有男宾出席。他离家两天,让我独个儿留在庄园里。我很担心他这次出门会遇到什么不测事件。在我望着他的坐车在车道拐弯处消失的时候,我似乎真的感到此别将成永诀,以后再也见不着他啦。我指的自然是一场车祸,仿佛下午当我散步回来时,就会见到吓得面如土色的弗里思正在那儿等着向我禀报噩耗,说某个乡村医院的医生已经来过电话。“你一定要鼓起极大的勇气来,”他会这么说。“恐怕你得准备好承受巨大的打击。”

接着又仿佛是弗兰克来了,我们就一起到医院去,迈克西姆已认不出我来。我就这么坐在午餐桌前,胡思乱想这一幕又一幕的情景。我想象有一大群本地人士来参加葬礼,围聚在教堂墓地的四周,我自己则倚傍着弗兰克的手臂。这一切在我看来是如此真切,以至我连餐桌上的饭菜一点也没碰.而且一直竖起耳朵,生怕错漏了电话铃声。

下午,我坐在花园的栗子树下,膝上搁着本书,可是一个字也没读进去。我一看到罗伯特穿过草坪走来,心想一定有电话来啦,顿时感到一阵晕眩。“太太,俱乐部来电话,说是德温特先生十分钟前已到了那儿。”

我合上书本。“谢谢你,罗伯特。他这么快就到啦。”

“是啊,太太。一路挺顺利。”

“他没有要我接电话。或者留下什么特别口信?”

“没有,太太。只是说他已平安到达。电话是那儿的门房打来的。”

“知道了,罗伯特。多谢你了。”

我大大松了一口气,再没有晕眩欲吐的感觉。心里的疑惧豁然开释,好似横渡过海峡安然抵达彼岸一般。我顿时感到饥肠辘辘,所以一等到罗伯特回进屋子,就立刻爬过长自,溜进餐厅,从食品柜里偷了些饼干。一共六块,是巴斯一奥利弗牌的。接着我又随手拿了个苹果。真没想到会饿得这么慌。我走到林子里才开始大嚼起来,生怕在草坪上吃会被窗口的仆人瞧见,那样一来,他们会到厨师面前搬口舌,说什么刚才看见德温特夫人用饼干和水果填肚子来着,想必是不喜欢厨房里做的饭菜。厨师当然就不高兴啦,说不定还会到丹弗斯太太面前抱怨几句呢。

想到迈克西姆已平安抵达伦敦,再加上把那几块饼于吞进了肚子,我心情极为舒畅,甚至莫名其妙地感到快活。一种无拘无束的自由感在心头油然而生,大有无牵无挂一身轻的味道,好比是孩提时代度周末,既不用上课,也不要预习,爱干什么就干什么;可以套条旧裙子,穿双帆布鞋,跟邻屋小朋友在附近公共草地上一起玩“猎犬追野兔”的游戏。

我当时的感觉正是这样。来曼陀丽后我还从未有过这样的感觉。想必是迈克西姆到伦敦而不在身边的缘故吧。

我竟产生这种大不敬的念头,为此我颇为吃惊。真不明白这是怎么回事。我不希望他离开身边。而现在却如此轻松愉快,步履轻盈,情不自禁地要像孩子那样,连蹦带跳地穿过草地,连滚带爬翻身下坡。我抹去嘴上的饼干屑,大声呼唤杰斯珀。哦,我所以有这种感觉,也许因为这是个阳光明媚的日子吧……

我们穿过幸福谷,朝小海湾走去。杜鹃花已经凋谢,皱曲的褐色的残花零落散在青苔地上。风信子花尚未凋零,在山谷尽头处的林子里铺下一层厚实的绒毯,花丛间还不时冒出一些卷曲嫩绿的羊齿草。答藓溢出阵阵深沉的浓香;风信子花飘散着带点苦涩的泥土味。我躺在风信子花旁的茂密草丛中,头搁在手掌上,杰斯珀守在我身边。它气喘吁吁地望着我,样子傻乎乎的,唾液沿着舌头和肥厚的下颚往下滴。林中某处枝头息着几只鸽于。四周一片恬静宁谧。我感到奇怪,为什么当你孓身独处时,同样的环境竟会显得那么可爱。这时候要是有个朋友,旧日的同窗,坐在我身旁絮叨:“喂,顺便告诉你,前几天我遇到老同学希尔达啦。你还记得她吗?就是那个打得一手好网球的同学。她已经结婚,有了两个孩子。”这该多杀风景,多无聊乏味。你就顾不上欣赏身旁的风信子花,也没法侧耳谛听头上鸽子的咕鸣。此刻我不希望有谁呆在身边,甚至迈克西姆也不例外。要是迈克西姆在这儿,我就不会像现在这么躺着,闭目养神,嘴里还嚼着一根青草。我一定是在一旁察颜观色,留神他的眼神和表情,心中暗自揣摩,这合他的心意呢还是让他感到烦腻,还得不时忖度他在想些什么。而此刻我可以舒舒坦坦地躺着,全然不必为此操心。迈克西姆这会儿在伦敦。以后要是还有机会子身独处,那该有多美!喔,不,我是说着玩的。这种邪念岂非是对爱情的背弃?我说的不是那个意思。迈克西姆是我的生命,我的一切。我从风信子花丛中站起身来,朝杰斯珀厉声吆喝。我们一块儿出了林子,沿山谷走向海滩。这时正值退潮,大海宁静而遥远。那边的海湾宛若平静如镜的浩瀚湖面。望着此刻的大海,怎能想象出它汹涌咆哮的情景,正如置身于炎夏之中岂能想象寒冬的萧瑟?周围没有一丝儿风,灿烂的阳光泻在轻轻拍岸的海水上;海水漫人礁石之中,形成一泓泓漩水洼。杰斯珀一溜烟爬上礁岩,扭头瞥了我一眼,一只耳朵往后耷拉在脑袋上。一副调皮的怪模样。

“杰斯珀,别往那边去,”我说。

它当然不听我的话,放开步子便往那边跑。“这个捣蛋鬼,”我说出声来,接着也纵身翻上礁岩,去追赶杰斯珀,似乎并不是我自己有意要闯到另一侧海滩去的。“唔,可不是?”我暗自嘀咕。“实在没法子。管他呢,反正迈克西姆不在身边。这总不能怪我啊!”我踩着礁石间的水洼,哼着小调向前走,退了潮的小海湾,看起来与涨潮时不一样,不再那么令人望而生畏,狭小的港湾里海水大约只有三英尺深。我想。在这平静的浅水中驾起轻舟,随波荡漾,确是够逍遥的。浮简还在老地方。上面漆着的是绿白两种颜色,这我上回可没有注意到。也许是由于那几天霪雨不止,色彩不甚清晰。海滩上阒无人影。我脚踩圆卵石,来到海湾的另一侧,爬上防波堤的石砌堤壁。杰斯珀俨然像是识途老马。跑在头里。堤壁上安着一只环,一架铁梯自上而下伸入水中。也许那皮筏就曾拴在这儿,而游人也是借这架铁梯上筏子的。浮简就在对面三十英尺的地方,上面还写着什么。我侧过身伸长脖子看上面的字:“JeReviens”。怪有趣的名字。这不像是一般的船名。不过那艘船原先也许是艘法国造的捕鱼船吧,渔船有时倒是起那种名字的,什么“平安归来”啦,“我还安在”啦,等等。“JeReviens”——“我归来”。不错,这是个挺吉祥的船名,可惜用在那条船上并不恰当,因为它一去不复返啦。

如果越过海岬处的灯塔,在那边的海湾航行,一定是够冷的。这儿海水平静如镜,可是那边海岬处,即使在今天这样风和日丽的日子,潮水也在奔腾不息,水面卷起一层白色的碎浪。小船一旦绕过海角,驶出陆地环抱的海湾,就得听凭风浪摆布,东倒西歪。海水也许会哗哗扑上船来,在甲板上漫溢横流。手扶舵桐的驾船者也许会拭去溅在她眼睛和头发上的水花,抬头向那绷得紧紧的风帆扫一眼。不知道那艘小船漆的是什么颜色,说不定也是绿白双色,和那个浮筒一样。船身不很大,有个小船舱,弗兰克曾这么对我说过。

杰斯珀用鼻子唤着那架铁梯子。“走吧,”我说,“我可不想跟着你转了。”我沿着港湾的堤壁走回海滩。林子边上的那座小屋显得不像上一次那么遥远,那么森然可怕。这种变化是由太阳引起的。今天,没有淅沥的雨点打在屋顶上,我顺着海滩朝小屋缓缓走去。说到底,那不过是座普通的小屋,里边又没住人,一点没什么好害怕的。不论什么地方,只要有一段时间不住人,总会显得潮湿、阴森,连新盖的平房和别墅也不例外。况且,他们还在这儿举行过月夜聚餐之类的娱乐活动。周末来客也许常上这儿来游泳遣兴,随后乘船在海面上兜风巡游。我站定身子。朝屋前那座无人照看的爬满尊麻的庭园打量了一番。得派人来清理一下。差个园丁来,不该把它丢在一边,荒芜成这般模样。我推开庭园的小门,走到屋子门前。屋门虚掩着。我清楚地记得,上回我是把门关严的。杰斯珀吠叫起来,把鼻子凑在门沿下一个劲儿嗅着。

“别这样,杰斯珀,”我说。它还是死劲在唤个不停,把鼻子探进门框里。我推开门,朝里边张望。屋里还是像上次那样黑洞洞的。一切依然如旧。蜘蛛网依然挂在船模的索具上。不过,屋子尽头那扇通向船库贮藏室的门却开着。杰斯珀又汪汪大叫起来,贮藏室里扑通一声,是什么东西掉到了地上。杰斯珀狂吠着从我跨下窜入屋内,随即朝洞开着的贮藏室门猛扑过去。我跟在它后面朝里走了几步,然后犹豫不决地站在屋子中央,心儿怦怦直跳。“杰斯珀,回来,别像个傻瓜,”我说。它站在门口,仍狂怒地吠叫不停,声音近乎歇斯底里,贮藏室里一定有什么东西。不像是耗子。如果是耗子,狗一定早扑上去了。“杰斯珀,杰斯珀,过来,”我说。可是它不肯过来,我提起脚步慢慢朝贮藏室门口走去。

“里面有人吗?”我问。

没有回答。我弯下身,把手按在杰斯珀的颈圈上,从门边探头向里张望。有个人坐屋角里,身子靠着墙。瞧他那缩成一团的模样,似乎比我更胆颤心惊。原来是贝恩。他想把身子藏到一张船帆的后面去。“怎么回事?你想干什么?”我对他说。他傻乎乎地朝我眨巴着眼睛,嘴巴微微张开。

“我没干什么,”他说。

“安静下来,杰斯珀,”我一面呵责,一面用手捂住它的口勒;我解开自己的皮带,穿进颈圈将狗牵住。

“贝恩,你想要什么?”我又问了一声,这回胆子壮了些。

他没作声,只是用他那双白痴般的眼睛盯着我看。

“我看你还是出去的好,”我说。“德温特先生不喜欢有人到这屋子里走动。”

他摇摇晃晃站起身子,鬼头鬼脑地咧嘴傻笑,还用手背擦了擦鼻子。他的另一只手始终藏在背后。“贝恩,你手里拿着什么?”我说。他像孩子似地乖乖把另一只手伸给我看。他手里拿着根钓丝。“我没干什么,”他又咕哝了一遍。

“这根钓丝是这儿的吗?”我说。

“嗯?”他说。

“听着,贝恩,”我说,“你想要这根钓丝,拿去得了。不过以后可别再拿了。拿人家的东西,不是诚实人干的。”

他没吭声,光是朝我眨巴着眼睛,不安地扭动身子。

“过来,”我口气坚决地说。他跟着我走回大房间。杰斯珀已不再吠叫,只顾嗅着贝恩的脚后跟。我不想在这屋里再呆下去,快步走出屋子,来到阳光下,贝恩拖着脚步,跟在我后面。我随手把门带上。

“你还是回家去吧。”我对贝恩说。

他把钓丝当宝贝似地攥在胸口。“你不会把我送到疯人院去吧?”他问。

这时我才看到他害怕得浑身直打哆嗦。他双手颤抖,像哑巴似地用哀求的眼光死死盯着我。

“当然不会,”我温和地说。

“我没干什么呀,”他又说了一遍。“对谁也没有说过。我不想被人送进疯人院。”一滴眼泪顺着肮脏的腮帮子滚下。

“好的,贝恩,”我说。“谁也不会撵你走的。不过,你以后可别再上那屋子去了。”

我转身走开,他又追了上来,一把抓住我的手。

“来,来,”他说。“我有样东西给你。”

他傻笑着。他伸出手指朝我一招,随后转身向海滩走去。我跟着他走过去,看他弯下身子把礁石边的一块扁石头搬开。石块下有一小堆贝壳。他挑了一颗递给我。“这是给你的,”他说。

“谢谢,真漂亮,”我说。

他又咧嘴笑了,还不住地抓耳挠腮,刚才的恐惧全没了。“你长着天使一般的眼睛,”他说。

我心里一惊,又低下头望着那颗贝壳,一时不知该说什么是好。

“你可不像另外一位,”他说。

“你说的是谁?”我问。“什么另外一位?”

他摇了摇头,目光又显得躲躲闪闪。他伸出手指,搁在鼻子上。“她个儿挺高,皮肤黑黑的,”他说。“她真让人觉得是条蛇哪。我在这儿亲眼看到过她。到了晚上她就来了。我看到她的。”停了停,目不转睛地瞅着我。我沉默不语。“有一回,我朝屋里张望,瞧见了她,”他继续说。“她冲着我发火了。她说:‘你不认识我,对吗?你从没在这儿看到过我,以后也不会再看到我。要是我以后再发现你在窗口偷看,我就差人把你送到病人院去。’她又说:‘你是不想去的,是吗?疯人院那儿待人可凶呢。’我说:‘我什么也不说,太太。’我还这样碰了碰我的帽子呢。”他拉了拉头上那顶防雨布做的水手帽。“现在她去了,是吗?”他焦急地问。

“我不明白你说的是谁,”我慢腾腾地说。“没人会送你进疯人院的。再见吧,贝恩。”

我转过身子,牵着杰斯珀沿海滩走上小路。可怜的家伙,谁都看得出他有些痴呆,语无伦次。谁会拿疯人院来吓唬他这样的人呢,似乎不大可能。迈克西姆说过他是个文痴,不会惹事的。弗兰克也这么说过。也许是他曾听到家里人议论过他的情况。从此这些话就一直留在他脑子里了,就像一幅丑陋的图画会始终京绕在孩子的记忆里那样。在个人好恶的问题上,他的智力也同孩子一样,他会无缘无故的喜欢某个人,今天和你好得什么似的,可明天又会拉长脸生你的气。他对我友好,无非是因为我说他可以把那根钓丝留着。到了明天再碰见他,说不定他就忘掉我是谁了。拿白痴的话当真,岂不荒唐可笑。我扭头又朝海湾瞥了一眼。那儿已开始涨潮,海水慢慢地在港口防坡堤周围激起漩涡。贝恩已翻过礁石走了。海滩上又空无人影。我从黑黝黝的树丛缺口处刚好看到小屋顶上的石砌烟囱。不知怎么的,我突然想拔腿逃跑。我牵着扣在杰斯珀颈圈上的皮带,气喘吁吁地沿着陡峭的小径,穿过林于,头也不回地往前奔跑。哪怕是把世界上所有的珍宝都给我,我也不愿再回那小屋或海滩去。好像有谁守候在那荨麻丛生的小庭园内,那人一直在注视着我,听着我讲话。

我和杰斯珀一起狂奔。它汪汪叫个不停,以为是在玩一种新鲜的游戏,所以老是试着去咬那根牵扯它的皮带,想把它一口咬断。我以前还没有注意到这儿的树竟长得这么密,一株紧挨着一株,暴突的树根,像卷须似地伸过路面,存心想把人绊倒在地。我一面上气不接下气地奔跑着,一面想,他们怎么也不把这个地方清理一下,迈克西姆该叫人来搞一下呀。这种低矮蓬乱的灌木林丛,毫无存在的必要,根本不能给人以美的感受。该把那些盘根错节的灌木丛统统砍掉,让阳光照射到小径上来。这儿黑糊糊的,实在太昏暗。那株光秃秃的按树,已被荆棘缠得气息奄奄,看上去活像一具漂白过的骷髅肢体,树身底下有一条混浊发黑的小溪流过,溪流差不多快被成年累月雨水冲积的泥浆堵死,这会儿正无声无息地往下面的海滩缓缓淌去。鸟儿在这儿也不像在山谷里那样婉转啼鸣。四周是一片异样的沉寂。我这么喘着气在小道上奔跑,耳边听得湖水涌入海湾时的阵阵涛声。我这才明白为什么迈克西姆不喜欢这条小径,不喜欢这个海湾。我也不喜欢。我真是个傻瓜,竟会上这儿来。我应该呆在那边的海滩上,在那片白色的圆卵石上散步,随后从幸福回家。

我总算走出树林到了草坪,望见屹立在开阔地上的那幢坚实牢固的大宅,心头一阵喜悦。树林子已撇在身后。我要叫罗伯特把茶点送到栗子树下来。我看了看表,四点还不到,比我想象的要早呢。我还得稍等一会。按曼陀丽的规矩,不到四点半是不用茶点的。幸亏弗里思今天休息出去了,让罗伯特把茶点摆到外面花园里来,他倒不至于考究什么仪式。正当我信步穿过草坪走近平台时,车道拐弯处的石南绿叶丛中忽然射出一道强光,在我眼前一晃,那是太阳照在金属物体上的反光,我用手遮着眼睛看看究竟是什么。好像是汽车上散热器。我心想是不是来客了。不过,就算有客人来,他们也总是把车子直接开到屋子跟前,不会像现在这样,让车子停在远离屋子的车道转弯角上,还要藏在灌木丛里。我走近几步。一点也不错,是辆汽车。现在我可以看到汽车上的挡泥板,还有车篷。多怪的事啊。一般的客人从来不这么干。商人们也总是绕过旧马厩和车库打后面进来的。这不是弗兰克的莫里斯轿车,他那辆车我已很熟悉。而现在这辆,车身又长又低,是辆轻型汽车。我不知道该怎么办才好。要是果真有谁来访,罗伯特一定已将客人领进藏书室或客厅。而如果是领进了客厅,那我穿过草地时就会被他们看到。我可不想让客人瞧见我这身打扮。我还得留客人用茶点。我在草坪边上蜘蹰徘徊,拿不定主意。不知是什么缘故,可能是由于阳光在玻璃窗上忽地一闪吧,我偶尔抬头朝屋子看了一下。奇怪,就在我抬头张望的那一刹那,我注意到西厢房间有一扇百叶窗打开了。有人站在窗前,那是个男子。他一定也看到了我,因为他慌忙将身子缩了回去,而他背后的人立即伸出条胳膊,把窗关上。

是丹弗斯太太的胳膊。我认得那黑衣袖。我暗自寻思,也许今天是接纳公众参观的日子吧,而丹弗斯太太这时正领客人参观房间呢。不过这不可能。因为陪客人参观一向是弗里思分内的差使,而弗里思此刻又不在家。再说,西厢那些房间是不向外人开放的。连我自己到现在也没进去看过。不,今天不是参观日,星期二从不接待公众。也许是某个房间里有什么东西要修理吧。可是刚才那人朝外张望的那副模样也真有点蹊跷。他一看见我就急忙地抽身回避,而且百叶窗随即关上。还有那辆汽车,停放在石南花丛后面,这样就不会被屋子里的人看到了。话得说回来,反正这是丹弗斯太太的事,同我毫不相于。如果有朋友来看她,领他们到西厢去看看,我确实也管不着。不过据我所知,以前还从未有过这种情况。奇怪的是,这事偏偏发生在迈克西姆不在家的时候。

我穿过草坪朝屋子走去,浑身不自在,觉得他们也许仍躲在百叶窗后面,从隙缝里窥视我的一举一动。

我提步跨上台阶,从正门走进大厅,不见有什么陌生的帽子或手杖,托盘里也没有名片,显然这人并不是正式来访的宾客。算了,这不关我的事。我走进花房,在盆里洗了手,这样就省得上楼去。在楼梯上或别的地方和他们劈头想遇,撞个正着,岂不尴尬。我记得午饭前编结活儿丢在晨室里了,于是就穿过客厅去取,忠实的杰斯珀寸步不离地跟在身后。晨室的门开着。我发现编结袋已被人移动过。原先我是把它搁在长沙发上的,可现在不知被谁拿起,塞到了坐垫后面。沙发上原来放编结活计的地方,留有被人坐过的痕迹。刚才有谁在那上面坐过,而我的编结活儿放着碍事,就随手把它拿开了。书桌旁的那把椅子也已挪动过。看来是丹弗斯太太趁迈克西姆和我都不在的当儿,在晨室里接待了她的客人。我感到很不舒服。我宁愿不知道有这么回事。杰斯珀在长沙发周围唤来唤去,不住摆动尾巴。不管怎么说,它没对陌生来客起什么疑心。我拿起编结袋,往门外走去。这时,通后屋而道的大客厅边门开了,我听到有人说话的声音。我立即退回展室,躲闪得还算及时,没让人看见。我躲在门背后,朝杰斯珀竖眉瞪眼,因为长耳狗正站在门口望着我,摇着尾巴,拖着舌头,这小坏蛋会坏事的。我屏息仁立,一动也不敢动。

就在这时,我听到丹弗斯太太的说话声。“我想她上藏书室去了。”她说。“今天她不知怎么提早回来了。要是她真的去藏书室,那你从门厅出去就不会被她瞧见。等在这儿,我先去看看。”

我知道他们是在讲我,益发感到犹如芒刺在背。整个儿事情是那么鬼鬼祟祟,见不得人。我并不想抓丹弗斯太太的把柄。可是杰斯珀突然掉头朝向客厅,摇着尾巴跑了出去。

“喂,你这小杂种,”我听见那人说。杰斯珀兴奋地汪汪大叫。我急得走投无路,拼命想找个藏身的地方,当然没地方好躲。而就在这时,耳边响起一阵脚步声,那人走进晨室来了。我躲在门后,一开始他并没看见我,可是杰斯珀一纵身,向我窜来,一边仍快活地汪汪叫个不停。

那人猛地转过身子,终于瞧见了我。我还从未见过有谁露出那样的满脸惊讶之色,仿佛我是破门而入的毛贼。而他倒是这宅子的主人。

“请您原谅,”他一边说,一边上下打量着我。

这人身材高大,体格魁梧,脸膛黑里透红,漂亮之中颇带几分俗气。他生着一对布满血红的蓝眼睛,那种眼睛往往使人联想到酗酒暴饮,耽于淫乐。他的头发也和他的肤色一样,黑里透红。要不了几年工夫,此人就会发胖,脖子后的衣领上会堆起厚厚的赘肉。那张嘴巴暴露了这个酒色之徒的本色,粉红的嘴唇显得软沓沓的。从我站着的地方,就能闻到他嘴里喷出的那股威士忌酒味。他脸上挂起微笑,那种会丢给任何女子的微笑。

“但愿我没吓着您,”他说。

我从门背后走了出来。心想,自己的模样不像个大傻瓜才怪呢。“哪儿的话,当然没有,”我说。“刚才我听见有人说话的声音,拿不准是谁。我没有料到今天下午会有客人光临。”

“太不像话了,”他老练地说,“我这么擅自问来惊动您,太冒失了,希望您能原谅。其实,我是顺便进来看看老丹尼的,她可是我的一位老朋友哪。”

“喔,当然罗,这没什么关系,”我说。

“亲爱的老丹尼,”他说。“老天爷保佑她。她顾虑重重,生怕惊动了谁。她不想打扰您。”

“喔,其实这一点也没关系,”我这么说,眼睛望着杰斯珀,它在那人身边快活地蹦呀跳呀,不时还用瓜子去搔他。

“这个小要饭的,还没有把我忘掉,是不?”他说。“长得像个样子啦。我上次看见它时还是个小崽子呢。不过身上的膘嫌多了些,得多让它活动活动。”

“我刚才还带着它着实跑了一阵,”我说。

“是吗?你还真喜欢运动呢,”他说。他不住地拍着杰斯珀,毫不拘束地朝我笑笑,接着掏出烟盒。“来一支?”他问。

“我不抽烟,”我告诉他。

“真的不会?”他自己拿了一支点上。

这类事情我向来不在乎,不过。在别人家里这么随便,我总觉得有点别扭。这当然是举止失当,至少是对我礼数不周。

“迈克斯老兄好吗?”他说。

他讲话的腔调不禁使我暗暗吃惊,听上去好像他和迈克西姆很熟悉。听见有人把迈克西姆叫做迈克斯,我好生奇怪。还没有人这么叫过他。

“他很好,谢谢你,”我说。“他上伦敦了。”

“什么?把新娘子一个人撇在这儿?啊哟,这太糟糕了,他难道不怕会有人来把你抢走?”

他张嘴大笑起来。那种笑声真叫我讨厌。很有点唐突无礼的味道。他这个人也叫我厌恶。就在这时,丹弗斯太太走了进来。她的目光一落在我身上,我就感到有股寒气逼来。哦,天哪,我心想,她一定巴不得把我一口吞了才解恨。

“喂,丹尼,你来啦,”那男人说。“你百般提防,结果还是枉费心机。屋子的女主人就躲在门背后哪。”他又大笑起来。丹弗斯太太一言不发,只是直愣愣地盯着我看。“暖,你怎么不替我介绍一下?”他说。“向新娘子请安问候。总不算出格的举动吧?”

“太太,这位是费弗尔先生,”丹弗斯太太不动声色地说,语气相当勉强。我觉得她并不想把他介绍给我。

“您好,”我说,接着,为了不显得无礼,便说,“请留在这儿用茶点吧。”

我的邀请似乎使他觉得满有趣。他转向丹弗斯太太。

“你看,这样盛情相邀,岂不让人动心?”他说。“请我留下用茶点,我的天。丹尼,我还真想留下来哪。”

我看见她朝他丢了个警告的眼色。我感到浑身别扭。这整个场面太反常了,压根儿不该出现这种事情。

“嗯,也许你是对的,”他说。“不过留下来一定是乐趣无穷。我看还是离开为妙,是吗?来吧,跟我去看看我那辆车。”他还是用那种亲呢而又唐突无礼的腔调说话。我不想去看他的车。我感到进退两难,尴尬之极。“来吧,”他说。“那可是辆玲珑剔透的小车,跟可怜的迈克斯老兄这辈子用的各种车相比,跑得快多啦!”

我编造不出什么借口,整个事情那么不自然,近于荒唐,真不知道是搞什么鬼。丹弗斯太太干吗要站在一旁那么望着我,眼睛里快冒出火来?

“车在哪儿?”我有气无力地问。

“在车道拐弯处。我没把车一直开到大门口,生怕惊动你哪。我想你下午可能要休息一会的吧。”

我没答话。这谎扯得太不高明。我们一起穿过客厅,走进门廊。只见他扭头朝丹弗斯太太使了个眼色。她可没有和他挤眉弄眼。我料想她也还不至于此。她正颜厉色,令人生畏。杰斯珀连蹦带跳地出了屋子,上了车道,似乎这位不速之客的突然光临,使它喜出望外。看来客人和它交情不浅哩。

“我大概把帽子忘在车里了吧,”那人说,还装模作样地朝门厅内扫视了一圈。“其实,我是绕了道悄悄进屋的,直捣丹尼的老窝。你也来看看车子吗?”

他用询问的目光望了丹弗斯太太一眼。她犹豫不决,从眼梢瞟了我一眼。

“不,”她回答说。“不啦,这会儿我想出去。再见,杰克先生。”

他抓住她的手,亲亲热热地握着。“再见,丹尼,多加保重啊。你总知道上哪儿跟我联系罗。今天又见着你,真使我高兴。”他走出屋子,踏上车道,杰斯珀在他身后又蹦又跳,我拖着沉重的脚步跟在后面,心里仍觉得很不是滋味。

“亲爱的曼陀丽老屋啊,”他抬头望望那一排窗子说。“这地方差不多还是原来的模样。我看这多亏丹尼悉心照看吧。真是个了不起的女人,你说呢?”

“是的,她办事很得力,”我回答说。

“你觉得这儿的生活怎么样?是不是大有埋没隔世之感?”

“我非常喜欢曼陀丽,”我语气生硬地说。

“迈克斯遇见你的时候,你正呆在法国南部的某个地方?在蒙特,是吗?蒙特那地方,我一向很熟悉。”

“不错,当时是在蒙特卡洛,”我说。

我们已到了汽车跟前。那是辆绿色的轻型车,跟它的主人倒是一路货。

“你觉得这车怎么样?”他说。

“很漂亮,”我彬彬有礼地回答。

“坐上去兜兜风,乘到庄园门口怎么样?”

“不,我不想去,”我说。“我有点累了。”

“你觉得曼陀丽的女主人跟我这号人乘车兜风,让人见了有失体统,是吗?”他说着,笑了起来,还朝我摇摇头。

“哦,不,”我说着,脸红得发烫。“真的不是。”

他用那双放肆而讨厌的蓝眼睛,带点顽皮的神情,不住地上下打量我。我觉得自己简直像个酒吧间的女招待。

“噢,好吧,”他说。“我们可不能把新娘子引上歧途,杰斯珀,你说是吗?那可万万使不得呀。”他伸手去拿他的帽子和一副大得出奇的驾驶手套,随手把烟头往车道上一扔。

“再见啦,”他一面说一面伸出手来。“见到你我很幸运。”

“再见,”我说。

“哦,顺便说一下,”他漫不经心地说。“要是你不在迈克斯面前提起我来过的事儿,那就太够朋友啦!他对我恐怕有点看法,我也说不上是什么缘故;再说,还可能给可怜的老丹尼招来麻烦。”

“不”,我尴尬地说。“好吧,我不说。”

“你可真够朋友。怎么,你真的打定主意不去兜风啦?”

“不啦,要是你不见怪,我想还是免了吧。”

“那么,再见啦。也许日后我还会来看你的。下去,杰斯珀,你这个鬼东西,你要把车上的漆抓掉啦。依我说,迈克斯就这么把你孤零零一个人撇在这儿,自己上了伦敦,实在不像话。”

“我可不在乎。我喜欢一个人在家。”我说。

“啊哈,真的?多离奇的事儿。要知道,这完全不合情理,违背人性。你们结婚多久了?三个月,是吗?”

“差不多,”我说。

“我啊,还真希望有个结婚三个月的新娘在家里等着我呢!我是个孤苦伶仃的光棍。”他又放声大笑,随后把帽子往下一拉,盖到眼睛上边。“告辞啦,”说着,他把车发动起来,排气管劈劈啪啪喷出团团废气,汽车顺着车道飞驶而去,杰斯珀站在那儿望着汽车远去,双耳耷拉下来,尾巴夹在两腿中间。

“哦,来吧,杰斯珀,”我说。“别这么半痴不呆的。”我转身朝屋子慢慢走去,丹弗斯太太已不见踪影。我站在厅廊里,拉了拉铃。大约五分钟光景一直没人答应。我又拉铃。一会儿,艾丽斯走了进来,一脸的不高兴,不知受了多少委屈似的。“什么事,太太?”她说。

“哦,艾丽斯,”我说,“罗伯特不在吗?今天我想在屋子外面的栗子树下用茶点。”

“罗伯特下午到邮局去还没回来呢,太太,”艾丽斯说。“丹弗斯太太告诉他说您不会准时回来用茶的。弗里思当然也不在。如果您现在就想用茶点,我可以去给您拿来。我看现在还没到四点半哪。”

“哦,没关系,艾丽斯,等罗伯特回来再说吧,”我说。原来,迈克西姆不在家,家里的事儿全都没了板眼。弗里思和罗伯特同时跑开,这种情况据我知道还未曾有过。当然,今天该弗里思休息,而丹弗斯太太又偏偏打发罗伯特上邮局去。他们料定我到很远的地方散步去了,于是那个叫费弗尔的家伙就看准这个时机来探望丹弗斯太太。时间选得再巧妙不过了。我敢说,其中肯定有鬼,而且他还要我瞒过迈克西姆。这事儿可真棘手。我不想给丹弗斯太太招麻烦,也不想平地惹起一场风波。更主要的是,我不想让迈克西姆为此烦恼。

这个费弗尔究竟是何许人物。他把迈克西姆叫作“迈克斯”。还没有人叫过他“迈克斯”。有一回,我在一本书的扉页上,倒是见过这个名字来着,是手写的纤细的斜体字,上端奇特地高耸着,而那个字母M的尾巴轮廓分明,拖得很长。我想,就只有此人叫过他迈克斯……

我就这么站在门厅里,拿不定主意什么时候用茶,也不知道该做什么才好。突然,我脑子里闪出这样一个念头:也许丹弗斯太太为人不老实,一直背着迈克西姆干什么勾当,今天她和那个家伙正合伙算计着什么,不巧被我早回来一步撞上了,于是那家伙就花言巧语,装出一副同这所屋子和迈克西姆本人很熟悉的样子,拔脚溜走了。不知道他们在西厢那边于什么来着。为什么他们一瞧见我来到草地上,慌忙把百叶窗关上呢?我满腹狐疑,隐隐感到不安。弗里思和罗伯特都不在家。下午,女佣们一般总是在自己的寝室里更衣换装。于是这地方就成了丹弗斯太太一个人的天下。难道那个男人是个小偷,而丹弗斯太太又是他雇用的内线?西厢那边颇有一些值钱的东西。我顿时产生一阵说来也颇有点吓人的冲动,想此刻就悄悄摸上楼去,亲自到西厢那几个房间去看个明白。

罗伯特还没有回来。上茶之前正好有时间去走一趟。我犹豫地朝画廊瞥了一眼。整个屋子肃穆无声。仆人都在厨房后面的下房里。杰斯珀在楼梯脚下舔吃盘里的狗食,那稀里哗啦的声音在石筑大厅里回响着。我挪动脚步,向楼上走去,一阵异样的兴奋遍布全身,心房怦怦剧跳不已


Chapter thirteen

Maxim had to go up to London at the end of June to some public dinner. A man's dinner. Something to do with the county. He was away for two days and I was left alone. I dreaded his going. When I saw the car disappear round the sweep in the drive I felt exactly as though it were to be a final parting and I should never see him again. There would be an accident of course and later on in the afternoon, when I came back from my walk, I should find Frith white and frightened waiting for me with a message. The doctor would have rung up from some cottage hospital. 'You must be very brave, ' he would say, 'I'm afraid you must be prepared for a great shock. ' And Frank would come, and we would go to the hospital together. Maxim would not recognize me. I went through the whole thing as I was sitting at lunch, I could see the crowd of local people clustering round the churchyard at the funeral, and myself leaning on Frank's arm. It was so real to me that I could scarcely eat any lunch, and I kept straining my ears to hear the telephone should it ring. I sat out in the garden under the chestnut tree in the afternoon, with a book on my lap, but I scarcely read at all. When I saw Robert come across the lawn I knew it was the telephone and I felt physically sick. 'A message from the club, Madam, to say Mr de Winter arrived ten minutes ago. ' I shut up my book. 'Thank you, Robert. How quickly he got up-' 'Yes, Madam. A very good run. ' 'Did he ask to speak to me, or leave any special message?' 'No, Madam. Just that he had arrived safely. It was the porter speaking. ' 'All right, Robert. Thanks very much. ' The relief was tremendous. I did not feel sick any more. The pain had gone. It was like coming ashore after a channel crossing. I began to feel rather hungry, and when Robert had gone back into the house I crept into the dining-room through the long window and stole some biscuits from the sideboard. I had six of them. Bath Olivers. And then an apple as well. I had no idea I was so empty. I went and ate them in the woods, in case one of the servants should see me on the lawn from the windows, and then go and tell the cook that they did not think Mrs de Winter cared for the food prepared in the kitchen, as they had just seen her filling herself with fruit and biscuits. The cook would be offended, and perhaps go to Mrs Danvers Now that Maxim was safe in London, and I had eaten my biscuits, I felt very well and curiously happy. I was aware of a sense of freedom, as though I had no responsibilities at all.

It was rather like a Saturday when one was a child. No lessons, and no prep. One could do as one liked. One put on an old skirt and a pair of sand-shoes and played Hares and Hounds on the common with the children who lived next door. I had just the same feeling. I had not felt like this all the time I had been at Manderley. It must be because Maxim had gone to London. I was rather shocked at myself. I could not understand it at all. I had not wanted him to go. And now this lightness of heart, this spring in my step, this childish feeling that I wanted to run across the lawn, and roll down the bank. I wiped the biscuit crumbs from my mouth and called to Jasper. Perhaps I was just feeling like this because it was a lovely day ... We went through the Happy Valley to the little cove. The azaleas were finished now, the petals lay brown and crinkled on the moss. The bluebells had not faded yet, they made a solid carpet in the woods above the valley, and the young bracken was shooting up, curling and green. The moss smelt rich and deep, and the bluebells were earthy, bitter. I lay down in the long grass beside the bluebells with my hands behind my head, and Jasper at my side. He looked down at me panting, his face foolish, saliva dripping from his tongue and his heavy jowl. There were pigeons somewhere in the trees above. It was very peaceful and quiet. I wondered why it was that places are so much lovelier when one is alone. How commonplace and stupid it would be if I had a friend now, sitting beside me, someone I had known at school, who would say 'By the way, I saw old Hilda the other day. You remember her, the one who was so good at tennis. She's married, with two children. ' And the bluebells beside us unnoticed, and the pigeons overhead unheard. I did not want anyone with me. Not even Maxim. If Maxim had been there I should not be lying as I was now, chewing a piece of grass, my eyes shut. I should have been watching him, watching his eyes, his expression. Wondering if he liked it, if he was bored. Wondering what he was thinking. Now I could relax, none of these things mattered. Maxim was in London. How lovely it was to be alone again. No, I did not mean that. It was disloyal, wicked. It was not what I meant. Maxim was my life and my world. I got up from the bluebells and called sharply to Jasper. We set off together down the valley to the beach. The tide was out, the sea very calm and remote.

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It looked like a great placid lake out there in the bay. I could not imagine it rough now, any more than I could imagine winter in summer. There was no wind, and the sun shone on the lapping water where it ran into the little pools in the rocks. Jasper scrambled up the rocks immediately, glancing back at me, one ear blown back against his head, giving him an odd rakish appearance. 'Not that way, Jasper, ' I said. He cared nothing for me of course. He loped off, deliberately disobedient. 'What a nuisance he is, ' I said aloud, and I scrambled up the rocks after him, pretending to myself I did not want to go to the other beach. 'Oh, well, ' I thought, 'it can't be helped. After all, Maxim is not with me. It's nothing to do with me. ' I splashed through the pools on the rocks, humming a tune. The cove looked different when the tide was out. Less formidable. There was only about three foot of water in the tiny harbour. A boat would just float there comfortably I supposed, at dead low water. The buoy was still there. It was painted white and green, I had not noticed that before. Perhaps because it had been raining the colouring was indistinct. There was no one on the beach. I walked across the shingle to the other side of the cove, and climbed the low stone wall of the jetty-arm. Jasper ran on ahead as though it was his custom. There was a ring in the wall and an iron ladder descending to the water. That's where the dinghy would be tied, I suppose, and one would climb to it from the ladder. The buoy was just opposite, about thirty feet away. There was something written on it. I craned my neck sideways to read the lettering. 'Je Reviens'. What a funny name. Not like a boat. Perhaps it had been a French boat though, a fishing boat. Fishing boats sometimes had names like that; 'Happy Return', 'I'm Here', those sort of names. 'Je Reviens' - 'I come back. ' Yes, I suppose it was quite a good name for a boat. Only it had not been right for that particular boat which would never come back again. It must be cold sailing out there in the bay, beyond the beacon away on the headland. The sea was calm in the bay, but even today, when it was so still, out there round the headland there was a ripple of white foam on the surface of the water where the tide was racing. A small boat would heel to the wind when she rounded the headland and came out of the landlocked bay.

The sea would splash inboard perhaps, run down the deck. The person at the tiller would wipe spray out of her eyes and hair, glance up at the straining mast. I wondered what colour the boat had been. Green and white perhaps, like the buoy. Not very big, Frank had said, with a little cabin. Jasper was sniffing at the iron ladder. 'Come away, ' I said. 'I don't want to go in after you. ' I went back along the harbour wall to the beach. The cottage did not seem so remote and sinister at the edge of the wood as it had done before. The sun made such a difference. No rain today, pattering on the roof. I walked slowly up the beach towards it. After all, it was only a cottage, with nobody living in it. There was nothing to be frightened of. Nothing at all. Any place seemed damp and sinister when it had been uninhabited for a certain time. Even new bungalows and places. Besides, they had moonlight picnics and things here. Week-end visitors probably used to come and bathe, and then go for a sail in the boat. I stood looking into the neglected garden choked with nettles. Someone ought to come and tidy it up. One of the gardeners. There was no need to leave it like this. I pushed the little gate and went to the door of the cottage. It was not entirely closed. I was certain I had closed it the last time. Jasper began growling, sniffing under the door. 'Don't, Jasper, ' I said. He went on sniffing deeply, his nose thrust to the crack. I pushed the door open and looked inside. It was very dark. Like it had been before. Nothing was changed. The cobwebs still clung to the rigging of the model boats. The door into the boat-store at the end of the room was open though. Jasper growled again, and there was a sound of something falling. Jasper barked furiously, and darting between my legs into the room he tore to the open door of the store. I followed him, heart beating, and then stood uncertainly in the middle of the room. 'Jasper, come back, don't be a fool, ' I said. He stood in the doorway, still barking furiously, an hysterical note in his voice. Something was there then, inside the store. Not a rat. He would have gone for a rat. 'Jasper, Jasper. Come here, ' I said. He would not come. I went slowly to the door of the store. 'Is there anybody there?' I said. No one answered. I bent down to Jasper, putting my hand on his collar, and looked round the edge of the door.

Someone was sitting in the corner against the wall. Someone who, from his crouching position, was even more frightened than me. It was Ben. He was trying to hide behind one of the sails. 'What is the matter? Do you want something?' I said. He blinked at me stupidly, his mouth slightly open. 'I'm not doing nothing, ' he said. 'Quiet, Jasper, ' I scolded, putting my hand over his muzzle, and I took my belt off and ran it through his collar as a leash. 'What do you want, Ben?' I said, a little bolder this time. He did not answer. He watched me with his sly idiot's eyes. 'I think you had better come out, ' I said. 'Mr de Winter doesn't like people walking in and out of here. ' He shambled to his feet grinning furtively, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. The other hand he kept behind his back. 'What have you got, Ben?" I said. He obeyed me like a child, showing me the other hand. There was a fishing line in it. 'I'm not doing anything, ' he repeated. 'Does that line belong here?' I asked. 'Eh?' he said. 'Listen, Ben, ' I said. 'You can take that line if you want to, but you mustn't do it again. It's not honest, taking people's things. ' He said nothing. He blinked at me and wriggled. 'Come along, ' I said firmly. I went into the main room and he followed me. Jasper had stopped barking, and was now sniffing at Ben's heels. I did not want to stop any longer in the cottage. I walked quickly out into the sunshine, Ben shuffling behind me. Then I shut the door. 'You had better go home, ' I said to Ben. He held the fishing line clutched to his heart like a treasure. 'You won't put me to the asylum, will you?' he said. I saw then that he was trembling with fright. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were fixed on mine in supplication, like a dumb thing. 'Of course not, ' I said gently. 'I done nothing, ' he repeated, 'I never told no one. I don't want to be put to the asylum. ' A tear rolled down his dirty face. "That's all right, Ben, ' I said; 'no one will put you away. But you must not go to the cottage again. ' I turned away, and he came after me, pawing at my hand. 'Here, ' he said. 'Here, I got something for you. ' He smiled foolishly, he beckoned with his finger, and turned towards the beach. I went with him, and he bent down and picked up a flat stone by a rock. There was a little heap of shells under the stone. He chose one, and presented it to me. "That's yourn, ' he said. 'Thank you; it's very pretty, ' I said.

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He grinned again, rubbing his ear, his fright forgotten. 'You've got angel's eyes, ' he said. I glanced down at the shell again, rather taken aback. I did not know what to say. 'You're not like the other one, ' he said. 'Who do you mean?' I said. 'What other one?' He shook his head. His eyes were sly again. He laid his finger against his nose. 'Tall and dark she was, ' he said. 'She gave you the feeling of a snake. I seen her here with me own eyes. Be night she'd come. I seen her. ' He paused, watching me intently. I did not say anything. 'I looked in on her once, ' he said, 'and she turned on me, she did. "You don't know me, do you?" she said. "You've never seen me here, and you won't again. If I catch you looking at me through the windows here I'll have you put to the asylum, " she said. "You wouldn't like that would you? They're cruel to people in the asylum, " she said. "I won't say nothing, M'am, " I said. And I touched me cap, like this here. ' He pulled at his sou'wester. 'She's gone now, ain't she?' he said anxiously. 'I don't know who you mean, ' I said slowly; 'no one is going to put you in the asylum. Good afternoon, Ben. ' I turned away and walked up the beach to the path dragging Jasper by his belt. Poor wretch, he was potty, of course. He did not know what he was talking about. It was hardly likely that anyone would threaten him with the asylum. Maxim had said he was quite harmless, and so had Frank. Perhaps he had heard himself discussed once, amongst his own people, and the memory of it lingered, like an ugly picture in the mind of a child. He would have a child's mentality too, regarding likes and dislikes. He would take a fancy to a person for no reason, and be friendly one day perhaps and sullen the next. He had been friendly with me because I had said he could keep the fishing line. Tomorrow if I met him he might not know me. It was absurd to notice anything said by an idiot. I glanced back over my shoulder at the cove. The tide had begun to run and was swirling slowly round the arm of the harbour wall. Ben had disappeared over the rocks. The beach was deserted again. I could just see the stone chimney of the cottage through a gap in the dark trees. I had a sudden unaccountable desire to run. I pulled at Jasper's leash and panted up the steep narrow path through the woods, not looking back any more.

Had I been offered all the treasures in the world I could not have turned and gone down to the cottage or the beach again. It was as though someone waited down there, in the little garden where the nettles grew. Someone who watched and listened. Jasper barked as we ran together. He thought it was some new kind of game. He kept trying to bite the belt and worry it. I had not realized how closely the trees grew together here, their roots stretching across the path like tendrils ready to trip one. They ought to clear all this, I thought as I ran, catching my breath, Maxim should get the men on to it. There is no sense or beauty in this undergrowth. That tangle of shrubs there should be cut down to bring light to the path. It was dark, much too dark. That naked eucalyptus tree stifled by brambles looked like the white bleached limb of a skeleton, and there was a black earthy stream running beneath it, choked with the muddied rains of years, trickling silently to the beach below. The birds did not sing here as they did in the valley. It was quiet in a different way. And even as I ran and panted up the path I could hear the wash of the sea as the tide crept into the cove. I understood why Maxim disliked the path and the cove. I disliked it too. I had been a fool to come this way. I should have stayed on the other beach, on the white shingle, and come home by the Happy Valley. I was glad to come out on to the lawn and see the house there in the hollow, solid and secure. The woods were behind me. I would ask Robert to bring me my tea under the chestnut tree. I glanced at my watch. It was earlier than I thought, not yet four. I would have to wait a bit. It was not the routine at Manderley to have tea before half past. I was glad Frith was out. Robert would not make such a performance of bringing the tea out into the garden. As I wandered across the lawn to the terrace my eye was caught by a gleam of sunshine on something metal showing through the green of the rhododendron leaves at the turn in the drive. I shaded my eyes with my hand to see what it was. It looked like the radiator of a car. I wondered if someone had called. If they had though, they would have driven up to the house, not left their car concealed like that from the house, at the turn of the drive, by the shrubs. I went a little closer. Yes, it was a car all right. I could see the wings now and the hood. What a funny thing.

Visitors never did that as a rule. And the tradesmen went round the back way by the old stables and the garage. It was not Frank's Morris. I knew that well. This was a long, low car, a sports car. I wondered what I had better do. If it was a caller Robert would have shown them into the library or the drawing-room. In the drawing-room they would be able to see me as I came across the lawn. I did not want to face a caller dressed like this. I should have to ask them to stay to tea. I hesitated, at the edge of the lawn. For no reason, perhaps because the sunlight flickered a moment on the glass, I looked up at the house, and as I did so I noticed with surprise that the shutters of one of the windows in the west wing had been opened up. Somebody stood by the window. A man. And then he must have caught sight of me because he drew back abruptly, and a figure behind him put up an arm and closed the shutters. The arm belonged to Mrs Danvers. I recognized the black sleeve. I wondered for a minute if it was a public day and she was showing the rooms. It could not be so though because Frith always did that, and Frith was out. Besides, the rooms in the west wing were not shown to the public. I had not even been into them myself yet. No, I knew it was not a public day. The public never came on a Tuesday. Perhaps it was something to do with a repair in one of the rooms. It was odd though the way the man had been looking out and directly he saw me he whipped back into the room and the shutters were closed. And the car too, drawn up behind the rhododendrons, so that it could not be seen from the house. Still, that was up to Mrs Danvers. It was nothing to do with me. If she had friends she took to the west wing it was not exactly my affair. I had never known it happen before though. Odd that it should occur on the only day Maxim was from home. I strolled rather self-consciously across the lawn to the house, aware that they might be watching me still from a chink in the shutters. I went up the steps and through the big front door to the hall. There was no sign of a strange cap or stick, and no card on the salver. Evidently this was not an official visitor. Well, it was not my affair. I went into the flower-room and washed my hands in the basin to save going upstairs. It would be awkward if I met them face to face on the stairs or somewhere.

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I remembered I had left my knitting in the morning-room before lunch, and I went along through the drawing-room to fetch it, the faithful Jasper at my heels. The morning-room door was open. And I noticed that my bag of knitting had been moved. I had left it on the divan, and it had been picked up and pushed behind a cushion. There was the imprint of a person on the fabric of the divan where my knitting had been before. Someone had sat down there recently, and picked up my knitting because it had been in the way. The chair by the desk had also been moved. It looked as though Mrs Danvers entertained her visitors in the morning-room when Maxim and I were out of the way. I felt rather uncomfortable. I would rather not know. Jasper was sniffing under the divan and wagging his tail. He was not suspicious of the visitor anyway. I took my bag of knitting and went out. As I did so the door in the large drawing-room that led to the stone passage and the back premises opened, and I heard voices. I darted back into the morning-room again, just in time. I had not been seen. I waited behind the door frowning at Jasper who stood in the doorway looking at me, his tongue hanging out, wagging his tail. The little wretch would give me away. I stood very still, holding my breath. Then I heard Mrs Danvers speak. 'I expect she has gone to the library, ' she said. 'She's come home early for some reason. If she has gone to the library you will be able to go through the hall without her seeing you. Wait here while I go and see. ' I knew they were talking about me. I began to feel more uncomfortable than ever. It was so furtive, the whole business. And I did not want to catch Mrs Danvers in the wrong. Then Jasper turned his head sharply towards the drawing-room. He trotted out, wagging his tail. 'Hullo, you little tyke, ' I heard the man say. Jasper began to bark excitedly. I looked round desperately for somewhere to hide. Hopeless of course. And then I heard a footstep quite close to my ear, and the man came into the room. He did not see me at first because I was behind the door, but Jasper made a dive at me, still barking with delight. The man wheeled round suddenly and saw me. I have never seen anyone look more astonished. I might have been the burglar and he the master of the house. 'I beg your pardon, ' he said, looking me up and down. He was a big, hefty fellow, good-looking in a rather flashy, sunburnt way.

He had the hot, blue eyes usually associated with heavy drinking and loose living. His hair was reddish like his skin. In a few years he would run to fat, his neck bulging over the back of his collar. His mouth gave him away, it was too soft, too pink. I could smell the whisky in his breath from where I stood. He began to smile. The sort of smile he would give to every woman. 'I hope I haven't startled you, ' he said. I came out from behind the door looking no doubt as big a fool as I felt. 'No, of course not, ' I said, 'I heard voices, I was not quite sure who it was. I did not expect any callers this afternoon. ' 'What a shame, ' he said heartily, 'it's too bad of me to butt in on you like this. I hope you'll forgive me. The fact is I just popped in to see old Danny, she's a very old friend of mine. ' 'Oh, of course, it's quite all right, ' I said. 'Dear old Danny, ' he said, 'she's so anxious, bless her, not to disturb anyone. She didn't want to worry you. ' 'Oh, it does not matter at all, ' I said. I was watching Jasper who was jumping up and pawing at the man in delight. 'This little beggar hasn't forgotten me, has he?' he said. 'Grown into a jolly little beast. He was quite a youngster when I saw him last. He's too fat though. He needs more exercise. ' 'I've just taken him for a long walk, ' I said. 'Have you really? How sporting of you, ' he said. He went on patting Jasper and smiling at me in a familiar way. Then he pulled out his cigarette case. 'Have one?' he said. 'I don't smoke, ' I told him. 'Don't you really?' He took one himself and lighted it. I never minded those things, but it seemed odd to me, in somebody else's room. It was surely rather bad manners? Not polite to me. 'How's old Max?' he said. I was surprised at his tone. It sounded as though he knew him well. It was queer, to hear Maxim talked of as Max. No one called him that. 'He's very well, thank you, ' I said. 'He's gone up to London. ' 'And left the bride all alone? Why, that's too bad. Isn't he afraid someone will come and carry you off?' He laughed, opening his mouth. I did not like his laugh. There was something offensive about it. I did not like him, either. Just then Mrs Danvers came into the room. She turned her eyes upon me and I felt quite cold. Oh, God, I thought, how she must hate me. 'Hullo, Danny, there you are, ' said the man; 'all your precautions were in vain. The mistress of the house was hiding behind the door. ' And he laughed again. Mrs Danvers did not say anything.

She just went on looking at me. 'Well, aren't you going to introduce me?' he said; 'after all it's the usual thing to do, isn't it, to pay one's respect to a bride?' 'This is Mr Favell, Madam, ' said Mrs Danvers. She spoke quietly, rather unwillingly. I don't think she wanted to introduce him to me. 'How do you do, ' I said, and then, with an effort to be polite, 'Won't you stay to tea?' He looked very amused. He turned to Mrs Danvers. 'Now isn't that a charming invitation?' he said. 'I've been asked to stay to tea? By heaven, Danny, I've a good mind to. ' I saw her flash a look of warning at him. I felt very uneasy. It was all wrong, this situation. It ought not to be happening at all. 'Well, perhaps you're right, ' he said; 'it would have been a lot of fun, all the same. I suppose I had better be going, hadn't I? Come and have a look at my car. ' He still spoke in a familiar rather offensive way. I did not want to go and look at his car. I felt very awkward and embarrassed. 'Come on, ' he said, 'it's a jolly good little car. Much faster than anything poor old Max ever has. ' I could not think of an excuse. The whole business was so forced and stupid. I did not like it. And why did Mrs Danvers have to stand there looking at me with that smouldering look in her eyes? 'Where is the car?' I said feebly. 'Round the bend in the drive. I didn't drive to the door, I was afraid of disturbing you. I had some idea you probably rested in the afternoon. ' I said nothing. The lie was too obvious. We all walked out through the drawing-room and into the hall. I saw him glance over his shoulder and wink at Mrs Danvers. She did not wink in return. I hardly expected she would. She looked very hard and grim. Jasper frolicked out on to the drive. He seemed delighted with the sudden appearance of this visitor whom he appeared to know so well. 'I left my cap in the car, I believe, ' said the man, pretending to glance round the hall. 'As a matter of fact, I didn't come in this way. I slipped round and bearded Danny in her den. Coming out to see the car too?' He looked inquiringly at Mrs Danvers. She hesitated, watching me out of the tail of her eye. 'No, ' she said. 'No, I don't think I'll come out now. Goodbye, Mr Jack. ' He seized her hand and shook it heartily. 'Goodbye, Danny: take care of yourself. You know where to get in touch with me always.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-04-10#85
It's done me a power of good to see you again. ' He walked out on to the drive, Jasper dancing at his heels, and I followed him slowly, feeling very uncomfortable still. 'Dear old Manderley, ' he said, looking up at the windows. "The place hasn't changed much. I suppose Danny sees to that. What a wonderful woman she is, eh?' 'Yes, she's very efficient, ' I said. 'And what do you think of it all? Like being buried down here?' 'I'm very fond of Manderley, ' I said stiffly. 'Weren't you living somewhere down in the south of France when Max met you? Monte, wasn't it? I used to know Monte well. ' 'Yes, I was in Monte Carlo, ' I said. We had come to his car now. A green sports thing, typical of its owner. 'What do you think of it?' he said. 'Very nice, ' I said, politely. 'Come for a run to the lodge gates?' he said. 'No, I don't think I will, ' I said. 'I'm rather tired. ' 'You don't think it would look too good for the mistress of Manderley to be seen driving with someone like me, is that it?' he said, and he laughed, shaking his head at me. 'Oh, no, ' I said, turning rather red. 'No, really. ' He went on looking me up and down in his amused way with those familiar, unpleasant blue eyes. I felt like a barmaid. 'Oh, well, ' he said, 'we mustn't lead the bride astray, must we, Jasper? It wouldn't do at all. ' He reached for his cap, and an enormous pair of motoring gloves. He threw his cigarette away on the drive. 'Goodbye, ' he said, holding out his hand; 'it's been a lot of fun meeting you. ' 'Goodbye, ' I said. 'By the way, ' he said carelessly, 'it would be very sporting and grand of you if you did not mention this little visit of mine to Max? He doesn't exactly approve of me, I'm afraid; I don't know why, and it might get poor old Danny into trouble. ' 'No, ' I said awkwardly. 'No, all right. ' 'That's very sporting of you. Sure you won't change your mind and come for a run?' 'No, I don't think I will, if you don't mind. ' 'Bye-bye, then. Perhaps I'll come and look you up one day. Get down, Jasper, you devil, you'll scratch my paint. I say, I call it a damn shame Max going up to London and leaving you alone like this!' 'I don't mind. I like being alone, ' I said. 'Do you, by Jove? What an extraordinary thing. It's all wrong, you know. Against nature.

How long have you been married? Three months, isn't it?' 'About that, ' I said. 'I say, I wish I'd got a bride of three months waiting for me at home! I'm a poor lonesome bachelor. ' He laughed again, and pulled his cap down over his eyes. 'Fare you well, ' he said, starting up the engine, and the car shot down the drive snorting explosive fury from the exhaust, while Jasper stood looking after it, his ears drooping, his tail between his legs. 'Oh, come on, Jasper, ' I said, 'don't be so idiotic' I walked slowly back to the house. Mrs Danvers had disappeared. I stood in the hall and rang the bell. Nothing happened for about five minutes. I rang again. Presently Alice appeared, her face rather aggrieved. 'Yes, Madam?' she said. 'Oh, Alice, ' I said, 'isn't Robert there? I rather fancied my tea out under the chestnut tree. ' 'Robert went to the post this afternoon, and isn't back yet, Madam, ' said Alice. 'Mrs Danvers gave him to understand you would be late for tea. Frith is out too of course. If you want your tea now I can get it for you. I don't think it's quite half past four yet. ' 'Oh, it doesn't matter, Alice. I'll wait till Robert comes back, ' I said. I supposed when Maxim was away things automatically became slack. I had never known Frith and Robert to be out at the same time. It was Frith's day of course. And Mrs Danvers had sent Robert to the post. And I myself was understood to have gone for a long walk. That man Favell had chosen his time well to pay his call on Mrs Danvers. It was almost too well chosen. There was something not right about it, I was certain of that. And then he had asked me not to say anything to Maxim. It was all very awkward. I did not want to get Mrs Danvers into trouble or make any sort of scene. More important still I did not want to worry Maxim. I wondered who he was, this man Favell. He had called Maxim 'Max'. No one ever called him Max. I had seen it written once, on the fly-leaf of a book, the letters thin and slanting, curiously pointed, the tail of the M very definite, very long. I thought there was only one person who had ever called him Max ... As I stood there in the hall, undecided about my tea, wondering what to do, the thought suddenly came to me that perhaps Mrs Danvers was dishonest, that all this time she was engaged in some business behind Maxim's back, and coming back early as I had today I had discovered her and this man, an accomplice, who had then bluffed his way out by pretending to be familiar with the house and with Maxim. I wondered what they had been doing in the west wing.

Why had they closed the shutters when they saw me on the lawn? I was filled with vague disquiet. Frith and Robert had been away. The maids were generally in their bedrooms changing during the afternoon. Mrs Danvers would have the run of the place. Supposing this man was a thief, and Mrs Danvers was in his pay? There were valuable things in the west wing. I had a sudden rather terrifying impulse to creep upstairs now to the west wing and go into those rooms and see for myself. Robert was not yet back. I would just have time before tea. I hesitated, glancing at the gallery. The house seemed very still and quiet. The servants were all in their own quarters beyond the kitchen. Jasper lapped noisily at his drinking bowl below the stairs, the sound echoing in the great stone hall. I began to walk upstairs. My heart was beating in a queer excited way.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-04-11#86
第14章

我发觉自己又来到那条走廊,就是初到曼陀丽那天早晨逗留过的那条过道。打那以后,我就再没上这儿来过,而且也不想来。阳光从墙壁凹凸处的窗户射进来,在过道深色的护壁镶板上交织成金色的图案。

四周静悄悄的,没有一点声响。同上回一样,我又闻到那种不寻常的霉味儿。我拿不准该往哪边走;这儿房间的布局我不熟悉。这时,我忽然记起上回丹弗斯太太是打我身后的一扇门里走出来的,从方位来看,那似乎也正是我想要去的房间,那里的窗户俯瞰着通往大海的草坪。我扭动房门的把手,走了进去。百叶窗全下着,屋里当然很昏暗。我伸手去摸墙上的电灯开关,拧亮了灯,这是一间不大的前室,我估计是间更衣室,沿墙四周尽是些高大的衣柜。屋子尽头有扇门洞开着,里边的房间较大。我穿过房门走进里间,拧亮了灯,四下一望,不由得一惊,原来房间里的家具陈设,一应俱全,竟像一直有人住着似的。

我原以为桌子、椅子,还有靠墙的那张大双人床,全都会被罩单蒙着,不料什么也没过没。梳妆台上放着发刷、梳子、香水和脂粉。床也铺得平整,还可以看到雪白的枕套和夹层床罩下面露出的一角毛毯。梳妆台和床头柜上都放有鲜花。雕花的壁炉架上也摆着鲜花。靠椅上放着一件缎子晨衣,下面搁一双卧室里穿的拖鞋。有那么一刹那的工夫,我脑子突然一阵迷离,仿佛时光又倒退了回去。而自己是在她犹未去世时打量这房间的……过了一会儿,吕蓓卡本人就会回屋来,哼着小调,在梳妆台的镜子面前坐定,伸手去拿梳子,然后梳理头发。要是也坐在那儿,我就可以看到她在镜子里的映像,而她也会从镜子里看到我这么站在门口。这一切当然都没出现。我还是呆呆地站在那儿,期待着发生什么事。倒是墙上挂钟的滴答声,把我重新唤回现实生活。钟上的针臂指着四点二十五分,跟我手表指示的时间相符。时钟的滴答声,听了使人恢复正常的神智,感到宽心。它提醒我别忘了现在,别忘了茶点马上就会在草坪那儿摆开,等我去享用。我慢慢走到房间中央。不,这房间现在没人使用,没有人再住在这儿。就是那些鲜花,也驱散不了屋里的霉味。窗帘拉得严实,百叶窗关得紧紧的。吕蓓卡不会再回这儿来了。即使丹弗斯太太在壁炉架上摆了鲜花,在床上铺好被单,也没法再把她招回来。她死了,离开人世已一年。她躺在教堂的墓地里,跟德温特家的其他死者葬在一起。

涛声清晰可闻。我走到窗前拉起百叶窗。不错,我现在站着的这个窗口,正是半小时前费弗尔和丹弗斯太太呆过的地方。白昼的一道道光线射进房来。使电灯光顿时显得昏黄而悠忽。我把百叶窗再拉开些。一束明亮的日光投射在床上,于是,搁在枕头上的睡衣套袋、梳妆台顶上的玻璃镜面、发刷和香水瓶,全都豁然明亮起来。

日光给了屋子以更强烈的现实感。百叶窗关着的时候,屋子在灯光下倒更似舞台上的布景,像是两场戏之间布置就绪的场景。夜戏已幕落,今晚的演出就此收场,舞台上换上第二天日戏第一幕的布景。而日光却使整个房间栩栩如生,气象盎然。我忘了屋子的霉味,忘了另外几扇窗户的帷帘仍未拉起。我又成了个客人,一个不请自来的客人,闲逛之中误闯了女主人的卧室。梳妆台上是她的发刷,搁在靠椅那边的是她的晨衣和拖鞋。

进入这屋子之后,我还是第一次感到双腿发软,不住打颤。我只得在梳妆台前的凳子上坐下。我的心不再因感到异样的兴奋而剧烈跳动,倒是沉重得像压上了铅块。我发着呆,出神地在屋子里东张西望。不错,这是个漂亮的房间。在我刚到的那天晚上,丹弗斯太太的介绍并非言过其实,这个房间确是整幢宅子最漂亮的一间。瞧那精致的壁炉架,那天花板,那雕花的床架,那窗帷的流苏,还有那墙上的挂钟和身旁梳妆台上的烛台,所有这一切如果是属于我的,我一定会奉若至宝,爱不释手。可这些东西不是我的,而是属于另一个人。我伸手摸摸那一对发刷。一把比较旧些。这道理我是明白的,人们往往尽顾着用一把发刷,忘了另一把,所以把发刷拿去洗的时候,其中一把还是干干净净,简直没怎么用过。瞧瞧镜子里自己的脸,多苍白,多消瘦,一头平直难看的长发就这么拖着。难道我一直就是这副鬼样子?往日里,脸色总比现在红润些吧?镜子里的那个人,满面菜色,姿色平平,直愣愣地朝我干瞪着眼。

我站直身,走到靠椅边,摸了摸椅子上的晨衣,又捡起拖鞋拿在手中,一阵恐惧之感猛地袭上心头,越来越强烈,接着又渐渐演化为绝望。我摸摸床上的被褥,手指顺着睡衣套袋上字母图案的笔划移动着,图案是由“R-德温特”这几个字样相互迭合交织而成的。凸花字母绣在金色的缎面上,挺硬挣的。套袋里的那件睡衣呈杏黄色,薄如蝉翼。我摸着摸着,就把它从套袋里抽出来,贴在自己面颊上。衣服凉冰冰,原先一定芬芳沁人,散发着白杜鹃的幽香,可是现在却隐隐约约透出一股霉味。我把睡衣折叠好,重新放回套袋,我一边这么做,一边感到心头隐隐作痛;我注意到睡衣上有几条折痕,光滑的织纹陡然起了皱,可见从上回穿过以后一直没人碰过,也没有送去洗熨。

我猛然一阵冲动,情不自禁地从床边走开,返身回进那间小小的前室,刚才我看到那儿放着好几口衣柜。我打开其中的一口。不出所料,里面挂满了衣服。这里放的是礼服。衣服用白布袋包着,我看到布袋的袋口上方闪着银光,原来是件金黄色的织锦缎礼服。旁边是件颜色淡黄、质地柔软的丝绒外衣,另外还有条白缎子长裙,裙据一直拖到衣柜的底板,上层的架子上有把鸵毛扇,从一张包装薄纸底下探出头来。

衣柜由于密不通风而积有一股怪味。杜鹃花在户外清香宜人,可是这种香气闷在衣柜里,不但走了味,而且使绫罗、锦缎都失去了光泽。这时,一阵阵变了味的杜鹃花陈香就从敞开着的衣柜门里向我袭来。我关上衣柜门,重又走进卧室。窗口射进清澈明亮的日光,仍然在金色的床罩上,那字母图案中高大的斜体R字母,在日光下显得格外耀眼,轮廓分明。

就在这时,我听见背后有脚步声,回头一看,是丹弗斯太太。她脸上的那副表情,我这辈子再也忘不了。得意洋洋、幸灾乐祸的神气之中,夹杂着一种奇怪的病态激动。我吓得魂不附体。

“太太,出了什么事?”她说。

我想朝她笑一笑,可是笑不出来,我张了张了嘴,可是说不出话来。

“您觉得不舒服吧?”她说。口气极其温和。她朝我走过来。我往后退,想避开她。我相信她要是再朝我逼近一步,我一定会昏厥过去。我感到她的鼻息已经喷到我的脸上。

“没什么,丹弗斯太太,”我过了一会才说。“我没有想到会在这儿看到你。事情是这样的:我刚才在草坪上偶尔抬头朝窗子看了一眼,注意到有一扇百叶窗没关严。我上来看看是不是能把它关严实。”

“我来关吧。”说着,她不声不响穿过房间,把百叶窗闩牢。日光消失了,在昏黄、悠忽的灯光下,屋子顿时失却了真实感,重又显得虚幻而阴森。

丹弗斯太太又走过来。在我身边站定,脸上堆着微笑。平日里她总是不苟言笑,冷若冰霜,此刻却一反常态,不仅热乎得叫人惊恐,而且满脸阿谀之色。

“您何必对我说百叶窗是开着的呢?”她说。“我离开屋子前就把窗关上了,是您自己开的窗,对吗,嗯?您想来看看这个房间。您干吗以前一直不叫我领您来看呢?我每天都准备陪您上这儿来。您只需吩咐一声就得了。”

我真想抽身逃走,可是却动弹不得,我还是注视着她的眼睛。

“既然您现在来了,就让我陪您好好看看吧。”她那巴结逢迎的口气,假惺惺的,却又甜如蜜糖,听了叫人毛骨惊然。“我知道您想看看这儿的一切,您早就想一饱眼福了,只是怕难为情,不好意思提出来罢了。这是个可爱的房间,是不?您从来也没有见过这么可爱的房间吧。”

她一把抓住我的手臂,拉着我朝床边走去。我无法抗拒,好似个任人摆布的木雕。她的手触着我的手臂,使我不住打寒颤。她这时说起话来,声音压得很低,口吻亲呢,我最讨厌,也最怕听到这种说话腔调。

“那是她的床。一张挺华丽的床,是不?我一直让这条金黄色的床罩铺在上面,这是她生前最喜欢的床罩。这儿套袋里放的是她的睡衣。你已经摸过这睡衣了,是不是?是她生前最后一次穿的睡衣,你想不想再摸一摸?”她从套袋里取出睡衣,塞在我面前。“拿着摸摸看,”她说。“质地多轻多软,是吗?上回她穿过以后我一直没洗。我把睡衣,还有晨衣、拖鞋就这样摆着,全都照那天晚上等她回来时候的原样摆着。那天晚上她再没回来,淹死了。”她折起睡衣,放回套袋。“您知道,服侍她的事儿全由我一个人包了。”她说着,又拉住我的胳膊,把我领到晨衣和拖鞋跟前。“我们试过好多女仆,可是没有一个合她的心意。‘你服侍得比谁都好,丹尼,’她常常这样说。‘除了你,我谁也不要,’你看,这是她的晨衣。她个子要比您高得多,您可以从衣服的长短上看出来。放在身上比试比试吧,一直拖到您的脚踝啦。她身段可美哩。这是她的拖鞋。‘把拖鞋丢给我,丹尼’她总是这么说。对她那颀长的身材来说,那双脚算是小巧玲珑的了。您不防把手伸进拖鞋里试试。鞋身既小又窄,是不是?”

她硬把拖鞋往我手上一套,脸上一直堆着微笑。同时盯着我的眼睛;“您怎么也没想到她会这么高吧?”她说。“这双拖鞋只配一双娇小的脚穿。她的身材可苗条呢。除非她站在你身旁,否则你不会意识到她那修长的身材。她简直有我一般高呢。可是她躺在那儿床上,看上去却像个小娇娇,那头浓密的黑发像圈光环似地烘托着她的脸蛋。”

她把拖鞋重新放在地板上,又把晨衣摆回靠椅。“您看过她的发刷了,是吗?”说着,又把我拉到梳妆台前;“发刷在这儿,就像她生前用的时候一样,没有拿去洗过,也没有人碰过。每天晚上总是我替她梳头。‘来吧,丹尼,现在该给我梳头了,’她这么说,而我就站在这儿的凳子旁边一口气替她梳上二十分钟。要知道,她是在最后几年才留短发的。她刚结婚的时候,头发一直垂在腰肢下面呢。德温特先生那时经常替她梳头,不知有多少次,我走进这房间就看到他穿着衬衫,手里拿着这两把发刷。‘重一点,迈克斯,重一点嘛,’她抬头朝他笑着说,而他呢,对她总是百依百顺。您知道,他们总是在一起梳妆打扮,准备主持宴会,而屋子里已宾客满座。‘喂,我要赶不及啦,’他就这么一面说着,一面把发刷扔给我,回报她一笑。那个时候啊,他总是春风满面,喜气洋洋的。”

丹弗斯太太顿了顿,她的手还是放在我的手臂上。

“她把头发剪掉的时候,大家都生她气啦,”她接着说。“可她才不在乎呢!‘这是我自己的事,跟别人有什么相干,’她说。当然罗,蓄短头发,骑马航海要方便多了。您知道,有人画过一幅画,那是她策马扬、鞭的英姿,是位著名画家的作品,后来就挂在伦敦皇家艺术学会里,您可曾见过那幅画?”

我摇摇头说:“不,没见过。”

“听说那幅画是那一年的最佳作品,”她继续往下说。“可是德温特先生不喜欢那画,不准在曼陀丽挂出来。我想,大概他认为那画不传神,没有充分显示出她的风韵吧。您想看看她的衣服,是吗?”她不等我回答就把我领到那间小前室,把衣柜一口一口打开。

“我把她的毛皮衣饰都放在这里,”她说。“这些皮毛还没蛀掉,我想以后也不会蛀掉。我总是很当心的。您摸摸那条黑貂皮围脖。那是德温特先生送给她的圣诞节礼物。也曾告诉过我这玩意儿值多少钱,可我现在已忘了。这栗鼠皮披肩是她晚上最常用的。寒风凛冽的夜晚,她常用它裹住肩头。这口柜子里放的都是她的夜礼服。您打开过了,是吗?您把没插销完全闩牢呢。我相信德温特先生最喜欢她穿银白色的礼服,当然,她不管穿什么都行,不管穿什么颜色都好看。她穿着这件丝绒礼服真是仪态万方。把它贴在脸上试试,很柔软,是吗?您不会不感觉到吧!温馨犹在,对吗?您简直会觉得这是她刚从身上脱下来的呢。凡是她到过的房间,我总可以一下子辨出来。屋里会留下她的几缕余香。这个抽屉里放的是她的内衣。这套粉红色的内衣她从来没穿过。她死的时候,当然穿着便裤和衬衫,不过后来被海水冲掉了。几星期以后找到她尸体的时候,身上什么也没留下。”

她的手指把我的胳臂攥得更紧了。她弯下身子,那张骷髅似的脸贴近我。黑眼珠死死地盯着我的眼睛。“您知道吗,她已在礁石上拉得支离破碎,”她低声细语。“她那张秀美的脸蛋已经无法辨认,两条胳膊也不见了。德温特先生认出是她,亲自上埃奇库姆比去认领尸体,独自一个人去的。当时他病得很厉害,可他坚持要去。谁也不能阻止他,甚至连克劳利先生也劝不住。”

她停了片刻,可是目光始终盯着我的脸不移开去。“出了这件意外,我永远不能原谅自己,”她说。“全怪我那天晚上不在家。下午我到克里斯去了,而且在那儿耽搁很久;德温特夫人上伦敦去了,不到深夜是不会回来的。所以我也就不急着回来。等我九点半光景回到庄园,听人说她七点不到就已经回来,吃过晚饭,又出去了。当然是到海滩去了,我很担心,那时已起了西南风。要是我当时在家,她就不会出去。她总是听我的话。‘换了我,今儿个晚上才不高兴出去呢,这种天气不宜出门哪!’我会这么对她说;而她呢,也会回答我说,‘好吧,丹尼,你这个爱大惊小怪的老太婆。’于是,不用说,我们就会坐在这儿,促膝谈心,她呢,会像以往那样把她在伦敦的所见所闻,一五一十地说给我听。”

我的手臂被她的手指指得红一块,紫一块,完全麻木了。我看到她脸上的那层皮绷得多紧,颧骨明显地鼓突出来,耳朵底下有几块小黄斑。

“德温特先生当时在克劳利先生那儿吃晚饭,”她继续说。“我不知道他是什么时候回来的。我敢说是在敲了十一点以后。将近午夜时分,屋外起了大风,越刮越猛,可她还是没回来。我下了楼,藏书室门框底下不见有灯光透出。我返身上楼。敲敲更衣室的门。德温特先生立即应道:‘谁啊?什么事?’我对他说,我担心德温特夫人怎么这时还没回来。等了一会,他开了房门,身上穿着晨衣。‘我想她大概是留在那边的小屋里过夜了吧,’他说。‘要是我换了你啊,就自管自去睡觉。照现在这种天气,她是不会回这儿来睡觉的。’他显得倦容满面,我也不忍再打扰他。她以前毕竟也多次在小屋里过夜,而且不论什么样的天气也都驾船出过海。说不定她当晚并没有驾船去兜风,只是因为从伦敦回来,想到小屋过夜,调剂一下精神。我对德温特先生道了声晚安就回自己的屋子去了。可是我没有睡着。我一直暗自嘀咕,她究竟干什么去了。”

她又顿了一下。我不想再听下去。我想抽身从她身边走开,逃离这个房间。

“我和衣坐在床上,一直坐到清晨五点半,”她说。“我再也等不下去了。我起身套上外衣,穿过林子,直奔海滩。天正破晓,风住了,可是仍下着蒙蒙细雨。我来到海滩,一眼看到水面上的浮筒和那只皮筏,可是不见小船的踪影……”我仿佛看见了那沉浸在灰蒙蒙晨曦之中的小海湾,甚至感觉到丝丝细雨正飘落在我的面颊上;透过那片雾霭,我似乎依稀认出那紧贴水面的浮筒模糊不清的轮廓。

丹弗斯太太松开我的膀子,把手收了回去,垂落在身旁。此刻她说话时,丧失了刚才那种绘声绘色的表现力,又恢复了往日里生硬而刻板的腔调。“当天下午有只救生圈被海水冲到了克里斯,”她说。“第二天,几个捕蟹人在海岬边的礁石中又发现另一只,索具的零星碎片也随着潮水漂了进来。”她转过身去,关上抽屉,把墙上的一幅画扶正,又从地毯上捡起一团绒毛。我不知所措地站在一旁瞧着她。

“为什么德温特先生不再使用这几间屋子,”她说,“这原因您现在明白了吧,您听这大海的涛声。”

甚至隔着关得严严实实的玻璃窗和百叶窗,我仍然听见大海的吼声,那是海湾里波浪冲击岸边圆卵石所发出的一阵阵低沉而悲枪的-琮声。此刻,汹涌的潮水也许正奔腾而来,扑上沙滩,几乎一直淹到小石屋附近。

“自从那晚她淹死以来,他再没有用过这几间屋子,”她说。“他叫人把自己的东西从更衣室搬了出去。我们在走廊尽头为他收拾了一间屋子。其实,我看他连那儿也不常去睡。他常常坐在那把扶手椅子里过夜,早晨总看到椅子周围撒满了烟灰。白天,弗里思听到他老在藏书室里踱步。踱来踱去,踱去踱来。”

我恍惚也见到了椅子边地板的烟灰,听见了他的脚步声,笃、笃、笃、笃,在藏书室里踱来踱去……丹弗斯太太轻轻带上卧室与前室之间的那扇门,这就把我们同卧室隔了开来,随后又关掉电灯。我再也看不见那张床,看不见搁在枕头上那只睡衣套袋,也看不见那张梳妆台以及靠椅下的那双拖鞋。她走到前室门口,把手按在房门把手上,站在那儿等我。

“每天我亲自到这儿来掸灰尘,”她说。“如果您日后还想到这儿来看看,只要告诉我一声就行了。挂个内线电话,我就明白啦。我不许那些使女上这儿来。除了我以外谁也不上这儿来。”

她又摆出一副阿谀奉承的神态,热乎劲儿叫人受不了。她满脸堆笑,显然是虚情假意的做作。“有时候德温特先生不在家,您觉得冷清了,可能会想到这个房间来看看,上这儿来坐坐。到时候只需吩咐一声得啦。这些真是出色的房间啊。这些房间收拾得这么舒齐,您看了一定不会觉得她离开我们已经很久了吧?您会以为她刚刚走开一会儿,到晚上就会回来的。”

我勉强挤出一个笑容,说不出话来,感到喉头干涩,仿佛被人卡住似的。

“不只是这个房间,”她说。“在这所屋子的许许多多房间里,在晨室里,在大厅里,甚至在那间小花房里,到处我都能感觉得到她的存在。您大概也有同感吧?”

她用古怪的目光瞅着我,嗓门一下子压得低低的,像是跟我耳语。“有时候我沿这条过道走着走着,简直觉得她就跟在我身后,听得见她那急促而轻快的脚步声。这种声音我决不会搞铝的。昔日黄昏时分,我常见到她在门厅上面的画廊里,斜倚栏杆,望着下雨,呼唤着那两条狗。我现在还不时觉得她呆在那儿呢。我仿佛依稀听到她下楼用餐时衣裙拖在楼梯上的悉碎声。”她收住话头,目不转睛地盯着我,盯着我的眼睛。“您倒说说,她这会儿是不是看到我俩在这儿面对面交谈?”她一字一顿地说。“您倒说说,死者的幽灵会不会回来,注视着我们这些生者呢?”

我费力地咽下一口气,紧攥双手,指甲都嵌入了肉里。

“我不知道,”我说。“我不知道。”我的声音听上去尖利刺耳,很不自然,根本不是我自己的声音。

“有时候我真怀疑,”她轻声低语着。“有时候我真怀疑,她是不是悄悄回到了曼陀丽,注视着您和德温特先生的一举一动哪!”

我们站在门边,相互瞪着眼珠对视。我没法把目光从她的眼睛移开。那对眼珠嵌在惨白的骷髅脸上,显得分外阴险、狠毒,充满着仇恨。随后,她把通往过道的门打开。“罗伯特此刻已回来了,”她说。“一刻钟之前就回来了。已吩咐他把茶点送到花园的栗子树下去。”

她往旁边一闪,让我走过去。我跌跌撞撞走出房间,来到过道上,顾不上自己是在往哪儿走。我没有再对她说什么,茫然走下楼梯,拐了个弯,推开那扇通东厢的门,口到我自己的房间。我关紧房门,上了锁,把钥匙放进衣袋。

然后我就躺在床上,闭上眼睛。我觉得自己像得了什么重病似的。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-04-12#87

Chapter fourteen

I found myself in the corridor where I had stood that first morning. I had not been there since, nor had I wished to go. The sun streamed in from the window in the alcove and made gold patterns on the dark panelling. There was no sound at all. I was aware of the same musty, unused smell that had been before. I was uncertain which way to go. The plan of the rooms was not familiar to me. I remembered then that last time Mrs Danvers had come out of a door here, just behind me, and it seemed to me that the position of the room would make it the one I wanted, whose windows looked out upon the lawns to the sea. I turned the handle of the door and went inside. It was dark of course, because of the shutters. I felt for the electric light switch on the wall and turned it on. I was standing in a little ante-room, a dressing-room I judged, with big wardrobes round the wall, and at the end of this room was another door, open, leading to a larger room. I went through to this room, and turned on the light. My first impression was one of shock because the room was fully furnished, as though in use. I had expected to see chairs and tables swathed in dust-sheets, and dust-sheets too over the great double bed against the wall. Nothing was covered up. There were brushes and combs on the dressing-table, scent, and powder. The bed was made up, I saw the gleam of white linen on the pillow-case, and the tip of a blanket beneath the quilted coverlet. There were flowers on the dressing-table and on the table beside the bed. Flowers too on the carved mantelpiece.

A satin dressing-gown lay on a chair, and a pair of bedroom slippers beneath. For one desperate moment I thought that something had happened to my brain, that I was seeing back into Time, and looking upon the room as it used to be, before she died ... In a minute Rebecca herself would come back into the room, sit down before the looking-glass at her dressing-table, humming a tune, reach for her comb and run it through her hair. If she sat there I should see her reflection in the glass and she would see me too, standing like this by the door. Nothing happened. I went on standing there, waiting for something to happen. It was the clock ticking on the wall that brought me to reality again. The hands stood at twenty-five past four. My watch said the same. There was something sane and comforting about the ticking of the clock. It reminded me of the present, and that tea would soon be ready for me on the lawn.

I walked slowly into the middle of the room. No, it was not used. It was not lived in any more. Even the flowers could not destroy the musty smell. The curtains were drawn and the shutters were closed. Rebecca would never come back to the room again. Even if Mrs Danvers did put the flowers on the mantelpiece and the sheets upon the bed, they would not bring her back. She was dead. She had been dead now for a year. She lay buried in the crypt of the church with all the other dead de Winters. I could hear the sound of the sea very plainly. I went to the window and swung back the shutter. Yes, I was standing at the same window where Favell and Mrs Danvers had stood, half an hour ago. The long shaft of daylight made the electric light look false and yellow. I opened the shutter a little more. The daylight cast a white beam upon the bed. It shone upon the nightdress-case, lying on the pillow. It shone on the glass top of the dressing-table, on the brushes, and on the scent bottles. The daylight gave an even greater air of reality to the room. When the shutter was closed and it had been lit by electricity the room had more the appearance of a setting on the stage. The scene set between performances. The curtain having fallen for the night, the evening over, and the first act set for tomorrow's matinee. But the daylight made the room vivid and alive. I forgot the musty smell and the drawn curtains of the other windows. I was a guest again. An uninvited guest. I had strolled into my hostess's bedroom by mistake. Those were her brushes on the dressing-table, that was her dressing-gown and slippers laid out upon the chair. I realized for the first time since I had come into the room that my legs were trembling, weak as straw. I sat down on the stool by the dressing-table. My heart no longer beat in a strange excited way. It felt as heavy as lead. I looked about me in the room with a sort of dumb stupidity. Yes, it was a beautiful room. Mrs Danvers had not exaggerated that first evening. It was the most beautiful room in the house. That exquisite mantelpiece, the ceiling, the carved bedstead, and the curtain hangings, even the clock on the wall and the candlesticks upon the dressing-table beside me, all were things I would have loved and almost worshipped had they been mine.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-04-13#88

They were not mine though. They belonged to somebody else. I put out my hand and touched the brushes. One was more worn than its fellow. I understood it well. There was always one brush that had the greater use. Often you forgot to use the other, and when they were taken to be washed there was one that was still quite clean and untouched. How white and thin my face looked in the glass, my hair hanging lank and straight. Did I always look like this? Surely I had more colour as a rule? The reflection stared back at me, sallow and plain. I got up from the stool and went and touched the dressing-gown on the chair. I picked up the slippers and held them in my hand. I was aware of a growing sense of horror, of horror turning to despair. I touched the quilt on the bed, traced with my fingers the monogram on the nightdress case, R de W, interwoven and interlaced. The letters were corded and strong against the golden satin material. The nightdress was inside the case, thin as gossamer, apricot in colour. I touched it, drew it out from the case, put it against my face. It was cold, quite cold. But there was a dim mustiness about it still where the scent had been. The scent of the white azaleas. I folded it, and put it back into the case, and as I did so I noticed with a sick dull aching in my heart that there were creases in the nightdress, the texture was ruffled, it had not been touched or laundered since it was last worn. On a sudden impulse I moved away from the bed and went back to the little ante-room where I had seen the wardrobes. I opened one of them. It was as I thought. The wardrobe was full of clothes. There were evening dresses here, I caught the shimmer of silver over the top of the white bags that enfolded them. There was a piece of gold brocade. There, next to it, was velvet, wine-coloured and soft. There was attain of white satin, dripping on the floor of the wardrobe. Peeping out from a piece of tissue paper on a shelf above was an ostrich feather fan. The wardrobe smelt stuffy, queer. The azalea scent, so fragrant and delicate in the air, had turned stale inside the wardrobe, tarnishing the silver dresses and the brocade, and the breath of it wafted towards me now from the open doors, faded and old. I shut the doors. I went back into the bedroom once again.

The gleam of light from the shutter still shone white and clear on the golden coverlet of the bed, picking out clearly and distinctly the tall sloping R of the monogram. Then I heard a step behind me and turning round I saw Mrs Danvers. I shall never forget the expression on her face. Triumphant, gloating, excited in a strange unhealthy way. I felt very frightened. 'Is anything the matter, Madam?' she said. I tried to smile at her, and could not. I tried to speak. 'Are you feeling unwell?' she said, coming nearer to me, speaking very softly. I backed away from her. I believe if she had come any closer to me I should have fainted. I felt her breath on my face. 'I'm all right, Mrs Danvers, ' I said, after a moment, 'I did not expect to see you. The fact is, I was looking up at the windows from the lawn. I noticed one of the shutters was not quite closed. I came up to see if I could fasten it. ' 'I will fasten it, ' she said, and she went silently across the room and clamped back the shutter. The daylight had gone. The room looked unreal again in the false yellow light. Unreal and ghastly. Mrs Danvers came back and stood beside me. She smiled, and her manner, instead of being still and unbending as it usually was, became startlingly familiar, fawning even. 'Why did you tell me the shutter was open?' she asked. 'I closed it before I left the room. You opened it yourself, didn't you, now? You wanted to see the room. Why have you never asked me to show it to you before? I was ready to show it to you every day. You had only to ask me. ' I wanted to run away, but I could not move. I went on watching her eyes. 'Now you are here, let me show you everything, ' she said, her voice ingratiating and sweet as honey, horrible, false. 'I know you want to see it all, you've wanted to for a long time, and you were too shy to ask. It's a lovely room, isn't it? The loveliest room you have ever seen. ' She took hold of my arm, and walked me towards the bed. I could not resist her, I was like a dumb thing. The touch of her hand made me shudder. And her voice was low and intimate, a voice I hated and feared. "That was her bed. It's a beautiful bed, isn't it? I keep the golden coverlet on it always, it was her favourite. Here is her nightdress inside the case. You've been touching it, haven't you? This was the nightdress she was wearing for the last time, before she died. Would you like to touch it again?' She took the nightdress from the case and held it before me. 'Feel it, hold it, ' she said, 'how soft and light it is, isn't it? I haven't washed it since she wore it for the last time.

I put it out like this, and the dressing-gown and slippers, just as I put them out for her the night she never came back, the night she was drowned. ' She folded up the nightgown and put it back in the case. 'I did everything for her, you know, ' she said, taking my arm again, leading me to the dressing-gown and slippers. 'We tried maid after maid but not one of them suited. "You maid me better than anyone, Danny, " she used to say, "I won't have anyone but you. " Look, this is her dressing-gown. She was much taller than you, you can see by the length. Put it up against you. It comes down to your ankles. She had a beautiful figure. These are her slippers. "Throw me my slips, Danny, " she used to say. She had little feet for her height. Put your hands inside the slippers. They are quite small and narrow, aren't they?' She forced the slippers over my hands, smiling all the while, watching my eyes. 'You never would have thought she was so tall, would you?' she said, 'these slippers would fit a tiny foot. She was so slim too. You would forget her height, until she stood beside you. She was every bit as tall as me. But lying there in bed she looked quite a slip of a thing, with her mass of dark hair, standing out from her face like a halo. ' She put the slippers back on the floor, and laid the dressing-gown on the chair. 'You've seen her brushes, haven't you?' she said, taking me to the dressing-table; 'there they are, just as she used them, unwashed and untouched. I used to brush her hair for her every evening. "Come on, Danny, hair-drill, " she would say, and I'd stand behind her by the stool here, and brush away for twenty minutes at a time. She only wore it short the last few years, you know. It came down below the waist, when she was first married. Mr de Winter used to brush it for her then. I've come into this room time and time again and seen him, in his shirt sleeves, with the two brushes in his hand. "Harder, Max, harder, " she would say, laughing up at him, and he would do as she told him. They would be dressing for dinner, you see, and the house filled with guests. "Here, I shall be late, " he would say, throwing the brushes to me, and laughing back at her. He was always laughing and gay then. ' She paused, her hand still resting on my arm. 'Everyone was angry with her when she cut her hair, ' she said, 'but she did not care. "It's nothing to do with anyone but myself, " she would say.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-04-17#89

And of course short hair was much easier for riding and sailing. She was painted on horseback, you know. A famous artist did it. The picture hung in the Academy. Did you ever see it?' I shook my head. 'No, ' I said. 'No. ' 'I understood it was the picture of the year, ' she went on, 'but Mr de Winter did not care for it, and would not have it at Manderley. I don't think he considered it did her justice. You would like to see her clothes, wouldn't you?' She did not wait for my answer. She led me to the little ante-room and opened the wardrobes, one by one. 'I keep her furs in here, ' she said, 'the moths have not got to them yet, and I doubt if they ever will. I'm too careful. Feel that sable wrap. That was a Christmas present from Mr de Winter. She told me the cost once, but I've forgotten it now. This chinchilla she wore in the evenings mostly. Round her shoulders, very often, when the evenings were cold. This wardrobe here is full of her evening clothes. You opened it, didn't you? The latch is not quite closed. I believe Mr de Winter liked her to wear silver mostly. But of course she could wear anything, stand any colour. She looked beautiful in this velvet. Put it against your face. It's soft, isn't it? You can feel it, can't you? The scent is still fresh, isn't it? You could almost imagine she had only just taken it off. I would always know when she had been before me in a room. There would be a little whiff of her scent in the room. These are her underclothes, in this drawer. This pink set here she had never worn. She was wearing slacks of course and a shirt when she died. They were torn from her body in the water though. There was nothing on the body when it was found, all those weeks afterwards. ' Her fingers tightened on my arm. She bent down to me, her skull's face close, her dark eyes searching mine. 'The rocks had battered her to bits, you know, ' she whispered, 'her beautiful face unrecognizable, and both arms gone. Mr de Winter identified her. He went up to Edgecoombe to do it. He went quite alone. He was very ill at the time but he would go. No one could stop him. Not even Mr Crawley. ' She paused, her eyes never leaving my face. 'I shall always blame myself for the accident, ' she said, 'it was my fault for being out that evening.

I had gone into Kerrith for the afternoon and stayed there late, as Mrs de Winter was up in London and not expected back until much later. That's why I did not hurry back. When I came in, about half past nine, I heard she had returned just before seven, had her dinner, and then went out again. Down to the beach of course. I felt worried then. It was blowing from the south-west. She would never have gone if I'd been in. She always listened to me. "I wouldn't go out this evening, it's not fit, " I should have said, and she would have answered me "All right, Danny, you old fuss-pot. " And we would have sat up here talking no doubt, she telling me all she had done in London, like she always did. ' My arm was bruised and numb from the pressure of her fingers. I could see how tightly the skin was stretched across her face, showing the cheekbones. There were little patches of yellow beneath her ears. 'Mr de Winter had been dining with Mr Crawley down at his house, ' she went on. 'I don't know what time he got back, I dare say it was after eleven. But it began to blow quite hard just before midnight, and she had not come back. I went downstairs, but there were no lights under the library door. I came upstairs again and knocked on the dressing-room door. Mr de Winter answered at once, "Who is it, what do you want?" he said. I told him I was worried about Mrs de Winter not being back. He waited a moment, and then he came and opened the door in his dressing-gown. "She's spending the night down at the cottage I expect, " he said. "I should go to bed if I were you. She won't come back here to sleep if it goes on like this. " He looked tired, and I did not like to disturb him. After all, she spent many nights at the cottage, and had sailed in every sort of weather. She might not even have gone for a sail, but just wanted the night at the cottage as a change after London. I said good night to Mr de Winter and went back to my room. I did not sleep though. I kept wondering what she was doing. ' She paused again. I did not want to hear any more. I wanted to get away from her, away from the room. 'I sat on my bed until half past five, ' she said, 'then I couldn't wait there any longer. I got up and put on my coat and went down through the woods to the beach. It was getting light, but there was still a misty sort of rain falling, although the wind had dropped.

When I got to the beach I saw the buoy there in the water and the dinghy, but the boat had gone ... ' It seemed to me that I could see the cove in the grey morning light, feel the thin drizzle on my face, and peering through the mist could make out, shadowy and indistinct, the low dark outline of the buoy. Mrs Danvers loosened the pressure on my arm. Her hand fell back again to her side. Her voice lost all expression, became the hard mechanical voice of every day. 'One of the life-buoys was washed up at Kerrith in the afternoon, ' she said, 'and another was found the next day by some crabbers on the rocks below the headland. Bits and pieces of rigging too would come in with the tide. ' She turned away from me, and closed the chest of drawers. She straightened one of the pictures on the wall. She picked up a piece of fluff from the carpet. I stood watching her, not knowing what to do. 'You know now', she said, 'why Mr de Winter does not use these rooms any more. Listen to the sea. ' Even with the windows closed and the shutters fastened I could hear it; a low sullen murmur as the waves broke on the white shingle in the cove. The tide would be coming in fast now and running up the beach nearly to the stone cottage. 'He has not used these rooms since the night she was drowned, ' she said. 'He had his things moved out from the dressing-room. We made up one of the rooms at the end of the corridor. I don't think he slept much even there. He used to sit in the armchair. There would be cigarette ash all round it in the morning. And in the daytime Frith would hear him in the library pacing up and down. Up and down, up and down. ' I too could see the ash on the floor beside the chair. I too could hear his footsteps; one, two, one, two, backwards and forwards across the library ... Mrs Danvers closed the door softly between the bedroom and the ante-room where we were standing, and put out the light. I could not see the bed any more, nor the nightdress case upon the pillow, nor the dressing-table, nor the slippers by the chair. She crossed the ante-room and put her hand on the knob of the door and stood waiting for me to follow her. 'I come to the rooms and dust them myself every day, ' she said. 'If you want to come again you have only to tell me. Ring me on the house telephone. I shall understand. I don't allow the maids up here. No one ever comes but me. ' Her manner was fawning again, intimate and unpleasant.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-04-18#90
The smile on her face was a false, unnatural thing. 'Sometimes when Mr de Winter is away, and you feel lonely, you might like to come up to these rooms and sit here. You have only to tell me. They are such beautiful rooms. You would not think she had gone now for so long, would you, not by the way the rooms are kept? You would think she had just gone out for a little while and would be back in the evening. ' I forced a smile. I could not speak. My throat felt dry and tight. 'It's not only this room, ' she said. 'It's in many rooms in the house. In the morning-room, in the hall, even in the little flower-room. I feel her everywhere. You do too, don't you?' She stared at me curiously. Her voice dropped to a whisper. 'Sometimes, when I walk along the corridor here, I fancy I hear her just behind me. That quick, light footstep. I could not mistake it anywhere. And in the minstrels' gallery above the hall. I've seen her leaning there, in the evenings in the old days, looking down at the hall below and calling to the dogs. I can fancy her there now from time to time. It's almost as though I catch the sound of her dress sweeping the stairs as she comes down to dinner. ' She paused. She went on looking at me, watching my eyes. 'Do you think she can see us, talking to one another now?' she said slowly. 'Do you think the dead come back and watch the living?' I swallowed. I dug my nails into my hands. 'I don't know, ' I said. 'I don't know. ' My voice sounded high-pitched and unnatural. Not my voice at all. 'Sometimes I wonder, ' she whispered. 'Sometimes I wonder if she comes back here to Manderley and watches you and Mr de Winter together. ' We stood there by the door, staring at one another. I could not take my eyes away from hers. How dark and sombre they were in the white skull's face of hers, how malevolent, how full of hatred. Then she opened the door into the corridor. 'Robert is back now, ' she said. 'He came back a quarter of an hour ago. He has orders to take your tea out under the chestnut tree. ' She stepped aside for me to pass. I stumbled out on to the corridor, not looking where I was going. I did not speak to her, I went down the stairs blindly, and turned the corner and pushed through the door that led to my own rooms in the east wing. I shut the door of my room and turned the key, and put the key in my pocket. , Then I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes. I felt deadly sick.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-04-18#91
[FONT=宋体]第15章

第二天早上迈克西姆来电话,说他大概在傍晚七点左右回庄园。是弗里思传的口信。迈克西姆没要我去听电话。我在用早餐时曾听得电话铃响,心想弗里思说不定会进餐厅来说:“太太,德温特先生等您听电话。”于是我解下餐巾,站了起来,可就在这时弗里思口到餐厅给我捎来那个口信。

他看见我推开椅子,朝门口走去,便赶忙说:“太太,德温特先生已把电话挂了。没讲别的,只是说七点钟左右回来。”

我重新在椅子上坐定,捡起餐巾。弗里思见着我这副迫不及待要冲出餐厅去的模样,一定觉得我这人傻得可以。

“知道了,弗里思。谢谢你,”我说。

我继续吃我的火腿蛋。杰斯珀守在我脚边,那条瞎眼老狗呆在墙角处的篓子里。这一天的时间真不知该如何打发。昨夜我没睡好,也许是因为独居无伴的缘故。睡得很不安稳,老是醒来看时钟,那指针像是一直没怎么移动位置。就算睡着了,也是乱梦颠倒。我梦见我俩,迈克酉姆和我,在树林里穿行;他始终走在我前面,只有那么几步路,可我就是没法赶上。我也看不清他的脸,只见他一直在我前面昂首阔步。我睡着的时候一定哭过了,因为早晨醒来发现枕头湿漉漉的。我一照镜子,瞧见自己眼皮浮肿,目光呆滞,样子实在不讨人喜欢,毫无风韵可言。我在腮帮子上搭了点脂粉,想增加点红润,不料弄巧成拙,反倒像个不伦不类的马戏丑角。也许我没摸着涂脂抹粉的窍门。我穿过大厅进屋吃早饭时,注意到罗伯特瞪大了眼睛冲着我发愣。

十点钟光景,我正将几片面包捏成碎屑,准备去喂平台上的鸟儿,这时电话铃又响了。这一回是打给我的。弗里思走来通报说。莱西夫人要我听电话。

“早上好,比阿特丽斯,”我说。

“哦,亲爱的,身体好吗?”即使在电话里,她说起话来也还是自有一功:干脆利落,颇有男子气概,容不得半点罗唆废话。这时她不等我回答就自顾自往下说:“下午我想开车去看看奶奶。现在我要上朋友家去吃午饭。离你那儿大约二十英里。到时候是不是让我来接你,咱们一起去?依我说,你也该去见见那位老太太了。”

“我巴不得能去呢,比阿特丽斯,”我说。

“太好啦。就这样说定了,三点半左右我来接你。贾尔斯在宴会上见着迈克西姆了。他说菜肴没味,酒倒挺出色。好,就这样吧,亲爱的,一会儿见。”

滴答一声,她把电话挂了。我又信步走进了花园。我很高兴她打电话来约我去见老祖母。这一来总算可指望有点事,给百无聊赖的这一天添点儿生趣。要挨到晚上七点,这几个钟头还真没法熬呢。今天我一点没有假日的轻松感,无意和杰斯珀一起去幸福谷,去小海湾散步,往水里扔石子取乐。那种无拘无束的轻松心情,那种想要穿上帆布鞋在草坪上疾步飞奔的天真愿望,都已经为乌有。我走进玫瑰园,身边带着书、《泰晤士报》。还有编结活儿,在那儿坐定,尸然是个守着家庭过安分日子的主妇。我坐在暖洋洋的阳光里,呵欠连连,蜂群在周周围的花丛中嗡嗡飞舞。

我没法集中思想,细读报上那些干巴巴的专栏文章,接着又捧起小说,想让曲折离奇的故事情节把自己吸引住。我不愿去想昨天下午的事,不愿想到丹弗斯大太。我尽量设法排遣这样的念头:她此刻正在屋子里,说不定就躲在楼上某扇窗子背后,注视着我的一举一动。我不时抬起头来,朝花园那边看一眼,总觉得这儿并非只有我一人。

曼陀丽的窗户鳞次栉比。空房间也比比皆是,这些房间我和迈克西姆从不去使用,里面都蒙着防灰尘的罩单,悄寂无声;昔日他父亲的祖父在世时,宅子里宾客盈门,仆役成群,那些房间倒是都住人的。现在丹弗斯太太不用费什么周折,就可以悄悄推开一扇扇房门,随手再把门-一带上,然后蹑手蹑脚走进尘封已久的房间,来到窗口,在放下的窗帷后面窥视我的行动。

我没法去探知真情,即使在椅子里侧转身于,抬头向那排窗子望去,我也没法跟她打照面,我记起孩提时玩过一种游戏,邻屋的小朋友称之为“奶奶走路”,而我则管它叫“老巫婆”。玩时,你得站在花园的尽头,背对着其他人。他们一个接一个朝你悄悄走近,偷偷摸摸地走一阵停一会。每隔几分钟,你回过头来望望,要是有谁正好被你看到在走动,这人就被罚回原处从头走起。可是总有个把胆子比较大一点的小伙伴,已经挨近你身边,此人的行动简直不可能察觉;于是,就在你背对大家站着,嘴里从一数到十的时候,你一面提心吊胆,一面也明白自己已必输无疑,要不了一会儿,甚至连十也没数完,那个大胆的家伙就会神不知鬼不觉地从背后扑上来,同时还发出一声胜利的欢呼。此刻我全体会与那时一样的心情,紧张不安地等待着有人扑上身来。我正同丹弗斯太太玩“老巫婆”游戏呢。

好不容易挨到午餐时分,冗长的上午总算告一段落。看着弗里思有条不紊、手脚麻利地张罗,望着罗伯特傻乎乎的神态,比看书读报更能排遣时间。到了三点半,分秒不差,车道拐角处传来比阿特丽斯汽车的马达声,一转眼车子已停在屋前台阶边。我已穿着停当,拿好手套,这时就三步并作两步出门相迎。“喂,亲爱的,我来啦,少有的好天气,是吗?”她砰地一声关上车门,跨上台阶迎着我走来。她飞快地吻了我,嘴唇在我耳朵边的脸颊上使劲擦了一下。

“你看上去气色不大好,”她朝我上下一打量,脱口便说。“脸上精瘦精瘦的,一点血色也没有。怎么搞的?”

“没什么,”我明知自己的脸色很不对头,只得低声下气地支吾一句。“我这人一向没什么血色。”

“喔,胡说,”她反驳道。“上回我看见你的时候完全不是这样。”

“我想,在意大利给太阳晒的那一脸棕色大概已退啦。”说着,我赶忙往汽车里钻。

“哼,”她不留情地冲着我说,“你同迈克西姆一样的毛病,就是不肯承认自己身体不行。嗳,使点儿劲,不然车门关不上的。”我们沿车道驶去,车子开得很猛,到拐角上突然一个转弯。“我说,你不会是有喜了吧?”她说着侧过脸来,那双锐利的褐色眼睛盯在我身上。

“没有的事,”我窘极了,“我想不会的。”

“早晨起来是不是恶心想吐?有没有其他类似的症状?”

“没有。”

“哦,唔——当然也不都是那样。就拿我生罗杰那阵子说吧。什么反应也没有。整整九个月,身子结实得像条牛。生他的前一天我还在打高尔夫球。你知道,生儿育女,天经地义,没什么好难为情的。要是你疑心有什么,尽管直说。”

“不,真的,比阿特丽斯,”我说。“没有什么要瞒你的。”

“说实在话,我还真希望你不久能生个儿子,给迈克西姆传宗接代。这对他来说可是件大好事。我希望你别在这事情上层层设防哪。”

“当然不会,”我说。真是场别开生面的谈话。

“哦,可别见怪,”她说。“我说的话你可千万别在意。如今的新娘子毕竟样样都得会一点。要是你想去打猎,偏偏在第一个狩猎期内就怀了孕,岂不大杀风景?要是夫妇两个都是打猎迷。这一来非同小可,说不定会断送这场婚姻。像你这样就没关系了,娃娃不会妨碍绘图作画的。哦,对了,近来写生画可有长进?”

“最近似乎难得动笔,”我说。

“哦,真的?天气这么好,正宜于户外写生画画,只要一张折凳、一盘画笔就行了,是吗?告诉我,上回寄的那些书你可感兴趣?”

“那还用间,”我说。“真是件叫人喜爱的礼物,比阿特丽斯。”

她脸露喜色说:“你喜欢就好啦。”

汽车向前疾驶。她的脚始终踩在油门上,拐弯时总是绕一个急陡的小角度。我们从别的车辆旁边一掠而过,有两个驾车人从车窗探出身来望着我们,满脸愤慨之色。小巷里有个行人还朝她挥舞手仗。我为她羞红了脸。可她好像对一切都视而不见。我只好在车座里缩紧了身子。

“下学期罗杰要去牛津念书,”她说。“天知道他要在那儿鬼混些什么。我看纯粹是蹉跎光阴,贾尔斯又何尝不这样想?不过我们也想不出别的办法,只好随他去。当然罗,小家伙毕竟还是像爹妈,心思全放在马匹上了。前面那辆车搞什么鬼?喂,我说你老兄于吗不伸出手来打个招呼?说实在的,如今公路上有些开车的家伙,真该把他们枪毙了才是。”

车子猛一拐弯,转上大路,差点儿没撞着前面的那辆车。“有谁上你们那儿作客来着?”她问我。

“没有,近来很清静,”我说。

“还是这样好,”她说。“我总觉得,那些盛大宴会实在叫人腻烦。如果你来我们这儿小住,肯定不会让你感到惶恐不安。左右邻居都是些好人,大家混得很熟,不是在这家吃饭,就是去那家聚餐,还经常在一块儿打桥牌,不多跟外人罗唆。你会打桥牌吧?”

“打得不怎么精,比阿特丽斯。”

“哦,精不精无所谓,只要会打就行。我不能容受那些啥也不想学的家伙。冬日黄昏茶余饭后,真不知道该怎么对付他们!一个人总不能老是坐着谈天说地。”

我不明白为什么不能这样。不过,还是不吭声为妙。

“现在罗杰大了,生活可有趣哩,”她接着说。“他把朋友带到家来,我们一起玩呀笑呀,好不热闹!要是去年你和我们一起过圣诞节,那该有多好。我们玩哑谜猜字游戏。啊哟,真是好玩极了。贾尔斯如鱼得水,大显身手。你知道,他最喜欢化装表演。一两杯香摈下肚,他那副滑稽相真够你乐的。我们常惋惜他没能人尽其材,他应该去当演员才对。”我想着贾尔斯,脑子里出现了他的那张大圆脸,还有那副角质框眼镜。要是真的看到他酒后的丑态,我一定会觉得怪不好意思。“我们有个好朋友,叫迪基-马什,他和贾尔斯男扮女装,来了个二重唱,谁也搞不清楚这同哑谜猜字中的谜底有什么关系,不过这也无关紧要,反正两人逗得我们哄堂大笑。”

我彬彬有礼地报以一笑。“可以想象,一定有趣极了,”我说。

我仿佛真的看到他们在比阿特丽斯家的客厅里笑得前仰后合。这些朋友熟稔融洽,亲密无间。罗杰想来长得和贾尔斯一般模样。比阿特丽斯还在乐呵呵地回忆当时的情景。“可怜的贾尔斯,”她说。“有一回,迪基提起苏打水瓶就往他脖子上喷,当时他脸上的神情我怎么也不会忘记。我们个个乐得像疯子。”

我有点担心,生怕比阿特丽斯会邀请我们今年上她家去过圣诞节。也许到时候我可以借故推托,就说我得了流行性感冒。

“当然罗,我们唱歌表演,从不想弄出点什么名堂,来个艺惊四座,”她说。“不过是逢场作戏,在自己人中间凑个趣罢了。曼陀丽在这种季节才是上演精彩好戏的场所。我记得几年前那儿演过一场古装露天戏。是请伦敦的艺人来演的。当然,筹备这类玩意儿忙得你够呛。”

“哦,”我说。

她沉默了半晌,只顾埋头开车。

“迈克西姆好吗?”过了一会,她问。

“很好,谢谢你,”我说。

“心情很舒畅?”

“哦,是的。挺舒畅。”

车子来到乡村小街上,她不得不集中思想开车。我不知道是否该把丹弗斯太太的事告诉她,还有费弗尔那家伙。不过,我怕她无意中声张出去,说不定还会告诉迈克西姆。

“比阿特丽斯,”我还是决定说了,“你可听说过一个名叫费弗尔的人?杰克-费弗尔?”

“杰克-费弗尔,”她重复了一遍。“不错,这个名字很熟。让我想一想,杰克-费弗尔。对了,是他,一个浪荡公子。几年以前我见过他一面。”

“昨天他到曼陀雨来看丹弗斯太太。”我说。

“真的?哦,是嘛,也许他常常……”

“为什么呢?”我问。

“我想他是吕蓓卡的表哥吧,”她告诉我。

我大感意外.那家伙竟是她的亲戚?在我想来,吕蓓卡的表兄决不是那种模样。杰克-费弗尔,她的表兄!“哦,”我说。“哦,这我可没有想到。”

“很可能他过去是曼陀丽的常客,”比阿特丽斯说。“我也搞不清楚。实在说不上来。我难得去那儿。”她的神态变得相当冷淡,我觉得她似乎无意继续谈论这个话题。

“我不怎么喜欢这个人,”我说。

“是嘛,”比阿特丽斯说。“也难怪你不喜欢。”

我洗耳恭听,可是却没有下文,我想,最好还是别提费弗尔要我替他保密的事儿。一提起就可能把事情闹大,何况这时我们已接近目的地了,眼前出现两扇涂白漆的大门,一条平坦的沙砾车道。

“别忘了,老太太眼睛差不多瞎了,”比阿特丽斯说。“近来人也有些懵懂。我给护士打过电话说我们要来,所以不会有什么问题。”

这是幢高大的人字形红砖楼房,大概是维多利亚王朝后期的建筑物,外表不怎么吸引人,一眼看上去就知道这幢房子里仆役成群,家务事由精明强干的人操持着。而所有这一切,都是为了个双目几乎失明的老太太。

开门的是一个长得端端正正的客厅侍女。

“你好,诺拉,身体好吗?”比阿特丽斯说。

“好很,谢谢您,太太,希望您全家安康。”

“哦,是的,我们一家子都好。老太太近来怎么样,诺拉?”

“好坏很难说,太太。一阵子清楚,一阵子湖涂。她的身子嘛,您也知道不算太精。我敢说她见了您一定很高兴,”她好奇地瞟了我一眼。

“这位是迈克西姆夫人,”比阿特丽斯说。

“哦,太太,您好,”诺拉说。

我们穿过狭窄的门廊走过摆满家具的客厅,来到阳台上。阳台前面是块修剪过的四方草坪。阳台台阶上的几只玉石花瓶里,养着好几株鲜天竺葵。阳台角落里有一张装轮子的安乐椅,比阿特丽斯的祖母正坐在椅子里,身子用披巾裹着,背后垫着几只枕头。走近一看,我发现她的相貌跟迈克西姆像得出奇。要是迈克西姆年逾古稀,而且也双目失明,一定就是这个模样。坐在她旁边椅子里的护士一面站起身来,一面在她刚才高声朗读的那本书里插上一个书签。她朝比阿特丽斯莞尔一笑。

“莱西夫人,您好!”她说。

比阿特丽斯跟她握手并把我介绍给她。“看来老太太挺硬朗的,”她说。“八十六岁高龄,身子还这么健,真是难得。奶奶,我们来啦,”她提高嗓门。“安然到达啦。”

祖母朝我们这边望着。“亲爱的比,”她说,“你真是个好姑娘,特地来看望我这个老婆子。我们这儿沉闷得很,没有什么好让你消遣的。”

比阿特丽斯凑过身子去吻她。“我把迈克西姆的妻子带来见你啦,”她说。“她早就想来看你,可是她和迈克西姆一直挺忙的。”

比阿特丽斯在我背上戳了一下。“去亲亲她,”她轻声说。于是我也俯身在老太太面颊上亲了一下。

老祖母用手指摸着我的脸说:“好姑娘,谢谢你到这儿来看我。见到你我很高兴,亲爱的。你应该把迈克西姆也带来嘛。”

“迈克西姆上伦敦去了,”我说。“要到晚上才回来。”

“下回一定得带他一起来,”她说。“坐吧,亲爱的,就坐在这把椅子里,让我好好看看你。比,你也过来,坐这一边。宝贝儿罗杰好吗?那个小淘气也不想来看看我这老太婆。”

“八月里他会来的,”比阿特丽斯大声说。“你知道,他要离开伊顿书院去上牛津大学了,”

“哦,天哪,他快要长成个大人啦,我要认不得他了。”

“他个儿已经比贾尔斯高了,”比阿特丽斯说。

她滔滔不绝地谈着贾尔斯和罗杰,还拉扯她养的马啊,狗啊。那护士拿出绒线来编结,手中的编结针咔嗒咔嗒碰撞作声。她转过身子,满面春风,兴致勃勃跟我搭话。

“您喜欢曼陀丽吗,德温特夫人?”

“很喜欢。谢谢你,”我说。

“那可是个风景优美的地方,是吗?”她说着,编针一上一下交替穿插。“现在我们当然不能去了,她去不了啦。多遗憾!真留恋我们过去在曼陀丽度过的时光。”

“你一定得抽个时间来玩玩,”我说。

“谢谢您,我是很想去的。德温特先生身体好吧?”

“是的,很好。”

“你们是在意大利度蜜月的吧?收到德温特先生寄来的美术明信片,我们可高兴哪。”

我不明白她用“我们”两字,是以一家之主自居呢,还是表示她和迈克西姆的祖母已融为一体了。

“他寄来过一张吗?我怎么不记得?”

“哦,寄过的。当时大家都高兴极了。这类玩意儿我们很喜欢。不瞒您说,我们备有一本剪贴薄,凡是跟这个家族有点头关系的东西全都贴在里边。当然都是些看着叫人高兴的东西。”

“多有意思,”我说。

那边比阿特丽斯说话的一言半语,不时传到我耳朵里来。“我们只得把马克斯曼老爹给丢开了,”她说。“你还记得马克斯曼者爹吗?他是我手下最好的猎手。”

“哦,天哪,不会是马克斯曼老爹吧?”祖母说。

“是他,可怜的老头。两只眼睛全瞎了。”

“可怜的马克斯曼,”老太太应了一句。

我暗自嘀咕,在老太太面前提什么眼瞎的事总不太得体吧,我不由得朝护士望了一眼。她只顾咔嗒咔嗒忙着编结。

“您打猎吧,德温特夫人?”她问。

“不瞒你说,我不打猎,”我说。

“说不定有一天您会爱上这一行。我们这儿一带的人没有不热中于打猎的。”

“哦。”

“德温特夫人酷爱艺术,”比阿特丽斯对护士说,“我对她说,曼陀丽庄园风光宜人,堪入画面的胜景秀色多的是。”

“哦,不错,”护士表示同意,她急如穿梭的手指暂时停了一下。“真是情趣高尚的爱好。我有个朋友,是个妙笔生花的女画家。有一年复活节我们一起到普罗旺斯去,她画的素描真美极了。”

“多有意思,”我说。

“我们在谈素描呢,”比阿特丽斯大声对她祖母说。“你不知道吧,咱们家里有了个艺术家!”

“谁是艺术家?”老太太问。“我可不知道有什么艺术家。”

“你这位新过门的孙媳妇,”比阿特丽斯说。“你问问她,我给她送了件什么样的结婚礼物。”

我微笑着,等老太太发间。她朝我这边转过头来。“比姑娘在说些什么呀?”她说。“我可不知道你是个艺术家。我们家里从来没有人搞艺术。”

“比阿特丽斯在说笑话,”我说。“我怎么能算艺术家,只不过闲着没事喜欢涂几笔消遣消遣罢了。我没有受过什么专门训练。比阿特丽斯送了我几本书,精美极了。”

“哦,”她给搞糊涂了。“比阿特丽斯送你几本书?这倒有点像往纽卡斯尔送煤①呢,你说是吗?曼陀丽藏书室里的书还少吗?”她放声大笑。我们也被她的笑话逗乐了。我希望这个话题就谈到这儿为止,可比阿特丽斯还是一个劲儿唠叨下去。“你不明白,奶奶,”她说。“那可不是些普通的书。是有关艺术的。六大本呢。”——

①英国谚语,意思多此一举。

护士也凑过来献殷勤。“莱西夫人是说德温特夫人有个爱好,就是非常喜欢画画。所以她就送了六大部好书,全是关于绘画的,作为结婚礼物。”

“这事做得多可笑,”祖母说。“怎么能拿书当结婚礼物?我结婚的时候就没人送书。就算有谁送了,我也决不会有心思去读它。”

她又哈哈一笑。比阿特丽斯面有愠色。我朝她笑笑以示同情。她大概并没有注意到。护士又打起毛线来。

“我想用茶点了,”老太太没好气地说。“难道还没到四点半?诺拉干吗还不把茶点端来?”

“怎么?中午吃了那么多,现在又饿了?”护士说着站起身来,朝那位由她照料的病人乐呵呵地一笑。

我感到困顿不堪,真不明白上了年纪的人有时竟这么难以应付。他们比不懂事的小孩或自以为是的青年人更难对付,因为你得顾全礼貌,虚与委蛇。自己竟产生这种冷漠无情的念头,我不禁大吃一惊。我双手揣在怀里端坐着,随时准备应和别人的言谈。护士拍打几下枕头,又把披肩给她裹了个严实。

对于这么一番折腾,迈克西姆的祖母倒也忍受得住。她闭上眼睛,似乎也感到累了。现在这副样子更像迈克西姆了。我可以想象出她年轻时在曼陀丽的模样:身材颀长,眉清目秀,兜里装着糖,手里提着裙摆,生怕裙子沾上泥巴,绕过屋子朝马厩走去。我脑子里勾划出她束着腰、穿着高领上衣的形象;耳朵里仿佛听到她吩咐下午两点钟给她备好马车的声音。现在。这一切对她来说都已化作过眼烟云,一去不复返了。她丈夫离开人世已有四十个春秋,儿子逝世至今也已十五年。老人现在只得住在这所人字形红砖楼房里,在护士的看护下,尽其天年。在我看来,我们对老人喜怒哀乐的感情变化差不多一无所知。对孩童我们则很了解,了解他们的恐惧和希望。了解他们弄虚作假的把戏,不久前我自己就是个孩子,对这一切记忆犹新。而现在迈克西姆的祖母坐在那儿,身子裹在披巾里,那双可怜的眼睛什么也看不见,她内心究竟有何感受?脑子里究竟在转什么念头?她是否知道比阿特丽斯此刻哈欠连连,不住地在看手表?她有没有想到我们所以来看望她,无非是因为我们觉得理应这么做,聊尽小辈的一份孝心?——这样,待会儿比阿特丽斯回到家里就可以说一声了“好了,我可以有三个月问心无愧”。

她还想曼陀丽吗?还记得坐在餐桌旁用餐的情景吗?现在,她当年的座位已归了我。她是否也曾在栗子树下用过茶点?说不定这些事儿早已置诸脑后。被忘了个精光?莫非在她那张安祥、苍白的面庞后面,除了轻微的疼痛和莫名其妙的不适之感外,没有留下任何感情的涟漪,只是在煦日送暖时才隐隐生出一股欣慰感恩之情,而在寒意侵入时才打一阵寒颤?

但愿我有妙手回春的神力,能抹去她脸上岁月的烙印。但愿我能看到她恢复妙龄少女时的丰姿,脸色红润,披一头栗色卷发,跟她身边的比阿特丽斯一样机敏,矫健,也像比阿特丽斯那样津津有味地谈着打猎,谈着猎犬和马匹,而不是像现在这么果坐着,只顾闭目养神,任凭护士拍打垫在她脑后的枕头。

“你们知道,今天我们弄了不少好吃的,”护士说。“水芹三明治茶点。我们最喜欢吃水芹,是不?”

“今天轮到吃水芹?”迈克西姆的祖母一边说,一边从枕头上仰起头往门那边张望。“这你可没告诉我。诺拉怎么还不把茶点送来?”

“大姐,即使给我一千镑一天,我也不愿干你这份差使,”比阿特丽斯压低嗓门对护士嘟哝了一句。

“哦,我已经习惯了,莱西夫人,”护士笑着说。“您知道,这儿很舒服。当然,干我们这一行的,日子确实不大好过,不过有些病人要难侍候多了。比起他们来,她还算相当随和的呢。佣人也都乐于配合,说真的,这才是最要紧的。瞧,诺拉来了。”

客厅侍女拿来一张折迭式桌子和一块雪白的台布。

“诺拉,你怎么磨蹭了这么老半天?”老太太埋怨道。

“刚刚才四点半,太太。”诺拉用一种很特别的声调对她说,神态跟那护士一样,也是乐滋滋地满脸堆笑。我不知道迈克西姆的祖母是否觉察大家都用这种调门跟她说话。我不知道这种情况是打什么时候开始的,最初她是否曾注意到。也许那时候她曾对自己说:“多可笑,他们以为我老了呢。”到了后来,她也就逐渐习以为常,而时至今日,她会觉得这些人似乎向来就这么说话,此乃她生活中不可缺少的一部分陪衬。可是那位用糖喂马的栗发窈窕少女,如今却在何方?

我们把椅子拖到折迭式桌子旁边,开始吃起水芹三明治来。护士专为老太太准备了几片。“瞧,可不是一饱口福吗?”她说。

我瞧见那张平静、安祥的脸上慢慢绽开一丝笑影。“逢到吃水芹点心的日子,我是很高兴的,”她说。

茶烫得没法喝。护士端着茶,让她一点一点细抿慢呷。

“今天的茶水又是烧得滚开,”说着,护士对比阿特丽斯一点头。“这事儿真让人烦心。他们老是把茶炖在火上。我不知给他们讲过多少遍了,可他们就是不听。”

“哦,还不都是一个样!”比阿特丽斯说。“我已经不把这当作一回事了。”老太太用小匙搅拌她的那杯茶,目光茫然而恍惚。我真想知道她这会儿在想什么。

“你们在意大利的时候天气好吗?”护士问。

“好的,很暖和,”我说。

比阿特丽斯侧过脸来对着祖母说:“她说,他们在意大利度蜜月的时候天气可好哪,迈克西姆晒得黑黝黝的。”

“迈克西姆今天干吗不来?”老太太问。

“好奶奶,我们对你说过啦,迈克西姆有事上伦敦去了,”比阿特丽斯不耐烦地说。“你知道,是去赴个什么宴会。贾尔斯也去了。”

“哦,是这样,那你们刚才干吗说迈克西姆在意大利呢!”

“他在意大利呆过一阵子,奶奶。那是四月份。现在他们回到曼陀丽来了。”她朝护士瞥了一眼,耸耸肩膀。

“德温特先生和德温特夫人现在在曼陀丽住下了,”护士又说了一遍。

“这个月,庄园里真美,”我一边说一边将身子挨近迈克西姆的祖母。“现在玫瑰花全开了,我真该给带点儿来呢。”

“是啊,我喜欢玫瑰花,”她含含糊糊地说,然后凑过来,用那双黯淡无神的蓝眼睛盯着我瞧。“你也呆在曼陀丽?”

我噎了一下。大家一时语塞,后来还是比阿特丽斯打破冷场。扯着嗓门不耐烦地说;“我的好奶奶,你明明知道,她现在就住在那儿嘛!她和迈克西姆结婚啦。”

我注意到护士放下手里的那杯茶,朝老太太飞快地扫了一眼。老太太无力地价靠着枕垫,手指抓着披巾,嘴唇微微抖动起来。“你们,你们大家好罗唆呵,我听不懂你们讲什么。”然后她又朝我这边看着,眉头一轻,不住摇头。“你是哪家的姑娘,亲爱的?我从来没见过你吧?我不知道你长的啥模样。我不记得在曼陀丽有你这么个人。比,告诉我,这孩子是谁?为什么迈克西姆不把吕蓓卡带来?我多喜欢吕蓓卡。我的宝贝吕蓓卡哪儿去了?”

好一阵子大家没吭声,真是个叫人受罪的时刻。我感到脸上火辣辣的。护士赶紧站起身子朝安乐椅走去。

“给我把吕蓓卡找来,”老太太又重复了一句。“你们把吕蓓卡怎么啦?”比阿特丽斯笨手笨脚地从桌旁站起,差点把桌上的杯碟撞翻。她也窘得满脸通红,嘴巴抽搐着。

“我看你们最好还是走吧,莱西夫人,”护士红着脸,神色慌张地说。“看来她有点累了,她这么一发作,有时一连要糊涂好几个钟头。她不时会像现在这样兴奋一阵,想不到今天也出现这种情况,真遗憾。德温特夫人,我相信您会谅解的吧?”她向我赔不是。

“当然,”我赶紧说。“我们最好还是告辞吧。”

比阿特丽斯和我到处乱摸,寻找提包和手套。护士又转身去应付她的病人。“我说,这是怎么回事?你不想吃美味可口的水芹三明治?那是我专给你切的呢。”

“吕蓓卡在哪儿?为什么迈克西姆不来,不把吕蓓卡一起带来?”那厌倦而又带怨忿的微弱声音作了这样的回答。

我们穿过客厅,来到门廊,然后又从正门走了出去。比阿特丽斯一言不发,只顾发动汽车引擎。汽车顺着平坦的沙砾车道驶出白漆大门。

我目不斜视地凝望着前方的路面。我自己并不怎么在乎。如果在场的只有我一个,那我根本不会把这事放在心上。现在我倒担心比阿特丽斯会觉得不痛快。

整个儿事情把比阿特丽斯搞得狼狈不堪。

车子驶出村子时,她才对我说:“亲爱的,实在抱歉得很,真不知道该说什么才好。”

“瞧你胡说些什么,比阿特丽斯,”我赶忙说。“没什么要紧,一点也没关系。”

“我没想到她会来那么一下子,”比阿特丽斯说。“要不然我无论如何也不会领你去见她的。我真感到抱歉。”

“没什么好抱歉的,请别再说了。”

“真不明白是怎么搞的。你的情况她明明全知道。我写信告诉过她,迈克西姆也给她写过信。当时她对国外结婚的事儿还颇感兴趣呢。”

“你忘了她年纪有多大啦,”我说。“她怎么会记住这些个事呢?她没法把我跟迈克西姆联系起来,脑子里只有他跟吕蓓卡连结在一起的印象。”我们默不作声地驱车向前。能这么重新坐在汽车里,真是如释重负。汽车一路颠簸,急转弯时车身还猛地一歪,对这些,我现在全不在乎。

“我忘了她是很疼爱吕蓓卡的,”比阿特丽斯慢腾腾地说。“我好傻,竟没料到会出现这种场面。我想,去年那场灾祸,她并不完全明白是怎么回事。哦,老天爷,今天下午真是活见鬼。天晓得你会对我有什么看法。”

“行行好,别说了,比阿特丽斯,跟你说我不介意的。”

“吕蓓卡对老太太总是百般殷勤。她常常把老太太接到曼陀丽去住。我那可怜的好奶奶那时手脚还很灵便,吕蓓卡随便说什么总能逗得她笑得直不起腰。不用说,吕蓓卡向来很风趣,老太太就喜欢那样。她那个人,我是指吕蓓卡,自有一套讨人喜欢的本事;男人、女人、小孩,还有狗,都会被她迷住。我看老太太一直没把她忘掉。亲爱的,过了这么一个下午,你总不会感激我吧。”

“我不在乎,不在乎,”我只是机械在念叨着,巴不得比阿特丽斯能撇开这个话题。我不感兴趣。这事究竟有什么大不了?什么事值得如此耿耿于怀?

“贾尔斯一定会感到很难过,”比阿特丽斯说。“他会怪我带你上那儿去。‘你干了件多蠢的事,比。’我能想象到他训人的样子。接着,我就跟他好好吵上一架。”

“别提这件事,”我说。“最好把它忘了。否则会一传十,十传百,还要加油添酱呢。”

“贾尔斯只要一瞧见我的脸色,就知道出了什么糟糕的事。我从来没有什么事能瞒过他的。”

我沉吟不语。不讲我也知道,这件事将在他们那个好朋友圈子里捅出来。可以想象那是某个星期天的中午,餐桌旁围坐着那一群人,眼睛瞪得溜回,耳朵竖起,先是大气也不敢出,随后是一阵感叹——

“我的老天爷,多尴尬,当时你是怎么打圆场的?”然后又问:“她是怎么挺过来的?真窘死人啦!”

对我来说,唯一要紧的是千万别让迈克西姆知道这事。日后我也许会告诉弗兰克-克劳利,不过现在还不是时候,得过一阵子。

不大一会儿工夫,我们已驶上山巅的公路。极目远眺,已能见到克里斯城的第一排灰白屋顶;从那边往右,则是隐藏在山坳低地中的曼陀丽的葱郁密林,树林再过就是大海。

“你是不是一心急着要回家?”比阿特丽斯说。

“不,”我说。“不急。怎么?”

“要是我把车开到庄园门口,让你在那儿下车,你不会见怪,骂我是头大懒猪吧?我这会儿带紧点;正好可以赶上伦敦来的那班火车,省得贾尔斯雇车站的出租汽车。”

“当然不会见怪,”我说。“我可以沿着车道步行回去。”

“那就偏劳了,”她口气里带几分感激。

我看今天下午也真够她受的。她也想独自清静一下,不愿再在曼陀丽应付一顿晚了钟点的茶点。

我在庄园门口走下汽车。我们互相吻别。

“下回咱们见面时你得长胖点喔,”她说。“这么瘦骨伶仃,可不大好看。向迈克西姆问好。今天的事儿还得请你多多包涵。”她的车子一溜烟消失在飞扬的尘土之中,我转身沿着车道往庄园走回去。

当年迈克西姆的祖母正是在这条车道上策马驱车的。从那以来,不知车道是不是已经大改其样。那时她还是个少妇,策马打这儿经过时,也像我现在这样曾朝看门人的妻子微笑打招呼。那时候,看门人的妻子还得向她行屈膝礼,那条像伞一样撑开的裙子拖拂着路面。而现在这个女人,只是朝我微微一点头,然后忙着转身去叫唤屋后正跟几只小猫咪一起扒弄泥土的小男孩。迈克西姆的祖母曾低头避开几根下垂摇曳的树枝,让坐骑放开四蹄,在我此刻走着的车道上快步奔跑。那时的车道保养得很好,路面比现在宽阔,也比现在平坦。两旁的树木还没侵入车道。

浮现在我脑海里的并不是那个倚靠枕垫身裹披巾的老妪形象,而是当年她以曼陀丽为家时的少妇情影。我仿佛看到她带了几个小男孩在花园里漫步,那孩子是迈克西姆的父亲,他骑着玩具竹马咋达咋达跟在她身后,身上穿件浆得笔挺的诺福克上衣,头颈里围着白色的领饰。那时候,到海湾去野餐一顿就好比一次远征,难得有机会享受这种乐趣。不知在什么地方,大概是在哪本保存了多年的影集里吧,可能还收藏着一张照片——阖家围着一块摊在沙滩上的台布正襟危坐,后面是一排仆役,站在大食品篮的旁边,我仿佛又看到前几年时候的迈克西姆的祖母,已显出龙钟老态,拄根拐杖,在曼陀丽的平台上一步一步走着。有个人走在她身边,悉心搀扶着她,一边还发出朗朗笑声。此人苗条颀长。面目姣好,用比阿特丽斯的话来说,生来具有一套讨人喜欢的本领。想来不论谁见着都会喜欢,都会钟情的。

我终于来到车道的尽头,瞧见迈克西姆的汽车停在屋子前,不禁心头一喜,三步并作两步走进大厅,只见桌上放着他的帽子和手套。我朝藏书室走去,快到门口时,听到里面有人讲话,其中一个的嗓门压过另一个,那是迈克西姆的声音。门关着,我在门口踌躇了一下,设立刻走进去。

“你可以写信告诉他,就说是我讲的,叫他以后别再到曼陀丽来,听见没有?别管是谁告诉我的,这无关紧要。事有凑巧,我听人说昨天下午在这里看到过他的汽车。假如你想见他,尽可以到曼陀而外面去和他碰头。我不许他跨进这儿的门槛,明白吗?记住,这是我最后一次向你提出警告。”

我蹑手蹑脚地从藏书室门口溜开,走到楼梯口。我听见藏书室的门开了,便飞奔上楼,躲进画廊。丹弗斯太太走出藏书室,随手把门关上。我急忙贴着画廊的墙壁,身子缩作一团,生怕被她看见。我从墙根瞥见了她的脸。她气得面色煞白,五官歪扭着,显得狰狞可怕。

她悄悄声儿地疾步走上楼梯,拐进那扇通西厢的过道门,不见了。

过了一会我才慢慢走下楼梯,来到藏书室。我打开门,走进屋子,迈克西姆站在窗边,手里拿着几封信。他背对着我。有那么一刹那,我真想偷偷溜出去,上楼回自己房间,宁可一个人坐在那儿。想必是听到我的声音,只见他不耐烦地转过身来。

“这回又是谁来了,”他说。

我微笑着向他伸出双手。“你好哇!”我说

“哦,是你……”

我一眼就看出有什么事惹得他火冒三丈。他噘着嘴,屏紧的鼻孔气得煞白。“这两天你一个人干些什么来着?”说着,他在我额头上吻了一下,伸出胳臂搂住我的肩膀。他不过是昨天离开我的,可我仿佛觉得其间已不知相隔了多少年月。

“我去探望过你的祖母,”我说。“是今天下午比阿特丽斯开车子接我去的。”

“老太太身体怎么样?”

“还不错。”

“比阿特丽斯人呢?”

“她得赶回去接贾尔斯。”

我俩并肩临窗坐下。我把他的手攥在自己手里。“我真不愿你离开我,好惦记你啊!”我说。

“是吗?”他说。

过后,有一会我俩谁也不开口。我只是握着他的手。

“伦敦天热吗?”我说。

“是呀,热得难受。我一向讨厌那地方。”

我不知道他是否会把刚才在这儿对丹弗斯太太发火的一事儿告诉我。想想也奇怪,是谁对他说起费弗尔曾到这儿来过呢?

“你有什么心事吗?”我说。

“旅途很辛苦,累了,”他说。“二十四小时之内往返驾车两次,谁都受不了。”

他站起身走开去,点了支烟。我这时已明白,他是不会把丹弗期太太的事说给我听的。

“我也累了,”我慢悠悠地说。“今天可以算是一个挺有趣的日子哩。”[/FONT]

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-04-19#92
Chapter fifteen

Maxim rang up the next morning to say he would be back about seven. Frith took the message. Maxim did not ask to speak to me himself. I heard the telephone ring while I was at breakfast and I thought perhaps Frith would come into the dining-room and say 'Mr de Winter on the telephone, Madam. ' I had put down my napkin and had risen to my feet. And then Frith came back into the dining-room and gave me the message. He saw me push back my chair and go to the door. 'Mr de Winter has rung off, Madam, ' he said, 'there was no message. Just that he would be back about seven. ' I sat down in my chair again and picked up my napkin. Frith must have thought me eager and stupid rushing across the dining-room. 'All right, Frith. Thank you, ' I said. I went on eating my eggs and bacon, Jasper at my feet, the old dog in her basket in the corner. I wondered what I should do with my day. I had slept badly; perhaps because I was alone in the room. I had been restless, waking up often, and when I glanced at my clock I saw the hands had scarcely moved. When I did fall asleep I had varied, wandering dreams. We were walking through woods, Maxim and I, and he was always just a little ahead of me. I could not keep up with him. Nor could I see his face. Just his figure, striding away in front of me all the time. I must have cried while I slept, for when I woke in the morning the pillow was damp. My eyes were heavy too, when I looked in the glass. I looked plain, unattractive. I rubbed a little rouge on my cheeks in a wretched attempt to give myself colour. But it made me worse. It gave me a false clown look. Perhaps I did not know the best way to put it on. I noticed Robert staring at me as I crossed the hall and went into breakfast. About ten o'clock as I was crumbling some pieces for the birds on the terrace the telephone rang again. This time it was for me. Frith came and said Mrs Lacy wanted to speak to me. 'Good morning, Beatrice, ' I said. 'Well, my dear, how are you?' she said, her telephone voice typical of herself, brisk, rather masculine, standing no nonsense, and then not waiting for my answer. 'I thought of motoring over this afternoon and looking up Gran. I'm lunching with people about twenty miles from you.

Shall I come and pick you up and we'll go together? It's time you met the old lady, you know. ' 'I'd like to very much, Beatrice, ' I said. 'Splendid. Very well, then. I'll come along for you about half past three. Giles saw Maxim at the dinner. Poor food, he said, but excellent wine. All right, my dear, see you later. ' The click of the receiver, and she was gone. I wandered back into the garden. I was glad she had rung up and suggested the plan of going over to see the grandmother. It made something to look forward to, and broke the monotony of the day. The hours had seemed so long until seven o'clock. I did not feel in my holiday mood today, and I had no wish to go off with Jasper to the Happy Valley and come to the cove and throw stones in the water. The sense of freedom had departed, and the childish desire to run across the lawns in sand-shoes. I went and sat down with a book and The Times and my knitting in the rose-garden, domestic as a matron, yawning in the warm sun while the bees hummed amongst the flowers. I tried to concentrate on the bald newspaper columns, and later to lose myself in the racy plot of the novel in my hands. I did not want to think of yesterday afternoon and Mrs Danvers. I tried to forget that she was in the house at this moment, perhaps looking down on me from one of the windows. And now and again, when I looked up from my book or glanced across the garden, I had the feeling I was not alone. There were so many windows in Manderley, so many rooms that were never used by Maxim and myself that were empty now; dust-sheeted, silent, rooms that had been occupied in the old days when his father and his grandfather had been alive, when there had been much entertaining, many servants. It would be easy for Mrs Danvers to open those doors softly and close them again, and then steal quietly across the shrouded room and look down upon me from behind the drawn curtains. I should not know. Even if I turned in my chair and looked up at the windows I would not see her. I remembered a game I had played as a child that my friends next-door had called 'Grandmother's Steps' and myself 'Old Witch'. You had to stand at the end of the garden with your back turned to the rest, and one by one they crept nearer to you, advancing in short furtive fashion. Every few minutes you turned to look at them, and if you saw one of them moving the offender had to retire to the back line and begin again.

But there was always one a little bolder than the rest, who came up very close, whose movement was impossible to detect, and as you waited there, your back turned, counting the regulation Ten, you knew, with a fatal terrifying certainty, that before long, before even the Ten was counted, this bold player would pounce upon you from behind, unheralded, unseen, with a scream of triumph. I felt as tense and expectant as I did then. I was playing 'Old Witch' with Mrs Danvers. Lunch was a welcome break to the long morning. The calm efficiency of Frith, and Robert's rather foolish face, helped me more than my book and my newspaper had done. And at half past three, punctual to the moment, I heard the sound of Beatrice's car round the sweep of the drive and pull up at the steps before the house. I ran out to meet her, ready dressed, my gloves in my hand. 'Well, my dear, here I am, what a splendid day, isn't it?' She slammed the door of the car and came up the steps to meet me. She gave me a hard swift kiss, brushing me somewhere near the ear. 'You don't look well, ' she said immediately, looking me up and down, 'much too thin in the face and no colour. What's wrong with you?' 'Nothing, ' I said humbly, knowing the fault of my face too well. 'I'm not a person who ever has much colour. ' 'Oh, bosh, ' she replied, 'you looked quite different when I saw you before. ' 'I expect the brown of Italy has worn off, ' I said, getting into the car. 'H'mph, ' she said shortly, 'you're as bad as Maxim. Can't stand any criticism about your health. Slam the door hard or it doesn't shut. ' We started off down the drive, swerving at the corner, going rather too fast. 'You're not by any chance starting an infant, are you?' she said, turning her hawk-brown eyes upon me. 'No, ' I said awkwardly. 'No, I don't think so. ' 'No morning sickness or anything like that?' 'No. ' 'Oh, well - of course it doesn't always follow. I never turned a hair when Roger was born. Felt as fit as a fiddle the whole nine months. I played golf the day before he arrived. There's nothing to be embarrassed about in the facts of nature, you know. If you have any suspicions you had better tell me. ' 'No, really, Beatrice, ' I said, 'there's nothing to tell. ' 'I must say I do hope you will produce a son and heir before long. It would be so terribly good for Maxim. I hope you are doing nothing to prevent it. ' 'Of course not, ' I said. What an extraordinary conversation. 'Oh, don't be shocked, ' she said, 'you must nevermind what I say.

After all, brides of today are up to everything. It's a damn nuisance if you want to hunt and you land yourself with an infant your first season. Quite enough to break a marriage up if you are both keen. Wouldn't matter in your case. Babies needn't interfere with sketching. How is the sketching, by the way?' 'I'm afraid I don't seem to do much, ' I said. 'Oh, really? Nice weather, too, for sitting out of doors. You only need a camp-stool and a box of pencils, don't you? Tell me, were you interested in those books I sent you?' 'Yes, of course, ' I said. 'It was a lovely present, Beatrice. ' She looked pleased. 'Glad you liked them, ' she said. The car sped along. She kept her foot permanently on the accelerator, and took every corner at an acute angle. Two motorists we passed looked out of their windows outraged as she swept by, and one pedestrian in a lane waved his stick at her. I felt rather hot for her. She did not seem to notice though. I crouched lower in my seat. 'Roger goes up to Oxford next term, ' she said, 'heaven knows what he'll do with himself. Awful waste of time I think, and so does Giles, but we couldn't think what else to do with him. Of course he's just like Giles and myself. Thinks of nothing but horses. What on earth does this car in front think it's doing? Why don't you put out your hand, my good man? Really, some of these people on the road today ought to be shot. ' We swerved into a main road, narrowly avoiding the car ahead of us. 'Had any people down to stay?' she asked. 'No, we've been very quiet, ' I said. 'Much better, too, ' she said, 'awful bore, I always think, those big parties. You won't find it alarming if you come to stay with us. Very nice lot of people all round, and we all know one another frightfully well. We dine in one another's houses, and have our bridge, and don't bother with outsiders. You do play bridge, don't you?' 'I'm not very good, Beatrice. ' 'Oh, we shan't mind that. As long as you can play. I've no patience with people who won't learn. What on earth can one do with them between tea and dinner in the winter, and after dinner? One can't just sit and talk. ' I wondered why. However, it was simpler not to say anything. 'It's quite amusing now Roger is a reasonable age, ' she went on, 'because he brings his friends to stay, and we have really good fun. You ought to have been with us last Christmas. We had charades.

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My dear, it was the greatest fun. Giles was in his element. He adores dressing up, you know, and after a glass or two of champagne he's the funniest thing you've ever seen. We often say he's missed his vocation and ought to have been on the stage. ' I thought of Giles, and his large moon face, his horn spectacles. I felt the sight of him being funny after champagne would embarrass me. 'He and another man, a great friend of ours, Dickie Marsh, dressed up as women and sang a duet. What exactly it had to do with the word in the charade nobody knew, but it did not matter. We all roared. ' I smiled politely. 'Fancy, how funny, ' I said. I saw them all rocking from side to side in Beatrice's drawing-room. All these friends who knew one another so well. Roger would look like Giles. Beatrice was laughing again at the memory. 'Poor Giles, ' she said. 'I shall never forget his face when Dick squirted the soda syphon down his back. We were all in fits. ' I had an uneasy feeling we might be asked to spend the approaching Christmas with Beatrice. Perhaps I could have influenza. 'Of course our acting was never very ambitious, ' she said. 'It was just a lot of fun amongst ourselves. At Manderley now, there is scope for a really fine show. I remember a pageant they had there, some years ago. People from London came down to do it. Of course that type of thing needs terrific organization. ' 'Yes, ' I said. She was silent for a while, and drove without speaking. 'How is Maxim?' she said, after a moment. 'Very well, thanks, ' I said. 'Quite cheerful and happy?' 'Oh, yes. Yes, rather. ' A narrow village street engaged her attention. I wondered whether I should tell her about Mrs Danvers. About the man Favell. I did not want her to make a blunder though, and perhaps tell Maxim. 'Beatrice, ' I said, deciding upon it, 'have you ever heard of someone called Favell? Jack Favell?' 'Jack Favell, ' she repeated. 'Yes, I do know the name. Wait a minute. Jack Favell. Of course. An awful bounder. I met him once, ages ago. ' 'He came to Manderley yesterday to see Mrs Danvers, ' I said. 'Really? Oh, well, perhaps he would ... ' 'Why?' I said. 'I rather think he was Rebecca's cousin, ' she said. I was very surprised.

That man her relation? It was not my idea of the sort of cousin Rebecca would have. Jack Favell her cousin. 'Oh, ' I said. 'Oh, I hadn't realized that. ' 'He probably used to go to Manderley a lot, ' said Beatrice. 'I don't know. I couldn't tell you. I was very seldom there. ' Her manner was abrupt. It gave me the impression she did not want to pursue the subject. 'I did not take to him much, ' I said. 'No, ' said Beatrice. 'I don't blame you. ' I waited, but she did not say any more. I thought it wiser not to tell her how Favell had asked me to keep the visit a secret. It might lead to some complication. Besides, we were just coming to our destination. A pair of white gates and a smooth gravel drive. 'Don't forget the old lady is nearly blind, ' said Beatrice, 'and she's not very bright these days. I telephoned to the nurse that we were coming, so everything will be all right. ' The house was large, red-bricked, and gabled. Late Victorian I supposed. Not an attractive house. I could tell in a glance it was the sort of house that was aggressively well-kept by a big staff. And all for one old lady who was nearly blind. A trim parlour-maid opened the door. 'Good afternoon, Norah, how are you?' said Beatrice. 'Very well, thank you, Madam. I hope you are keeping well?' 'Oh, yes, we are all flourishing. How has the old lady been, Norah?' 'Rather mixed, Madam. She has one good day, and then a bad. She's not too bad in herself, you know. She will be pleased to see you I'm sure. ' She glanced curiously at me. "This is Mrs Maxim, ' said Beatrice. 'Yes, Madam. How do you do, ' said Norah. We went through a narrow hall and a drawing-room crowded with furniture to a veranda facing a square clipped lawn. There were many bright geraniums in stone vases on the steps of the veranda. In the corner was a Bath chair. Beatrice's grandmother was sitting there, propped up with pillows and surrounded by shawls. When we came close to her I saw that she had a strong, rather uncanny, resemblance to Maxim. That was what Maxim would look like, if he was very old, if he was blind. The nurse by her side got up from her chair and put a mark in the book she was reading aloud. She smiled at Beatrice. 'How are you, Mrs Lacy?' she said. Beatrice shook hands with her and introduced me. 'The old lady looks all right, ' she said. 'I don't know how she does it, at eighty-six. Here we are, Gran, ' she said, raising her voice, 'arrived safe and sound. ' The grandmother looked in our direction. 'Dear Bee, ' she said, 'how sweet of you to come and visit me.

We're so dull here, nothing for you to do. ' Beatrice leant over her and kissed her. 'I've brought Maxim's wife over to see you, ' she said, 'she wanted to come and see you before, but she and Maxim have been so busy. ' Beatrice prodded me in the back. 'Kiss her, ' she murmured. I too bent down and kissed her on the cheek. The grandmother touched my face with her fingers. 'You nice thing, ' she said, 'so good of you to come. I'm very pleased to see you, dear. You ought to have brought Maxim with you. ' 'Maxim is in London, ' I said, 'he's coming back tonight. ' 'You might bring him next time, ' she said. 'Sit down, dear, in this chair, where I can see you. And Bee, come the other side. How is dear Roger? He's a naughty boy, he doesn't come and see me. ' 'He shall come during August, ' shouted Beatrice; 'he's leaving Eton, you know, he's going up to Oxford. ' 'Oh, dear, he'll be quite a young man, I shan't know him. ' 'He's taller than Giles now, ' said Beatrice. She went on, telling her about Giles, and Roger, and the horses, and the dogs. The nurse brought out some knitting, and clicked her needles sharply. She turned to me, very bright, very cheerful. 'How are you liking Manderley, Mrs de Winter?' 'Very much, thank you, ' I said. 'It's a beautiful spot, isn't it?' she said, the needles jabbing one another. 'Of course we don't get over there now, she's not up to it. I am sorry, I used to love our days at Manderley. ' 'You must come over yourself some time, ' I said. "Thank you, I should love to. Mr de Winter is well, I suppose?' 'Yes, very well. ' 'You spent your honeymoon in Italy, didn't you? We were so pleased with the picture postcard Mr de Winter sent. ' I wondered whether she used 'we' in the royal sense, or if she meant that Maxim's grandmother and herself were one. 'Did he send one? I can't remember. ' 'Oh, yes, it was quite an excitement. We love anything like that. We keep a scrapbook you know, and paste anything to do with the family inside it. Anything pleasant, that is. ' 'How nice, ' I said. I caught snatches of Beatrice's conversation on the other side. 'We had to put old Marksman down, ' she was saying. 'You remember old Marksman? The best hunter I ever had. ' 'Oh, dear, not old Marksman?' said her grandmother. 'Yes, poor old man. Got blind in both eyes, you know. ' 'Poor Marksman, ' echoed the old lady.

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I thought perhaps it was not very tactful to talk about blindness, and I glanced at the nurse. She was still busy clicking her needles. 'Do you hunt, Mrs de Winter?' she said. 'No, I'm afraid I don't, ' I said. 'Perhaps you will come to it. We are all very fond of hunting in this part of the world. ' 'Yes. ' 'Mrs de Winter is very keen on art, ' said Beatrice to the nurse. 'I tell her there are heaps of spots in Manderley that would make very jolly pictures. ' 'Oh rather, ' agreed the nurse, pausing a moment from the fury of knitting. 'What a nice hobby. I had a friend who was a wonder with her pencil. We went to Provence together one Easter and she did such pretty sketches. ' 'How nice, ' I said. 'We're talking about sketching, ' shouted Beatrice to her grandmother, 'you did not know we had an artist in the family, did you?' 'Who's an artist?' said the old lady. 'I don't know any. ' 'Your new granddaughter, ' said Beatrice: 'you ask her what I gave her for a wedding present. ' I smiled, waiting to be asked. The old lady turned her head in my direction. 'What's Bee talking about?' she said. 'I did not know you were an artist. We've never had any artists in the family. ' 'Beatrice was joking, ' I said: 'of course I'm not an artist really. I like drawing as a hobby. I've never had any lessons. Beatrice gave me some lovely books as a present. ' 'Oh, ' she said, rather bewildered. 'Beatrice gave you some books, did she? Rather like taking coals to Newcastle, wasn't it? There are so many books in the library at Manderley. ' She laughed heartily. We all joined in her joke.


I hoped the subject would be left at that, but Beatrice had to harp on it. 'You don't understand, Gran, ' she said. "They weren't ordinary books. They were volumes on art. Four of 'em. ' The nurse leant forward to add her tribute. 'Mrs Lacy is trying to explain that Mrs de Winter is very fond of sketching as a hobby. So she gave her four fine volumes all about painting as a wedding present. ' 'What a funny thing to do, ' said the grandmother. 'I don't think much of books for a wedding present. Nobody ever gave me any books when I was married. I should never have read them if they had. ' She laughed again. Beatrice looked rather offended. I smiled at her to show my sympathy. I don't think she saw. The nurse resumed her knitting. 'I want my tea, ' said the old lady querulously, 'isn't it half past four yet? Why doesn't Norah bring the tea?' 'What? Hungry again after our big lunch?' said the nurse, rising to her feet and smiling brightly at her charge. I felt rather exhausted, and wondered, rather shocked at my callous thought, why old people were sometimes such a strain. Worse than young children or puppies because one had to be polite. I sat with my hands in my lap ready to agree with what anybody said. The nurse was thumping the pillows and arranging the shawls. Maxim's grandmother suffered her in patience. She closed her eyes as though she too were tired. She looked more like Maxim than ever.

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I knew how she must have looked when she was young, tall, and handsome, going round to the stables at Manderley with sugar in her pockets, holding her trailing skirt out of the mud. I pictured the nipped-in waist, the high collar, I heard her ordering the carriage for two o'clock. That was all finished now for her, all gone. Her husband had been dead for forty years, her son for fifteen. She had to live in this bright, red gabled house with the nurse until it was time for her to die. I thought how little we know about the feelings of old people. Children we understand, their fears and hopes and make-believe. I was a child yesterday. I had not forgotten. But Maxim's grandmother, sitting there in her shawl with her poor blind eyes, what did she feel, what was she thinking? Did she know that Beatrice was yawning and glancing at her watch? Did she guess that we had come to visit her because we felt it right, it was a duty, so that when she got home afterwards Beatrice would be able to say, 'Well, that clears my conscience for three months' ? Did she ever think about Manderley? Did she remember sitting at the dining-room table, where I sat? Did she too have tea under the chestnut tree? Or was it all forgotten and laid aside, and was there nothing left behind that calm, pale face of hers but little aches and little strange discomforts, a blurred thankfulness when the sun shone, a tremor when the wind blew cold? I wished that I could lay my hands upon her face and take the years away. I wished I could see her young, as she was once, with colour in her cheeks and chestnut hair, alert and active as Beatrice by her side, talking as she did about hunting, hounds, and horses. Not sitting there with her eyes closed while the nurse thumped the pillows behind her head. 'We've got a treat today, you know, ' said the nurse, 'watercress sandwiches for tea. We love watercress, don't we?' 'Is it watercress day?' said Maxim's grandmother, raising her head from the pillows, and looking towards the door. 'You did not tell me that. Why does not Norah bring in the tea?' 'I wouldn't have your job, Sister, for a thousand a day, ' said Beatrice sotto voce to the nurse. 'Oh, I'm used to it, Mrs Lacy, ' smiled the nurse; 'it's very comfortable here, you know. Of course we have our bad days but they might be a great deal worse. She's very easy, not like some patients. The staff are obliging too, that's really the main thing.

Here comes Norah. ' The parlour-maid brought out a little gate-legged table and a snowy cloth. 'What a time you've been, Norah, ' grumbled the old lady. 'It's only just turned the half-hour, Madam, ' said Norah in a special voice, bright and cheerful like the nurse. I wondered if Maxim's grandmother realized that people spoke to her in this way. I wondered when they had done so for the first time, and if she had noticed then. Perhaps she had said to herself, "They think I'm getting old, how very ridiculous', and then little by little she had become accustomed to it, and now it was as though they had always done so, it was part of her background. But the young woman with the chestnut hair and the narrow waist who gave sugar to the horses, where was she? We drew our chairs to the gate-legged table and began to eat the watercress sandwiches. The nurse prepared special ones for the old lady. "There, now, isn't that a treat?' she said. I saw a slow smile pass over the calm, placid face. 'I like watercress day, ' she said. The tea was scalding, much too hot to drink. The nurse drank hers in tiny sips. 'Boiling water today, ' she said, nodding at Beatrice. 'I have such trouble about it. They will let the tea stew. I've told them time and time again about it. They will not listen. ' 'Oh, they're all the same, ' said Beatrice. 'I've given it up as a bad job. ' The old lady stirred hers with a spoon, her eyes very far and distant. I wished I knew what she was thinking about. 'Did you have fine weather in Italy?' said the nurse. 'Yes, it was very warm, ' I said. Beatrice turned to her grandmother. 'They had lovely weather in Italy for their honeymoon, she says. Maxim got quite sunburnt. ' 'Why isn't Maxim here today?' said the old lady. 'We told you, darling, Maxim had to go to London, ' said Beatrice impatiently. 'Some dinner, you know. Giles went too. ' 'Oh, I see. Why did you say Maxim was in Italy?' 'He was in Italy, Gran. In April. They're back at Manderley now. ' She glanced at the nurse, shrugging her shoulders. 'Mr and Mrs de Winter are in Manderley now, ' repeated the nurse. 'It's been lovely there this month, ' I said, drawing nearer to Maxim's grandmother. 'The roses are in bloom now. I wish I had brought you some. ' 'Yes, I like roses, ' she said vaguely, and then peering closer at me with her dim blue eyes. 'Are you staying at Manderley too?' I swallowed.

There was a slight pause. Then Beatrice broke in with her loud, impatient voice, 'Gran, darling, you know perfectly well she lives there now. She and Maxim are married. ' I noticed the nurse put down her cup of tea and glance swiftly at the old lady. She had relaxed against the pillows, plucking at her shawl, and her mouth began to tremble. 'You talk too much, all of you. I don't understand. ' Then she looked across at me, a frown on her face, and began shaking her head. 'Who are you, my dear, I haven't seen you before? I don't know your face. I don't remember you at Manderley. Bee, who is this child? Why did not Maxim bring Rebecca? I'm so fond of Rebecca. Where is dear Rebecca?' There was a long pause, a moment of agony. I felt my cheeks grow scarlet. The nurse got to her feet very quickly and went to the Bathchair. 'I want Rebecca, ' repeated the old lady, 'what have you done with Rebecca?' Beatrice rose clumsily from the table, shaking the cups and saucers. She too had turned very red, and her mouth twitched. 'I think you'd better go, Mrs Lacy, ' said the nurse, rather pink and flustered. 'She's looking a little tired, and when she wanders like this it sometimes lasts a few hours. She does get excited like this from time to time. It's very unfortunate it should happen today. I'm sure you will understand, Mrs de Winter?' She turned apologetically to me. 'Of course, ' I said quickly, 'it's much better we should go. ' Beatrice and I groped for our bags and gloves. The nurse had turned to her patient again. 'Now, what's all this about? Do you want your nice watercress sandwich that I've cut for you?' 'Where is Rebecca? Why did not Maxim come and bring Rebecca?' replied the thin, querulous voice. We went through the drawing-room to the hall and let ourselves out of the front door. Beatrice started up the car without a word. We drove down the smooth gravel drive and out of the white gates. I stared straight in front of me down the road. I did not mind for myself. I should not have cared if I had been alone. I minded for Beatrice. The whole thing had been so wretched and awkward for Beatrice.

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She spoke to me when we turned out of the village. 'My dear, ' she began, 'I'm so dreadfully sorry. I don't know what to say. ' 'Don't be absurd, Beatrice, ' I said hurriedly, 'it doesn't matter a bit. It's absolutely all right. ' 'I had no idea she would do that, ' said Beatrice. 'I would never have dreamt of taking you to see her. I'm so frightfully sorry. ' 'There's nothing to be sorry about. Please don't say any more. ' 'I can't make it out. She knew all about you. I wrote and told her, and so did Maxim. She was so interested in the wedding abroad. ' 'You forget how old she is, ' I said. 'Why should she remember that? She doesn't connect me with Maxim. She only connects him with Rebecca. ' We went on driving in silence. It was a relief to be in the car again. I did not mind the jerky motion and the swaying corners. 'I'd forgotten she was so fond of Rebecca, ' said Beatrice slowly, 'I was a fool not to expect something like this. I don't believe she ever took it in properly about the accident. Oh, Lord, what a ghastly afternoon. What on earth will you think of me?' 'Please, Beatrice, don't. I tell you I don't mind. ' 'Rebecca made a great fuss of her always. And she used to have the old lady over to Manderley. Poor darling Gran was much more alert then. She used to rock with laughter at whatever Rebecca said. Of course she was always very amusing, and the old lady loved that. She had an amazing gift, Rebecca I mean, of being attractive to people; men, women, children, dogs. I suppose the old lady has never forgotten her. My dear, you won't thank me for this afternoon. ' 'I don't mind, I don't mind, ' I repeated mechanically. If only Beatrice could leave the subject alone. It did not interest me. What did it matter after all? What did anything matter? 'Giles will be very upset, ' said Beatrice. 'He will blame me for taking you over. "What an idiotic thing to do, Bee. " I can hear him saying it. I shall get into a fine row. ' 'Don't say anything about it, ' I said. 'I would much rather it was forgotten. The story will only get repeated and exaggerated. ' 'Giles will know something is wrong from my face. I never have been able to hide anything from him. ' I was silent. I knew how the story would be tossed about in their immediate circle of friends. I could imagine the little crowd at Sunday lunch. The round eyes, the eager ears, and the gasps and exclamations - 'My Lord, how awful, what on earth did you do?' and then, 'How did she take it? How terribly embarrassing for everyone!' The only thing that mattered to me was that Maxim should never come to hear of it. One day I might tell Frank Crawley, but not yet, not for quite a while. It was not long before we came to the high road at the top of the hill.

In the distance I could see the first grey roofs of Kerrith, while to the right, in a hollow, lay the deep woods of Manderley and the sea beyond. 'Are you in a frightful hurry to get home?' said Beatrice. 'No, ' I said. 'I don't think so. Why?' 'Would you think me a perfect pig if I dropped you at the lodge gates? If I drive like hell now I shall just be in time to meet Giles by the London train, and it will save him taking the station taxi. ' 'Of course, ' I said. 'I can walk down the drive. ' 'Thanks awfully, ' she said gratefully. I felt the afternoon had been too much for her. She wanted to be alone again, and did not want to face another belated tea at Manderley. I got out of the car at the lodge gates and we kissed goodbye. 'Put on some weight next time I see you, ' she said; 'it doesn't suit you to be so thin. Give Maxim my love, and forgive me for today. ' She vanished in a cloud of dust and I turned in down the drive. I wondered if it had altered much since Maxim's grandmother had driven down it in her carriage. She had ridden here as a young woman, she had smiled at the woman at the lodge as I did now. And in her day the lodge-keeper's wife had curtseyed, sweeping the path with her full wide skirt. This woman nodded to me briefly, and then called to her little boy, who was grubbing with some kittens at the back. Maxim's grandmother had bowed her head to avoid the sweeping branches of the trees, and the horse had trotted down the twisting drive where I now walked. The drive had been wider then, and smoother too, better kept. The woods did not encroach upon it. I did not think of her as she was now, lying against those pillows, with that shawl around her. I saw her when she was young, and when Manderley was her home. I saw her wandering in the gardens with a small boy, Maxim's father, clattering behind her on his hobby horse. He would wear a stiff Norfolk jacket and a round white collar. Picnics to the cove would be an expedition, a treat that was not indulged in very often. There would be a photograph somewhere, in an old album - all the family sitting very straight and rigid round a tablecloth set upon the beach, the servants in the background beside a huge lunch-basket. And I saw Maxim's grandmother when she was older too, a few years ago. Walking on the terrace at Manderley, leaning on a stick. And someone walked beside her, laughing, holding her arm.

Someone tall and slim and very beautiful, who had a gift, Beatrice said, of being attractive to people. Easy to like, I supposed, easy to love. When I came to the end of the long drive at last I saw that Maxim's car was standing in front of the house. My heart lifted, I ran quickly into the hall. His hat and gloves were lying on the table. I went towards the library, and as I came near I heard the sound of voices, one raised louder than the other, Maxim's voice. The door was shut. I hesitated a moment before going in. 'You can write and tell him from me to keep away from Manderley in future, do you hear? Never mind who told me, that's of no importance. I happen to know his car was seen here yesterday afternoon. If you want to meet him you can meet him outside Manderley. I won't have him inside the gates, do you understand? Remember, I'm warning you for the last time. ' I slipped away from the door to the stairs. I heard the door of the library open. I ran swiftly up the stairs and hid in the gallery. Mrs Danvers came out of the library, shutting the door behind her. I crouched against the wall of the gallery so that I should not be seen. I had caught one glimpse of her face. It was grey with anger, distorted, horrible. She passed up the stairs swiftly and silently and disappeared through the door leading to the west wing. I waited a moment. Then I went slowly downstairs to the library. I opened the door and went in. Maxim was standing by the window, some letters in his hand. His back was turned to me. For a moment I thought of creeping out again, and going upstairs to my room and sitting there. He must have heard me though, for he swung round impatiently. 'Who is it now?' he said. I smiled, holding out my hands. 'Hullo!' I said. 'Oh, it's you ... ' I could tell in a glance that something had made him very angry. His mouth was hard, his nostrils white and pinched. 'What have you been doing with yourself?' he said. He kissed the top of my head and put his arm round my shoulder. I felt as if a very long time had passed since he had left me yesterday. 'I've been to see your grandmother, ' I said. 'Beatrice drove me over this afternoon. ' 'How was the old lady?' 'All right. ' 'What's happened to Bee?' 'She had to get back to meet Giles. ' We sat down together on the window-seat. I took his hand in mine. 'I hated you being away, I've missed you terribly, ' I said. 'Have you?' he said.
We did not say anything for a bit. I just held his hand. 'Was it hot up in London?' I said. 'Yes, pretty awful. I always hate the place. ' I wondered if he would tell me what had happened just now in the library with Mrs Danvers. I wondered who had told him about Favell. 'Are you worried about something?' I said. 'I've had a long day, ' he said, 'that drive twice in twenty-four hours is too much for anyone. ' He got up and wandered away, lighting a cigarette. I knew then that he was not going to tell me about Mrs Danvers. 'I'm tired too, ' I said slowly, 'it's been a funny sort of day. '

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-04-27#97
第16章

关于举行化装舞会的主意,我记得最初是在某个星期天提出来的。那天下午,一大群客人纷至沓来。这天,弗兰克-克劳利在我们这儿吃了中饭,我们三人正指望在栗子树下享一个下午的清福,不料,车道拐角处却响起汽车马达声。这一下已来不及给弗里思打招呼。汽车一转眼开到我们跟前。当时,我们腋下夹着坐垫和报纸,猝不及防地站在平台上。

我们只得硬着头皮上前迎接那几位不速之客。事情往往这样,客人要么不来,一来就是三五成群,络绎不绝。大约过了半个小时,又驶来一辆车,接着又有三位乡邻从克里斯徒步来访。这天的清闲就此完了。一个下午,我们忙着接待一批又一批叫人头痛的泛泛之交,照例又得陪他们在屋前屋后兜上一圈,到玫瑰园走走,在草坪上散步,还要礼数周到地领他们到幸福谷去观光。

不用说,客人都留下用了茶点。这一来,再不能在栗子树下懒洋洋地啃黄瓜三明治,而是不得不在客厅里摆出全套茶具,正襟危坐地用茶,而这种场面我一向不胜厌恶。弗里思当然是得其所哉,在一旁竖眉瞪眼地支使罗伯特干这于那,而我呢,却是心慌意乱,狼狈不堪,简直不知道该怎么对付那一对偌大的银质茶炊和水壶。该在什么时候用滚水冲茶,怎么才算恰到火候,我简直无所适从;而再要强打起精神,敷衍身旁的客人,我就更是一筹莫展了。

在这种场合,弗兰克-克劳利实在是个不可多得的好帮手。他从我手中接过一盏盏茶盅,递到客人手里。由于尽顾着手里的银茶壶,我的对答言词似乎比平时更加含糊,不知所云。每逢这时,他就会在一旁很得体地悄悄插进一言半语,接过话头,巧妙地给我解了围。迈克西姆一直呆在客厅的另一头,应付着某个讨厌的家伙,给他看本书或是看幅画什么的。他施展出那套炉火纯青的应酬功夫,充当着完美无缺的男主人的角色。至于像沏茶这种玩意儿,在他看来不过是无关紧要的细枝末节。他自己的那杯茶已被忘在鲜花后面的一张茶几上冷了。而我和弗兰克就得在这一边照料一大帮子客人,满足他们的口腹之欲。我提着水壶冲茶,头上直冒热气;周到殷勤的弗兰克则像玩杂耍似地分送着薄煎饼和蛋糕。举行化装舞会的主意是克罗温夫人提出来的。这位夫人住在克里斯,是个讨厌的长舌妇。当时,客厅里出现了冷场——这在任何茶会上也都难免——我看见弗兰克刚想张嘴,吐出那句照例必讲的什么“天使打头顶飞过”①之类的傻话。就在这时,克罗温夫人一面将手里的蛋糕小心地搁在碟子边上,一面抬起头来望着恰巧站在她身边的迈克西姆——

①西洋迷信说法,认为众人之所以凑巧同时住嘴,乃鬼神使然。

“哦,德温特先生,”她说,“有件事我早就想问问您啦。请告诉我,您是不是有意恢复曼陀丽的化装舞会?”说着,她把头一歪,咧开嘴,露出她那排暴突的牙齿,这在她大概就算是嫣然一笑了。我赶紧低下头,借茶壶的保暖罩作掩护,一个劲儿喝着自己面前的那杯茶。

迈克西姆沉吟了半晌才开口,说话时全然不动声色,语气干巴巴的。“我没有想过,”他说。“我看别人也没有想到过吧。”

“喔,可是我敢说,我们大家都经常在念叨呢,”克罗温夫人接着说。“以往,这种舞会对我们这一带的人说来可是盛夏佳节。您不知道当年它给了我们多少生活乐趣。难道我还不能说服您重新考虑一下吗?”

“噢,我可说不上来,”迈克西姆干巴巴地说。“筹备起来太费事。你最好还是问问弗兰克-克劳利,这事要由他去张罗。”

“哦,克劳利先生,你一定得站在我这一边,”她真有一股锲而不舍的劲儿。另外也有一两个人在旁边帮腔。“这可是最得人心的一招哪,您知道,我们都很留恋曼陀丽的狂欢场面。”

我听见身旁的弗兰克用平静的语调说:“要是迈克西姆不反对,筹办工作我是不在乎的。这事得由他和德温特夫人决定,跟我可没关系。”

我当然立即成了进攻的目标。克罗温夫人把座椅一挪,这样,那只保暖罩就再也不能给我打掩护。“听我说,德温特夫人,您得说服您丈夫。只有您的话他才肯听。他应该开个舞会,对您这位新娘聊表庆贺。”

“可不是嘛,”有位男客附和说。“要知道,我们已经错过了婚礼,没能热闹一场,你们怎么好意思把我们的乐趣全给剥夺了呢。赞成在曼陀丽开化装舞会的人举手了。你瞧见了,德温特?一致赞成!”在场的人又是笑又是鼓掌。

迈克西姆点上一支烟,我俩的目光越过茶壶相遇。

“你看怎么样?”他说。

“我不知道,”我犹豫不决地说;“我无所谓。”

“她当然巴望能为她开个庆祝舞会,”克罗温夫人又饶舌了。“哪个姑娘不巴望这么热闹一场?我说,德温特夫人,您要是扮个德累斯顿牧羊女,把头发塞在大三角帽底下,那模样儿一定迷人。”

我想,就凭我这双笨拙的手脚,这副瘦骨伶仃的肩胛,还能扮得了典雅的德累斯顿牧羊女!这女人真是个白痴。难怪没人附和她。这一回我又得感激弗兰克,是他把话题从我身上引开的。

“其实,迈克西姆,”他说,“前几天就有人同我谈起过这事。‘克劳利先生,我想我们总该举行个什么仪式,为新娘祝贺一下吧?’此人这么说。‘我希望德温特先生会再举办一次舞会。过去,我们大家玩得可带劲呢。’说这话的是塔克,咱们自己农庄上的,”他面朝克罗温夫人补充了这么一句。“当然罗,不论什么样的娱乐他们都很喜欢。‘我可说不上来,’我告诉他。‘德温特先生没在我面前说起过。’”

“诸位听到了吧,”克罗温夫人得意洋洋地朝客厅里所有的人说。“我刚才怎么说来着?你们自己的人也要求开舞会。要是您顾不上我们,那也得为他们着想呀!”

迈克西姆疑惑不决的目光还是越过茶壶朝我扫来。我忽然想到,或许他是担心我承担不了吧;再说,他对我了如指掌,知道我这人怯生怕羞,到时候可能无法应付裕如。我不愿让他把我看得这么没用,也不想让他觉得我不给他争气。

“我想一定很有趣吧,”我说。

迈克西姆转过脸去,耸了耸肩。“既然这样,事情当然就算定了,”他说。“好吧,弗兰克,劳你着手去安排。最好还是让丹弗斯太大帮你一下。她一定还记得舞会的格局。”

“这么说来,那位了不起的丹弗斯太太还在你们这儿?”克罗温夫人说。

“是的,”迈克西姆简慢地说。“您是不是再吃点糕点?吃完了吗?那就让我们大家到花园里去走走吧。”

我们信步走出屋子,来到平台,大家七嘴八舌地议论开了:舞会应该开成什么样子,放在哪一天最合适;最后,总算让我大大松了口气,乘汽车来的那帮子人觉得该告辞了,而步行来的人,因为可以搭便车,也一起走了。我回到客厅,又倒了一杯茶,这会儿卸去了应酬的重负,我才好好品尝起茶味来;弗兰克也走了进来,我们把剩下的薄煎饼弄碎了统统吞下肚子,觉得像是在合伙做什么偷偷摸摸的事。

迈克西姆在草坪上扔木棒,逗耍杰斯珀取乐。我不知道,所有的家庭是不是全这样,客人一走就会顿时觉得神清气爽,来了劲头。有一阵子,我俩谁也不提舞会的事。后来,我喝完了茶,用手帕擦了擦粘乎乎的手指,对弗兰克说:“你说实话,对化装舞会这件事,你怎么看?”

弗兰克犹豫了一下,打眼角里朝窗外草坪上的迈克西姆膘了一眼。“我说不清楚,”他说。“看来迈克西姆并不反对,是吗?我想,他很同意这个建议呢。”

“他很难不同意,”我说。“克罗温夫人真是个讨厌的家伙。你当真相信她说的,曼陀丽的化装舞会是这儿一带的人朝夕谈论并时刻憧憬的唯一事儿吗?”

“我想他们都很喜欢有点娱乐活动,”弗兰克说。“要知道,我们这儿的人在这些事情上很有点默守成规。说实在的,克罗温夫人说该为您贺喜,我觉得并没有言过其实。德温特夫人,您毕竟是位新娘。”

这几句话听上去既浮夸又无聊。但愿弗兰克别老是这样刻板地讲究分寸。

“我可不是什么新娘,”我说。“我连像样的婚礼也没举行过,没穿白纱礼服,没戴香橙花,也没有姑娘跟随在身后当傧相。我可不要你们为我举行毫无意义的舞会。”

“张灯结彩的曼陀丽,景致分外优美动人,”弗兰克说。“我说,您一定会喜欢的。您不必费什么手脚,只要到时候出来迎接客人就行了,不会费什么劲儿。也许您愿意赏脸跟我跳一场舞吧?”

亲爱的弗兰克。我还真喜欢他那种略带几分严肃的骑士风度呐。

“你爱跳多少场,我就陪你跳多少场,”我说。“我只跟你和迈克西姆跳。”

“哦,那可太不得体了,”弗兰克郑重其事地说。“那样您会得罪客人的。谁邀请您,您就该跟谁跳。”

我忍俊不禁,赶紧掉过脸去。瞧这个老实人,上了人家当还蒙在鼓里,怪有趣的。

“克罗温夫人建议我扮德累斯顿牧羊女,你觉得这个主意可取吗?”我调皮地问。

他神情严肃地把我打量了一番,脸上没有一丝儿笑影。“是的,我觉得可取,”他说。“我想,您换上那身装束,确实很不错。”

我乐得哈哈大笑。“哦,弗兰克,亲爱的,我真喜欢你,”我说。他微微红了脸。我想,他对我脱口而出的唐突言词一定感到有点吃惊,甚至多少有点伤心吧,因为我在笑话他呢!

“我看不出我说的话有什么好笑,”他板着脸说。

迈克西姆从落地长官那儿走了进来,杰斯珀蹦跳着跟在他身后。“什么事这样高兴?”他说。

“弗兰克真有点骑士风度,”我说。“他认为克罗温夫人的建议并不可笑,似乎我真的可以扮个德累斯顿牧羊女。”

“克罗温夫人是个该死的讨厌鬼,”迈克西姆说。“如说要她写这么许多请贴,亲自去张罗这件事,她就不会这么起劲了。不过,情况向来就是这样。在本地人眼里,曼陀丽仿佛是防波堤尽头一顶供旅客歇脚的帐篷;这些人还希望我们上演个节目,给他们解解闷呢。恐怕我们得把全郡的人都请来呐!”

“我办事处里有记录,”弗兰克说。“其实也不须费什么劲。就是贴邮票花点时间。”

“这件事就偏劳你了,”迈克西姆说着,朝我笑笑。

“哦,这事由办事处负责,”弗兰克说。“德温特夫人完全不必劳神。”

假如我突然宣布有意承办舞会的全部事务,真不知他们会怎么说。也许先是哈哈大笑,接着话题一转,谈起别的事来。能卸去肩上的责任,我当然高兴,可是,想到自己甚至连贴邮票的本事也没有,又不免增加了我的自卑感。我不由得想起晨室里那张写字桌,还有那个鸽笼式文件架,每格的标签都是用那种尖头的斜体钢笔字写的。

“到时候你穿什么?”我问迈克西姆。

“我从来不化装,”迈克西姆说。“这是男主人可以享受的唯一特权。你说是吗?弗兰克?”

“德累斯顿牧羊女我实在没法扮,”我说。“我究竟该扮什么呢?化装这玩意儿我不怎么在行。”

“头上扎根缎带,扮个漫游仙境的爱丽丝不就得了,”迈克西姆调侃地说。“瞧你现在手指放在嘴里的模样,不是很像吗!”

“你说话别这么粗鲁,”我说。“我知道我的头发平直难看,可也不至于难看到那种程度。告诉你吧,我会让你和弗兰克大吃一惊的,到时候你们一定认不出我来。”

“只要你不把脸涂得墨黑,装成个猴子,任你扮什么都行,”迈克西姆说。

“好吧,就这么说定了,”我说。“我穿什么化装舞服,不到最后一分钟谁也不让知道,你们也别想打听。跟我来,杰斯珀,让他们胡说去,咱们不在乎。”我走到外面花园里的时候,听见迈克西姆在屋里笑,他还对弗兰克说了些什么,我没听清。

但愿他别老把我当小孩子看待,别把我看作一个娇生惯养、百事不管的孩子,待他兴致来了,就疼我一番,平时则多半把我丢在脑后,或者在我肩上一拍,说声“自个儿去玩吧”。但愿能想个法子使我显得比较聪明老成一些。难道就老是这样下去吗?由他一个人走在我前面,我则捉摸不透他的情绪,不明白藏在他心底的苦恼?难道我们永远不能呆在一起。他作为一个男人,我作为一个女人,肩并肩,手拉手地站在一块儿,中间没有鸿沟相隔?我不想当孩子。我要做他的妻子,他的母亲。我想变得老成一点。我站在平台上,咬着指甲,向大海那边眺望,而就在我孓身伫立的当儿,心里又嘀咕开了:西厢那些房间里的家具,是不是因为迈克西姆有吩咐,才那么原封不动地摆着?这个问题那天在我脑海里已翻腾了不知多少回。我不知道他是否也像丹弗斯太太那样,不时走进西厢,摸摸梳妆台上的发刷,打开衣柜门,还把手伸进衣堆。

“嗨,杰斯珀,”我大声呼唤。“快跑,跟我一起跑,跑呀,听见没有?”我撒开腿,发狂似地奔过草坪,心中燃烧着怒火,眼眶里噙着辛酸的热泪。杰斯珀蹦跳着跟在我身后,歇斯底里地汪汪乱叫。

有关化装舞会的消息不胫自走,一下子传开了。我的贴身使女克拉丽斯兴奋得眼睛闪光,非此莫谈。从她的态度可以看出,整个屋子的仆人都喜出望外。“弗里思先生说,这下又跟过去那时候一样啦,”克拉丽斯热切地说。“我今天早上听到他在过道里对艾丽斯这么说的。您穿什么呢,太太?”

“我也不知道,克拉丽斯,我想不出来,”我说。

“母亲要我打听清楚后告诉她,”克拉丽斯说。“上次在曼陀丽举行的舞会,她现在还记得清清楚楚,一点儿也没忘记。从伦敦租一套服装来,您看怎么样?”

“我还没拿定主意,克拉丽斯,”我说。“不过实话对你说,我决定了就告诉你,而且只告诉你一个人。这个秘密只有你我两人知道,可不能走漏半点风声。”

“哦,太太,真够刺激,”克拉丽斯压低嗓门说。“真巴不得马上就到那一天。”

我很想知道丹弗斯太太对这消息有何反应。打那天下午以来,我甚至连她在内线电话上的声音也怕听到,幸好有罗伯特在我们之间跑腿传话,我才逃脱了这一层难堪的折磨。我忘不了她在跟迈克西姆谈话后离开藏书室时的那副神情。谢天谢地,她总算没有看见我躲在画廊里。我还怀疑,她会不会以为是我把费弗尔来访的事告诉迈克西姆的。要真是这样,她一定益发恨我了。现在,我只要一想到她曾使劲掐住我的胳臂,还用那亲呢得叫人毛骨悚然的口吻在我耳边柔声细语,就不由得浑身直打哆嗦。我想把那天下午的事全抛在脑后,这就是我避免跟她交谈,甚至怕在内线电话里跟她交谈的缘故。

舞会在筹办之中。所有的准备工作似乎都是在庄园办事处里进行的,迈克西姆和弗兰克每天早上都去那儿议事。弗兰克说得不错,我一点也不必为之劳神,而且连一张邮票也没贴过。我开始为自己的化装舞服伤脑筋。在这问题上我竟一筹莫展,似乎也太无能了;我脑子里一直在盘算会有哪些人来参加舞会:有克里斯的来宾,也有这儿附近的;有从上次舞会享受莫大乐趣的主教夫人,有比阿特丽斯和贾尔斯,有那位令人讨厌的克罗温夫人,还有许许多多从未见到过我的陌生人。所有这些人都会对我评头品足,带着几分好奇心想看看我会怎么应付这种场面。最后,绝望之余,我想到了比阿特丽斯作为结婚礼送我的那本书。于是一天早晨,我在藏书室里坐定,抱着最后一线希望,翻动书页,发狂似地将插图一幅又一幅浏览一遍,可似乎又没有合适的。鲁宾斯、仑布兰特以及其他名画家复制作品里的那些豪华的天鹅绒服和丝绸服,全都是花团锦簇,工丽非凡。我抓起纸笔,随手临摹了其中一两幅,但都不中我的意。一气之下,我干脆把那几幅素描往废纸篓里一扔,再也不去想它们了。

黄昏,我正在换衣服准备去吃晚饭的当儿,忽然有人敲我卧室的房门。我说了声“进来”,心想一定是克拉丽斯。门开了,来人不是克拉丽斯,而是手里拿着张纸的丹弗斯太太。“希望您能原谅我这时来打扰您,”她说。“我拿不准您是不是真的不要这些画了,一天下来,屋子里所有的废纸篓总要拿来让我检查过目,免得无意间扔掉什么有价值的东西。罗伯特对我说,这张纸是您扔在藏书室废纸篓里的。”

一看见她我就全身发冷,一上来,连话也说不出来。她把纸塞到我跟前。我一看,原来是我早晨信手临摹的草图。

“不,丹弗斯太太,”过了一会儿,我才说。“扔了没关系。不过是张草图。我不要了。”

“那好,”她说。“我想最好还是问过您本人,免得发生误会。”

“是的,”我说,“当然是这样好。”我以为她会转身走开,不料她还是在门口踯躅着不肯离去。

“看来,您还没决定穿什么化装服?”她说,语气里多少带点嘲弄和幸灾乐祸的意味。我想,她大概从克拉丽斯那儿打听到我正为化装舞服伤脑筋。

“是的,”我说。“还没最后拿定主意。”

她继续盯着我瞧,手搁在门把上。

“我不明白,您干吗不从画廊的画像里选一幅,照样子临摹下来,”她说。

我装着磨指甲的样子,其实指甲已经很短,很脆,不宜再磨,可这样手里好歹算有事干了,而且不必抬头看她。

“是的,也许是个不坏的主意。”我嘴上这么说,心里却在暗自嘀咕;嗨,我怎么不曾想到这上头去。看来,我的这个难题可以迎刃而解啦。不过我不想让她知道,我还是不动声色地继续磨我的指甲。

“画廊里的画像,张张都提供了上乘的服装式样,”丹弗斯太太说。“尤其是那幅手拿帽子的白衣少女画像。我真不明白,德温特先生为什么不让这次舞会开成个古装舞会,大家都穿上差不多属于同一个时代的化装服,看上去也顺眼。一个小丑跟一位敷了脂粉、贴着美容斑①的太太翩翩起舞,看着总觉得别扭。”“有人喜欢花样多一些,”我说。“他们觉得这样才更有意思。”——

①指十七、十八世纪欧洲贵妇脸上的黑色美容贴片。

“我可不喜欢,”丹弗斯太太说。叫我呼惊的是,她此刻说话的口吻不但同常人一样,而且显得相当友好。我不知道她为什么不嫌其烦,把我扔掉的草图亲自给我送来。她终于想跟我握手言和了?要不她已经打听清楚,我根本没有在迈克西姆面前告费弗尔的状,所以就用这种方式对我的缄默表示感谢?

“德温特先生没有建议您穿什么样的化装服吗?”她说。

“没有,”我迟疑了一会说。“不,我要让他和克劳利先生大吃一惊。在这件事情上,我什么也不想让他们知道。”

“我知道,我不配给您提什么建议,”她说。“不过要是您最后决定了,我劝您还是让伦敦的铺子给您赶制服装。这类事情这儿没人能做得像样的。据我所知,邦德大街的沃斯成衣铺,缝工很出色。”

“我一定记在心里,”我说。

“那好,”她一边开门,一边接着说,“太太,要是换了我,一定仔仔细细琢磨画廊里的那些画,尤其是我刚才提到的那幅。您不必担心我会把您的秘密泄漏出去。我一定守口如瓶。”

“谢谢你,丹弗斯太太,”我说。她走出屋去,轻手轻脚地把门带上。我继续更衣。她今天的态度跟我们上次见面时比,判若两人,真叫人捉摸不透,说不定这还得归功于那个讨厌的费弗尔呢。

吕蓓卡的表兄。为什么迈克西姆不喜欢吕蓓卡的表兄?为什么不许他上曼陀丽来?比阿特丽斯称他为浪荡公子,别的就没多说什么。我越想越觉得比阿特丽斯说的有道理。那双火辣辣的蓝眼睛,那张肌肉松弛的嘴,还有那种肆无忌惮的笑声。有的人可能会觉得他迷人,例如,糖果店柜台后面那些格格嘻笑的小妞儿,还有电影院里发售说明书的姑娘。我能想象此人会怎么笑咪咪地包眼瞅着她们,嘴里嘘嘘轻声吹着小调。那种目光,那种口哨,会让人感到浑身不舒服。我不清楚他对曼陀丽有多熟悉,看来似乎像在家一样随便,杰斯珀也肯定认得他。可是这两宗事实,同迈克西姆对丹弗斯太太说的话却对不起口径。而且,我也没法把此人跟我想象中的吕蓓卡联系在一起。吕蓓卡姿色出众,妖冶诱人,教养不凡,怎么会有个像费弗尔那样的表兄?这岂非咄咄怪事。我料定他是家庭里见不得人的丑类。吕蓓卡为人豁达,对他不时示以同情,同时也知道迈克西姆不喜欢他,所以就趁迈克西姆外出的当儿,邀他来曼陀丽作客。这一来也许就发生了某些龃龉,而吕蓓卡又总是袒护表兄,所以此后只要一提起费弗尔这个人,总会出现多少有点尴尬的局面。

晚餐时,我在餐厅的老位置上坐定。迈克西姆居首席。这时,我不禁浮想联翩,想象着吕蓓卡正坐在我现在的位置上,拿起刀叉准备吃鱼。电话铃响了,弗里思进来通报:“太太,费弗尔先生等您听电话。”吕蓓卡从椅子上站起,朝迈克西姆飞快扫了一眼,而迈克西姆呢,一声不吱,只顾埋头吃鱼。她听完电话回来,重新入座,用一种满不在乎的轻快口吻谈起一些不相干的事儿,借此掩饰笼罩在他们之间的那层朦胧阴影。起初,迈克西姆沉着脸,嗯嗯啊啊地勉强应答;后来她告诉他今天遇上了什么事,在克里斯见到了谁,终于渐渐驱散了他心头的阴霾,使他心情重新开朗起来。这就样,等到他们吃完下一道菜的时候,他又开怀大笑了。他微笑着看她,还从桌子这头向她伸过手去。

“瞧你这么出神,究竟在想些什么啊?”迈克西姆说。

我吓了一跳,脸蓦地红了。这一瞬间,大概有六十秒的工夫吧,我竟然和吕蓓卡融成一体,而我自己这具呆板无味的形体已不复存在,根本就没上曼陀丽这儿来过。我的思想,我的肉体,整个儿都遇到昔日的飘渺幻境之中。

“你可知道,你没在吃鱼,而是在挤眉噘嘴,做着一连串莫名其妙的滑稽动作?”迈克西姆说。“起先,你竖起耳朵,似乎听到了电话铃声,接着你嘴里念念有词,偷偷瞟我一眼。后来,你又摇头,又抿嘴微笑,又耸肩膀,大概只用一秒钟就做了这一系列的动作。你在练习怎么在化装舞会上漏脸亮相吧?”他从桌子那头望着我,呵呵大笑。我暗自思忖,要是他真的看透了我的思想、我的心情、我的悬念,知道刚才那一瞬间我把他当作往年的迈克西姆,而我自己俨然成了吕蓓卡,他会怎么说?“你看上去活像个调皮的小捣蛋,”他说。“告诉我是怎么回事?”

“没什么,”我赶忙说。“我什么也没干。”

“告诉我你刚才想什么来着?”

“干吗要告诉你?你从来就不告诉我你自己在想些什么。”

“你好像从来没问起过,对吗?”

“不,有一次我问过你。”

“我不记得了。”

“那是在藏书室里。”

“很可能的。当时我怎么说?”

“你对我说,你在想塞雷队选中了谁来与中塞克斯队对垒。”

迈克西姆又是哈哈一笑。“你大失所望了。你希望我在想什么呢?”

“另外一些很不同的事。”

“什么样的事?”

“哦,那我就说不上来啦。”

“是嘛,我想你没法说的。要是我告诉你,我在想塞雷队和中塞克斯队,那我就是在想塞雷队和中塞克斯队。我们男人要比你想象的来得直率,我亲爱的小宝贝。可是谁也没法捉摸女人弯来绕去的脑子里在转些什么念头。你可知道,你刚才的模样一点也不像你本人?你脸上的神态跟往常大不一样。”

“是吗?什么样的神态?”

“我觉得自己也说不清楚。你一下突然变得老多了,一副狡诈的样子。看上去很不顺眼。”

“我不是有意要那样的。”

“是呀,我想那也不是你的本意。”

我端起杯子喝水,一边从杯口上方瞅着他。

“你不想要我显得年长几岁吗?”我说。

“不。”

“为什么?”

“因为那对你不合适。”

“总有一天我会变个老太婆,这是免不了的。我头上会长出白发,脸上会布满皱纹,显出老态。”

“这些我不在乎。”

“那你在乎什么呢?”

“我不希望看到你刚才的那副模样。你嘴巴一歪,眼睛里闪着领悟到某种事理的灵光,不过那可是种不该明白的事理。”

这话好生奇怪,我不由得一阵冲动:“迈克西姆,你这话是什么意思?哪会有什么不该明白的事理呢?”

他并没有立即回答我的问题。弗里思走进餐厅,撒换桌上的菜盘。迈克西姆等弗里思转到屏风后面,打那道专供上菜进出的边门出去之后,才接着说。

“我初次遇见你的时候,你脸上带有某种表情,”他慢条斯理地说。“你现在仍然带着这种神情。我不打算具体加以描述,老实说我也描述不好。不管怎么说,这可是我娶你的一个原因。可是刚才,就在你挤眉噘嘴,作出一些怪动作的时候,那种表情却消失不见了。取而代之的是另外一种表情。”

“什么样的表情?你讲呀,迈克西姆,”我急切地说。

他打量我一眼,眉毛一扬,轻轻吹了一声口哨。“听着,我的宝贝。在你还是个小姑娘的时候,大人是不是不许你看某些禁书?你父亲是不是还把这些书锁得严严实实的?”

“是这样,”我说。

“那就是了。丈夫毕竟跟父亲差不了多少。对于某种事理,我宁可不让你茅塞顿开,最好也把它严严实实地锁起来。就是这么回事。好了,现在吃你的桃子吧,别再冲着我间这问那了,否则我可要罚你立壁角。”

“我希望你别把我当个六岁的小孩子,”我说。

“那要我怎么对待你呢?”

“要像别的男人对待他们妻子那样。”

“你的意思是要我揍你?”

“别这么没真没假的,行吗?干吗对什么事都要开一下玩笑呢?”

“我可没在说笑话。我是很严肃的。”

“你才不呢。我可以从你的眼神里看出来。你一直在逗弄我,好像我是个傻丫头。”

“漫游仙境的爱丽丝。这可是我给你出的一个好主意。腰带和束发缎带买了没有?”

“我警告你,看到我穿上化装舞服的时候,可别傻了眼。”

“那还用说,一定会惊得目瞪目呆、快把桃子咽下去吧,别把东西含在嘴里说话。饭后我还要写不少信。”他不等我吃完就站起身,在屋里踱来踱去。随后吩咐弗里思把咖啡送到藏书室去。我一声不吭地坐着,满肚子怨气;我故意慢腾腾地吃,尽量拖时间,想惹他发火。可是弗里思一点也不顾及我和我的那盘桃子,立即把咖啡送了去,于是迈克西姆也就独自上藏书室去了。

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-05-01#98
chapter sixteen

It was one Sunday, I remember, when we had an invasion of visitors during the afternoon, that the subject of the fancy dress ball was first brought up. Frank Crawley had come over to lunch, and we were all three of us looking forward to a peaceful afternoon under the chestnut tree when we heard the fatal sound of a car rounding the sweep in the drive. It was too late to warn Frith, the car itself came upon us standing on the terrace with cushions and papers under our arms. We had to come forward and welcome the unexpected guests. As often happens in such cases, these were not to be the only visitors. Another car arrived about half an hour afterwards, followed by three local people who had walked from Kerrith, and we found ourselves, with the peace stripped from our day, entertaining group after group of dreary acquaintances, doing the regulation walk in the grounds, the tour of the rose-garden, the stroll across the lawns, and the formal inspection of the Happy Valley. They stayed for tea of course, and instead of a lazy nibbling of cucumber sandwiches under the chestnut tree, we had the paraphernalia of a stiff tea in the drawing-room, which I always loathed. Frith in his element of course, directing Robert with a lift of his eyebrows, and myself rather hot and flustered with a monstrous silver teapot and kettle that I never knew how to manage. I found it very difficult to gauge the exact moment when it became imperative to dilute the tea with the boiling water, and more difficult still to concentrate on the small talk that was going on at my side. Frank Crawley was invaluable at a moment like this.

He took the cups from me and handed them to people, and when my answers seemed more than usually vague owing to my concentration on the silver teapot he quietly and unobtrusively put in his small wedge to the conversation, relieving me of responsibility. Maxim was always at the other end of the room, showing a book to a bore, or pointing out a picture, playing the perfect host in his own inimitable way, and the business of tea was a side-issue that did not matter to him. His own cup of tea grew cold, left on a side table behind some flowers, and I, steaming behind my kettle, and Frank gallantly juggling with scones and angel cake, were left to minister to the common wants of the herd. It was Lady Crowan, a tiresome gushing woman who lived in Kerrith, who introduced the matter. There was one of those pauses in conversation that happen in every teaparty, and I saw Frank's lips about to form the inevitable and idiotic remark about an angel passing overhead, when Lady Crowan, balancing a piece of cake on the edge of her saucer, looked up at Maxim who happened to be beside her. 'Oh, Mr de Winter, ' she said, 'there is something I've been wanting to ask you for ages. Now tell me, is there any chance of you reviving the Manderley fancy dress ball?' She put her head on one side as she spoke, flashing her too prominent teeth in what she supposed was a smile. I lowered my head instantly, and became very busy with the emptying of my own teacup, screening myself behind the cosy. It was a moment or two before Maxim replied, and when he did his voice was quite calm and matter-of-fact. 'I haven't thought about it, ' he said, 'and I don't think anyone else has. ' 'Oh, but I assure you we have all thought of it so much, ' continued Lady Crowan. 'It used to make the summer for all of us in this part of the world. You have no idea of the pleasure it used to give. Can't I persuade you to think about it again?' 'Well, I don't know, ' said Maxim drily. 'It was all rather a business to organize. You had better ask Frank Crawley, he'd have to do it. ' 'Oh, Mr Crawley, do be on my side, ' she persisted, and one or two of the others joined in. 'It would be a most popular move, you know, we all miss the Manderley gaiety. ' I heard Frank's quiet voice beside me. 'I don't mind organizing the ball if Maxim has no objection to giving it. It's up to him and Mrs de Winter. It's nothing to do with me. ' Of course I was bombarded at once.

Lady Crowan moved her chair so that the cosy no longer hid me from view. 'Now, Mrs de Winter, you get round your husband. You are the person he will listen to. He should give the ball in your honour as the bride. ' 'Yes, of course, ' said somebody else, a man. 'We missed the fun of the wedding, you know; it's a shame to deprive us of all excitement. Hands up for the Manderley fancy dress ball. There you see, de Winter? Carried unanimously. ' There was much laughter and clapping of hands. Maxim lit a cigarette and his eyes met mine over the teapot. 'What do you think about it?' he said. 'I don't know, ' I said uncertainly. 'I don't mind. ' 'Of course she longs to have a ball in her honour, ' gushed Lady Crowan. 'What girl wouldn't? You'd look sweet, Mrs de Winter, dressed as a little Dresden shepherdess, your hair tucked under a big three-cornered hat. ' I thought of my clumsy hands and feet and the slope of my shoulders. A fine Dresden shepherdess I should make! What an idiot the woman was. I was not surprised when nobody agreed with her, and once more I was grateful to Frank for turning the conversation away from me. 'As a matter of fact, Maxim, someone was talking about it the other day. "I suppose we shall be having some sort of celebration for the bride, shan't we, Mr Crawley?" he said. "I wish Mr de Winter would give a ball again. It was rare fun for all of us. " It was Tucker at the home farm, ' he added, to Lady Crowan. 'Of course they do adore a show of any kind. I don't know, I told him. Mr de Winter hasn't said anything to me. ' 'There you are, ' said Lady Crowan triumphantly to the drawing-room in general. 'What did I say? Your own people are asking for a ball. If you don't care for us, surely you care about them. ' Maxim still watched me doubtfully over the teapot. It occurred to me that perhaps he thought I could not face it, that being shy, as he knew only too well, I should find myself unable to cope. I did not want him to think that. I did not want him to feel I should let him down. 'I think it would be rather fun, ' I said. Maxim turned away, shrugging his shoulders. "That settles it of course, ' he said. 'All right, Frank, you will have to go ahead with the arrangements. Better get Mrs Danvers to help you. She will remember the form. ' 'That amazing Mrs Danvers is still with you then?' said Lady Crowan. 'Yes, ' said Maxim shortly, 'have some more cake, will you? Or have you finished?

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Then let's all go into the garden. ' We wandered out on to the terrace, everyone discussing the prospect of the ball and suitable dates, and then, greatly to my relief, the car parties decided it was time to take their departure, and the walkers went too, on being offered a lift. I went back into the drawing-room and had another cup of tea which I thoroughly enjoyed now that the burden of entertaining had been taken from me, and Frank came too, and we crumbled up the remains of the scones and ate them, feeling like conspirators. Maxim was throwing sticks for Jasper on the lawn. I wondered if it was the same in every home, this feeling of exuberance when visitors had gone. We did not say anything about the ball for a little while, and then, when I had finished my cup of tea and wiped my sticky fingers on a handkerchief, I said to Frank: 'What do you truthfully think about this fancy dress business?' Frank hesitated, half glancing out of the window at Maxim on the lawn. 'I don't know, ' he said. 'Maxim did not seem to object, did he? I thought he took the suggestion very well, ' 'It was difficult for him to do anything else, ' I said. 'What a tiresome person Lady Crowan is. Do you really believe all the people round here are talking and dreaming of nothing but a fancy dress ball at Manderley?' 'I think they would all enjoy a show of some sort, ' said Frank. 'We're very conventional down here, you know, about these things. I don't honestly think Lady Crowan was exaggerating when she said something should be done in your honour. After all, Mrs de Winter, you are a bride. ' How pompous and stupid it sounded. I wished Frank would not always be so terribly correct. 'I'm not a bride, ' I said. 'I did not even have a proper wedding. No white dress or orange blossom or trailing bridesmaids. I don't want any silly dance given in my honour. ' 'It's a very fine sight, Manderley en fete, ' said Frank. 'You'll enjoy it, you see. You won't have to do anything alarming. You just receive the guests and there's nothing in that. Perhaps you'll give me a dance?' Dear Frank. I loved his little solemn air of gallantry. 'You shall have as many dances as you like, ' I said. 'I shan't dance with anyone except you and Maxim. ' 'Oh, but that would not look right at all, ' said Frank seriously. 'People would be very offended. You must dance with the people who ask you. ' I turned away to hide my smile.

It was a joy to me the way he never knew when his leg had been pulled. 'Do you think Lady Crowan's suggestion about the Dresden shepherdess was a good one?' I said slyly. He considered me solemnly without the trace of a smile. 'Yes, I do, ' he said. 'I think you'd look very well indeed. ' I burst into laughter. 'Oh, Frank, dear, I do love you, ' I said, and he turned rather pink, a little shocked I think at my impulsive words, and a little hurt too that I was laughing at him. 'I don't see that I've said anything funny, ' he said stiffly. Maxim came in at the window, Jasper dancing at his heels. 'What's all the excitement about?' he said. 'Frank is being so gallant, ' I said. 'He thinks Lady Crowan's idea of my dressing up as a Dresden shepherdess is nothing to laugh at. ' 'Lady Crowan is a damned nuisance, ' said Maxim. 'If she had to write out all the invitations and organize the affair she would not be so enthusiastic. It's always been the same though. The locals look upon Manderley as if it was a pavilion on the end of a pier, and expect us to put up a turn for their benefit. I suppose we shall have to ask the whole county. ' 'I've got the records in the office, ' said Frank. 'It won't really entail much work. Licking the stamps is the longest job. ' 'We'll give that to you to do, ' said Maxim, smiling at me. 'Oh, we'll do that in the office, ' said Frank. 'Mrs de Winter need not bother her head about anything at all. ' I wondered what they would say if I suddenly announced my intention of running the whole affair. Laugh, I supposed, and then begin talking of something else. I was glad, of course, to be relieved of responsibility, but it rather added to my sense of humility to feel that I was not even capable of licking stamps. I thought of the writing-desk in the morning-room, the docketed pigeonholes all marked in ink by that slanting pointed hand. 'What will you wear?' I said to Maxim. 'I never dress up, ' said Maxim. 'It's the one perquisite allowed to the host, isn't it, Frank?' 'I can't really go as a Dresden shepherdess, ' I said, 'what on earth shall I do? I'm not much good at dressing up. ' 'Put a ribbon round your hair and be Alice-in-Wonderland, ' said Maxim lightly; 'you look like it now, with your finger in your mouth. ' 'Don't be so rude, ' I said. 'I know my hair is straight, but it isn't as straight as that.

I tell you what, I'll give you and Frank the surprise of your lives, and you won't know me. ' 'As long as you don't black your face and pretend to be a monkey I don't mind what you do, ' said Maxim. 'All right, that's a bargain, ' I said. 'I'll keep my costume a secret to the last minute, and you won't know anything about it. Come on, Jasper, we don't care what they say, do we?' I heard Maxim laughing at I went out into the garden, and he said something to Frank which I did not catch. I wished he would not always treat me as a child, rather spoilt, rather irresponsible, someone to be petted from time to time when the mood came upon him but more often forgotten, more often patted on the shoulder and told to run away and play. I wished something would happen to make me look wiser, more mature. Was it always going to be like this? He away ahead of me, with his own moods that I did not share, his secret troubles that I did not know? Would we never be together, he a man and I a woman, standing shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, with no gulf between us? I did not want to be a child. I wanted to be his wife, his mother. I wanted to be old. I stood on the terrace, biting my nails, looking down towards the sea, and as I stood there I wondered for the twentieth time that day whether it was by Maxim's orders that those rooms in the west wing were kept furnished and untouched. I wondered if he went, as Mrs Danvers did, and touched the brushes on the dressing-table, opened the wardrobe doors, and put his hands amongst the clothes. 'Come on, Jasper, ' I shouted, 'run, run with me, come on, can't you?' and I tore across the grass, savagely, angrily, the bitter tears behind my eyes, with Jasper leaping at my heels and barking hysterically. The news soon spread about the fancy dress ball. My little maid Clarice, her eyes shining with excitement, talked of nothing else. I gathered from her that the servants in general were delighted. 'Mr Frith says it will be like old times, ' said Clarice eagerly. 'I heard him saying so to Alice in the passage this morning. What will you wear, Madam?' 'I don't know, Clarice, I can't think, ' I said. 'Mother said I was to be sure and tell her, ' said Clarice. 'She remembers the last ball they gave at Manderley, and she has never forgotten it. Will you be hiring a costume from London, do you think?' 'I haven't made up my mind, Clarice, ' I said. 'But I tell you what. When I do decide, I shall tell you and nobody else.

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It will be a dead secret between us both. ' 'Oh, Madam, how exciting, ' breathed Clarice. 'I don't know how I am going to wait for the day. ' I was curious to know Mrs Danvers' reaction to the news. Since that afternoon I dreaded even the sound of her voice down the house telephone, and by using Robert as mediator between us I was spared this last ordeal. I could not forget the expression of her face when she left the library after that interview with Maxim. I thanked God she had not seen me crouching in the gallery. And I wondered, too, if she thought that it was I who had told Maxim about Favell's visit to the house. If so, she would hate me more than ever. I shuddered now when I remembered the touch of her hand on my arm, and that dreadful soft, intimate pitch of her voice close to my ear. I did not want to remember anything about that afternoon. That was why I did not speak to her, not even on the house telephone. The preparations went on for the ball. Everything seemed to be done down at the estate office. Maxim and Frank were down there every morning. As Frank had said, I did not have to bother my head about anything. I don't think I licked one stamp. I began to get in a panic about my costume. It seemed so feeble not to be able to think of anything, and I kept remembering all the people who would come, from Kerrith and round about, the bishop's wife who had enjoyed herself so much the last time, Beatrice and Giles, that tiresome Lady Crowan, and many more people I did not know and who had never seen me, they would every one of them have some criticism to offer, some curiosity to know what sort of effort I should make. At last, in desperation, I remembered the books that Beatrice had given me for a wedding present, and I sat down in the library one morning turning over the pages as a last hope, passing from illustration to illustration in a sort of frenzy. Nothing seemed suitable, they were all so elaborate and pretentious, those gorgeous costumes of velvet and silk in the reproductions given of Rubens, Rembrandt and others. I got hold of a piece of paper and a pencil and copied one or two of them, but they did not please me, and I threw the sketches into the waste-paper basket in disgust, thinking no more about them. In the evening, when I was changing for dinner, there was a knock at my bedroom door. I called 'Come in, ' thinking it was Clarice.

The door opened and it was not Clarice. It was Mrs Danvers. She held a piece of paper in her hand. 'I hope you will forgive me disturbing you, ' she said, 'but I was not sure whether you meant to throw these drawings away. All the waste-paper baskets are always brought to me to check, at the end of the day, in case of mislaying anything of value. Robert told me this was thrown into the library basket. ' I had turned quite cold all over at the sight of her, and at first I could not find my voice. She held out the paper for me to see. It was the rough drawing I had done during the morning. 'No, Mrs Danvers, ' I said, after a moment, 'it doesn't matter throwing that away. It was only a rough sketch. I don't want it. ' 'Very good, ' she said, 'I thought it better to inquire from you personally to save any misunderstanding. ' 'Yes, ' I said. 'Yes, of course. ' I thought she would turn and go, but she went on standing there by the door. 'So you have not decided yet what you will wear?' she said. There was a hint of derision in her voice, a trace of odd satisfaction. I supposed she had heard of my efforts through Clarice in some way. 'No, ' I said. 'No, I haven't decided. ' She continued watching me, her hand on the handle of the door. 'I wonder you don't copy one of the pictures in the gallery, ' she said. I pretended to file my nails. They were too short and too brittle, but the action gave me something to do and I did not have to look at her. 'Yes, I might think about that, ' I said. I wondered privately why such an idea had never come to me before. It was an obvious and very good solution to my difficulty. I did not want her to know this though. I went on filing my nails. 'All the pictures in the gallery would make good costumes, ' said Mrs Danvers, 'especially that one of the young lady in white, with her hat in her hand. I wonder Mr de Winter does not make it a period ball, everyone dressed more or less the same, to be in keeping. I never think it looks right to see a clown dancing with a lady in powder and patches. ' 'Some people enjoy the variety, ' I said. 'They think it makes it all the more amusing. ' 'I don't like it myself, ' said Mrs Danvers. Her voice was surprisingly normal and friendly, and I wondered why it was she had taken the trouble to come up with my discarded sketch herself.

Did she want to be friends with me at last? Or did she realize that it had not been me at all who had told Maxim about Favell, and this was her way of thanking me for my silence? 'Has not Mr de Winter suggested a costume for you?' she said. 'No, ' I said, after a moment's hesitation. 'No, I want to surprise him and Mr Crawley. I don't want them to know anything about it. ' 'It's not for me to make a suggestion, I know, ' she said, 'but when you do decide, I should advise you to have your dress made in London. There is no one down here can do that sort of thing well. Voce, in Bond Street, is a good place I know. ' 'I must remember that, ' I said. 'Yes, ' she said, and then, as she opened the door, 'I should study the pictures in the gallery, Madam, if I were you, especially the one I mentioned. And you need not think I will give you away. I won't say a word to anyone. ' "Thank you, Mrs Danvers, ' I said. She shut the door very gently behind her. I went on with my dressing, puzzled at her attitude, so different from our last encounter, and wondering whether I had the unpleasant Favell to thank for it. Rebecca's cousin. Why should Maxim dislike Rebecca's cousin? Why had he forbidden him to come to Manderley? Beatrice had called him a bounder. She had not said much about him. And the more I considered him the more I agreed with her. Those hot blue eyes, that loose mouth, and the careless familiar laugh. Some people would consider him attractive. Girls in sweet shops giggling behind the counter, and girls who gave one programmes in a cinema. I knew how he would look at them, smiling, and half whistling a tune under his breath. The sort of look and the type of whistle that would make one feel uncomfortable. I wondered how well he knew Manderley. He seemed quite at home, and Jasper certainly recognized him, but these two facts did not fit in with Maxim's words to Mrs Danvers. And I could not connect him with my idea of Rebecca. Rebecca, with her beauty, her charm, her breeding, why did she have a cousin like Jack Favell? It was wrong, out of all proportion. I decided he must be the skeleton in the family cupboard, and Rebecca with her generosity had taken pity on him from time to time and invited him to Manderley, perhaps when Maxim was from home, knowing his dislike. There had been some argument about it probably, Rebecca defending him, and ever after this perhaps a slight awkwardness whenever his name was mentioned.

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As I sat down to dinner in the dining-room in my accustomed place, with Maxim at the head of the table, I pictured Rebecca sitting in where I sat now, picking up her fork for the fish, and then the telephone ringing and Frith coming into the room and saying 'Mr Favell on the phone, Madam, wishing to speak to you, ' and Rebecca would get up from her chair with a quick glance at Maxim, who would not say anything, who would go on eating his fish. And when she came back, having finished her conversation, and sat down in her place again, Rebecca would begin talking about something different, in a gay, careless way, to cover up the little cloud between them. At first Maxim would be glum, answering in monosyllables, but little by little she would win his humour back again, telling him some story of her day, about someone she had seen in Kerrith, and when they had finished the next course he would be laughing again, looking at her and smiling, putting out his hand to her across the table. 'What the devil are you thinking about?' said Maxim. I started, the colour flooding my face, for in that brief moment, sixty seconds in time perhaps, I had so identified myself with Rebecca that my own dull self did not exist, had never come to Manderley. I had gone back in thought and in person to the days that were gone. 'Do you know you were going through the most extraordinary antics instead of eating your fish?' said Maxim. 'First you listened, as though you heard the telephone, and then your lips moved, and you threw half a glance at me. And you shook your head, and smiled, and shrugged your shoulders. All in about a second. Are you practising your appearance for the fancy dress ball?' He looked across at me, laughing, and I wondered what he would say if he really knew my thoughts, my heart, and my mind, and that for one second he had been the Maxim of another year, and I had been Rebecca. 'You look like a little criminal, ' he said, 'what is it?' 'Nothing, ' I said quickly, 'I wasn't doing anything. ' 'Tell me what you were thinking?' 'Why should I? You never tell me what you are thinking about. ' 'I don't think you've ever asked me, have you?' 'Yes, I did once. ' 'I don't remember. ' 'We were in the library. ' 'Very probably. What did I say?' 'You told me you were wondering who had been chosen to play for Surrey against Middlesex. ' Maxim laughed again. 'What a disappointment to you. What did you hope I was thinking?' 'Something very different. ' 'What sort of thing?' 'Oh, I don't know. ' 'No, I don't suppose you do. If I told you I was thinking about Surrey and Middlesex I was thinking about Surrey and Middlesex. Men are simpler than you imagine, my sweet child. But what goes on in the twisted tortuous minds of women would baffle anyone. Do you know, you did not look a bit like yourself just now? You had quite a different expression on your face. ' 'I did? What sort of expression?' 'I don't know that I can explain.

You looked older suddenly, deceitful. It was rather unpleasant. ' 'I did not mean to. ' 'No, I don't suppose you did. ' I drank some water, watching him over the rim of my glass. 'Don't you want me to look older?' I said. 'No: 'Why not?' 'Because it would not suit you. ' 'One day I shall. It can't be helped. I shall have grey hair, and lines and things. ' 'I don't mind that. ' 'What do you mind then?' 'I don't want you to look like you did just now. You had a twist to your mouth and a flash of knowledge in your eyes. Not the right sort of knowledge. ' I felt very curious, rather excited. 'What do you mean, Maxim? What isn't the right sort of knowledge?' He did not answer for a moment. Frith had come back into the room and was changing the plates. Maxim waited until Frith had gone behind the screen and through the service door before speaking again. 'When I met you first you had a certain expression on your face, ' he said slowly, 'and you have it still. I'm not going to define it, I don't know how to. But it was one of the reasons why I married you. A moment ago, when you were going through that curious little performance, the expression had gone. Something else had taken its place. ' 'What sort of thing? Explain to me, Maxim, ' I said eagerly. He considered me a moment, his eyebrows raised, whistling softly. 'Listen, my sweet. When you were a little girl, were you ever forbidden to read certain books, and did your father put those books under lock and key?' 'Yes, ' I said. 'Well, then. A husband is not so very different from a father after all. There is a certain type of knowledge I prefer you not to have. It's better kept under lock and key. So that's that. And now eat up your peaches, and don't ask me any more questions, or I shall put you in the corner. ' 'I wish you would not treat me as if I was six, ' I said. 'How do you want to be treated?' 'Like other men treat their wives. ' 'Knock you about, you mean?' 'Don't be absurd. Why must you make a joke of everything?' 'I'm not joking. I'm very serious. ' 'No, you're not. I can tell by your eyes. You're playing with me all the time, just as if I was a silly little girl. ' 'Alice-in-Wonderland. That was a good idea of mine. Have you bought your sash and your hair-ribbon yet?' 'I warn you. You'll get the surprise of your life when you do see me in my fancy dress. ' 'I'm sure I shall. Get on with your peach and don't talk with your mouth full. I've got a lot of letters to write after dinner. '

He did not wait for me to finish. He got up and strolled about the room, and asked Frith to bring the coffee in the library. I sat still, sullenly, being as slow as I could, hoping to keep things back and irritate him, but Frith took no notice of me and my peach, he brought the coffee at once and Maxim went off to the library by himself. When I had finished I went upstairs to the minstrels' gallery to have a look at the pictures. I knew them well of course by now, but had never studied them with a view to reproducing one of them as a fancy dress. Mrs Danvers was right of course. What an idiot I had been not to think of it before. I always loved the girl in white, with a hat in her hand. It was a Raeburn, and the portrait was of Caroline de Winter, a sister of Maxim's great-great grandfather. She married a great Whig politician, and was a famous London beauty for many years, but this portrait was painted before that, when she was still unmarried. The white dress should be easy to copy. Those puffed sleeves, the flounce, and the little bodice. The hat might be rather difficult, and I should have to wear a wig. My straight hair would never curl in that way. Perhaps that Voce place in London that Mrs Danvers had told me about would do the whole thing. I would send them a sketch of the portrait and tell them to copy it faithfully, sending my measurements. What a relief it was to have decided at last! Quite a weight off my mind. I began almost to look forward to the ball. Perhaps I should enjoy it after all, almost as much as little Clarice. I wrote to the shop in the morning, enclosing a sketch of the portrait, and I had a very favourable reply, full of honour at my esteemed order, and saying the work would be put in hand right away, and they would manage the wig as well. Clarice could hardly contain herself for excitement, and I, too, began to get party fever as the great day approached. Giles and Beatrice were coming for the night, but nobody else, thank heaven, although a lot of people were expected to dinner first. I had imagined we should have to hold a large house-party for the occasion, but Maxim decided against it. 'Having the dance alone is quite enough effort, ' he said; and I wondered whether he did it for my sake alone, or whether a large crowd of people really bored him as he said.

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I had heard so much of the Manderley parties in the old days, with people sleeping in bathrooms and on sofas because of the squash. And here we were alone in the vast house, with only Beatrice and Giles to count as guests. The house began to wear a new, expectant air. Men came to lay the floor for dancing in the great hall, and in the drawing-room some of the furniture was moved so that the long buffet tables could be placed against the wall. Lights were put up on the terrace, and in the rose-garden too, wherever one walked there would be some sign of preparation for the ball. Workmen from the estate were everywhere, and Frank came to lunch nearly every day. The servants talked of nothing else, and Frith stalked about as though the whole of the evening would depend on him alone. Robert rather lost his head, and kept forgetting things, napkins at lunch, and handing vegetables. He wore a harassed expression, like someone who has got to catch a train. The dogs were miserable. Jasper trailed about the hall with his tail between his legs, and nipped every workman on sight. He used to stand on the terrace, barking idiotically, and then dash madly to one corner of the lawn and eat grass in a sort of frenzy. Mrs Danvers never obtruded herself, but I was aware of her continually. It was her voice I heard in the drawing-room when they came to put the tables, it was she who gave directions for the laying of the floor in the hall. Whenever I came upon the scene she had always just disappeared; I would catch a glimpse of her skirt brushing the door, or hear the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. I was a lay-figure, no use to man or beast. I used to stand about doing nothing except get in the way. 'Excuse me, Madam, ' I would hear a man say, just behind me, and he would pass, with a smile of apology, carrying two chairs on his back, his face dripping with perspiration. 'I'm awfully sorry, ' I would say, getting quickly to one side, and then as a cover to my idleness, 'Can I help you? What about putting those chairs in the library?' The man would look bewildered. 'Mrs Danvers' orders, Madam, was that we were to take the chairs round to the back, to be out of the way. ' 'Oh, ' I said, 'yes, of course. How silly of me. Take them round to the back, as she said. '

And I would walk quickly away murmuring something about finding a piece of paper and a pencil, in a vain attempt to delude the man into thinking I was busy, while he went on across the hall, looking rather astonished, and I would feel I had not deceived him for a moment. The great day dawned misty and overcast, but the glass was high and we had no fears. The mist was a good sign. It cleared about eleven, as Maxim had foretold, and we had a glorious still summer's day without a cloud in the blue sky. All the morning the gardeners were bringing flowers into the house, the last of the white lilac, and great lupins and delphiniums, five foot high, roses in hundreds, and every sort of lily. Mrs Danvers showed herself at last; quietly, calmly, she told the gardeners where to put the flowers, and she herself arranged them, stacking the vases with quick, deft fingers. I watched her in fascination, the way she did vase after vase, carrying them herself through the flower-room to the drawing-room and the various corners of the house, massing them in just the right numbers and profusion, putting colour where colour was needed, leaving the walls bare where severity paid. Maxim and I had lunch with Frank at his bachelor establishment next-door to the office to be out of the way. We were all three in the rather hearty, cheerful humour of people after a funeral. We made pointless jokes about nothing at all, our minds eternally on the thought of the next few hours. I felt very much the same as I did the morning I was married. The same stifled feeling that I had gone too far now to turn back. The evening had got to be endured. Thank heaven Messrs Voce had sent my dress in time. It looked perfect, in its folds of tissue paper. And the wig was a triumph. I had tried it on after breakfast, and was amazed at the transformation. I looked quite attractive, quite different altogether. Not me at all. Someone much more interesting, more vivid and alive.

Maxim and Frank kept asking me about my costume. 'You won't know me, ' I told them, 'you will both get the shock of your lives. ' 'You are not going to dress up as a clown, are you?' said Maxim gloomily. 'No frightful attempt to be funny?' 'No, nothing like that, ' I said, full of importance. 'I wish you had kept to Alice-in-Wonderland, ' he said. 'Or Joan of Arc with your hair, ' said Frank shyly. 'I never thought of that, ' I said blankly, and Frank went rather pink. 'I'm sure we shall like whatever you wear, ' he said in his most pompous Frankish voice. 'Don't encourage her, Frank, ' said Maxim. 'She's so full of her precious disguise already there's no holding her. Bee will put you in your place, that's one comfort. She'll soon tell you if she doesn't like your dress. Dear old Bee always looks just wrong on these occasions, bless her. I remember her once as Madame Pompadour and she tripped up going in to supper and her wig came adrift. "I can't stand this damned thing, " she said, in that blunt voice of hers, and chucked it on a chair and went through the rest of the evening with her own cropped hair. You can imagine what it looked like, against a pale blue satin crinoline, or whatever the dress was. Poor Giles did not cope that year. He came as a cook, and sat about in the bar all night looking perfectly miserable. I think he felt Bee had let him down. ' 'No, it wasn't that, ' said Frank, 'he'd lost his front teeth trying out a new mare, don't you remember, and he was so shy about it he wouldn't open his mouth. ' 'Oh, was that it? Poor Giles. He generally enjoys dressing up. ' 'Beatrice says he loves playing charades, ' I said. 'She told me they always have charades at Christmas. ' T know, ' said Maxim, 'that's why I've never spent Christmas with her. ' 'Have some more asparagus, Mrs de Winter, and another potato?' 'No, really, Frank, I'm not hungry, thank you. ' 'Nerves, ' said Maxim, shaking his head. 'Never mind, this time tomorrow it will all be over. ' 'I sincerely hope so, ' said Frank seriously. 'I was going to give orders that all cars should stand by for 5 a. M. ' I began to laugh weakly, the tears coming into my eyes. 'Oh dear, ' I said, 'let's send wires to everybody not to come. ' 'Come on, be brave and face it, ' said Maxim. 'We need not give another one for years. Frank, I have an uneasy feeling we ought to be going up to the house. What do you think?' Frank agreed, and I followed them unwillingly, reluctant to leave the cramped, rather uncomfortable little dining-room that was so typical of Frank's bachelor establishment, and which seemed to me today the embodiment of peace and quietude.

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When we came to the house we found that the band had arrived, and were standing about in the hall rather pink in the face and self-conscious, while Frith, more important than ever, offered refreshments. The band were to be our guests for the night, and after we had welcomed them and exchanged a few slightly obvious jokes proper to the occasion, the band were borne off to their quarters to be followed by a tour of the grounds. The afternoon dragged, like the last hour before a journey when one is packed up and keyed to departure, and I wandered from room to room almost as lost as Jasper, who trailed reproachfully at my heels. There was nothing I could do to help, and it would have been wiser on my part to have kept clear of the house altogether and taken the dog and myself for a long walk. By the time I decided upon this it was too late, Maxim and Frank were demanding tea, and when tea was over Beatrice and Giles arrived. The evening had come upon us all too soon. 'This is like old times, ' said Beatrice, kissing Maxim, and looking about her. 'Congratulations to you for remembering every detail. The flowers are exquisite, ' she added, turning to me. 'Did you do them?' 'No, ' I said, rather ashamed, 'Mrs Danvers is responsible for everything. ' 'Oh. Well, after ail... ' Beatrice did not finish her sentence, she accepted a light for her cigarette from Frank, and once it was lit she appeared to have forgotten what she was going to say. 'Have you got Mitchell's to do the catering as usual?' asked Giles. 'Yes, ' said Maxim. 'I don't think anything has been altered, has it, Frank? We had all the records down at the office. Nothing has been forgotten, and I don't think we have left anyone out. ' 'What a relief to find only ourselves, ' said Beatrice. 'I remember once arriving about this time, and there were about twenty-five people in the place already. All going to stop the night. ' 'What's everyone going to wear? I suppose Maxim, as always, refuses to play?' 'As always, ' said Maxim. 'Such a mistake I think. The whole thing would go with much more swing if you did. ' 'Have you ever known a ball at Manderley not to go with a swing?' 'No, my dear boy, the organization is too good. But I do think the host ought to give the lead himself. ' 'I think it's quite enough if the hostess makes the effort, ' said Maxim. 'Why should I make myself hot and uncomfortable and a damn fool into the bargain?' 'Oh, but that's absurd. There's no need to look a fool.

With your appearance, my dear Maxim, you could get away with any costume. You don't have to worry about your figure like poor Giles. ' 'What is Giles going to wear tonight?' I asked, 'or is it a dead secret?' 'No, rather not, ' beamed Giles; 'as a matter-of-fact it's a pretty good effort. I got our local tailor to rig it up. I'm coming as an Arabian sheik. ' 'Good God, ' said Maxim. 'It's not at all bad, ' said Beatrice warmly. 'He stains his face of course, and leaves off his glasses. The head-dress is authentic. We borrowed it off a friend who used to live in the East, and the rest the tailor copied from some paper. Giles looks very well in it. ' 'What are you going to be, Mrs Lacy?' said Frank. 'Oh, I'm afraid I haven't coped much, ' said Beatrice, 'I've got some sort of Eastern get-up to go with Giles, but I don't pretend it's genuine. Strings of beads, you know, and a veil over my face. ' 'It sounds very nice, ' I said politely. 'Oh, it's not bad. Comfortable to wear, that's one blessing. I shall take off the veil if I get too hot. What are you wearing?' 'Don't ask her, ' said Maxim. 'She won't tell any of us. There has never been such a secret. I believe she even wrote to London for it. ' 'My dear, ' said Beatrice, rather impressed, 'don't say you have gone a bust and will put us all to shame? Mine is only home-made, you know. ' 'Don't worry, ' I said, laughing, 'it's quite simple really. But Maxim would tease me, and I've promised to give him the surprise of his life. ' 'Quite right too, ' said Giles. 'Maxim is too superior altogether. The fact is he's jealous. Wishes he was dressing up like the rest of us, and doesn't like to say so. ' 'Heaven forbid, ' said Maxim. 'What are you doing, Crawley?' asked Giles. Frank looked rather apologetic. I've been so busy I'm afraid I've left things to the last moment. I hunted up an old pair of trousers last night, and a striped football jersey, and thought of putting a patch over one eye and coming as a pirate. ' 'Why on earth didn't you write to us and borrow a costume?' said Beatrice. "There's one of a Dutchman that Roger had last winter in Switzerland. It would have suited you excellently. ' 'I refuse to allow my agent to walk about as a Dutchman, ' said Maxim. 'He'd never get rents out of anybody again. Let him stick to his pirate. It might frighten some of them. ' 'Anything less like a pirate, ' murmured Beatrice in my ear. I pretended not to hear.

Poor Frank, she was always rather down on him. 'How long will it take me to paint my face?' asked Giles. 'Two hours at least, ' said Beatrice. 'I should begin thinking about it if I were you. How many shall we be at dinner?' 'Sixteen, ' said Maxim, 'counting ourselves. No strangers. You know them all. ' 'I'm beginning to get dress fever already, ' said Beatrice. 'What fun it all is. I'm so glad you decided to do this again, Maxim. ' 'You've got her to thank for it, ' said Maxim, nodding at me. 'Oh, it's not true, ' I said. 'It was all the fault of Lady Crowan. ' 'Nonsense, ' said Maxim, smiling at me, 'you know you're as excited as a child at its first party. ' 'I'm not. ' 'I'm longing to see your dress, ' said Beatrice. 'It's nothing out of the way. Really it's not, ' I insisted. 'Mrs de Winter says we shan't know her, ' said Frank. Everybody looked at me and smiled. I felt pleased and flushed and rather happy. People were being nice. They were all so friendly. It was suddenly fun, the thought of the dance, and that I was to be the hostess. The dance was being given for me, in my honour, because I was the bride. I sat on the table in the library, swinging my legs, while the rest of them stood round, and I had a longing to go upstairs and put on my dress, try the wig in front of the looking-glass, turn this way and that before the long mirror on the wall. It was new this sudden unexpected sensation of being important, of having Giles, and Beatrice, and Frank and Maxim all looking at me and talking about my dress. All wondering what I was going to wear. I thought of the soft white dress in its folds of tissue paper, and how it would hide my flat dull figure, my rather sloping shoulders. I thought of my own lank hair covered by the sleek and gleaming curls. 'What's the time?' I said carelessly, yawning a little, pretending I did not care. 'I wonder if we ought to think about going upstairs ... ?' As we crossed the great hall on the way to our rooms I realized for the first time how the house lent itself to the occasion, and how beautiful the rooms were looking. Even the drawing-room, formal and cold to my consideration when we were alone, was a blaze of colour now, flowers in every corner, red roses in silver bowls on the white cloth of the supper table, the long windows open to the terrace, where, as soon as it was dusk, the fairy lights would shine.

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The band had stacked their instruments ready in the minstrels' gallery above the hall, and the hall itself wore a strange, waiting air; there was a warmth about it I had never known before, due to the night itself, so still and clear, to the flowers beneath the pictures, to our own laughter as we hovered on the wide stone stairs. The old austerity had gone. Manderley had come alive in a fashion I would not have believed possible. It was not the still quiet Manderley I knew. There was a certain significance about it now that had not been before. A reckless air, rather triumphant, rather pleasing. It was as if the house remembered other days, long, long ago, when the hall was a banqueting hall indeed, with weapons and tapestry hanging upon the walls, and men sat at a long narrow table in the centre laughing louder than we laughed now, calling for wine, for song, throwing great pieces of meat upon the flags to the slumbering dogs. Later, in other years, it would still be gay, but with a certain grace and dignity, and Caroline de Winter, whom I should represent tonight, would walk down the wide stone stairs in her white dress to dance the minuet. I wished we could sweep away the years and see her. I wished we did not have to degrade the house with our modern jig-tunes, so out-of-place and unromantic. They would not suit Manderley. I found myself in sudden agreement with Mrs Danvers. We should have made it a period ball, not the hotchpotch of humanity it was bound to be, with Giles, poor fellow, well-meaning and hearty in his guise of Arabian sheik. I found Clarice waiting for me in my bedroom, her round face scarlet with excitement. We giggled at one another like schoolgirls, and I bade her lock my door. There was much sound of tissue paper, rustling and mysterious. We spoke to one another softly like conspirators, we walked on tiptoe. I felt like a child again on the eve of Christmas. This padding to and fro in my room with bare feet, the little furtive bursts of laughter, the stifled exclamations, reminded me of hanging up my stocking long ago. Maxim was safe in his dressing-room, and the way through was barred against him. Clarice alone was my ally and favoured friend. The dress fitted perfectly.

I stood still, hardly able to restrain my impatience while Clarice hooked me up with fumbling fingers. 'It's handsome, Madam, ' she kept saying, leaning back on her heels to look at me. 'It's a dress fit for the Queen of England. ' 'What about under the left shoulder there, ' I said, anxiously. "That strap of mine, is it going to show?' 'No, Madam, nothing shows. ' 'How is it? How do I look?' I did not wait for her answer, I twisted and turned in front of the mirror, I frowned, I smiled. I felt different already, no longer hampered by my appearance. My own dull personality was submerged at last. 'Give me the wig, ' I said excitedly, 'careful, don't crush it, the curls mustn't be flat. They are supposed to stand out from the face. ' Clarice stood behind my shoulder, I saw her round face beyond mine in the reflection of the looking-glass, her eyes shining, her mouth a little open. I brushed my own hair sleek behind my ears. I took hold of the soft gleaming curls with trembling fingers, laughing under my breath, looking up at Clarice. 'Oh, Clarice, ' I said, 'what will Mr de Winter say?' I covered my own mousy hair with the curled wig, trying to hide my triumph, trying to hide my smile. Somebody came and hammered on the door. 'Who's there?' I called in panic. 'You can't come in. ' 'It's me, my dear, don't alarm yourself, ' said Beatrice, 'how far have you got? I want to look at you. ' 'No, no, ' I said, 'you can't come in, I'm not ready. ' The flustered Clarice stood beside me, her hand full of hairpins, while I took them from her one by one, controlling the curls that had become fluffed in the box. 'I'll come down when I am ready, ' I called. 'Go on down, all of you. Don't wait for me. Tell Maxim he can't come in. ' 'Maxim's down, ' she said. 'He came along to us. He said he hammered on your bathroom door and you never answered. Don't be too long, my dear, we are all so intrigued. Are you sure you don't want any help?' 'No, ' I shouted impatiently, losing my head, 'go away, go on down. ' Why did she have to come and bother just at this moment? It fussed me, I did not know what I was doing. I jabbed with a hair-pin, flattening it against a curl. I heard no more from Beatrice, she must have gone along the passage. I wondered if she was happy in her Eastern robes and if Giles had succeeded in painting his face. How absurd it was, the whole thing. Why did we do it, I wonder, why were we such children? I did not recognize the face that stared at me in the glass. The eyes were larger surely, the mouth narrower, the skin white and clear? The curls stood away from the head in a little cloud.

I watched this self that was not me at all and then smiled; a new, slow smile. 'Oh, Clarice!' I said. 'Oh, Clarice!' I took the skirt of my dress in my hands and curtseyed to her, the flounces sweeping the ground. She giggled excitedly, rather embarrassed, flushed though, very pleased. I paraded up and down in front of my glass watching my reflection. 'Unlock the door, ' I said. 'I'm going down. Run ahead and see if they are there. ' She obeyed me, still giggling, and I lifted my skirts off the ground and followed her along the corridor. She looked back at me and beckoned. "They've gone down, ' she whispered, 'Mr de Winter, and Major and Mrs Lacy. Mr Crawley has just come. They are all standing in the hall. ' I peered through the archway at the head of the big staircase, and looked down on the hall below. Yes, there they were. Giles, in his white Arab dress, laughing loudly, showing the knife at his side; Beatrice swathed in an extraordinary green garment and hung about the neck with trailing beads; poor Frank self-conscious and slightly foolish in his striped jersey and sea-boots; Maxim, the only normal one of the party, in his evening clothes. 'I don't know what she's doing, ' he said, 'she's been up in her bedroom for hours. What's the time, Frank? The dinner crowd will be upon us before we know where we are. ' The band were changed, and in the gallery already. One of the men was tuning his fiddle. He played a scale softly, and then plucked at a string. Yes, the dress had been copied exactly from my sketch of the portrait. The puffed sleeve, the sash and the ribbon, the wide floppy hat I held in my hand. And my curls were her curls, they stood out from my face as hers did in the picture. I don't think I have ever felt so excited before, so happy and so proud. I waved my hand at the man with the fiddle, and then put my finger to my lips for silence. He smiled and bowed. He came across the gallery to the archway where I stood. 'Make the drummer announce me, ' I whispered, 'make him beat the drum, you know how they do, and then call out Miss Caroline de Winter. I want to surprise them below. ' He nodded his head, he understood. My heart fluttered absurdly, and my cheeks were burning. What fun it was, what mad ridiculous childish fun! I smiled at Clarice still crouching on the corridor. I picked up my skirt in my hands. Then the sound of the drum echoed in the great hall, startling me for a moment, who had waited for it, who knew that it would come. I saw them look up surprised and bewildered from the hall below. 'Miss Caroline de Winter, ' shouted the drummer.

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I came forward to the head of the stairs and stood there, smiling, my hat in my hand, like the girl in the picture. I waited for the clapping and laughter that would follow as I walked slowly down the stairs. Nobody clapped, nobody moved. They all stared at me like dumb things. Beatrice uttered a little cry and put her hand to her mouth. I went on smiling, I put one hand on the banister. 'How do you do, Mr de Winter, ' I said. Maxim had not moved. He stared up at me, his glass in his hand. There was no colour in his face. It was ashen white. I saw Frank go to him as though he would speak, but Maxim shook him off. I hesitated, one foot already on the stairs. Something was wrong, they had not understood. Why was Maxim looking like that? Why did they all stand like dummies, like people in a trance? Then Maxim moved forward to the stairs, his eyes never leaving my face. 'What the hell do you think you are doing?' he asked. His eyes blazed in anger. His face was still ashen white. I could not move, I went on standing there, my hand on the banister. 'It's the picture, ' I said, terrified at his eyes, at his voice. 'It's the picture, the one in the gallery. ' There was a long silence. We went on staring at each other. Nobody moved in the hall. I swallowed, my hand moved to my throat. 'What is it?' I said. 'What have I done?' If only they would not stare at me like that with dull blank faces. If only somebody would say something. When Maxim spoke again I did not recognize his voice. It was still and quiet, icy cold, not a voice I knew. 'Go and change, ' he said, 'it does not matter what you put on. Find an ordinary evening frock, anything will do. Go now, before anybody comes. ' I could not speak, I went on staring at him. His eyes were the only living things in the white mask of his face. 'What are you standing there for?' he said, his voice harsh and queer. 'Didn't you hear what I said?' I turned and ran blindly through the archway to the corridors beyond. I caught a glimpse of the astonished face of the drummer who had announced me. I brushed past him, stumbling, not looking where I went. Tears blinded my eyes. I did not know what was happening. Clarice had gone. The corridor was deserted. I looked about me stunned and stupid like a haunted thing. Then I saw that the door leading to the west wing was open wide, and that someone was standing there. It was Mrs Danvers. I shall never forget the expression on her face, loathsome, triumphant. The face of an exulting devil. She stood there, smiling at me. And then I ran from her, down the long narrow passage to my own room, tripping, stumbling over the flounces of my dress.


第17章

克拉丽斯在卧房里等着我。她睑色苍白,看来是吓坏了。她一看到我,就哇地一声哭起来。我一言不发,只顾动手去拉衣裙上的褡扣,用力撕扯衣料。我没法对付那些扣子,克拉丽斯走过来帮我解,一面仍号啕不止。

“没什么,克拉丽斯,这不是你的过错,”我说。她摇摇头,眼泪补簌扑簌沿着两颊往下掉。

“您的漂亮裙子,太太,”她说。“您的漂亮的白裙子。”

“这没关系,”我说。“你怎么找不到褡扣?就在那儿,在背后。还有一个褡扣,就在第一个扣子下面什么地方。”

她胡乱地摸索着替我解衣,两手不住哆嗦,比我自己一个人搞还费事。她一直在嘤嘤抽泣。

“太太,您换件什么衣眼呢?”她说。

“我不知道,”我说。“我不知道。”她总算把褡扣全解开了,我从衣裙中挣脱出来。“我想,最好让我独个儿清静一下,克拉丽斯,”我说。“听我的话,离开这儿,好吗?别担心,我会设法对付过去的。别把刚才的事儿放在心里。我要你在今天的舞会上照样玩个痛快。”

“要不要我给您烫条裙子,太太?”她说着抬起浮肿的泪眼望着我。“不消一会儿就可以烫好。”

“不,”我说。“别操这份心了,我看你还是走吧,喔,克拉丽斯……”

“什么事,太太?”

“别——对谁也别说起刚才发生的事。”

“好的,太太。”她忍不住又是一阵呜咽。

“别让人瞧见你这副模样,”我说。“回你自己的卧房去,把脸上的眼泪擦干,有什么好哭的?一点也不值得。”有人在敲门。克拉丽斯惊慌地瞥了我一眼。

“谁?”我问。门开了,比阿特丽斯走进来,径直走到我跟前,穿戴着东方人的服饰,她显出一副滑稽可笑的怪样子,手腕上的镯环不住地丁当作响。

“亲爱的,亲爱的。”说着,她向我伸出双手。

克拉丽斯悄悄溜出房间去。我突然感到周身疲软,再也支撑不住。我走到床边坐下,举手掀掉头上的假发卷。比阿特丽斯站在那儿望着我。

“你感觉还好吗?”她说。“你脸色苍白得很。”

“那是因为灯光的缘故,”我说。“灯光下总显得没有血色。”

“坐下来歇一会儿就会好的,”她说。“对了,我给你倒杯水来。”

她走进浴室。一抬腿,一举手,她腕上的镯子就丁当作响。她回身进屋时,手里捧着一杯水。

我一点儿也不想喝,可是为了不让她扫兴,勉强喝了几口。从龙头放出来的水,喝上去热乎乎的,她没先让龙头开着淌一阵。

“当然,我一眼就看出这只是一场可怕的误会,”她说。“你是不可能知道的。你怎么可能知道呢?”

“知道什么?”我说。

“天哪,那套化装舞眼呀。可怜的孩子,你临摹的画廊里的那幅少女画像。上回曼陀丽的化装舞会上,吕蓓卡正是这么干的。一模一样。同样的画像,同样的装束。你站在那儿楼梯口,有那么一刹那工夫,我还真以为……”

她收住话头,没往下讲,轻轻地拍了拍我的肩。

“你这可怜的孩子,真是太不幸了。你怎么能知道呢?”

“我应该知道的。”我惊得目瞪口呆,连脑子也麻木了,我只是冲着她发愣,嘴里昏昏沉沉地嘟哝着:“我是应该知道的。”

“别胡说,你怎么可能知道呢?这种事情不会随便钻进我们哪个人的脑袋瓜子来。只是你得明白,乍一看见,真好似晴天霹雳。我们谁也没料到,而迈克西姆……”

“说啊,迈克西姆怎么啦?”我说。

“他嘛,认为你是故意这么干的。你不是打赌说,要让他大吃一惊吗?一场没头脑的玩笑。当然,他不这么看。对他来说,这不啻是当头一棒。我当即告诉他,你不会存心于这种事的,完全是造化弄人,偏偏让你选中了那幅画像。”

“我是应该知道的,”我又重复了一遍。“全怪我不好,我应该明白。我应该想到的。”

“别那么说。不用担心,你可以平心静气地把经过向他解释清楚。一切都会冰释的。就在我上楼来的时候,第一批客人已经到达。他们此刻正在喝饮料。没问题。我已叫弗兰克和贾尔斯编了一套词,说你因为化装服不合身,生气了。”

我坐在床沿上一声不吭,两手搁在膝上。

“你可以另外找件什么衣服穿穿?”比阿特丽斯走到我的衣柜前,唰地一下把柜门拉开。“嗨,这件蓝的怎么样?看上去挺美。把这件穿上。没有人会在乎的。快,我帮你穿。”

“不,”我说。“不,我不打算下楼去。”

比阿特丽斯郁悒地望着我,那件蓝色袍子搭在手臂上。

“可是,亲爱的,你一定得下去,”她愁眉苦脸地说。“你不露面可不行!”

“不,比阿特丽斯,我不想下楼去。我没法去见这些人,出了这种事儿我再也没法应付了。”

“没人会知道化装眼的事儿,”她说。“弗兰克和贾尔斯决不会声张的。那一套话我们已全编好啦,就说那家店铺送错了衣服,穿着不合身,所以你只好将就穿了件普通的晚礼眼。谁都会觉得这事儿完全合乎情理。这对晚会不会有任何影响。”

“你不明白,”我说。“穿什么衣服我并不计较,根本无所谓。使我难受的是刚才发生的事,是我自己的所作所为。我现在不能下去,比阿特丽斯,不能下去。”

“可是,亲爱的,贾尔斯和弗兰克完全理解,而且非常同情。迈克西姆也不例外,只是猛一上来有点震惊……我会设法把他单独拉到一边,跟他谈一谈,把一切向他解释清楚。”

“不!”我说。“不!”

她把那件蓝袍子往我身边的床沿上一放。“客人马上就到齐,”她忧心仲忡,心烦意乱地说。“要是你不下去,人家会觉得很奇怪。我总不能说你突然得了头痛病。”

“为什么不能?”我精疲力竭地说。“有什么关系呢?怎么说都行。没有人会在乎的,他们里面又没人认识我。”

“好的,我的亲爱的,”她拍拍我的手说。“设法打起精神来。把这件漂亮的蓝衣服穿上。想想迈克西姆吧。为了他,你也该下楼去。”

“我一直在想着迈克西姆,”我说。

“对吧,那当然就……?”

“不,”我抚着指甲,在床沿上前后晃动着身子。“我不能,我不能。”

又有人敲门了。“哦,天哪,会是谁呢?”比阿特丽斯一面说,一面朝房门走去。“什么事?”

她把门打开。贾尔斯站在门外。

“客人到齐了,迈克西姆让我来看看究竟是怎么回事,唔?”他说。

“她说她不想下楼,”比阿特丽斯说。“天晓得我们该怎么说才好。”

我发现贾尔斯正从敞开的门那儿朝我张望。

“喔,天哪,这可乱了套啦,”他低声说。他注意到我已看见他,这才不好意思地转过脸去。

“我怎么对迈克西姆说呢?”他问比阿特丽斯。“已经八点五分了。””就说她头晕不舒服,待会儿看能不能下楼。叫他们别等,请客人入席就是了。我这就下来。这儿由我照料。”

“行,就按你的意思说。”他说着又偷偷朝我这边膘了一眼,目光里带着同情,可又夹杂着几分好奇,不明白我干吗要这么坐在床沿上;他说话时还压着嗓门,似乎家里有人出了什么事,正等医生上门急救呢。

“还有什么要我效劳的?”他说。

“没了,”比阿特丽斯说。“你下楼去吧,我随后就来。”

他拖着阿拉伯长袍乖乖地走了。我暗自寻思,多年以后再回想起此刻的情景,一定会乐得哈哈大笑,到那时我会说,“还记得当年的情景吗?贾尔斯一身阿拉伯人的打扮,比阿特丽斯脸上蒙着面纱,镯环在她手腕上丁当作响。”流逝的光阴会润以甘露,使这一刻成为逗人发笑的一幕。可是眼前有什么趣味可言?我怎么笑得出来?眼前终究是眼前,而不是将来。眼前的这一切太逼真了,都是活生生的事实。我坐在床沿上,扯拉着鸭绒垫被,从被角的隙缝里抽出一小片羽毛来。

“想喝点白兰地吗?”比阿特丽斯作最后一次努力。“我知道,喝两口能给你壮壮胆,添几分虚勇,不过有时候还真有奇效。”

“不,”我说。“不,我什么都不要。”

“我得下楼了。贾尔斯说他们正等着开饭呢。此刻我让你一人留在这儿,你看行吗?”

“走吧。谢谢你,比阿特丽斯。”

“哦,亲爱的,别谢我。我真希望能帮你点什么忙。”她敏捷地弯下腰,对着我那面化妆镜一照。随手往脸上敷了些粉。“天哪,瞧我这副鬼样子,”她说。“我知道都是该死的面纱捣的鬼。这也真叫没办法。”她披着悉碎作声的袍子走了出去,顺手把门关上。我觉得由于自己拒绝下楼,已辜负了她对我的同情。我已暴露了我性格中怯懦的一面。可是她不理解我。她属于另外一个生活圈子,和我是不同类型的人。那个圈子里的女人,个个富有胆识,并不像我这么怯懦。要是这种事儿不是出在我身上,而是落在她比阿特丽斯头上,她就会另外换一套衣眼,重新走下楼去迎接客人。她会站在贾尔斯身边,跟大家-一握手寒喧,脸上还挂着微笑。在我,这可办不到。我缺少这股傲气和胆量,我缺乏良好的教养。

我眼前老是浮现迈克西姆那张惨白的脸,那对喷射着怒火的眸子,而在他身后,还站着贾尔斯、比阿特丽斯和弗兰克,他们都像哑巴似地望着我发愣。

我从床沿站起,走到窗前向外凝望。园艺工人在玫瑰园里来回走动,忙着检查彩色灯泡,看看有没有毛病。天色渐暗,西边的天幕上,映出几片条纹状的橙红色晚霞。一到薄暮时分,华灯就会大放光明。玫瑰园里设了桌椅,成双配对的宾客要是愿意到户外小坐,可以上这儿来休憩。我从窗口可以闻到玫瑰的馨香。园艺工人正在谈笑。“这儿缺了一只,”我听到其中一个大声嚷嚷。“能替我另外拿只小灯泡来吗?比尔,蓝色的小灯泡。”他把灯泡装了上去,嘴里悠然自得地吹着口哨,吹的是一首时下流行的曲子。我想,说不定今晚乐队也会在俯瞰大厅的吟游诗人画廊里演奏这支曲子吧。“行啦,”那人说着,把灯开亮又关掉。“这儿的灯没问题了,一只也不缺。现在去看看平台那儿的彩灯吧。”他们拐过墙角走远了,嘴里还在吹着那支曲子。要是我能变个工匠该多好。到了晚上,双手往兜里一抄,帽子撩在后脑勺上,和朋友们一起站在车道上,看着汽车一辆辆开到宅子前。他会同庄园里的其他人,围作一堆,然后在平台一角专为他们设置的长桌上喝苹果酒。“又跟往日里一样啦,是不是?”工匠会这么说。可是他的朋友却会把脑袋一晃,吸口烟斗。“这位新太太可不像我们的德温特夫人,完全不一样。”接着旁边人群里有个妇女,还有别的一些人,也都随声附和:“说的是!”一面还一个劲儿点头。

“今晚上她人在哪儿?一次也没在平台露面。”

“我可说不上来。我没有见着她。”

“往日里,德温特夫人一会儿在这儿,一会儿在那儿,到处都可以见到她的人影。”

“嗨,一点不错。”

那女人转过脸去,朝邻座神秘地一点头。

“听说她今儿晚上压根儿不准备露面了。”

“往下说。”

“这是真的。不信你问这儿的玛丽。”

“是真的。宅子里有个仆人亲口对我说,德温特夫人一晚上没跨出房门一步。”

“她怎么啦,生病了吗?”

“不,我想是耍脾气了。听人说她那件化装服不称心。”

那一堆人群里先是爆发出一阵尖厉刺耳的笑声,接着又喊喊喳喳议论开了。

“谁听说过竟有这样的事!这可是给德温特先生出丑哪!”

“我可不信这种说法,像她那样的黄毛丫头会发这么大的脾气?”

“也许根本不是这么回事。”

“千真万确,满屋子上下全这么说。”就这样,一传十,十传百。这个微微一笑,那个眨眨眼睛,另一个耸耸肩膀。先是这儿的一群,随后又是另外一群,接着又传到那些在平台、草坪散布的客人耳朵里,最后还惊动了一连三小时坐在底下玫瑰园里的那一对男女。

“你看我刚才听到的是真的吗?”

“你听到了什么?”

“嗨,听说她根本没什么不舒服。他们俩大吵了一场,所以不肯露面啦!”

“哦,是这样!”说着,眉毛一扬,长长的一声口哨。

“我说嘛,事情也实在有点蹊跷,你说不是吗?我的意思是说,怎么会突然无缘无故地闹起头疼来呢?我看这里面大有文章。”

“我觉得他好像有点闷闷不乐。”

“我也有同样的感觉。当然罗,我早就听说他们的婚姻不很美满。”

“噢,真的吗?”

“嗯。好几个人都这么说过。他们说,他也逐渐意识到自己铸成了大错。本来嘛,此人姿色平平,并无动人之处。”

“是呀,我也听人说她长得并不怎么样。她是哪家的闺女?”

“哦,根本不是什么大家闺秀。是他在法国南方偶然找着的,是个看护兼家庭教师之类的角色。”

“我的老天!”

“我说是嘛。一想到吕蓓卡……”

我仍然出神地望着那几张空椅子。晚霞映染的天空逐渐暗淡下来。星星已在我头顶上闪现。玫瑰园后面的林子里,归巢的鸦雀悉碎鼓翅,准备过夜。一只孤独的海鸥横空而过。我离开窗口,又回到床边。我捡起那件丢在地板上的白裙,连同薄棉纸一起塞进衣盒。我把假发放回发盒内,然后打开一具杂品橱,寻找过去在蒙特卡洛替范-霍珀夫人烫衣服时用的那只袖珍熨斗。它丢在里层的搁板上,跟几件好久没穿的羊毛衫放在一起。这是一只通上各种电压的电流均可使用的熨斗,我把它往墙上的插座里一插,开始烫起那件比阿特丽斯从衣柜里拿出来的蓝袍子。我有条不紊地慢慢烫着,就跟以前在蒙特卡洛给范-霍珀夫人服务一样。

烫完后,我把衣服摊在床上,然后擦去脸上的脂粉,那是为配原先那件化装舞服面涂抹的。我梳了头,洗了手,穿上那件蓝袍,换了双与衣服相配的鞋子。我仿佛又同过去那时候一样了,正准备陪范-霍珀夫人下楼到旅馆的休息室去。我打开房门,沿走廊走去。四周静悄悄的,似乎根本没在举行什么宴会。我踮着脚,来到过道尽头,拐过弯去。通往西厢的那扇门紧闭着。走廊里没有一点声响。我走到画廊和楼梯处的拱门那儿,才听到餐厅里隐隐约约传来的嗡嗡谈话声。筵席还未散呢。大厅里空荡荡的,画廊里也不见人影。乐师们想必也在吃晚饭。我不清楚他们的起居饭食是怎么安排的。是弗兰克一手安排的——不是弗兰克,就是丹弗斯太太。

从我站着的地方,可以看到正对着我的画廊里那张卡罗琳-德温特的画像。我可以看到那一络络发卷衬托着她的面庞,可以看到她嘴边挂着微笑。我记起那天拜访主教夫人时她对我说的话:“我怎么也忘不了她的模样儿,一身雪白的衣裳,满头乌黑的云鬓。”我怎么会把这些话忘了呢,我是应该知道的呀。搁在画廊里的那些乐器,那些小乐谱架,还有那张大鼓,看上去样子有多怪。不知哪位乐师把手帕丢在椅子上了。我凭靠栏杆,俯身望着下面的大厅。不多一会儿,大厅里就会像主教夫人说的那样宾客满堂,而迈克西姆就站在楼梯下,跟来客-一握手。嘈杂的人声将响彻大厅,随后,乐队在我现在凭栏伫立的画廊里管弦和鸣,那位提琴师将笑咪咪地合着音乐的节拍不住晃动身子。

到时候不会再像现在这么悄无声息。突然,画廊里的一块地板嘎吱响了一声。我赶快转身朝后面的画廊扫了一眼,但不见有人。画廊里跟刚才一样阒无一人。可是有阵冷风吹到我脸上,一定是谁把某条过道里的窗户打开后忘记关了。餐厅里嗡嗡的谈话声仍不断传来。真奇怪,我身子一动也没动,地板怎么会嘎吱作响呢。也许是因为夜晚太热,或者是地板木头年代太久,在哪一处有了翘棱。可是阵阵冷风仍往我脸上吹来。谱架上有张乐谱纸,抖动一下,翻落在地板上。我抬头朝楼梯上方的拱门望去。风是打那儿吹来的。我又来到拱门底下,当我走出拱门来到长廊时,我看到通西厢的那扇门被风吹开,门扉贴着墙壁。西厢走廊里黑洞洞的,一盏灯也没开。我可以感觉到风是从那儿某扇开着的窗子吹到我脸上来的。我伸手去摸墙上的开关,可是摸来摸去摸不着。我影影绰绰看见过道拐角处有扇窗开着,窗帷随风来回微微摆动。朦胧的暮色在地板上投下奇形怪状的影子。从洞开的窗户那儿传来大海的涛声,那是海潮从圆卵石海滩退出去时发出的轻柔的噬噬声。

我并没有走去把窗户关上,而是站在那儿谛听海水离岸时的阵阵哀叹,一面因为衣衫单薄而打着寒颤。片刻之后,我一下子转身往回走,把西厢的那扇门带上,重新走出拱门,来到楼梯口。

喊喊喳喳的人声笑语比刚才响了。餐厅的门已经打开。客人正陆续退席。我看见罗伯特在门口站着,叽叽嘎嘎的谈笑声里夹杂着一阵拖开椅子的声音。

我一步一步跨下楼梯,准备前去迎客。

今天,当我回顾我在曼陀雨初次参加的舞会——是第一次也是最后一次,我只能追忆起一些互不关联的琐碎细节,因为如果把那次晚会比作一块色彩单调的巨幅画布,那么唯独这些细节还具有比较清晰的轮廓。至于背景,那是一片朦胧,隐隐约约地浮现着无数张面孔,其中没有一张是我认识的,乐队缓慢而沉闷地演奏着华尔兹舞曲,一曲又一曲,没完没了。成双结对的舞伴旋转着经过我们面前,脸上凝固着一成不变的笑容;我和迈克西姆站在楼梯下,迎接迟到的宾客。在我看来,那对对舞伴就像一些被无形的手牵住了的木偶,在那儿不停地转动扭摆。

舞会上有个妇人,我根本不知道她叫什么名字,后来也再未见到过。她穿一条村有鲸骨圈的肉色撑裙,那大概算是过去某个世纪一度流行的装束吧,至于是十七世纪,十八世纪,还是十九世纪,那我就说不上来了。每当她打我身旁经过的时候,正好逢上华尔兹乐曲的拖音节拍,而她也就随着乐曲在原地或一曲身或一摇摆,同时还朝我这边嫣然一笑。这景象一次又一次地重复,最后竟成了习惯性的机械动作,如同我们在轮船甲板上悠然散步时一样,这会儿遇到了一些有着同样健身雅兴的乘客,深信待会儿转到船桥那边还会同他们擦肩而过。

直到今天,我还记得这女人的尊容:暴突的牙齿,高耸的颧骨上抹着一圈鲜红的胭脂,嘴边挂着无所用心、快活的微笑,像是深得晚会之乐。后来在夜餐桌旁我又见到了她,那双犀利的眼睛正在桌面上搜索食物。她装了满满一盆鲑向龙虾蛋黄酱,端着朝一个角落走去。还有那位克罗温夫人,穿了一身妖形怪状的紫红色衣服,至于扮的是哪一位古代风流人物,我也搞不清楚,也许是玛丽-安托瓦内特①,或者是奈尔-格温尼②吧。谁知道呢,再不然就是这两位妖艳妇人的古怪杂凑吧。她用激动的尖声不住地大声嚷嚷:“诸位今天有幸享受这番乐趣,要感谢的是我,而根本不是德温特夫妇。”她因为灌了香摈,说起话来声调似乎比往常更尖利——

①十八世纪法国君主路易十六之妻,因穷奢极侈,为世人所恶。

②十七世纪英国女演员,查理二世的情妇。

我记得,罗伯特一个失手,将一盘冰块倒翻在地;弗里思看见闻下这祸的不是临时雇来帮忙的仆役,而竟是罗伯特,不禁露出极度愤懑之色。我真想朝罗伯特走过去,站在他身旁说:“我知道你心里的滋味。我理解,今天晚上我的表现比你还要糟糕。”至今我仍能感觉到我那凝结在脸上的不自然的微笑,这笑容跟我眼睛里的痛苦神情多么格格不入。我仿佛又看到比阿特丽斯,亲切有余、机智不足的比阿特丽斯,一边跳舞、一边倚在舞伴的手臂上朝我频频点头,给我打气;她手腕上的镯子在丁当作响,面纱老是从她热得快冒汗的前额上滑下来。我也可以栩栩如生地回忆起自己如何不顾死活,再次随贾尔斯在大厅内旋转起舞。好心肠的贾尔斯真心实意地同情我,所以我怎么也不忍心加以拒绝,不过他得像在赛马会上牵着他的马匹那样,领着我穿过四周不住蹬脚踢腿的人群。“你穿的这件袍子真帅,”我至今仍可以听见他这么说。“相形之下,这儿所有的人都显得傻透了。”但愿上帝赐福于贾尔斯,他用这种率直而又委婉动人的方式,向我表示真诚的同情,他以为我是因为没有像样的舞服而灰心丧气,担心会在客人面前显出寒酸相,他以为我在乎的就是这些。

是弗兰克给我端来了一盆鸡肉和火腿,但我无法下咽;是弗兰克站在我肘边,手里端着一杯香摈酒,可我一点不想喝。

“您还是喝一点吧,”他轻声说。“我看您需要喝几口。”为了不辜负他的一片好意,我勉强呷了三口。他眼睛上蒙着那块黑布,脸色显得苍白,模样也变了,看上去又老又怪,睑上似乎添了几道我以前没看到过的皱纹。

他像是舞会的另一位主人,忙着在客人中间周旋应酬,向客人敬烟敬酒,请他们用点心;他偶尔也走下舞池,带着严肃的神情,拖着艰难的舞步,拉长了脸,拥着舞伴在大厅里转。他的那身海盗打扮还算有节制;他头上裹了块红头巾,头巾下露出蓬松的络腮胡子,显然他在胡子上面还真煞费了一番苦心,但效果不佳。不难想象他曾怎么站在他那间没有什么家具的单身汉卧室里,对着镜子,把胡子绕在手指上,想让它卷曲起来。可怜的弗兰克。亲爱的弗兰克。我从来没问过,也一直不知道他对曼陀丽这最后一次舞会深恶痛绝到何种程度。

琴鼓声不绝于耳,舞池里双双对对的舞伴,像牵线木偶似地摆动扭曲着身子,转过来转过去,转过来转过去,从大厅的这头转到那头,又从那头转回到这头;那个站在一旁冷眼静观的似乎不是我本人,并不是一个有血有肉、有感情的活人,而是一具借托我这形体的泥塑木雕,一具钉上了笑脸的木头架子。站在它旁边的也是一个木头人。他的脸俨然是一副面具,脸上的笑容分明也不是他自己的。那对眼睛并不属于我所热爱并熟悉的那个人。冷漠、黯然无神的目光,透过我的形体,越过我的形体,投向某个我无法跨入的人间地狱,投入某个我无法分担且与外界截然分隔的精神绝境。

他没对我说过一句话,也没在我身上碰一下,我们这一对男女主人虽并排站着,中间却远隔重山。我看着他落落大方地同客人周旋。他对这个随口吐出一言半语,同另一个说句把笑话,朝第三个莞尔一笑,回过头去又同第四个打声招呼,除了我以外,谁也不知道他的一言一语和一举一动都不过是由机器操纵的一系列刻板反应。我们像一台戏中的两个角色,不过是各念各的台词,谈不上默契配合。我俩得各自硬着头皮忍受,得为眼前所有这些我素不相识以后也不想再见到的人,痛苦地、装模作样地演着这台戏。

“听说你妻子的礼服没及时送来,”一位满脸斑纹、头戴水手帽的客人用胳膊肘碰了碰迈克西姆的胸口,笑着说。“真他妈的不像话,是吗?要是我,就去告那家铺子一状,告它诈骗钱财。有一次我的表姨也碰到过这种事。”

“是的,是件不幸的事,”迈克西姆说。

“听我说,”水手又转过脸来对我说。“你该说自己是朵‘毋忘花’。这种花是蓝颜色的,对吗?‘毋忘花’,迷人的小花儿。没说错吧,德温特?对你太太说,她该称自己‘毋忘花’才对。”他搂着舞伴,一边哈哈大笑,一边拖着舞步飘开了。“这想法不赖吧,啊?一朵‘毋忘花’,”这时,弗兰克再次在我背后转悠,手里换了只杯子,这回倒的是柠檬水。

“不,弗兰克,我不渴。”

“为什么您不跳场舞呢?要不就找个地方坐一坐,平台上有个角落还清静。”

“不,我还是站着的好,我不想坐下。”

“要不要我给你拿点吃的。来客三明治,来只桃子?”

“不,我什么也不要。”

那位穿肉色舞服的太太又转到我跟前,这一回可忘了朝我微笑。由于刚吃了晚餐,脸上红喷喷的。她仰着头,目不转睛地盯着舞伴的脸。她的舞伴是个瘦高个儿,长着一个提琴似的下巴。

《命运》圆舞曲,《蓝色的多瑙河》、《风流寡妇》。嘭、嚓,嚓,嘭、嚓、嚓,转了又转;嘭、嚓、嚓,嘭、嚓、嚓,转了又转。一个个人物打我眼前晃过:那位穿肉色舞服的太太;一位全身披绿的女士;又是比阿特丽斯,她的面纱已从额上撩开,甩到头发后面;满头大汗的贾尔斯;接着又是那个水手,这次他换了个舞伴。这两人在我身旁停下。我不认识那个女的,她扮的是都择王朝时代的命妇,一个毫无特色的都铎王朝的命妇,穿了件黑天鹅绒衣服,脖子上围一圈皱边。

“你们什么时候到我家来玩?”她这么说着,好像我们是多年深交似的。我只好随口应了一句:“过两天准去,前几天我们还谈起过呢。”我心里暗暗奇怪,随机应变地撒谎竟变得这么容易,一点也不费什么劲。“多有趣的舞会,真该祝贺您问,”她说。我回了一句“承蒙夸奖”,接着又说:“挺有趣的,是吗?”

“听说铺子送错了裙子,是吗?”

“可不是!岂有此理,你说呢?”

“所有的店铺都是一路货。千万别相信他们。不过你穿着这身漂亮的蓝衣裙,看上去非常年轻,比我这件裹得身子出汗的天鹅绒衣服要舒眼多了。贤伉俪别忘了过几天到我宫里来吃饭啊!”

“会来的。”

她说的是什么意思,上哪儿?宫里?难道我们招待的是什么王公贵族?她合着《蓝色的多瑙河》的节拍,被那个水手搂着,一起回旋向前,那条天鹅绒裙子像地毯吸尘器似地从地板上拖过去。隔了好久以后,有一天半夜里,我睡不着觉,突然记起来了,那位都择王朝的命妇就是喜欢在彭奈恩山区散步的主教夫人。

几点钟了?我不知道。夜晚一小时一小时地拖沓着过去,同样的面孔,同样的曲子。在藏书室里打桥牌的那些牌客,不时像隐士似地溜出来,看看舞池里的盛况,、然后又回身进去。比阿特丽斯拖着那件袍子,在我耳边轻轻嘀咕了一句:

“你干吗不坐下?你的脸色多难看。”

“我没什么。”

贾尔斯脸上的油彩随着汗水往下淌。可怜的人,快被裹在身上的阿拉伯毯子闷死了。他走到我跟前说:“走,到平台去看焰火。”

我记得自己站在平台上,抬头仰望,那些四下乱窜的焰火在空中开花,接着又散落下来。小丫头克拉丽斯跟一个庄园外的小伙子一起,呆在庭院的一个角落里。她笑得很欢,每当一个爆竹在她脚边劈啪开花时,她就高兴得尖叫起来。她已经忘了刚才的眼泪。

“看啊,这个花炮特别大。”贾尔斯仰着那张大圆脸,张着嘴巴。“炸开啦,好哇!美极了。”

焰火筒拖着咝咝的长音,飞快窜入夜空,接着,嘭地一声炸开,化作一串翡翠似的礼花。人群中发出啧啧赞叹声,有人欢乐地大叫,也有人鼓掌。那个穿肉包衣裳的太太挤到最前面,脸上显出急不可待的神情,每落下一朵礼花都要评论一番:“哦,美极了……快看那一颗,哦,真是婀娜多姿……哦,那一颗没爆开……当心,冲我们这边来啦……那些人在那儿干吗?”……连那些玩桥牌的隐士也都从蛰居的斗室钻了出来,和跳舞的人一起站在平台上观看焰火。草坪上人头攒动,炸开的礼花照亮了一张张仰望的脸。

焰火筒像离弦的箭,接二连三窜入空中;夜空金紫交辉,一片光华。曼陀丽像所魔屋似地巍然屹立着,每扇窗子都在闪闪发光,四周的灰墙也被五颜六色的礼花抹上一层华彩。这是一所着魔的大宅,鹤立鸡群般挺立在黑黝黝的树林环抱之中。当最后一束焰火放完,人们的欢笑声渐次消失时,刚才还那么美妙的夏夜似乎一下子显得死气沉沉,天空成了一张凄清惨淡的灰幕。草坪上和车道上的人群渐渐散去。挤在长窗前平台上的客人重又退进客厅。高xdx潮已过,渐近尾声。大家都茫然若失地四下站着。有人给我递上一杯香摈。我听见车道上有汽车发动的声音。

“他们开始走啦,”我想。“谢天谢地,总算开始走啦。”那位穿白色衣服的太太又在一边大吃起来。大厅里的客人还得有好一段时间才能走空。我看见弗兰克朝乐队打了个手势。我站在客厅和大厅之间的通道上,身旁是一个素不相识的男子。

“宴会妙极了,”他说。

“哦,”我说。

“我玩得尽兴,”他说。

“我很高兴,”我说。

“莫利因为不能来还大发了一通脾气,”他说。

“是吗?”我说。

乐队奏起了《友谊地久天长》。那人一把抓住我的手,一上一下地晃动着。“嗳,”他说。“来吧,你们几个一齐来啊。”又有一个人拉住我的另一只手摇晃着。更多的人加入进来。我们围成一个大圆圈,扯着嗓子高声唱。那个在晚会上玩得尽兴并说莫利因为来不了而大发脾气的男子,穿着一身中国满清遗老的官服;就在我们上下甩动手臂的当儿,他的假指甲给袖管勾住了。他笑得前仰后合。我们也都笑了。“旧日好友怎能忘怀,”大家齐声唱道。

唱到结尾的几小节,兴高采烈的狂欢气氛急转直下,接着,鼓手照例用鼓棒嗒嗒敲了几下作为引子,乐队随即奏起《上帝保佑英王》①。大家脸上的笑容不见了,就好比是被一块海绵抹了个干净。那位满清遗老猛地双脚一并,来了个立正姿势,双手僵直地垂在身子两侧。我记得当时自己曾暗暗揣摩,不知此公是不是现役陆军军人。那张毫无表情的马脸,配着一簇满族人式的垂髯,样子好不古怪。我看见那个身穿肉色衣服的太太正朝我望。乐队冷不防在这时奏起《上帝保佑英王》,弄得她手足无措,所以只好直挺挺地把一满盆冻鸡捧在胸前,那模样就好比捧着做礼拜时募到的捐款一般,脸上生气全无。一俟《上帝保佑英王》奏完,她忙不迭地松散一下身子,接着又吃起她那盆鸡肉来。她一面狼吞虎咽,一面转过头去同她的伴侣没完没了地闲扯。有人走过来紧紧握了握我的手——

①英国国歌。

“别忘了,下月十四号请来合下便饭。”

“哦,有这么回事吗?”我茫然望着他。

“是啊,刚才你大姑子也答应的。”

“哦,哦,那可热闹啦。”

“八点半。带黑领结的正式宴会。说定啦,届时恭候大驾光临。”

“好,到时一定来。”

人们开始站成一行又一行,准备道别。迈克西姆在屋于的另一头。我脸上重新堆起在唱完《友谊地久天长》之后渐渐隐去的笑容。

“好久没度过这么愉快的夜晚了。”

“我真高兴。”

“多谢。这么盛大的宴会。”

“我真高兴。”

“告辞啦,你瞧,我们一直呆到晚会终了。”

“是的,我真高兴。”

难道英语中再没有别的话了?我像木偶那样鞠躬微笑,目光越过人们的头顶,搜寻着迈克西姆的身影。他在藏书室门旁被一伙人缠住了;比阿特丽斯也被人围住;贾尔斯把一群零零落落的客人领到客厅的冷餐桌前;弗兰克则在外面车道上送客上车。我被一群素不相识的陌生人团团围在中间。

“再见,承蒙款待,不胜感激。”

“我真高兴。”

大厅里的客人快走空了。在此黑夜将尽,疲惫的另一天即将破晓之际,大厅里已呈现出一派昏沉、凄凉的气氛。晨曦透射在平台上,我依稀辨出草坪上暗褐色焰火架的轮廓。

“再见,晚会妙极了。”

“我真高兴。”

迈克西姆已经走出屋子,跟弗兰克一起站在车道上送客。比阿特丽斯一边朝我走来,一边卸下丁丁当当的手镯。“我再也受不了这些个劳什子。天哪,真把我累死了。我好像一场舞也没有错过。不管怎么说,这次舞会开得极为成功。”

“是吗?”我说。

“亲爱的,你还不快去睡觉?看你这副疲惫不堪的样子。你差不多一个晚上都站着。男人都上哪儿去了?”

“在外面车道上。”

“我想喝点咖啡,吃点鸡蛋和熏肉,你也来点怎么样?”

“不要,比阿特丽斯,我不想吃。”

“你穿着这套蓝衣裙很迷人。大家都这么说。关于——关于那件事儿,没有人听到一点风声,所以你大可不必放在心上。”

“我没放在心上。”

“换了我,明儿早上就好好睡个懒觉。躺着别起来。早饭在床上吃。”

“好的,也许就这么办。”

“要不要我跟迈克西姆说你上楼去了?”

“谢谢你,比阿特丽斯。”

“好了,亲爱的,好好睡一觉。”她飞快地吻了我一下,又在我肩上轻轻一拍,随后就上冷餐室找贾尔斯去了。我蹒跚地一步一级跨上楼梯。乐师们已把画廊里的电灯关掉,下楼去吃鸡蛋和熏肉宵夜。乐谱散了一地。有把椅子翻倒在地。一只烟缸里盛满乐师们抽剩的烟蒂。这是舞会的余殃。我沿过道朝自己房间走去。天色一点点亮起来,鸟儿已经开始啁啾,脱衣时我已不必开灯。冷飕飕的晨风从窗口轻轻吹来,颇有几分寒意。夜间,一定有好多人到玫瑰园来过,因为所有的椅子都从原来的位置上挪开了。有张桌子上放着一盘空玻璃杯。不知谁把只手提包遗忘在一张椅子上。我把窗帷拉上,好让房间里暗一些,可是灰蒙蒙的晨曦还是从旁边的缝隙里透了进来。

我钻进被窝,感到两腿发沉,没一点力气,腰背隐隐作痛。我仰面躺下,阖上眼,洁白的床单给人一种凉爽舒适的感觉。我多么希望脑子也能像身躯一样得到休息,松驰下来,然后进入梦乡,而不是像现在这样不住地嗡嗡作响,随着音乐的节拍乱蹦乱跳,在脸庞的海洋中旋转。我用双手紧紧压住自己的眼睛,但是这些脸庞却仍在我脑海中徘徊不去。

不知道迈克西姆还要等多少时间才回房来,我旁边的那张床看上去如此僵冷无情。要不了多久,屋子里的阴影全会消遁不见,墙壁、天花板和地板都会被朝阳照得白灿灿的。鸟儿不再压低嗓子,而是将唱得更响,更欢。阳光会在窗帷上织成黄澄澄的图案。床头小钟滴答作响,时间一秒一秒地过去。我侧转身子,望着时钟的针臂在钟面上缓缓移动。分外移到正点上,接着又转了过去,开始另一轮新的旅程。迈克西姆却始终没回房来。


j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-05-15#106
Chapter seventeen

Clarice was waiting for me in my bedroom. She looked pale and scared. As soon as she saw me she burst into tears. I did not say anything. I began tearing at the hooks of my dress, ripping the stuff. I could not manage them properly, and Clarice came to help me, still crying noisily. 'It's all right, Clarice, it's not your fault, ' I said, and she shook her head, the tears still running down her cheeks. 'Your lovely dress, Madam, ' she said, 'your lovely white dress. ' 'It doesn't matter, ' I said. 'Can't you find the hook? There it is, at the back. And another one somewhere, just below. ' She fumbled with the hooks, her hands trembling, making worse trouble with it than I did myself, and all the time catching at her breath. 'What will you wear instead, Madam?' she said. 'I don't know, ' I said, 'I don't know. ' She had managed to unfasten the hooks, and I struggled out of the dress. 'I think I'd rather like to be alone, Clarice, ' I said, 'would you be a dear and leave me? Don't worry, I shall manage all right. Forget what's happened. I want you to enjoy the party. ' 'Can I press out a dress for you, Madam?' she said, looking up at me with swollen streaming eyes. 'It won't take me a moment. ' 'No, ' I said, 'don't bother, I'd rather you went, and Clarice... " 'Yes, Madam?' 'Don't - don't say anything about what's just happened. ' 'No, Madam. ' She burst into another torrent of weeping. 'Don't let the others see you like that, ' I said. 'Go to your bedroom and do something to your face. There's nothing to cry about, nothing at all. ' Somebody knocked on the door. Clarice threw me a quick frightened glance. 'Who is it?' I said. The door opened and Beatrice came into the room. She came to me at once, a strange, rather ludicrous figure in her Eastern drapery, the bangles jangling on her wrists. 'My dear, ' she said, 'my dear, ' and held out her hands to me. Clarice slipped out of the room. I felt tired suddenly, and unable to cope. I went and sat down on the bed. I put my hand up to my head and took off the curled wig.

Beatrice stood watching me. 'Are you all right?' she said. 'You look very white. ' 'It's the light, ' I said. 'It never gives one any colour. ' 'Sit down for a few minutes and you'll be all right, ' she said; 'wait, I'll get a glass of water. ' She went into the bathroom, her bangles jangling with her every movement, and then she came back, the glass of water in her hands. I drank some to please her, not wanting it a bit. It tasted warm from the tap; she had not let it run. 'Of course I knew at once it was just a terrible mistake, ' she said. 'You could not possibly have known, why should you?' 'Known what?' I said. 'Why, the dress, you poor dear, the picture you copied of the girl in the gallery. It was what Rebecca did at the last fancy dress ball at Manderley. Identical. The same picture, the same dress. You stood there on the stairs, and for one ghastly moment I thought... " She did not go on with her sentence, she patted me on the shoulder. 'You poor child, how wretchedly unfortunate, how were you to know?' 'I ought to have known, ' I said stupidly, staring at her, too stunned to understand. 'I ought to have known. ' 'Nonsense, how could you know? It was not the sort of thing that could possibly enter any of our heads. Only it was such a shock, you see. We none of us expected it, and Maxim ... ' 'Yes, Maxim?' I said. 'He thinks, you see, it was deliberate on your part. You had some bet that you would startle him, didn't you? Some foolish joke. And of course, he doesn't understand. It was such a frightful shock for him. I told him at once you could not have done such a thing, and that it was sheer appalling luck that you had chosen that particular picture. ' 'I ought to have known, ' I repeated again. 'It's all my fault, I ought to have seen. I ought to have known. ' 'No, no. Don't worry, you'll be able to explain the whole thing to him quietly. Everything will be quite all right. The first lot of people were arriving just as I came upstairs to you. They are having drinks. Everything's all right. I've told Frank and Giles to make up a story about your dress not fitting, and you are very disappointed. ' I did not say anything. I went on sitting on the bed with my hands in my lap. 'What can you wear instead?' said Beatrice, going to my wardrobe and flinging open the doors. 'Here. What's this blue? It looks charming. Put this on. Nobody will mind. Quick. I'll help you. ' 'No, ' I said. "No, I'm not coming down. '

Beatrice stared at me in great distress, my blue frock over her arm. 'But, my dear, you must, ' she said in dismay. 'You can't possibly not appear. ' 'No, Beatrice, I'm not coming down. I can't face them, not after what's happened. ' 'But nobody will know about the dress, ' she said. 'Frank and Giles will never breathe a word. We've got the story all arranged. The shop sent the wrong dress, and it did not fit, so you are wearing an ordinary evening dress instead. Everyone will think it perfectly natural. It won't make any difference to the evening. ' 'You don't understand, ' I said. 'I don't care about the dress. It's not that at all. It's what has happened, what I did. I can't come down now, Beatrice, I can't. ' 'But, my dear, Giles and Frank understand perfectly. They are full of sympathy. And Maxim too. It was just the first shock ... I'll try and get him alone a minute, I'll explain the whole thing. ' 'No!' I said. 'No!' She put my blue frock down beside me on the bed. 'Everyone will be arriving, ' she said, very worried, very upset. 'It will look so extraordinary if you don't come down. I can't say you've suddenly got a headache. ' 'Why not?' I said wearily. 'What does it matter? Make anything up. Nobody will mind, they don't any of them know me. ' 'Come now, my dear, ' she said, patting my hand, 'try and make the effort. Put on this charming blue. Think of Maxim. You must come down for his sake. ' 'I'm thinking about Maxim all the time, ' I said. 'Well, then, surely ... ?' 'No, ' I said, tearing at my nails, rocking backwards and forwards on the bed. 'I can't, I can't. ' Somebody else knocked on the door. 'Oh, dear, who on earth is that?' said Beatrice, walking to the door. 'What is it?' She opened the door. Giles was standing just outside. 'Everyone has turned up. Maxim sent me up to find out what's happening, ' he said. 'She says she won't come down, ' said Beatrice. 'What on earth are we going to say?' I caught sight of Giles peering at me through the open door. 'Oh, Lord, what a frightful mix-up, ' he whispered. He turned away embarrassed when he noticed that I had seen him. 'What shall I say to Maxim?' he asked Beatrice. 'It's five past eight now. ' 'Say she's feeling rather faint, but will try and come down later. Tell them not to wait dinner. I'll be down directly, I'll make it all right. ' 'Yes, right you are. '

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-05-16#107
He half glanced in my direction again, sympathetic but rather curious, wondering why I sat there on the bed, and his voice was low, as it might be after an accident, when people are waiting for the doctor. 'Is there anything else I can do?' he said. 'No, ' said Beatrice, 'go down now, I'll follow in a minute. ' He obeyed her, shuffling away in his Arabian robes. This is the sort of moment, I thought, that I shall laugh at years afterwards, that I shall say 'Do you remember how Giles was dressed as an Arab, and Beatrice had a veil over her face, and jangling bangles on her wrist?' And time will mellow it, make it a moment for laughter. But now it was not funny, now I did not laugh. It was not the future, it was the present. It was too vivid and too real. I sat on the bed, plucking at the eiderdown, pulling a little feather out of a slit in one corner. * Would you like some brandy?' said Beatrice, making a last effort. 'I know it's only Dutch courage, but it sometimes works wonders. ' 'No, ' I said. 'No, I don't want anything. ' 'I shall have to go down. Giles says they are waiting dinner. Are you sure it's all right for me to leave you?' 'Yes. And thank you, Beatrice. ' 'Oh, my dear, don't thank me. I wish I could do something. ' She stopped swiftly to my looking-glass and dabbed her face with powder. 'God, what a sight I look, ' she said, 'this damn ! veil is crooked I know. However it can't be helped. ' She rustled out of the room, closing the door behind her. I felt I had forfeited her sympathy by my refusal to go down. I had shown the white feather. She had not understood. She belonged to another breed of men and women, another race than I. They had guts, the women of her race. They were not like me. If it had been Beatrice who had done this thing instead of me she would have put on her other dress and gone down again to welcome her guests. She would have stood by Giles's side, and shaken hands with people, a smile on her face. I could not do that. I had not the pride, I had not the guts. I was badly bred. I kept seeing Maxim's eyes blazing in his white face, and behind him Giles, and Beatrice and Frank standing like dummies, staring at me. I got up from my bed and went and looked out of the window. The gardeners were going round to the lights in the rose-garden, testing them to see if they all worked. The sky was pale, with a few salmon clouds of evening streaking to the west.

When it was dusk the lamps would all be lit. There were tables and chairs in the rose-garden, for the couples who wanted to sit out. I could smell the roses from my window. The men were talking to one another and laughing. "There's one here gone, ' I heard a voice call out; 'can you get me another small bulb? One of the blue ones, Bill. ' He fixed the light into position. He whistled a popular tune of the moment with easy confidence, and I thought how tonight perhaps the band would play the same tune in the minstrels' gallery above the hall. 'That's got it, ' said the man, switching the light on and off, 'they're all right here. No others gone. We'd better have a look at those on the terrace. ' They went off round the corner of the house, still whistling the song. I wished I could be the man. Later in the evening he would stand with his friend in the drive and watch the cars drive up to the house, his hands in his pockets, his cap on the back of his head. He would stand in a crowd with other people from the estate, and then drink cider at the long table arranged for them in one corner of the terrace. 'Like the old days, isn't it?' he would say. But his friend would shake his head, puffing at his pipe. 'This new one's not like our Mrs de Winter, she's different altogether. ' And a woman next them in the crowd would agree, other people too, all saying "That's right, ' and nodding their heads. 'Where is she tonight? She's not been on the terrace once. ' 'I can't say, I'm sure. I've not seen her. ' 'Mrs de Winter used to be here, there, and everywhere. ' 'Aye, that's right. ' And the woman would turn to her neighbours nodding mysteriously. "They say she's not appearing tonight at all. ' 'Go on. ' "That's right. One of the servants from the house told me Mrs de Winter hasn't come down from her room all evening. ' 'What's wrong with the maid, is she bad?' 'No, sulky I reckon. They say her dress didn't please her. ' A squeal of laughter and a murmur from the little crowd. 'Did you ever hear of such a thing? It's a shame for Mr de Winter. ' 'I wouldn't stand for it, not from a chit like her. ' 'Maybe it's not true at all. ' 'It's true all right. They're full of it up at the house. ' One to the other. This one to the next. A smile, a wink, a shrug of the shoulder. One group, and then another group. And then spreading to the guests who walked on the terrace and strolled across the lawns.

The couple who in three hours' time would sit in those chairs beneath me in the rose-garden. 'Do you suppose it's true what I heard?' 'What did you hear?' 'Why, that there's nothing wrong with her at all, they've had a colossal row, and she won't appear!' 'I say!' A lift of the eyebrows, a long whistle. 'I know. Well, it does look rather odd, don' t you think? What I mean is, people don't suddenly for no reason have violent headaches. I call the whole thing jolly fishy. ' 'I thought he looked a bit grim, ' 'So did I. ' 'Of course I have heard before the marriage is not a wild success. ' 'Oh, really?' 'H'm. Several people have said so. They say he's beginning to realize he's made a big mistake. She's nothing to look at, you know. ' 'No, I've heard there's nothing much to her. Who was she?' 'Oh, no one at all. Some pick-up in the south of France, a nursery gov. , or something. ' 'Good Lord!' 'I know. And when you think of Rebecca ... " I went on staring at the empty chairs. The salmon sky had turned to grey. Above my head was the evening star. In the woods beyond the rose-garden the birds were making their last little rustling noises before nightfall. A lone gull flew across the sky. I went away from the window, back to the bed again. I picked up the white dress I had left on the floor and put it back in the box with the tissue paper. I put the wig back in its box too. Then I looked in one of my cupboards for the little portable iron I used to have in Monte Carlo for Mrs Van Hopper's dresses. It was lying at the back of a shelf with some woollen jumpers I had not worn for a long time. The iron was (The of those universal kinds that go on any voltage and I fitted it to the plug in the wall. I began to iron the blue dress that Beatrice had taken from the wardrobe, slowly, methodically, as I used to iron Mrs Van Hopper's dresses in Monte Carlo. When I had finished I laid the dress ready on the bed. Then I cleaned the make-up off my face that I had put on for the fancy dress. I combed my hair, and washed my hands. I put on the blue dress and the shoes that went with it. I might have been my old self again, going down to the lounge of the hotel with Mrs Van Hopper. I opened the door of my room and went along the corridor. Everything was still and silent. There might not have been a party at all. I tiptoed to the end of the passage and turned the corner. The door to the west wing was closed. There was no sound of anything at all.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-05-17#108

When I came to the archway by the gallery and the staircase I heard the murmur and hum of conversation coming from the dining-room. They were still having dinner. The great hall was deserted. There was nobody in the gallery either. The band must be having their dinner too. I did not know what arrangements had been made for them. Frank had done it - Frank or Mrs Danvers. From where I stood I could see the picture of Caroline de Winter facing me in the gallery. I could see the curls framing her face, and I could see the smile on her lips. I remembered the bishop's wife who had said to me that day I called, 'I shall never forget her, dressed all in white, with that cloud of dark hair. ' I ought to have remembered that, I ought to have known. How queer the instruments looked in the gallery, the little stands for the music, the big drum. One of the men had left his handkerchief on a chair. I leant over the rail and looked down at the hall below. Soon it would be filled with people, like the bishop's wife had said, and Maxim would stand at the bottom of the stairs shaking hands with them as they came into the hall. The sound of their voices would echo to the ceiling, and then the band would play from the gallery where I was leaning now, the man with the violin smiling, swaying to the music. It would not be quiet like this any more. A board creaked in the gallery. I swung round, looking at the gallery behind me. There was nobody there. The gallery was empty, just as it had been before. A current of air blew in my face though, somebody must have left a window open in one of the passages. The hum of voices continued in the dining-room. I wondered why the board creaked when I had not moved at all. The warmth of the night perhaps, a swelling somewhere in the old wood. The draught still blew in my face though. A piece of music on one of the stands fluttered to the floor. I looked towards the archway above the stairs. The draught was coming from there. I went beneath the arch again, and when I came out on to the long corridor I saw that the door to the west wing had blown open and swung back against the wall. It was dark in the west passage, none of the lights had been turned on. I could feel the wind blowing on my face from an open window. I fumbled for a switch on the wall and could not find one.


I could see the window in an angle of the passage, the curtain blowing softly, backwards and forwards. The grey evening light cast queer shadows on the floor. The sound of the sea came to me through the open window, the soft hissing sound of the ebb-tide leaving the shingle. I did not go and shut the window. I stood there shivering a moment in my thin dress, listening to the sea as it sighed and left the shore. Then I turned quickly and shut the door of the west wing behind me, and came out again through the archway by the stairs. The murmur of voices had swollen now and was louder than before. The door of the dining-room was open. They were coming out of dinner. I could see Robert standing by the open door, and there was a scraping of chairs, a babble of conversation, and laughter. I walked slowly down the stairs to meet them. When I look back at my first party at Manderley, my first and my last, I can remember little isolated things standing alone out of the vast blank canvas of the evening. The background was hazy, a sea of dim faces none of whom I knew, and there was the slow drone of the band harping out a waltz that never finished, that went on and on. The same couples swung by in rotation, with the same fixed smiles, and to me, standing with Maxim at the bottom of the stairs to welcome the late-comers, these dancing couples seemed like marionettes twisting and turning on a piece of string, held by some invisible hand. There was a woman, I never knew her name, never saw her again, but she wore a salmon-coloured gown hooped in crinoline form, a vague gesture to some past century but whether seventeenth, eighteenth, or nineteenth I could not tell, and every time she passed me it coincided with a sweeping bar of the waltz to which she dipped and swayed, smiling as she did so in my direction. It happened again and again until it became automatic, a matter of routine, like those promenades on board ship when we meet the same people bent on exercise like ourselves, and know with deadly certainty that we will pass them by the bridge. I can see her now, the prominent teeth, the gay spot of rouge placed high upon her cheek-bones, and her smile, vacant, happy, enjoying her evening. Later I saw her by the supper table, her keen eyes searching the food, and she heaped a plate high with salmon and lobster mayonnaise and went off into a corner.

There was Lady Crowan too, monstrous in purple, disguised as I know not what romantic figure of the past, it might have been Marie Antoinette or Nell Gwynne for all I knew, or a strange erotic combination of the two, and she kept exclaiming in excited high-pitch tones, a little higher than usual because of the champagne she had consumed, 'You all have me to thank for this, not the de Winters at all. ' I remember Robert dropping a tray of ices, and the expression of Frith's face when he saw Robert was the culprit and not one of the minions hired for the occasion. I wanted to go to Robert and stand beside him and say 'I know how you feel. I understand. I've done worse than you tonight. ' I can feel now the stiff, set smile on my face that did not match the misery in my eyes. I can see Beatrice, dear friendly tactless Beatrice, watching me from her partner's arms, nodding encouragement, the bangles jangling on her wrists, the veil slipping continually from her overheated forehead. I can picture myself once more whirled round the room in a desperate dance with Giles, who with dog-like sympathy and kind heart would take no refusal, but must steer me through the stamping crowd as he would one of his own horses at a meet. 'That's a jolly pretty dress you're wearing, ' I can hear him say, 'it makes all these people look damn silly, ' and I blessed him for his pathetic simple gesture of understanding and sincerity, thinking, dear Giles, that I was disappointed in my dress, that I was worrying about my appearance, that I cared. It was Frank who brought me a plate of chicken and ham that I could not eat, and Frank who stood by my elbow with a glass of champagne I would not drink. 'I wish you would, ' he said quietly, 'I think you need it, ' and I took three sips of it to please him. The black patch over his eye gave him a pale odd appearance, it made him look older, different. There seemed to be lines on his face I had not seen before. He moved amongst the guests like another host, seeing to their comfort, that they were supplied with drink, and food, and cigarettes, and he danced too in solemn painstaking fashion, walking his partners round the room with a set face. He did not wear his pirate costume with abandon, and there was something rather tragic about the side-whiskers he had fluffed under the scarlet handkerchief on his head. I thought of him standing before the looking-glass in his bare bachelor bedroom curling them round his fingers.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-05-18#109
Poor Frank. Dear Frank. I never asked, I never knew, how much he hated the last fancy dress ball given at Manderley. The band played on, and the swaying couples twisted like bobbing marionettes, to and fro, to and fro, across the great hall and back again, and it was not I who watched them at all, not someone with feelings, made of flesh and blood, but a dummy-stick of a person in my stead, a prop who wore a smile screwed to its face. The figure who stood beside it was wooden too. His face was a mask, his smile was not his own. The eyes were not the eyes of the man I loved, the man I knew. They looked through me and beyond me, cold, expressionless, to some place of pain and torture I could not enter, to some private, inward hell I could not share. He never spoke to me. He never touched me. We stood beside one another, the host and the hostess, and we were not together. I watched his courtesy to his guests. He flung a word to one, a jest to another, a smile to a third, a call over his shoulder to a fourth, and no one but myself could know that every utterance he made, every movement, was automatic and the work of a machine. We were like two performers in a play, but we were divided, we were not acting with one another. We had to endure it alone, we had to put up this show, this miserable, sham performance, for the sake of all these people I did not know and did not want to see again. 'I hear your wife's frock never turned up in time, ' said someone with a mottled face and a sailor's pigtail, and he laughed, and dug Maxim in the ribs. 'Damn shame, what? I should sue the shop for fraud. Same thing happened to my wife's cousin once. ' 'Yes, it was unfortunate, ' said Maxim. 'I tell you what, ' said the sailor, turning to me, 'you ought to say you are a forget-me-not. They're blue aren't they? Jolly little flowers, forget-me-nots. That's right, isn't it, de Winter? Tell your wife she must call herself a "forget-me-not". ' He swept away, roaring with laughter, his partner in his arms. 'Pretty good idea, what? A forget-me-not. ' Then Frank again hovering just behind me, another glass in his hand, lemonade this time. 'No, Frank, I'm not thirsty. ' 'Why don't you dance? Or come and sit down a moment; there's a corner in the terrace. ' 'No, I'm better standing. I don't want to sit down. ' 'Can't I get you something, a sandwich, a peach?' 'No, I don't want anything. '

There was the salmon lady again; she forgot to smile at me this time. She was flushed after her supper. She kept looking up into her partner's face. He was very tall, very thin, he had a chin like a fiddle. The Destiny waltz, the Blue Danube, the Merry Widow, one-two-three, one-two-three, round-and-round, one-two-three, one-two-three, round-and-round. The salmon lady, a green lady, Beatrice again, her veil pushed back off her forehead; Giles, his face streaming with perspiration, and that sailor once more, with another partner; they stopped beside me, I did not know her; she was dressed as a Tudor woman, any Tudor woman; she wore a ruffle round her throat and a black velvet dress. 'When are you coming to see us?' she said, as though we were old friends, and I answered, 'Soon of course; we were talking about it the other day, ' wondering why I found it so easy to lie suddenly, no effort at all. 'Such a delightful party; I do congratulate you, ' she said, and "Thank you very much, ' I said. 'It's fun, isn't it?' 'I hear they sent you the wrong dress?' 'Yes; absurd, wasn't it?' "These shops are all the same. No depending on them. But you look delightfully fresh in that pale blue. Much more comfortable than this hot velvet. Don't forget, you must both come and dine at the Palace soon. ' 'We should love to. ' What did she mean, where, what palace? Were we entertaining royalty? She swept on to the Blue Danube in the arms of the sailor, her velvet frock brushing the ground like a carpet-sweeper, and it was not until long afterwards, in the middle of some night, when I could not sleep, that I remembered the Tudor woman was the bishop's wife who liked walking in the Pennines. What was the time? I did not know. The evening dragged on, hour after hour, the same faces and the same tunes. Now and again the bridge people crept out of the library like hermits to watch the dancers, and then returned again. Beatrice, her draperies trailing behind her, whispered in my ear. 'Why don't you sit down? You look like death. ' 'I'm all right. ' Giles, the make-up running on his face, poor fellow, and stifling in his Arab blanket, came up to me and said, 'Come and watch the fireworks on the terrace. ' I remember standing on the terrace and staring up at the sky as the foolish rockets burst and fell.

There was little Clarice in a corner with some boy off the estate; she was smiling happily, squealing with delight as a squib spluttered at her feet. She had forgotten her tears. 'Hullo, this will be a big 'un. ' Giles, his large face upturned, his mouth open. 'Here she comes. Bravo, jolly fine show. ' The slow hiss of the rocket as it sped into the air, the burst of the explosion, the stream of little emerald stars. A murmur of approval from the crowd, cries of delight, and a clapping of hands. The salmon lady well to the front, her face eager with expectation, a remark for every star that fell. 'Oh, what a beauty ... Look at that one now; I say, how pretty ... Oh, that one didn't burst ... Take care, it's coming our way ... What are those men doing over there?'... Even the hermits left their lair and came to join the dancers on the terrace. The lawns were black with people. The bursting stars shone on their upturned faces. Again and again the rockets sped into the air like arrows, and the sky became crimson and gold. Manderley stood out like an enchanted house, every window aflame, the grey walls coloured by the falling stars. A house bewitched, carved out of the dark woods. And when the last rocket burst and the cheering died away, the night that had been fine before seemed dull and heavy in contrast, the sky became a pall. The little groups on the lawns and in the drive broke up and scattered. The guests crowded the long windows in the terrace back to the drawing-room again. It was anticlimax, the aftermath had come. We stood about with blank faces. Someone gave me a glass of champagne. I heard the sound of cars starting up in the drive. "They're beginning to go, ' I thought. "Thank God, they're beginning to go. ' The salmon lady was having some more supper. It would take time yet to clear the hall. I saw Frank make a signal to the band. I stood in the doorway between the drawing-room and the hall beside a man I did not know. 'What a wonderful party it's been, ' he said. 'Yes, ' I said. 'I've enjoyed every minute of it, ' he said. 'I'm so glad, ' I said. 'Molly was wild with fury at missing it, ' he said. 'Was she?' I said. The band began to play Auld Lang Syne. The man seized my hand and started swinging it up and down. 'Here, ' he said, 'come on, some of you. ' Somebody else swung my other hand, and more people joined us. We stood in a great circle singing at the top of our voices.

游客_ : 2017-05-22#110
英文和中文怎么差别这么大,
They say he can't get over his wife's death ... '
听人说,他妻子死了,给他的打击太大,一时还没恢复过来……”
听说,他无法从失去妻子的悲痛中解脱出来?

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-05-23#111
The man who had enjoyed his evening and said Molly would be wild at missing it was dressed as a Chinese mandarin, and his false nails got caught up in his sleeve as we swung our hands up and down. He roared with laughter. We all laughed. 'Should auld acquaintance be forgot, ' we sang. The hilarious gaiety changed swiftly at the closing bars, and the drummer rattled his sticks in the inevitable prelude to God Save the King. The smiles left our faces as though wiped clean by a sponge. The Mandarin sprang to attention, his hands stiff to his sides. I remember wondering vaguely if he was in the Army. How queer he looked with his long poker face, and his drooping Mandarin moustache. I caught the salmon lady's eye. God Save the King had taken her unawares, she was still holding a plate heaped with chicken in aspic. She held it stiffly out in front of her like a church collection. All animation had gone from her face. As the last note of God Save the King died away she relaxed again, and attacked her chicken in a sort of frenzy, chattering over her shoulder to her partner. Somebody came and wrung me by the hand. 'Don't forget, you're dining with us on the fourteenth of next month. ' 'Oh, are we?' I stared at him blankly. 'Yes, we've got your sister-in-law to promise too. ' 'Oh. Oh, what fun. ' 'Eight-thirty, and black tie. So looking forward to seeing you. ' 'Yes. Yes, rather. ' People began to form up in queues to say goodbye. Maxim was at the other side of the room. I put on my smile again, which had worn thin after Auld Lang Syne. 'The best evening I've spent for a long time. '. 'I'm so glad. ' 'Many thanks for a grand party. ' 'I'm so glad. ' 'Here we are, you see, staying to the bitter end. ' 'Yes, I'm so glad. ' Was there no other sentence in the English language? I bowed and smiled like a dummy, my eyes searching for Maxim above their heads. He was caught up in a knot of people by the library. Beatrice too was surrounded, and Giles had led a team of stragglers to the buffet table in the drawing-room. Frank was out in the drive seeing that people got their cars. I was hemmed in by strangers. 'Goodbye, and thanks tremendously. ' 'I'm so glad. ' The great hall began to empty. Already it wore that drab deserted air of a vanished evening and the dawn of a tired day.

There was a grey light on the terrace, I could see the shapes of the blown firework stands taking form on the lawns. 'Goodbye; a wonderful party. ' 'I'm so glad. ' Maxim had gone out to join Frank in the drive. Beatrice came up to me, pulling off her jangling bracelet. 'I can't stand these things a moment longer. Heavens, I'm dead beat. I don't believe I've missed a dance. Anyway, it was a tremendous success. ' 'Was it?' I said. 'My dear, hadn't you better go to bed? You look worn out. You've been standing nearly all the evening. Where are the men?' 'Out on the drive. ' 'I shall have some coffee, and eggs and bacon. What about you?' 'No, Beatrice, I don't think I will. ' 'You looked very charming in your blue. Everyone said so. And nobody had an inkling about - about the other things, so you mustn't worry. ' 'No. ' 'If I were you I should have a good long lie tomorrow morning. Don't attempt to get up. Have your breakfast in bed. ' 'Yes, perhaps. ' 'I'll tell Maxim you've gone up, shall I?" 'Please, Beatrice. ' 'All right, my dear. Sleep well. ' She kissed me swiftly, patting my shoulder at the same time, and then went off to find Giles in the supper room. I walked slowly up the stairs, one step at a time. The band had turned the lights off in the gallery, and had gone down to have eggs and bacon too. Pieces of music lay about the floor. One chair had been upturned. There was an ashtray full of the stubs of their cigarettes. The aftermath of the party. I went along the corridor to my room. It was getting lighter every moment, and the birds had started singing. I did not have to turn on the light to undress. A little chill wind blew in from the open window. It was rather cold. Many people must have used the rose-garden during the evening, for all the chairs were moved, and dragged from their places. There was a tray of empty glasses on one of the tables. Someone had left a bag behind on a chair. I pulled the curtain to darken the room, but the grey morning light found its way through the gaps at the side. I got into bed, my legs very weary, a niggling pain in the small of my back. I lay back and closed my eyes, thankful for the cool white comfort of clean sheets. I wished my mind would rest like my body, relax, and pass to sleep. Not hum round in the way it did, jigging to music, whirling in a sea of faces. I pressed my hands over my eyes but they would not go. I wondered how long Maxim would be. The bed beside me looked stark and cold. Soon there would be no shadows in the room at all, the walls and the ceiling and the floor would be white with the morning. The birds would sing their songs, louder, gayer, less subdued. The sun would make a yellow pattern on the curtain. My little bedside clock ticked out the minutes one by one. The hand moved round the dial. I lay on my side watching it. It came to the hour and passed it again. It started afresh on its journey. But Maxim did not come.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-05-24#112
第18章

我大概是在七点以后不久睡着的,记得那时天已大亮,所以不必再自欺欺人地以为拉上了窗帷就能把阳光挡住。日光从洞开着的窗户射进来,大墙上交织成一幅幅的图案。我听到仆人正在下面玫瑰园里忙着收拾桌椅,并取下那串彩色小灯泡。迈克西姆的床仍旧空着。我伸开四肢,舒服地躺在床上,用胳臂蒙着眼睛。这种奇特而不成体统的姿势似乎最不可能催人入眠,然而我却昏昏沉沉地接近迷糊之境,最后总算堕入了梦乡。一觉醒来,时间已过十一点。刚才我睡着的时候,克拉丽斯一定已到房里来过,还给我送来了早茶,因为这时我发现身旁放着茶盘和凉透了的茶壶。我的衣眼也都折叠得整整齐齐,那件蓝衣裙已被拿走,放进衣柜。

这一觉虽短,却很酣沉。我喝着凉茶,睡意仍未全消,睡眼惺松地瞅着前面的空白墙壁。迈克西姆的空床使我猛然清醒过来,心头莫名其妙地一惊,前一夜的极度痛苦再次向我袭来。他根本没有上床睡觉。他的睡衣睡裤放在铺开的床单上,折得好好的,没人碰过。我暗自纳闷,克拉丽斯刚才进屋给我送茶时不知作何感想。她注意到了吗?出去以后有没有告诉其他仆人?他们会不会一边吃着早饭,一边津津有味地议论这事?我不知道自己为何对这一点老是斤斤计较;为什么一想到仆人们会在厨下窃窃私议就感到这么苦恼不安。一定是我这个人气量小,心地窄,脑筋古板,受不了别人的半句闲话。

昨晚上我之所以最终换上了那件蓝衣裙下了楼,而没有躲在自己房里,也是这个缘故。这里面谈不上什么勇敢或高尚,仅仅是受了习俗虚礼的驱使,一心想委屈求全罢了。我之所以毅然下楼,并不是为迈克西姆着想,也不是为了比阿特丽斯或曼陀丽。我下楼来乃是因为我不想让参加舞会的宾客以为我和迈克西姆在翻脸怄气。我不想给他们话柄,好让这些人回家去风言风语:“不说你也知道,他俩合不来,听说他生活得一点不快活。”我完全是为了自己,为了顾全自己那份可怜的自尊才下楼去的。我一口一口呷着凉茶,怀着既疲惫又痛苦的绝望心情想着:只要永远不让外人知道,那末即使我住曼陀丽这一隅,迈克西姆住庄园那一角,我也心甘情愿。哪怕他不再对我存有半点温情,不再亲吻我,非到万不得已时不启口对我说话,我相信我也能忍受得住,只要除我俩以外确实没有别人知道其中底蕴。只要我们能用钱堵住仆人的嘴巴,那我们可以在亲朋面前,在比阿特丽斯面前强颜欢笑,扮演恩爱夫妻的角色,到只剩下我们两人的时候,尽可以分道扬镳,各回各的空房,各过各的生活。

我多么痴呆地坐在床上,望着墙壁,望着窗口射进来的阳光,望着迈克西姆的空床,似乎觉得世上再没有什么比婚姻破裂更使人丢脸,更使人抬不起头来的事了。结婚才三个月,夫妻就反目了。此刻,我已不存半点幻想,不再矫情虚饰。通过昨天晚上的那一幕,我全看明白了。我的婚姻是极大的失败。人们倘若知道真相定会议论纷纷,那些闲话也不一定全是捕风捉影。我们确实合不来,确实不是理想的伴侣。我俩并不相配。对迈克西姆来说,我太年轻,太没有生活经验,而更重要的是,我不属于他生活的那个圈子。我像个孩子那样,像条狗那样,病态地、屈辱地、不顾一切地爱着他,但这无济于事。他所需要的不是这样一种爱情,他需要的是我无法给予的别种东西,是他以前曾领受过的另一种爱。我想起自己在结下这宗姻缘时,心里曾涌起一股近乎歇斯底里的青春激情和自负感,以为自己能给曾体验过巨大幸福的迈克西姆带来幸福。甚至连头脑平庸、见识肤浅的范-霍珀夫人也知道我这一步走错了。“恐怕你日后会吃后悔药的,”她说,“我觉得你正铸成大错。”

这番话我哪听得进去,只觉得她为人冷酷无情,而实际上她的话是对的。她在所有事情上都是对的。她临别时朝我劈头刺来的那卑鄙的最后一击,是她一生中所发表的最剀切入理的箴言:“你不会自欺欺人地以为他爱着你吧?他形影相吊,没法忍受那幢人去楼空的大宅。”迈克西姆当时没爱着我,以后也没爱过我。我们在意大利度过的蜜月,他根本不当一回事情;我们在这儿朝夕相伴的生活,对他也味同嚼蜡。我所认为的那种对我的爱,对我自己作为独立个人的爱,其实并非是什么爱,只不过他是一个男人,而我是他的妻室,也还年轻,再说,他也感到寂寞。他根本不属于我,而是属于吕蓓卡的。他仍眷恋者吕蓓卡。由于吕蓓卡的缘故,他决不会爱我。丹弗斯太太说得不错,吕蓓卡仍在这幢宅子里,在西厢的那个房间里,在藏书室、展室以及大厅上方的画廊里,甚至还在那间小小的花房里——那儿仍挂着她的胶布雨衣。吕蓓卡还在花园里,在林子中,在海滩的小石屋里。走廊里仍回响着她轻盈的脚步声,楼梯上还留着她身上散发的余香。仆人们仍在按她的吩咐行事:我们吃的是她喜欢的食物,她心爱的花卉摆满各个房间。她的衣饰犹在她房间的衣柜里,她的发刷仍搁在梳妆台上,她的鞋子还搁在椅子下面,睡衣还摊在她床上。吕蓓卡依然是曼陀丽的女主人。吕蓓卡依然是德温特夫人。我在这儿完全是个多余的人。我像个可怜的傻瓜,胡乱闯进了这片不容外人涉足的禁区。“吕蓓卡在哪儿?”迈克西姆的祖母曾这样大声说:“我要吕蓓卡,你们把吕蓓卡怎么啦?”她不认识我,对我很冷淡,不是吗?这也难怪。对她说来我原是个陌生人。我不属于迈克西姆,同曼陀丽格格不入。比阿特丽斯在我们初次见面时,将我上下一打量,直言不讳地说:“你跟吕蓓卡多么不一样。”当我在弗兰克面前提起她的时候,他沉吟不语,显得局促不安,对我连珠炮似的那一大串问题避之唯恐不及,其实我自己也讨厌那些问题;而在我们快走近屋子时,他用低沉而平静的声调回答了我的最后一个问题:“不错,她是我有生以来见过的最美的女人。”

吕蓓卡,无处无时不在的吕蓓卡。在曼陀丽,不管我走到哪儿,无论我坐在哪儿,甚至在我冥思遐想,昏昏入梦之际,我都能遇见吕蓓卡。现在我已知道她的体态身段,那细长的大腿,娇小的双足。她的肩膀比我丰满,还生就一双灵巧的手——那双手可以驾轻舟,驭骏马;那双手插枝养花,制作船模,还曾在一部书的扉页上挥笔写下“给迈克斯——吕蓓卡赠”的题词。她那张玲球剔透的鹅蛋脸,我也熟悉了;光洁白皙的肌肤,乌黑的云鬓。我知道她用的是哪一种香水;我能揣摩她在爽朗欢笑和嫣然微笑时的模样。要是我听到那笑声,那末即使在千人之中我也会辨认出她的声音来。吕蓓卡,吕蓓卡,无时不有,无处不在。我永远也摆脱不掉吕蓓卡。

她阴魂不散,老是缠着我,说不定我也同样使她日夜不得安宁;正如丹弗斯太太所说,她正从画廊上俯视着我,而当我伏在她书桌上写信时,她就坐在我身边。我穿过的那件雨衣,我用过的那方手绢,都是她的遗物。说不定她不仅知道,而且还看着我将它们拿在手里。杰斯珀原是她的爱犬,现在却因在我脚边打转。玫瑰花是她亲手栽植的,如今却任我剪摘。不错,我恨她,她是不是也同样恨我,怕我?她是不是有意要让迈克西姆再次成为单鹄寡凫,在这屋子里鳏居呢?我可以同活人拚搏,却无法与死人争斗。假如迈克西姆在伦敦有个什么情妇,他给她写信,去看望她,和她同桌吃饭,同榻而眠,那我还可以同她较量一番,因为毕竟都是一样的活人。我不会胆怯气馁。怒火和妒火是可以加以平息的。有朝一日,那女人年老色衰,或是厌腻变了心,迈克西姆就不会再爱她。然而吕蓓卡青春常在,始终保持着当年的丰韵。我是没法和她争风吃醋的。这样强大的敌手我委实无力与之抗衡。

我起床拉开窗帷,阳光顿时泻满屋子。仆役们已将玫瑰园收拾得干干净净。人们每参加一次宴会,第二天总要谈论好久,不知道此时他们是不是同样在谈论者昨晚的舞会。

“你觉得这次舞会是不是完全够得上以往的水平?”

“哦,我想是吧。”

“乐队稍嫌拖沓了点。”

“晚餐丰盛极了。”

“焰火也不坏。”

“比-莱西开始见老啦!”

“穿着那身打扮,谁会不见老呢?”

“我觉得他很有几分病容。”

“他嘛,一向是那副模样。”

“你觉得新娘怎么样?”

“不怎么样,呆板得很。”

“我怀疑这门婚事是否美满。”

“可不是,我怀疑……”

到这时我才注意到门缝下有张便条。我走过去将它捡起,认出那方方正正的字迹系出自比阿特丽斯之手。便条是她在早餐后用铅笔匆匆涂就的。“我叩过你的房门,但你没有答应,想来你已听从我的劝告,睡一觉,把昨晚的事儿忘掉,贾尔斯急于要回去,因为家里人来电话,说要他接替某个队员出场,赛一场板球,比赛于下午二时开始,昨晚上,天晓得他灌了多少香按,真不知道他今天怎么去接球,这会儿我双腿有点发软,不过昨夜睡得很沉。弗里思说,迈克西姆一大早就在楼下吃了早饭,可现在却不见他的人影!所以请代我们向他致意,十分感激你俩昨晚的盛情款待。昨天晚上我们玩得痛快极了。不要再去想那套衣服的事。(铅笔在最后这一句下面划了一道粗线。)你的亲爱的比。”后面又附了一笔:“你们两位最近务必抽时间上我们家来玩。”

她在纸条上端写着上午九时三十分,而现在已近十一点半了。他们离开这儿快两个小时,大概此时已到家了。比阿特丽斯打开手提箱取出旅行用品之后,就走进花园干起日常的园艺活来,而贾尔斯则准备参加板球比赛,给球拍换上新的缚扎绳。

下午,比阿特丽斯将换件凉快的外套,戴一顶遮阳宽边帽,去看贾尔斯赛板球。随后他俩就在凉篷里用茶点,贾尔斯兴奋得满脸红光,比阿特丽斯笑呵呵地对她的朋友说:“是嘛,曼陀丽的舞会我们去参加了,玩得真带劲。想不到贾尔斯今天在球场上还能这么鲜蹦活跳。”说着,朝贾尔斯微微一笑,还伸手在他的背上轻轻拍一下。他们俩已届中年,不再那么富有浪漫气息。他们结婚到现在已有二十年,儿子也已长大成人,正准备进牛津深造。他们很幸福。他们的婚姻是美满的,不像我这样,结婚才三个月就告破裂。

我没法再在卧室里呆坐下去。侍女们要来收拾房间。说不定克拉丽斯刚才根本没注意到迈克西姆的床。我故意把床弄皱,让人看了以为他已在上面睡过。如果克拉丽斯没告诉其他女仆,那我也不想让她们知道。

我洗了个澡,穿好衣眼,走下楼去。大厅里的舞池业已拆去,花卉也全都搬走了。画廊里的乐谱架已撤去,乐队想必是乘早班车走的。园艺工人正在打扫草坪和车道,把地上的焰火残骸余灰扫掉。要不了一会儿,就再也看不到曼陀丽化装舞会的半点儿痕迹,筹备舞会花了那么长的时间,现在清理起来却似乎不费什么劲,一转眼就解决了。

我记起昨晚那位身穿肉色衣裙,站在客厅门口,手里端着那盆冻鸡的太太;此刻,对我来说,那幕景象却似乎是我凭空想象出来的,或者说是时隔已久的一段往事。罗伯特正在餐厅里擦桌子,他又恢复了常态,结实、迟钝,全然不是过去几周以来激动得失魂落魄的那个角色。

“早上好,罗伯特,”我跟他打招呼。

“早上好,太太。”

“你可在哪儿见到过德温特先生没有?”

“太太,他吃完早饭,没等莱酉少校夫妇下楼就出去了,以后一直没有回来。”

“你不知道他上哪儿去了吗?”

“不知道,太太,我说不上来。”

我又踱回大厅,穿过客厅,来到展室。杰斯珀赶忙跑过来舔我的手。瞧它那股疯狂的快活劲头,仿佛我已离开了好久似的。长耳狗在克拉丽斯的床上过了一夜,而从昨天上茶时分到现在,我一直没跟这畜生打照面,也许它跟我一样,觉得这段时间真是长得可以。

我拿起电话,问了庄园办事处的电话号码。说不定迈克西姆此刻在弗兰克那儿。我感到非得跟他说话不可,哪怕只讲上两分钟也好。我一定要对他解释清楚,昨晚上我那么做并非出于有意。即使以后我再也不跟他讲话,我也得把这点告诉他。接电话的办事员,他告诉我迈克西姆不在那儿。

“克劳利先生在这儿,德温特夫人,”办事员说。“您要他听电话吗?”我原想一口回绝,但他动作比我快,我还来不及挂上话筒就听到弗兰克说话的声音。

“出什么事了?”真好笑,哪有一上来就冲着人问这话的。这个念头在我脑子里一闪而过。他没说声“早上好”,也没问一下“昨晚睡得可好”,他为什么要问“出什么事了”?

“弗兰克,是我,”我说。“迈克西姆哪儿去了?”

“我不知道,我没见着他。早晨他没到这儿来过。”

“没上办事处去?”

“没有。”

“哦,哦,嗯,这没关系。”

“早饭时见到过他吗?”

“没有,我还没起来呢。”

“他睡得好吗?”

我沉吟着。弗兰克是我唯一不怕让他知道真情的人。“他昨晚没有回房睡觉。”

电话线的那一头没有作声,弗兰克大概正搜索枯肠,想找句话来应付。

“哦,”他终于开口了,话说得很慢。“哦,我明白啦。”又是片刻的沉默之后:“我就怕发生这样的事。”

“弗兰克,”我气急败坏地说,“昨晚客人走完以后他说了些什么?你们几个人干了些什么?”

“我同贾尔斯和莱西夫人一起吃了客三明治,”弗兰克说。“迈克西姆没来。他找了个推托的理由,径自去了藏书室。过后我也就回家了。也许莱西夫人知道吧。”

“她走啦,”我说。“他们吃过早饭就动身走了。她给我留了张便条,说她没看见迈克西姆。”

“哦,”弗兰克说,我不喜欢他这一声“哦”,不喜欢他说这声“哦”时的腔调。声音尖厉刺耳,预兆不祥。

“你想他会上哪儿去?”我问。

“我不知道,”弗兰克说。“散步去了也说不定。”病人的亲戚上疗养院询问病情,那儿的医生就是用这种口气来敷衍他们的。

“弗兰克,我一定得见他,”我说。“我得解释一下昨晚的事儿。”

弗兰克没吱声。我想象得出他脸上的焦急神情,还有额上的条条皱纹。

“迈克西姆以为我是故意那么做的,”尽管我努力克制,我还是哽咽起来。昨晚我眼眶里饱含泪水,拚命忍着才没流出来,现在事隔十六个钟头,热泪却夺眶而出,顺着双颊扑簌而下。“迈克西姆以为我是有意开的玩笑,开了个不可原谅的玩笑。”

“不,”弗兰克说。“不会的。”

“听我说,他一定是这么想的。你没注意他的眼神,可我看到了。你没像我那样,一晚上都站在他身旁瞧着他。他一直没理我,弗兰克。他后来再也没瞧我一眼。整个晚上我们并肩站在那儿,相互没说过一句话。”

“没有机会嘛,”弗兰克说。“要应付那么些客人。我注意到了,一点没错儿。你以为我对迈克西姆还不够了解,不明白是怎么回事吗?听我说……”

“我不怪他,”我打断了他。“要是他认为我存心要开那个令人发指的恶毒玩笑,那他自然有权爱怎么想就怎么想我,完全可以不再理睬我,不再看到我。”

“千万别这么说,”弗兰克说。“您不知道自己说到哪儿去了。我马上来看您,我想我可以解释清楚的。”

弗兰克来看我能顶什么用?还不是一起坐在晨室里,随机应变的弗兰克以和蔼可亲的语调宽慰我几句,让我平静下来!我现在不需要任何人的同情。为时太晚啦。

“不,”我说。“不,我不想翻来复去老是提这件事儿。事情已经发生,再也没法挽回了。说不定这样反而好,可以让我意识到某些我早该知道的事情,某些在我嫁给迈克西姆之前就该有所觉察的事情。”

“您这话是什么意思?”弗兰克说。

他的嗓音尖厉而反常。迈克西姆不爱我,我不知道这同他有何相干,为什么他就是不想让我了解事情的究竟?

“我指的是他和吕蓓卡,”我说。这个名字从我嘴里吐出来,听上去像是某个禁忌的词儿,既新奇,又不顺耳,再也没给我带来一种一吐为快的轻松感,而是热辣辣的,让人觉得像在坦白悔罪时那样抬不起头来。

弗兰克没有立即回答。我听到他在电话线的那一头倒抽了一口冷气。

“您这话是什么意思?”他又说了一遍,语气比先前更短促,更尖厉。“您这话究竟是什么意思?”

“他并不爱我,他爱的是吕蓓卡,”我说。“他从来没把她忘掉,他仍日夜思念着她。他从来没爱过我,弗兰克。始终是吕蓓卡,吕蓓卡,吕蓓卡。”

我听见弗兰克发出一声惊叫,管他呢,他再怎么感到震惊也不关我的事。“现在你知道我心头的滋味了,”我说。“你也就该明白啦。”

“喂,听着,”他说。“我一定得来看您,一定得来,听见没有?事关紧要,我不能在电话里跟您说,德温特夫人?德温特夫人?”

我砰地一声摔下话筒,从书桌旁站起来。我不想见弗兰克。他帮不了我这个忙。现在除了我自己,谁也帮不了忙。我泪痕满面,双颊绯红,在房间里踱来踱去,啃啮手帕的一角,同时还用力撕扯。

我心里有一种强烈的预感:自己再也见不着迈克西姆了。出于某种无可名状的直觉,我敢说事情就这样定局了。他悻悻而去,再不回来了。我心里明白,弗兰克也是这么想的,只是在电话里不便承认罢了。他不想让我受惊。要是我现在再打电话到他办事处去,一定会发现他已经走开。办事员会说:“克劳利先生刚刚出去,德温特夫人。”另外,我还可以想象到弗兰克连帽子也没顾得戴上,就匆匆钻进他那辆寒伧窄小的莫里斯车,四出寻找迈克西姆去了。

我走到窗前,遥望那一小片森林之神吹奏风笛的林中空地。石南花已完全凋谢,要到明年才能再开出花来。少了石南花的浓艳,高大的灌木丛显得暗淡而无生气。海面冉冉腾起浓雾,我已看不见草坡那边的树林。天气既湿又问,令人透不过气来。我可以想象昨晚来我家的那些客人这会儿正额手相庆:“幸亏这场大雾推迟到了今天,要不然昨天我们就没有福气观赏焰火了。”我走出晨室,穿过客厅,走到平台。太阳躲在浓雾后面隐没了,似乎是一片不祥的阴影,已将整个曼陀丽笼罩,并夺走了它头上的天空和光亮。一个园丁推着一辆小车打我身边经过,车里装满了昨晚客人丢在草坪上的纸屑、果皮等垃圾。

“早上好,”我说。

“早上好,太太。”

“恐怕昨晚的舞会给你们带来不少麻烦吧,”我说。

“算不了什么,太太,”他说。“我看昨晚大伙儿玩得很痛快,这才是主要的,对吗?”

“嗯,说得不错,”我说。

他朝草坪那边的林中空地眺望,山谷在那儿倾斜着通往大海。两旁的树木显得灰暗朦胧,轮廓不清。

“好大的雾呀,”他说。

“是呀,”我说。

“幸好昨儿晚上不像这样,”他说。

“是的,”我说。

他伫立片刻,然后碰了一下帽檐向我致意,推起车子走了。我穿过草坪,来到林子边上。村从里的雾气凝作水滴,蒙蒙细雨似地飘落在我没戴帽子的头上。杰斯珀耷拉着尾巴,拖着粉红色的舌头,灰溜溜地站在我脚边。阴湿、闷热的天气使它快快不乐,打不起精神来。从我站着的地方,可以听到阴郁、低沉的涛声,此时海水正冲刷着树林下边的小海湾。白色的迷雾散发着盐卤和海藻的涩味儿,打我身边飘过,成团地向屋子那儿滚滚而去。我把手搁在杰斯珀的号衣上,那号衣湿漉漉的,绞得出水来。我回头向屋子一望,不料已看不清屋顶上的烟囱和四周墙壁的轮廓,只是影影绰绰地看到那儿有幢宅子,依稀辨认出西厢的那一排窗户,还有平台上的那几只花盆。我发现西厢那间大卧室的百叶窗已被拉开,有个人站在窗口,望着下面的草坪。那个人影很模糊,我看不清是谁;我心头猛然一惊,一时以为那定是迈克西姆。就在这时候,只见那人一抬胳臂把百叶窗关上。这下子我可认出来了,是丹弗斯太太。这么说来,当我站在树林边上,沐浴在这片白茫茫的浓雾里的时候,她始终在一旁窥探。在这之前,她曾看我拖着缓慢的步子,从平台走向草坪。说不定我跟弗兰克通电话的时候,她就凑在自己房里的电话分机上偷听呢。这一来,她肯定知道迈克西姆昨晚没跟我在一起了。她还可能听到我刚才的呜咽声,知道我在掉眼泪。她知道我昨晚一连好几个小时里扮演的是什么角色;穿着那件蓝色袍子,在楼梯脚下和迈克西姆并排站着;她也知道迈克西姆没朝我看一眼,没跟我说一句话。她当然一清二楚,因为这一切正是她一手安排的。这是她的胜利;这回她和吕蓓卡两人得胜了。

我想起昨晚看到她时的情景。她站在通道西厢的那扇门里朝我望着,骷髅似的惨白脸上堆着魔鬼的狞笑;同时我又记起,她跟我一样是个活生生的女人,是个情愫具备的肉体凡胎,而不像吕蓓卡那样,是个断了气的死人。我可以同她交谈,却无法同吕蓓卡说话。

在一股突如其来的冲动之下,我返身穿过草坪,朝屋子走去。我穿过大厅,走上宽阔的主楼梯,打画廊那儿的拱门下往里走;我跨进通西厢的门,接着就沿着那条黑洞洞的悄无声息的过道,径直来到吕蓓卡的卧室跟前。我转动门上的把手,一脚跨了进去。

丹弗斯太太仍然站在窗口,百叶窗已经关上。

“丹弗斯太太,”我说。“丹弗斯太太。”她转过身来望着我。我发现她哭得双眼红肿,正跟我一样,而且那张白惨惨的脸上愁云密布。

“什么事?”由于一直呜咽着流泪,她也跟我一样,嗓音变得混浊而低沉。

没想到她会这般模样。按我原来的想象,她一定是同昨晚一样,脸上挂着恶毒的狞笑。可现在一看,全然不是这么回事,站在我面前的是个身心交瘁的老太婆。

我踌躇起来,手还是搭在门把上,任门开着,不知道这时该对她说什么,该如何应付才好。

她继续用那双又红又肿的眼睛打量着我,我一时实在无言以对。“像平常一样,我把菜单留在写字桌上了,”她说。“您是不是要换什么菜?”她的话给我增添了勇气,我从门口一直走到房间中央。

“丹弗斯太太,”我说,“我不是来同你商量菜单的,这点不说你也知道,是吗?”

她没有答理,自顾自把左手摊开又握拢。

“你已干了你想要干的事,是吗?”我说。“你有意要想看到这么一场戏,是吗?这会儿你称心了?高兴了?”

她转过头去,又像刚才我跨进房门时那样望着窗外。“你干吗要到这儿来?”她说。“曼陀丽没人需要你。你来以前,我们这儿太太平平。你干吗不在法国那地方呆着?”

“你似乎忘了我爱德温特先生,”我说。

“你要是爱他,决不会嫁给他的,”她说。

我一时语塞。这光景委实荒唐而又缥缈。她头也不回,继续用那种混浊哽咽的语调往下说。

“我过去好像憎恨你,可现在不了,”她说。“我内心的全部情感似乎已消耗殆尽。”

“你为什么要恨我?”我间。“我做了什么对不起你的事而惹得你恨我呢?”

“你妄想占有德温特夫人的位置,”她说。

她还是不愿正面看我,而是照样背对着我,悻悻然站在窗口。“我没让改变这里的一丝一毫,”我说。“曼陀丽一切照旧。我不发号施令,事无巨细都由你去办。要不是你有意作对,我们原可以结为朋友,可你打一开始就存心跟我过不去。我跟你见面握手的那一刻,就从你脸上觉察到这一点。”

她没有吭声,那只贴在裙子上的手仍不住地一张一合。“好多人都结过两次婚,男的、女的都有,”我接着说。“每天有成千上万的人结第二次婚。听你的口气,我嫁给德温特先生像是犯了什么大罪,还亵渎了死者。难道我们无权像别人那样过幸福日子吗?”

“德温特先生并不幸福,”她终于别转头来,面对着我说话。“再笨的人也看得出来。只需看看他那双眼睛就明白了。他仍陷在悲苦的绝境之中;自从她离开人世之后他始终是那副神情。”

“这话不对,”我说。“说得不对。我们一块呆在法国的时候,他很幸福,比现在看上去年轻多了,嘻嘻哈哈,无忧无虑。”

“嗯,他毕竟是个男人嘛,”她说。“天下有哪个男人不在蜜月里稍许放纵一下的?德温特先生还不到四十六岁呢。”

她鄙夷地嘿嘿一笑,还耸了耸肩。

“你怎么敢这样跟我说话,这么放肆!”我说。

我再也不怕她了。我走上前去,抓住她的手臂用力摇着。“是你设的圈套,让我昨天晚上穿了那套舞服,”我说。“要不是你,我才不会往那上面想哪。你这么做是存心要伤德温特先生的心,有意让他苦恼。你不在他身上开那个恶毒可怕的玩笑,他不是已经够受了吗?难道你以为如此狠毒地折磨他就能使德温特夫人死而复生?”

她从我手中挣脱开去;她怒容满面,惨白如死灰的脸上泛起红晕。“他苦恼不苦恼关我什么事?”她说。“他也从来不管我难受不难受。看着你占了她的座位,踏着她的脚印,碰着那些属于她的东西,你以为我心里好受?这几个月来,我知道你在展室里坐在她的书桌旁,握着她生前用过的那支笔写字,用内线电话跟人讲话——她自从来曼陀丽后每天早晨就通过那架电话跟我拉家常——你不想想我心里是什么滋味?听到弗里思、罗伯特和其他仆人,谈起你的时候口口声声把你称作德温特夫人,我又作何感受?什么‘德温特夫人外出散步去了’,‘德温特夫人吩咐下午三时给她备车’,‘德温特夫人要到五点钟才回来用茶点’。而与此同时,我那位德温特夫人,那位脸带微笑、长着俊俏脸蛋、说干什么就干什么的大小姐,那位真正的德温特夫人,却浑身冰凉,僵卧在教堂的墓地里,被世人丢在脑后。如果他苦恼,那也是咎由自取。谁叫他隔了不到十个月就又跟你这么个年轻姑娘结婚了呢?哼,他现在不是在自食其果吗?他那张脸,那对眼睛,我看得分明。这种精神绝境是他自己一手造成的,要怪也只能怪他自己。他知道她看得见他,一到晚上就走来监视他。她可是来者不善,善者不来。是的,我那位太太来意不善。她决不是那号忍气吞声、逆来顺受的角色。‘我要看着他们在地狱里受苦,丹尼,’她常这么对我说。‘我要看着他们先进地狱去。’‘说得对,亲爱的,’我也就这么对她说。‘谁也别想骗得了你。你到这个世界上来,就是为的享尽人间荣华,’她确实享受了一辈子;她什么也不在乎,什么也不怕。她有着男子的胆略和精力。是的,我那位德温特夫人就是这种奇女子。当年,我常对她说,她应该在娘肚子里投个男胎才是。从童年起,她就是我照料的。这一点你总该知道吧?”

“不,”我说,“不。丹弗斯太太,你讲这些个有什么用呢?我不想再听下去,我也不想知道。我不是跟你一样是个有感情的血肉之体吗?我站在这儿,听你提到她,听你谈着她的事,难道你不明白我心里是什么滋味?”

我的话她根本没听进去,而是像个迷了心窍的疯婆子那样,一个劲儿说着昏话。同时,她那细长的手指还在拚命扭扯着身上的黑衣裙。

“她那时的模样就很迷人,”她说,“像画上的美人儿那样妩媚。她打男人身边走过,他们都会转过头来直勾勾地瞅着她,而她那时还不满十二岁。她心里很明白,这个小机灵鬼老是朝我眨眨眼睛说:‘我长大了会出落得很美,是吗,丹尼?’我告诉她:‘我们会让你如愿以偿的,好宝贝,你等着就是啦。’成年人懂得的事她全懂;她跟大人交谈起来,像个十八岁的大姑娘那样聪明机灵,肚子里的鬼花样还真不少呢。她父亲任她摆布,对她百依百顺,要是她母亲活在人世的话,也一定会那样。论精力,谁也比不上我那位小姐。十四岁生日那天,她一个人驾着一辆四匹马拉的车,她的表兄杰克先生爬上驭座,坐到她身边,想夺过她手里的缰绳。他们俩像一对野猫似地争夺了三分钟,让拉车的四匹马在野地里撕蹄狂奔。最后她赢了,我的小姐赢了。她在他头上唰地抽了一鞭,他从车上摔下,跌了个倒栽葱,嘴里不住笑骂着。实话对你说吧,他们才真是一对呢,她和杰克先生。他们把他送进海军,他受不了军纪的约束,那也难怪嘛。他也像我这位大小姐一样。精力过人,哪能俯首听命于他人。”

我魄散神移地望着她;她嘴角挂着一丝欣喜若狂的怪笑,显得越发苍老,可那张骷髅似的面庞倒有了几分生气,多少像一张活人的睑了。“没人制服得了她,是的,谁也别想制服得了,”她说。“她一向我行我素,爱怎么生活就怎么生活。说到她周身的气力,真不下于一头小狮子。记得她十六岁那年,有一次骑了她父亲的一匹马,而且是一匹惯于撒野的高头大马。马夫说,那马性子太烈,她驾驭不了。可她呢,照样稳稳地贴在马背上。此时我还能看到她跨骑马背长发飘拂的勃勃英姿。她扬鞭抽打胯下的坐骑,抽得它冒出血来,同时用马刺夹紧那畜生的肚子。等她跨下马背,那匹马已是遍体鳞伤,血迹斑斑,满嘴白沫,不住打着哆嗦‘下回它会老实些了,是吗,丹尼?’她说着就像没事似地走去洗手了。后来,她长大成人,也始终是这样和生活格斗的。我看着她长大,一直守在她身边。她什么也不在乎,谁也不放在眼里。最后她到底还是被打垮了。但不是败在哪个男人手里,也不是败在哪个女人手里。是大海将她制服了。大海太强大,她没斗赢。最后,她终于被大海夺走了。”

她突然打住,嘴唇奇怪地抽搐,嘴角往下撇着。她大声干嚎起来,嘴巴张着,眼睛里却流不出眼泪。

“丹弗斯太太,”我说,“丹弗斯太太。”我束手无策地站在她面前,不知如何是好。我对她不再疑虑,也不再感到害怕,可是她站在那儿干嚎的模样,却使我毛骨惊然,令我作呕。“丹弗斯太太,”我说,“你不舒服,该到床上去躺着。你干吗不回到自己房里休息去呢?干吗不上床去躺着?”

她恶狠狠地冲着我说:“让我一个人清静一下,好不好?我倒一倒心头的苦水,关你什么事?我可不觉得有什么丢脸的,我可没有把自己关在房里偷偷哭鼻子。我不像德温特先生那样,关在自己房里,走过来,踱过去,还要把房门锁上,生怕我闯进去。”

“你这话什么意思?”我说。“德温特先生可没有那样。”

“她死后的那阵子,”她说,“他就在藏书室走来踱去,踱去走来。我听到的。而且我还不止一次打钥匙孔里看着他呢。走来踱去,活像一头关在笼子里的野兽。”

“我不愿听,”我说。“也不想知道。”

“而你居然大言不惭,说什么在蜜月期间曾使他幸福,”她说。“就凭你这样一个无知的小姑娘,年轻得足以做他的女儿,能使他幸福吗?你对生活知道些什么?对男人又知道些什么?你闯到这儿来,以为自己可以取代德温特夫人。你!就凭你这样一个人,竟想取代我家小姐的位子。去你的吧,你来曼陀丽的时候,仆人也在笑话你。甚至连那个在厨房打杂的小丫头也不例外,就是你初来庄园的那天早上在后屋过道那儿遇到的小丫头。德温特先生过完了他那甜甜的蜜月,把你带回到曼陀丽来,真不知道他是怎么想的。不知道他看到你第一回坐在餐厅桌旁的模样有何感受了。”

“丹弗斯太太,你最好还是别说了,”我说。“你最好还是回自己的房间去。”

“回自己的房间去,”她学着我腔调说。“回自己的房间去。这宅子的女主人认为我最好还是回自己房间去。随后又怎么呢?你就赶快跑到德温特先生那儿去告我的状:‘丹弗斯太太很不客气,丹弗斯太太对我很粗鲁。’就像上回杰克先生来看望我之后那样,赶紧跑到他面前去告状。”

“我从来没对他讲过,”我说。

“撒谎!”她说。“除了你,还会有谁呢?这儿再没有别的人了。那天弗里思和罗伯特全不在,其他的仆人没有一个知道。当时我就决计要教训你一下,也要给他点颜色看看。我对自己说:让他受点儿苦。我有什么要顾忌的?他受苦与我何干?为什么我不能在曼陀丽见杰克先生?现在,在我和德温特夫人之间,就只剩下他这样一根纽带了。而他竟对我说:‘我不许他跨进这儿的门槛。这是我最后一次警告你了。’他直到今天还没忘记嫉妒,不是吗?”

我记得那天藏书室门打开的时候,自己如何躲在画廊里缩成一团。我也记得迈克西姆如何大发雷霆。扯着嗓子对丹弗斯太太讲了刚才她说的那几句话。嫉妒。迈克西姆在嫉妒……

“她活着的时候他就嫉妒,现在她死了,他还在嫉妒,”丹弗斯太太接着说。“他那时不许杰克进这所屋子,现在还是不许。这说明他还没有把她忘掉,是吗?不用说,他在嫉妒。我也嫉妒呢!所有认识她的人全都在嫉妒。她才不管呢。她对此只是付之一笑。‘我爱怎么生活就怎么生活,丹尼,’她对我说。‘全世界的人都站出来也拦不住我。’男人只要看她一眼,就会爱她爱得发狂。我见到过那些她在伦敦结识的男人,她带他们到这儿来度周末。她带着他们上船,到海里去游泳,在海湾的小屋举行月夜野餐。他们当然向她求爱罗,谁能例外呢?她乐啦,回来就把他们的一言一行和一举一动讲给我听。她满不在乎,对她来说无非是逢场作戏,闹着玩的。谁能不嫉妒呢?他们全都嫉妒,全都被她迷得神魂颠倒。德温特先生,杰克先生,克劳利先生,每一个认识她的人,每一个上曼陀丽来的人。”

“我不想知道,”我说。“我不想知道。”

丹弗斯太太挨近我,把脸凑过来。“谁也奈何她不得,”她说。“谁也别想制服她。她即使死了,也还是这儿的女主人。真正的德温特夫人是她,而不是你,你才是亡灵和鬼魂。被人忘怀、被人丢弃、被人推到一边的是你。是嘛,你为什么不把曼陀丽留给她呢?你为什么不走开?”

我避开她,往窗口退去,原先的惶惑和惊恐再次涌上心头,她一把抓住我的手臂,像把钳子那样将我紧紧夹住。

“你为什么不走开?”她说。“我们这儿谁也不需要你。他不需要你,他从来也不需要你。他忘不了她。他需要的是再让他一个人呆在这所屋子里,和她朝夕相处。躺在教堂墓地里的应该是你,而不是德温特夫人。”

她把我往窗口推去。窗开着,我可以看到身下沉浸在茫茫大雾之中的晦冥昏暗的平台。“往下面看,”她说。“不是很容易吗?你为什么不纵身往下一跳?只要不折断脖子,不会有什么痛苦。既快,又没有痛苦。可不像在水里淹死那样。你为什么不试一下呢?你为什么不去死?”

阴湿的迷雾从窗口涌进来,刺痛我的限睛,钻进我的鼻孔。我用双手紧紧抓住窗台。

“别害怕,”丹弗斯太太说。“我不会推你的。也不会站在你身边逼你。你可以自动往下跳。何必死赖在曼陀丽呢?你并没有好日子过。德温特先生不爱你。活着也没多大意思,不是吗?为什么不趁现在往下跳,一死百了?这样一来,就再不会有什么烦恼啦。”

我可以看到平台上的花盆,蓝色的绣球花开得密无缝隙。铺在平台上的石块显得平滑、灰白,而不是四凹凸凸,参差不齐。是迷雾使那些石块显得如此邈远。实际上,石块离得并不远。窗口并没有高出地面很多。

“为什么不往下跳?”丹弗斯太太在我耳畔轻声说。“为什么不试一下?”

雾更浓了。平台已隐匿不见。再也看不到花盆,看不到铺在平台上的光滑的石块。周围除了一片白茫茫的迷雾,散发着冷涩的海藻味儿的迷雾,什么也看不见。眼前唯一真实可感的便是我手底下的窗台,还有丹弗斯太太紧抓着我左臂的那只手。如果我纵身跳下,我将不会看到石块向我迎面跃来,因为迷雾已将它们淹没。接着,像她说的那样,会突然感到一阵剧痛。摔下去,我的脖子一下子就会被折断。不像溺死那样,要拖很长时间。转眼就会过去的。再说,迈克西姆不爱我。迈克西姆还是希望独自一人,跟吕蓓卡作伴。

“跳呀,”丹弗斯太太又在我耳边低语。“跳嘛,别害怕。”

我闭起双眼,由于长时间凝视底下的庭院,我感到头晕目眩,手指也因为紧抓着窗台的边而痛得发麻。迷雾钻进我的鼻孔,沾着我的嘴唇,又腥又涩,我像是蒙了一条毛毯,又像上了麻醉药,只觉得要窒息。我开始忘掉自己的不幸,忘掉自己如何爱着迈克西姆。我开始忘掉吕蓓卡。再过片刻,我不必再老是想到吕蓓卡了……

我松开双手,叹了口气。就在这时,茫茫的迷雾,还有与之相辅相成的沉寂,突然被轰然一声爆炸所震裂,碎成了两半。这一声爆炸震得我们身旁的窗子猛摇不已,玻璃在窗框里不住抖动。我挣开眼,呆呆地望着丹弗斯太太。接着又传来一声爆炸,随后是第三声,第四声。这声声爆炸刺破长空,鸟儿从宅子四周的树林里惊起——眼睛虽看不到,耳朵却听得见——发出一阵惊叫,与这爆炸声遥相呼应。

“怎么回事?”我茫然地问。“出什么事了?”

丹弗斯大太松开我的手臂,朝窗外那片迷雾望去。“是号炮声,”她说。“一定是海湾那边有船只搁浅了。”

我们侧耳谛听,一起盯着眼前的茫茫大雾。接着,我们听到底下的平台上传来一阵急促的脚步声

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-05-25#113
Chapter eighteen

I think I fell asleep a little after seven. It was broad daylight, I remember, there was no longer any pretence that the drawn curtains hid the sun. The light streamed in at the open window and made patterns on the wall. I heard the men below in the rose-garden clearing away the tables and the chairs, and taking down the chain of fairy lights. Maxim's bed was still bare and empty. I lay across my bed, my arms over my eyes, a strange, mad position and the least likely to bring sleep, but I drifted to the borderline of the unconscious and slipped over it at last. When I awoke it was past eleven, and Clarice must have come in and brought me my tea without my hearing her, for there was a tray by my side, and a stone-cold teapot, and my clothes had been tidied, my blue frock put away in the wardrobe. I drank my cold tea, still blurred and stupid from my short heavy sleep, and stared at the blank wall in front of me. Maxim's empty bed brought me to realization with a queer shock to my heart, and the full anguish of the night before was upon me once again. He had not come to bed at all. His pyjamas lay folded on the turned-down sheet untouched. I wondered what Clarice had thought when she came into the room with my tea. Had she noticed? Would she have gone out and told the other servants, and would they all discuss it over their breakfast? I wondered why I minded that, and why the thought of the servants talking about it in the kitchen should cause me such distress. It must be that I had a small mean mind, a conventional, petty hatred of gossip. That was why I had come down last night in my blue dress and had not stayed hidden in my room. There was nothing brave or fine about it, it was a wretched tribute to convention. I had not come down for Maxim's sake, for Beatrice's, for the sake of Manderley. I had come down because I did not want the people at the ball to think I had quarrelled with Maxim. I didn't want them to go home and say, 'Of course you know they don't get on. I hear he's not at all happy. ' I had come for my own sake, my own poor personal pride.

As I sipped my cold tea I thought with a tired bitter feeling of despair that I would be content to live in one corner of Manderley and Maxim in the other so long as the outside world should never know. If he had no more tenderness for me, never kissed me again, did not speak to me except on matters of necessity, I believed I could bear it if I were certain that nobody knew of this but our two selves. If we could bribe servants not to tell, play our part before relations, before Beatrice, and then when we were alone sit apart in our separate rooms, leading our separate lives. It seemed to me, as I sat there in bed, staring at the wall, at the sunlight coming in at the window, at Maxim's empty bed, that there was nothing quite so shaming, so degrading as a marriage that had failed. Failed after three months, as mine had done. For I had no illusions left now, I no longer made any effort to pretend. Last night had shown me too well. My marriage was a failure. All the things that people would say about it if they knew, were true. We did not get on. We were not companions. We were not suited to one another. I was too young for Maxim, too inexperienced, and, more important still, I was not of his world. The fact that I loved him in a sick, hurt, desperate way, like a child or a dog, did not matter. It was not the sort of love he needed. He wanted something else that I could not give him, something he had had before. I thought of the youthful almost hysterical excitement and conceit with which I had gone into this marriage, imagining I would bring happiness to Maxim, who had known much greater happiness before. Even Mrs Van Hopper, with her cheap views and common outlook, had known I was making a mistake. 'I'm afraid you will regret it, ' she said. 'I believe you are making a big mistake. ' I would not listen to her, I thought her hard and cruel. But she was right. She was right in everything. That last mean thrust thrown at me before she said goodbye, 'You don't flatter yourself he's in love with you, do you? He's lonely, he can't bear that great empty house, ' was the sanest, most truthful statement she had ever made in her life. Maxim was not in love with me, he had never loved me. Our honeymoon in Italy had meant nothing at all to him, nor our living here together.

What I had thought was love for me, for myself as a person, was not love. It was just that he was a man, and I was his wife and was young, and he was lonely. He did not belong to me at all, he belonged to Rebecca. He still thought about Rebecca. He would never love me because of Rebecca. She was in the house still, as Mrs Danvers had said; she was in that room in the west wing, she was in the library, in the morning-room, in the gallery above the hall. Even in the little flower-room, where her mackintosh still hung. And in the garden, and in the woods, and down in the stone cottage on the beach. Her footsteps sounded in the corridors, her scent lingered on the stairs. The servants obeyed her orders still, the food we ate was the food she liked. Her favourite flowers filled the rooms. Her clothes were in the wardrobes in her room, her brushes were on the table, her shoes beneath the chair, her nightdress on her bed. Rebecca was still mistress of Manderley. Rebecca was still Mrs de Winter. I had no business here at all. I had come blundering like a poor fool on ground that was preserved. 'Where is Rebecca?' Maxim's grandmother had cried. 'I want Rebecca. What have you done with Rebecca?' She did not know me, she did not care about me. Why should she? I was a stranger to her. I did not belong to Maxim or to Manderley. And Beatrice at our first meeting, looking me up and down, frank, direct, 'You're so very different from Rebecca. ' Frank, reserved, embarrassed when I spoke of her, hating those questions I had poured upon him, even as I had hated them myself, and then answering that final one as we came towards the house, his voice grave and quiet. 'Yes, she was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. ' Rebecca, always Rebecca. Wherever I walked in Manderley, wherever I sat, even in my thoughts and in my dreams, I met Rebecca. I knew her figure now, the long slim legs, the small and narrow feet. Her shoulders, broader than mine, the capable clever hands. Hands that could steer a boat, could hold a horse. Hands that arranged flowers, made the models of ships, and wrote 'Max from Rebecca' on the fly-leaf of a book. I knew her face too, small and oval, the clear white skin, the cloud of dark hair. I knew the scent she wore, I could guess her laughter and her smile. If I heard it, even among a thousand others, I should recognize her voice. Rebecca, always Rebecca. I should never be rid of Rebecca.

j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-05-29#114
Perhaps I haunted her as she haunted me; she looked down on me from the gallery as Mrs Danvers had said, she sat beside me when I wrote my letters at her desk. That mackintosh I wore, that handkerchief I used. They were hers. Perhaps she knew and had seen me take them. Jasper had been her dog, and he ran at my heels now. The roses were hers and I cut them. Did she resent me and fear me as I resented her? Did she want Maxim alone in the house again? I could fight the living but I could not fight the dead. If there was some woman in London that Maxim loved, someone he wrote to, visited, dined with, slept with, I could fight with her. We would stand on common ground. I should not be afraid. Anger and jealousy were things that could be conquered. One day the woman would grow old or tired or different, and Maxim would not love her any more. But Rebecca would never grow old. Rebecca would always be the same. And her I could not fight. She was too strong for me. I got out of bed and pulled the curtains. The sun streamed into the room. The men had cleared the mess away from the rose-garden. I wondered if people were talking about the ball in the way they do the day after a party. 'Did you think it quite up to their usual standard?' 'Oh, I think so. ' "The band dragged a bit, I thought. ' "The supper was damn good. ' 'Fireworks weren't bad. ' 'Bee Lacy is beginning to look old. ' 'Who wouldn't in that get-up?' 'I thought he looked rather ill. ' 'He always does. ' 'What did you think of the bride?' 'Not much. Rather dull. ' 'I wonder if it's a success. ' 'Yes, I wonder Then I noticed for the first time there was a note under my door. I went and picked it up. I recognized the square hand of Beatrice. She had scribbled it in pencil after breakfast. I knocked at your door but had no answer so gather you've taken my advice and are sleeping off last night. Giles is anxious to get back early as they have rung up from home to say he's wanted to take somebody's place in a cricket match, and it starts at two. How he is going to see the ball after all the champagne he put away last night heaven only knows! I'm feeling a bit weak in the legs, but slept like a top. Frith says Maxim was down to an early breakfast, and there's now no sign of him! So please give him our love, and many thanks to you both for our evening, which we thoroughly enjoyed.

Don't think any more about the dress. Yours affectionately, Bee. You must both come over and see us soon. She had scribbled nine-thirty a. M. At the top of the paper, and it was now nearly half past eleven. They had been gone about two hours. They would be home by now, -Beatrice with her suitcase unpacked, going out into her garden and taking up her ordinary routine, and Giles preparing for his match, renewing the whipping on his bat. In the afternoon Beatrice would change into a cool frock and a shady hat and watch Giles play cricket. They would have tea afterwards in a tent, Giles very hot and red in the face, Beatrice laughing and talking to her friends. 'Yes, we went over for the dance at Manderley; it was great fun. I wonder Giles was able to run a yard. ' Smiling at Giles, patting him on the back. They were both middle-aged and unromantic. They had been married for twenty years and had a grown-up son who was going to Oxford. They were very happy. Their marriage was a success. It had not failed after three months as mine had done. I could not go on sitting in my bedroom any longer. The maids would want to come and do the room. Perhaps Clarice would not have noticed about Maxim's bed after all. I rumpled it, to make it look as though he had slept there. I did not want the housemaids to know, if Clarice had not told them. I had a bath and dressed, and went downstairs. The men had taken up the floor already in the hall and the flowers had been carried away. The music stands were gone from the gallery. The band must have caught an early train. The gardeners were sweeping the lawns and the drive clear of the spent fireworks. Soon there would be no trace left of the fancy dress ball at Manderley. How long the preparations had seemed, and how short and swift the clearance now. I remembered the salmon lady standing by the drawing-room door with her plate of chicken, and it seemed to me a thing I must have fancied, or something that had happened very long ago. Robert was polishing the table in the dining-room. He was normal again, stolid, dull, not the fey excited creature of the past few weeks. 'Good morning, Robert, ' I said. 'Good morning, Madam. ' 'Have you seen Mr de Winter anywhere?' 'He went out soon after breakfast, Madam, before Major and Mrs Lacy were down.

He has not been in since. ' 'You don't know where he went?' 'No, Madam, I could not say. ' I wandered back again into the hall. I went through the drawing-room to the morning-room. Jasper rushed at me and licked my hands in a frenzy of delight as if I had been away for a long time. He had spent the evening on Clarice's bed and I had not seen him since teatime yesterday. Perhaps the hours had been as long for him as they had for me. I picked up the telephone and asked for the number of the estate office. Perhaps Maxim was with Frank. I felt I must speak to him, even if it was only for two minutes. I must explain to him that I had not meant to do what I had done last night. Even if I never spoke to him again, I must tell him that. The clerk answered the telephone, and told me that Maxim was not there. 'Mr Crawley is here, Mrs de Winter, ' said the clerk; 'would you speak to him?' I would have refused, but he gave me no chance, and before I could put down the receiver I heard Frank's voice. 'Is anything the matter?' It was a funny way to begin a conversation. The thought flashed through my mind. He did not say good morning, or did you sleep well? Why did he ask if something was the matter? 'Frank, it's me, ' I said; 'where's Maxim?' 'I don't know, I haven't seen him. He's not been in this morning. ' 'Not been to the office?' 'No. ' 'Oh! Oh, well, it doesn't matter. ' 'Did you see him at breakfast?' Frank said. 'No, I did not get up. ' 'How did he sleep?' I hesitated, Frank was the only person I did not mind knowing. 'He did not come to bed last night. ' There was silence at the other end of the line, as though Frank was thinking hard for an answer. 'Oh, ' he said at last, very slowly. 'Oh, I see, ' and then, after a minute, 'I was afraid something like that would happen. ' 'Frank, ' I said desperately, 'what did he say last night when everyone had gone? What did you all do?' 'I had a sandwich with Giles and Mrs Lacy, ' said Frank. 'Maxim did not come. He made some excuse and went into the library. I came back home almost at once. Perhaps Mrs Lacy can tell you. ' 'She's gone, ' I said, 'they went after breakfast. She sent up a note. She had not seen Maxim, she said. ' 'Oh, ' said Frank. I did not like it. I did not like the way he said it. It was sharp, ominous. 'Where do you think he's gone?' I said. 'I don't know, ' said Frank; 'perhaps he's gone for a walk. ' It was the sort of voice doctors used to relatives at a nursing-home when they came to inquire. 'Frank, I must see him, ' I said. 'I've got to explain about last night. ' Frank did not answer. I could picture his anxious face, the lines on his forehead. 'Maxim thinks I did it on purpose, ' I said, my voice breaking in spite of myself, and the tears that had blinded me last night and I had not shed came coursing down my cheeks sixteen hours too late. 'Maxim thinks I did it as a joke, a beastly damnable joke!' 'No, ' said Frank. 'No. ' 'He does, I tell you. You didn't see his eyes, as I did. You didn't stand beside him all the evening, watching him, as I did. He didn't speak to me, Frank. He never looked at me again. We stood there together the whole evening and we never spoke to one another. ' 'There was no chance, ' said Frank. 'All those people.

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Of course I saw, don't you think I know Maxim well enough for that? Look here ... ' 'I don't blame him, ' I interrupted. 'If he believes I played that vile hideous joke he has a right to think what he likes of me, and never talk to me again, never see me again. ' 'You mustn't talk like that, ' said Frank. 'You don't know what you're saying. Let me come up and see you. I think I can explain. ' What was the use of Frank coming to see me, and us sitting in the morning-room together, Frank smoothing me down, Frank being tactful, Frank being kind? I did not want kindness from anybody now. It was too late. 'No, ' I said. 'No, I don't want to go over it and over it again. It's happened, it can't be altered now. Perhaps it's a good thing; it's made me realize something I ought to have known before, that I ought to have suspected when I married Maxim. ' 'What do you mean?' said Frank. His voice was sharp, queer. I wondered why it should matter to him about Maxim not loving me. Why did he not want me to know? 'About him and Rebecca, ' I said, and as I said her name it sounded strange and sour like a forbidden word, a relief to me no longer, not a pleasure, but hot and shaming as a sin confessed. Frank did not answer for a moment. I heard him draw in his breath at the other end of the wire. 'What do you mean?' he said again, shorter and sharper than before. 'What do you mean?' 'He doesn't love me, he loves Rebecca, ' I said. 'He's never forgotten her, he thinks about her still, night and day. He's never loved me, Frank. It's always Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca. ' I heard Frank give a startled cry but I did not care how much I shocked him now. 'Now you know how I feel, ' I said, 'now you understand. ' 'Look here, ' he said; 'I've got to come and see you, I've got to, do you hear? It's vitally important; I can't talk to you down the telephone. Mrs de Winter? Mrs de Winter?' I slammed down the receiver, and got up from the writing-desk. I did not want to see Frank. He could not help me over this. No one could help me but myself. My face was red and blotchy from crying. I walked about the room biting the corner of my handkerchief, tearing at the edge. The feeling was strong within me that I should never see Maxim again. It was certainty, born of some strange instinct. He had gone away and would not come back. I knew in my heart that Frank believed this too and would not admit it to me on the telephone. He did not want to frighten me. If I rang him up again at the office now I should find that he had gone.

The clerk would say, 'Mr Crawley has just gone out, Mrs de Winter', and I could see Frank, hatless, climbing into his small, shabby Morris, driving off in search of Maxim. I went and stared out of the window at the little clearing where the satyr played his pipes. The rhododendrons were all over now. They would not bloom again for another year. The tall shrubs looked dark and drab now that the colour had gone. A fog was rolling up from the sea, and I could not see the woods beyond the bank. It was very hot, very oppressive. I could imagine our guests of last night saying to one another, 'What a good thing this fog kept off for yesterday, we should never have seen the fireworks. ' I went out of the morning-room and through the drawing-room to the terrace. The sun had gone in now behind a wall of mist. It was as though a blight had fallen upon Manderley taking the sky away and the light of the day. One of the gardeners passed me with a barrow full of bits of paper, and litter, and the skins of fruit left on the lawns by the people last night. 'Good morning, ' I said. 'Good morning, Madam. ' 'I'm afraid the ball last night has made a lot of work for you, ' I said. "That's all right, Madam, ' he said. 'I think everyone enjoyed themselves good and hearty, and that's the main thing, isn't it?' 'Yes, I suppose so, ' I said. He looked across the lawns to the clearing in the woods where the valley sloped to the sea. The dark trees loomed thin and indistinct. 'It's coming up very thick, ' he said. 'Yes, ' I said. 'A good thing it wasn't like this last night, ' he said. 'Yes, ' I said. He waited a moment, and then he touched his cap and went off trundling his barrow. I went across the lawns to the edge of the woods. The mist in the trees had turned to moisture and dripped upon my bare head like a thin rain. Jasper stood by my feet dejected, his tail downcast, his pink tongue hanging from his mouth. The clammy oppression of the day made him listless and heavy. I could hear the sea from where I stood, sullen and slow, as it broke in the coves below the woods. The white fog rolled on past me towards the house smelling of damp salt and seaweed. I put my hand on Jasper's coat. It was wringing wet. When I looked back at the house I could not see the chimneys or the contour of the walls, I could only see the vague substance of the house, the windows in the west wing, and the flower tubs on the terrace.

The shutter had been pulled aside from the window of the large bedroom in the west wing, and someone was standing there, looking down upon the lawns. The figure was shadowy and indistinct and for one moment of shock and fear I believed it to be Maxim. Then the figure moved, I saw the arm reach up to fold the shutter, and I knew it was Mrs Danvers. She had been watching me as I stood at the edge of the woods bathed in that white wall of fog. She had seen me walk slowly from the terrace to the lawns. She may have listened to my conversation with Frank on the telephone from the connecting line in her own room. She would know that Maxim had not been with me last night. She would have heard my voice, known about my tears. She knew the part I had played through the long hours, standing by Maxim's side in my blue dress at the bottom of the stairs, and that he had not looked at me nor spoken to me. She knew because she had meant it to happen. This was her triumph, hers and Rebecca's. I thought of her as I had seen her last night, watching me through the open door to the west wing, and that diabolical smile on her white skull's face, and I remembered that she was a living breathing woman like myself, she was made of flesh and blood. She was not dead, like Rebecca. I could speak to her, but I could not speak to Rebecca. I walked back across the lawns on sudden impulse to the house. I went through the hall and up the great stairs, I turned in under the archway by the gallery, I passed through the door to the west wing, and so along the dark silent corridor to Rebecca's room. I turned the handle of the door and went inside. Mrs Danvers was still standing by the window, and the shutter was folded back. 'Mrs Danvers, ' I said. 'Mrs Danvers. ' She turned to look at me, and I saw her eyes were red and swollen with crying, even as mine were, and there were dark shadows in her white face. 'What is it?' she said, and her voice was thick and muffled from the tears she had shed, even as mine had been. I had not expected to find her so. I had pictured her smiling as she had smiled last night, cruel and evil. Now she was none of these things, she was an old woman who was ill and tired. I hesitated, my hand still on the knob of the open door, and I did not know what to say to her now or what to do. She went on staring at me with those red, swollen eyes and I could not answer her.

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'I left the menu on the desk as usual, ' she said. 'Do you want something changed?' Her words gave me courage, and I left the door and came to the middle of the room. 'Mrs Danvers, ' I said, 'I have not come to talk about the menu. You know that, don't you?' She did not answer me. Her left hand opened and shut. 'You've done what you wanted, haven't you?' I said, 'you meant this to happen, didn't you? Are you pleased now? Are you happy?' She turned her head away, and looked out of the window as she had done when I first came into the room. 'Why did you ever come here?' she said. 'Nobody wanted you at Manderley. We were all right until you came. Why did you not stay where you were out in France?' 'You seem to forget I love Mr de Winter, ' I said. 'If you loved him you would never have married him, ' she said. I did not know what to say. The situation was mad, unreal. She kept talking in that choked muffled way with her head turned from me. 'I thought I hated you but I don't now, ' she said; 'it seems to have spent itself, all the feeling I had. ' 'Why should you hate me?' I asked; 'what have I ever done to you that you should hate me?' 'You tried to take Mrs de Winter's place, ' she said. Still she would not look at me. She stood there sullen, her head turned from me. 'I had nothing changed, ' I said. 'Manderley went on as it had always been. I gave no orders, I left everything to you. I would have been friends with you, if you had let me, but you set yourself against me from the first. I saw it in your face, the moment I shook hands with you. ' She did not answer, and her hand kept opening and shutting against her dress. 'Many people marry twice, men and women, ' I said. 'There are thousands of second marriages taking place every day. You talk as though my marrying Mr de Winter was a crime, a sacrilege against the dead. Haven't we as much right to be happy as anyone else?' 'Mr de Winter is not happy, ' she said, turning to look at me at last; 'any fool can see that. You have only to look at his eyes. He's still in hell, and he's looked like that ever since she died. ' 'It's not true, ' I said. 'It's not true. He was happy when we were in France together; he was younger, much younger, and laughing and gay. ' 'Well, he's a man, isn't he?' she said. 'No man denies himself on a honeymoon, does he? Mr de Winter's not forty-six yet. ' She laughed contemptuously, and shrugged her shoulders. 'How dare you speak to me like that? How dare you?' I said.

I was not afraid of her any more. I went up to her, shook her by the arm. 'You made me wear that dress last night, ' I said, 'I should never have thought of it but for you. You did it because you wanted to hurt Mr de Winter, you wanted to make him suffer. Hasn't he suffered enough without your playing that vile hideous joke upon him? Do you think his agony and pain will bring Mrs de Winter back again?' She shook herself clear of me, the angry colour flooded her dead white face. 'What do I care for his suffering?' she said, 'he's never cared about mine. How do you think I've liked it, watching you sit in her place, walk in her footsteps, touch the things that were hers? What do you think it's meant to me all these months knowing that you wrote at her desk in the morning-room, using the very pen that she used, speaking down the house telephone, where she used to speak every morning of her life to me, ever since she first came to Manderley? What do you think it meant to me to hear Frith and Robert and the rest of the servants talking about you as "Mrs de Winter"? "Mrs de Winter has gone out for a walk. " "Mrs de Winter wants the car this afternoon at three o'clock. " "Mrs de Winter won't be in to tea till five o'clock. " And all the while my Mrs de Winter, my lady with her smile and her lovely face and brave ways, the real Mrs de Winter, lying dead and cold and forgotten in the church crypt. If he suffers then he deserves to suffer, marrying a young girl like you not ten months afterwards. Well, he's paying for it now, isn't he? I've seen his face, I've seen his eyes. He's made his own hell and there's no one but himself to thank for it. He knows she sees him, he knows she comes by night and watches him. And she doesn't come kindly, not she, not my lady. She was never one to stand mute and still and be wronged. "I'll see them in hell, Danny, " she'd say, "I'll see them in hell first. " "That's right, my dear, " I'd tell her, "no one will put upon you. You were born into this world to take what you could out of it", and she did, she didn't care, she wasn't afraid. She had all the courage and spirit of a boy, had my Mrs de Winter. She ought to have been a boy, I often told her that. I had the care of her as a child. You knew that, didn't you?' 'No!' I said, 'no. Mrs Danvers, what's the use of all this? I don't want to hear any more, I don't want to know. Haven't I got feelings as well as you?

Can't you understand what it means to me, to hear her mentioned, to stand here and listen while you tell me about her?' She did not hear me, she went on raving like a madwoman, a fanatic, her long fingers twisting and tearing the black stuff of her dress. 'She was lovely then, ' she said. 'Lovely as a picture; men turning to stare at her when she passed, and she not twelve years old. She knew then, she used to wink at me like the little devil she was. "I'm going to be a beauty, aren't I, Danny?" she said, and "We'll see about that, my love, we'll see about that, " I told her. She had all the knowledge then of a grown person; she'd enter into conversation with men and women as clever and full of tricks as someone of eighteen. She twisted her father round her little finger, and she'd have done the same with her mother, had she lived. Spirit, you couldn't beat my lady for spirit. She drove a four-in-hand on her fourteenth birthday, and her cousin, Mr Jack, got up on the box beside her and tried to take the reins from her hands. They fought it out there together, for three minutes, like a couple of wild cats, and the horses galloping to glory. She won though, my lady won. She cracked her whip over his head and down he came, head-over-heels, cursing and laughing. They were a pair, I tell you, she and Mr Jack. They sent him in the Navy, but he wouldn't stand the discipline, and I don't blame him. He had too much spirit to obey orders, like my lady. ' I watched her, fascinated, horrified; a queer ecstatic smile was on her lips, making her older than ever, making her skull's face vivid and real. 'No one got the better of her, never, never, ' she said. 'She did what she liked, she lived as she liked. She had the strength of a little lion too. I remember her at sixteen getting up on one of her father's horses, a big brute of an animal too, that the groom said was too hot for her to ride. She stuck to him, all right. I can see her now, with her hair flying out behind her, slashing at him, drawing blood, digging the spurs into his side, and when she got off his back he was trembling all over, full of froth and blood. "That will teach him, won't it, Danny?" she said, and walked off to wash her hands as cool as you please. And that's how she went at life, when she grew up. I saw her, I was with her. She cared for nothing and for no one. And then she was beaten in the end. But it wasn't a man, it wasn't a woman.

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The sea got her. The sea was too strong for her. The sea got her in the end. ' She broke off, her mouth working strangely, and dragging at the corners. She began to cry noisily, harshly, her mouth open and her eyes dry. 'Mrs Danvers, ' I said. 'Mrs Danvers. ' I stood before her helplessly, not knowing what to do. I mistrusted her no longer, I was afraid of her no more, but the sight of her sobbing there, dry-eyed, made me shudder, made me ill. 'Mrs Danvers, ' I said, 'you're not well, you ought to be in bed. Why don't you go to your room and rest? Why don't you go to bed?' She turned on me fiercely. 'Leave me alone, can't you?' she said. 'What's it to do with you if I show my grief? I'm not ashamed of it, I don't shut myself up in my room to cry. I don't walk up and down, up and down, in my room like Mr de Winter, with the door locked on me. ' 'What do you mean?" I said. 'Mr de Winter does not do that. ' 'He did, ' she said, 'after she died. Up and down, up and down in the library. I heard him. I watched him too, through the keyhole, more than once. Backwards and forwards, like an animal in a cage. ' 'I don't want to hear, ' I said. 'I don't want to know. ' 'And then you say you made him happy on his honeymoon, ' she said; 'made him happy - you, a young ignorant girl, young enough to be his daughter. What do you know about life? What do you know about men? You come here and think you can take Mrs de Winter's place. You. You take my lady's place. Why, even the servants laughed at you when you came to Manderley. Even the little scullery-maid you met in the back passage there on your first morning. I wonder what Mr de Winter thought when he got you back here at Manderley, after his precious honeymoon was over. I wonder what he thought when he saw you sitting at the dining-room table for the first time. ' 'You'd better stop this, Mrs Danvers, ' I said; 'you'd better go to your room. ' 'Go to my room, ' she mimicked, 'go to my room. The mistress of the house thinks I had better go to my room. And after that, what then? You'll go running to Mr de Winter and saying, "Mrs Danvers has been unkind to me, Mrs Danvers has been rude. " You'll go running to him like you did before when Mr Jack came to see me. ' 'I never told him, ' I said. 'That's a lie, ' she said. 'Who else told him, if you didn't? No one else was here. Frith and Robert were out, and none of the other servants knew.

I made up my mind then I'd teach you a lesson, and him too. Let him suffer, I say. What do I care? What's his suffering to me? Why shouldn't I see Mr Jack here at Manderley? He's the only link I have left now with Mrs de Winter. "I'll not have him here, " he said. "I'm warning you, it's the last time. " He's not forgotten to be jealous, has he?' I remembered crouching in the gallery when the library door was open. I remembered Maxim's voice raised in anger, using the words that Mrs Danvers had just repeated. Jealous, Maxim jealous... 'He was jealous while she lived, and now he's jealous when she's dead, ' said Mrs Danvers. 'He forbids Mr Jack the house now like he did then. That shows you he's not forgotten her, doesn't it? Of course he was jealous. So was I. So was everyone who knew her. She didn't care. She only laughed. "I shall live as I please, Danny, " she told me, "and the whole world won't stop me. " A man had only to look at her once and be mad about her. I've seen them here, staying in the house, men she'd meet up in London and bring for weekends. She would take them bathing from the boat, she would have a picnic supper at her cottage in the cove. They made love to her of course; who would not? She laughed, she would come back and tell me what they had said, and what they'd done. She did not mind, it was like a game to her. Like a game. Who wouldn't be jealous? They were all jealous, all mad for her. Mr de Winter, Mr Jack, Mr Crawley, everyone who knew her, everyone who came to Manderley. ' 'I don't want to know, ' I said. 'I don't want to know. ' Mrs Danvers came close to me, she put her face near to mine. 'It's no use, is it?' she said. 'You'll never get the better of her. She's still mistress here, even if she is dead. She's the real Mrs de Winter, not you. It's you that's the shadow and the ghost. It's you that's forgotten and not wanted and pushed aside. Well, why don't you leave Manderley to her? Why don't you go?' I backed away from her towards the window, my old fear and horror rising up in me again. She took my arm and held it like a vice. 'Why don't you go?' she said. 'We none of us want you. He doesn't want you, he never did. He can't forget her. He wants to be alone in the house again, with her. It's you that ought to be lying there in the church crypt, not her. It's you who ought to be dead, not Mrs de Winter. ' She pushed me towards the open window.

I could see the terrace below me grey and indistinct in the white wall of fog. 'Look down there, ' she said. 'It's easy, isn't it? Why don't you jump? It wouldn't hurt, not to break your neck. It's a quick, kind way. It's not like drowning. Why don't you try it? Why don't you go?' The fog filled the open window, damp and clammy, it stung my eyes, it clung to my nostrils. I held on to the window-sill with my hands. 'Don't be afraid, ' said Mrs Danvers. 'I won't push you. I won't stand by you. You can jump of your own accord. What's the use of your staying here at Manderley? You're not happy. Mr de Winter doesn't love you. There's not much for you to live for, is there? Why don't you jump now and have done with it? Then you won't be unhappy any more. ' I could see the flower tubs on the terrace and the blue of the hydrangeas clumped and solid. The paved stones were smooth and grey. They were not jagged and uneven. It was the fog that made them look so far away. They were not far really, the window was not so very high. 'Why don't you jump?' whispered Mrs Danvers. 'Why don't you try?' The fog came thicker than before and the terrace was hidden from me. I could not see the flower tubs any more, nor the smooth paved stones. There was nothing but the white mist about me, smelling of seaweed dank and chill. The only reality was the window-sill beneath my hands and the grip of Mrs Danvers on my left arm. If I jumped I should not see the stones rise up to meet me, the fog would hide them from me. The pain would be sharp and sudden as she said. The fall would break my neck. It would not be slow, like drowning. It would soon be over. And Maxim did not love me. Maxim wanted to be alone again, with Rebecca. 'Go on, ' whispered Mrs Danvers. 'Go on, don't be afraid. ' I shut my eyes. I was giddy from staring down at the terrace, and my fingers ached from holding to the ledge. The mist entered my nostrils and lay upon my lips rank and sour. It was stifling, like a blanket, like an anaesthetic. I was beginning to forget about being unhappy, and about loving Maxim. I was beginning to forget Rebecca. Soon I would not have to think about Rebecca any more ... As I relaxed my hands and sighed, the white mist and the silence that was part of it was shattered suddenly, was rent in two by an explosion that shook the window where we stood. The glass shivered in its frame. I opened my eyes. I stared at Mrs Danvers. The burst was followed by another, and yet a third and fourth. The sound of the explosions stung the air and the birds rose unseen from the woods around the house and made an echo with their clamour. 'What is it?' I said stupidly. 'What has happened?' Mrs Danvers relaxed her grip upon my arm. She stared out of the window into the fog. 'It's the rockets, ' she said; 'there must be a ship gone ashore there in the bay. ' We listened, staring into the white fog together. And then we heard the sound of footsteps running on the terrace beneath us.

第19章

来人是迈克西姆。尽管我没看见人。但我听到他说话的声音。他一边疾步走来,一边高声传唤弗里思。我听见弗里思在门厅应了一声,接着走出屋子,奔上平台。居高临下望去,只见两人影影绰绰站在浓雾中。

“船已靠岸,”迈克西姆说。“我从海岬亲眼看着那条船漂进海湾,直往礁岩撞去。那些人费尽心机,可是因为潮水不顺,怎么也没法把船头扭过来。那船一定是把这儿的海湾错当作克里斯港了;海湾外面那一带,确实也像一堵堤岸。告诉宅子里的人,准备好吃喝的东西,万一那些船员有难,可以救急。打个电话到克劳利的办事处。把出事的经过跟他说一说。我这就回海湾去,看看能不能助一臂之力。麻烦你给我拿几支香烟来。”

丹弗斯太太从窗口抽身退回,她的睑色复又变得木然,重新戴上我所熟悉的那副冷漠的假面具。

“我们最好下楼去吧,”她说,“弗里思肯定会来找我,要我料理各种事务。德温特先生可能说到做到,把船员带回家来。当心您的双手,我要关窗了。”我退回房间,仍然头昏眼花地出着神,拿不准自己同丹弗斯太太之间是怎么一回事。我看着她关上窗户,下了百叶窗,还把窗帷拉上。

“幸好海上风浪不大,”她说。“不然,这些人就很少有幸存的希望。不过今天这样的天气不至于有什么危险。但要是像德温特先生所说的那样发生触礁事故,那船主就会损失一条船。”

她四下环顾着,看着房间里的一切是否都已有条不紊,各就各位。她把双人床上的罩单拉拉平整,接着就向外走去,拉开门让我通过。

“我会吩咐厨房里的下人好歹弄一顿冷餐,在餐厅把午饭开出来,”她说。“这样,随您什么时候进餐都可以。德温特先生要是在海湾忙着抢救海难,兴许到午后也不会急着赶回来。”

我面无表情地瞪眼望着她,接着就穿过开着的房门,走出屋去,浑身僵直,犹如一具木偶。

“太太,您如见到德温特先生,请转告他:如果他想把船员带回家来,那就看着办好了。不管什么时候,我都会替他们准备好一顿热饭。”

“行,”我说。“一定转告,丹弗斯太太。”

她一个转身,沿着走廊朝仆役专用楼梯走去,黑衣服裹着枯槁瘦长的身子,显得益发阴沉诡秘;那拖地的裙据就像三十年前用鲸骨撑开的老式长裙。接着,她拐过弯,在两道那一头消失了。

我拖着缓慢的步子朝拱形市道旁的门户走去。思想依然迟钝麻木,好比刚从一夜酣睡中苏醒过来。我推开门,漫无目标地沿楼梯拾级而下。弗里思正穿过大厅朝餐厅走去。他一见到我,就收住脚步,静候我走下楼梯。

“德温特先生几分钟前回来过,太太,”他说。“取了几支香烟又上海滩去了。看样子有艘船漂到岸上搁浅了。”

“哦,”我说。

“您听到号炮了吗,太太?”弗里思说。

“不错,我听到的,”我说。

“当时,我正同罗伯特两人在冷餐厨房,起先咱俩都以为是哪个园丁点着厂昨晚剩下的焰火,”弗里思说。“我还对罗伯特说,‘这样的时候干吗放焰火?干吗不留到星期六夜里放,让孩子们乐一乐?’后来又传来第二炮,接着响起第三炮,‘不是放焰火,’罗伯特说。‘是船只出事,’‘看来你说对了,’我说着赶忙跑到大厅,正在这时,听到德温特先生在平台上叫我。”

“哦,”我说。

“不过,这样的大雾天,船只出事也没什么奇怪,太太。刚才我正对罗伯特这么说来着。陆上行路都可能迷失方向,更不用说在海上了。”

“是啊,”我说。

“您也许想赶上德温特先生,他在两分钟之前刚穿过草坪往海滩走去,”弗里思说。

“谢谢你指点,弗里思,”我说。

我走出屋子,来到平台,只见草坪那头的树木正从雾中探出身来。浓雾化作团团微云,向空中升去,开始消散,水汽在我头上如烟圈般打旋。我抬头望望宅子上部的窗户,窗子都已关得严严实实,下着百叶窗,那模样就好像再也不准备开启,一辈子再也不会有人来推开窗户透气。

五分钟前我正站在居中的那扇大窗旁。此刻看来那窗子离我头顶距离极远,高高在上,何其巍然。我踩着坚硬的石块,低头看自己的双脚,接着又举目望望紧闭的百叶窗,这时我突然觉得一阵眩晕,浑身闷热难受,脖子背上淌下一股汗水的细流,眼前金星乱舞。于是,我又走回大厅,找了张椅子坐下。我的双手汗津津的,抱着膝盖,静坐着一动也不动。

“弗里思,”我高声唤人。“你在餐厅吗?”

“是的。太太有什么吩咐?”他立即从餐厅出来,穿过大厅,朝我走来。

“别以为我古怪,弗里思。不过,我此刻很想喝一小杯白兰地。”

“我这就去端来,太太。”

我还是抱着膝盖,静静坐着。他端着一个银托盘走回来,托盘上放着一杯酒。

“太太,您是不是觉得有点不好过?”弗里思说。“要不要去把克拉丽斯给您叫来?”

“不,我马上就会好的,弗里思,”我说。“我只不过觉得有点闷热,没什么大不了。”

“今儿个早上是很热,太太,热极了,甚至可以说问得让人透不过气。”

“不错,弗里思,是够闷热的。”

我喝下白兰地,把酒杯放回银托盘。“也许那几声号炮让您受惊了,”弗里思说。“炮声响得很突然呢。”

“是的,炮声吓了我一跳,”我说。

“昨晚整夜站着招待客人,今儿早晨又这么闷热,兴许您得病了,太太,”弗里思说。

“不,那还不至于,”我说。

“要不要躺一躺,休息半个钟头?藏书室倒还凉快。”

“不,不必。稍隔片刻我还得出去。别麻烦了,弗里思。”

“那好,太太。”

他走了,让我独自留在大厅里。坐在这儿倒挺安静,也还凉快。昨夜舞会留下的痕迹都已扫除干净,简直就像压根儿没发生过这回事。大厅还是平时那模样:色调灰暗,一片死寂,阴森严峻,墙上照样挂满人像画和兵器。我简直不敢相信,昨夜自己曾穿着那件蓝色袍子,站在楼梯脚跟前,同五百位来宾握手;我也不能想象,吟游诗人画廊里曾摆开乐谱架,小乐队在此演奏,有一个提琴手和一个鼓手。我站起身,出了门,又走上平台。

雾正消散,已往上退到树梢头。这时我已能看到草坪尽头的林子。在我的头顶惨淡的太阳正挣扎着想穿透雾蒙蒙的天空。天更加热了,正像弗里思刚才说的那样,闷得叫人透不过气。一只蜜蜂嗡嗡飞过我身旁,吵吵嚷嚷,东问西撞,寻着花香而去。待它钻进一朵花去采蜜,嗡嗡声才戛然而止。草坪边的草坡上,园丁开动了刈草机,一只红雀被飕飕作声的刈草刀片惊起,朝玫瑰园一溜烟飞去。园丁弓着身子,握着刈草机的手柄,沿草坡慢慢往前走,草屑和雏菊的小花四散飞扬。微风吹来,带着温热的草香;太阳透过白色的水汽,火辣辣地照在我头上。我打着唿哨,呼唤杰斯珀,但不见长耳狗的踪迹。也许这畜生随着迈克西姆往海滩去了,我看看手表,已经过了十二点半,差不多再过二十分钟就到一点,昨天这时候,迈克西姆和我正同弗兰克一起站在他家门前的小花园里,等候他的管家开午饭。这是二十四小时前的事。当时两人都在笑话我。想方设法要打听我将穿什么样的化装舞眼。我说:“你们俩不大吃一惊才怪呢!”

记起自己说过的这句话,我真是羞愧得无地自容。到这时我才意识到迈克西姆并未出走,自己原先的顾虑没有道理。我刚才听到他在平台上说话,那嗓音平和镇静,就事论事地吩咐别人干这干那,正是我所熟悉的声音,不像昨夜我出现在楼梯口时听到的嗓音那么可怕。迈克西姆并未出走!他在下面小海湾里的什么地方忙碌着。他还是老样子,神志正常而清醒。正如弗兰克所说,他只不过是出去散一会步;他到过海岬,在那儿见到有艘船漂近海岸。我的恐惧疑虑全是没有根据的。迈克西姆安然无恙;迈克西姆没出什么问题。我只是做了一场恶梦,一场有失身分的颠三倒四的恶梦,其含义即使在此刻我还不十分明白。我不愿回过头去重温这场恶梦,巴不得把它同遗忘已久的童年的恐怖经历一起,永远深埋在记忆的阴暗角落里。不过话说回来,只要迈克西姆还是好好的,即便做一场恶梦又有何妨!

于是,我也沿着陡峭的蜿蜒小径,穿过黑压压的林子,直奔坡下的海滩而去。

这时,雾已差不多散尽。来到小海湾,我一眼便瞧见那艘搁浅的船。船停在离岸两英里的地方,船头朝着礁岩。我沿着防波堤走去,在堤的尽头站定,身子倚在筑成圆弧形的堤墙上。山头悬崖边已聚集了一大群人,大概都是沿着海岸警卫队的巡逻路线从克里斯走来看热闹的。这儿的悬崖和海岬全是曼陀而庄园的一部分,但外人都一贯行使穿越悬崖的通行权。有些看热闹的闲人竟沿着峭壁爬下来,以便从近处观察搁浅的船只。那条船搁浅的角度很别扭,船尾往上翘着。这时已有好几条小艇从四面八方向搁浅的船只划去;救生艇已离岸出动,我看见有人正站在救生艇里通过扩音器哇啦哇啦叫嚷。此人说些什么,我听不清。海湾仍然蒙在迷雾中,望不见地平线。又有一艘汽艇突突地驶来,艇上站着好几个男人。那汽艇是深褐色的,我看见艇上的乘员穿着制服,大概是克里斯的港务长和随行的劳埃德协会①代办。另一艘满载度假旅客的汽艇跟随在后,从克里斯驶来,两艘汽艇围着搁浅的轮船来回绕圈子,艇上的人正起劲地议论着什么。我听到这些人说话的声音在静静的水面上飘过,引起回响——

①英国的船舶注册协会,发布年鉴,载明船舶的等级、吨位等。

我离开防波堤和小海湾,沿着小径爬过悬崖,朝那些看热闹的人走去。到处都不见迈克西姆的踪影。弗兰克倒是在场,对着一名海岸警卫队员说话。见到弗兰克,我一时有些发窘,赶忙把身子缩回。不满一小时之前,我不是还在电话里对着他哭鼻子吗?我站在一旁进退维谷。可他一眼看见了我,向我挥手致意。我便朝着他和那个海岸警卫队员走过来,警卫队员认识我。

“来看热闹吗,德温特夫人?”他微笑着对我说。“事情恐怕很棘手;拖轮能不能把船头拨过来,我看还成问题。船已搁在那块暗礁上,动弹不得了。”

“他们准备怎么办?”我说。

“马上派潜水员下去检查,看看有没有把龙骨撞破,”他回答说。“那边一位戴红色圆锥形绒线帽的就是潜水员。要不要用这副镜子看看?”

我接过他的望远镜,对准那条船望去,看到一群人瞪大眼睛检查船尾,其中一个正对着什么指手划脚;救生艇里那汉子还是拿着话筒大声叫嚷。

克里斯的港务长业已登上搁浅船只的尾部;戴绒线帽的潜水员坐在港务长的灰色汽艇里待命。

那艘满载游客的观光汽艇还是一味围着大船绕圈子,一位女客站在艇里,拍了一张照片。一群海鸥落在水面上,愚蠢地聒噪着,指望有谁撒点儿食物碎屑让它们饱餐一顿。

我把望远镜还给海岸警卫队员。

“好像不见有什么进展,”我说。

“潜水员马上就会下水的,”海岸警卫说。“当然,开始时候总有一番讨价还价,跟外国人打交道全这样。瞧,拖轮来了。”

“拖轮也搞不出什么名堂,”弗兰克说。“看那船的角度。那儿的海水比我原先想象的要浅得多呢。”

“那块暗瞧离岸远,”海岸警卫说。“坐小船在那片海域航行,一般不会注意到它。可这是艘大船,吃水深,自然就碰上了。”

“号炮响时,我正在山谷旁边的第一个小海湾里,”弗兰克说。“三码以外啥也看不见。接着就冷不防响起了号炮声。”

我不禁想到,在休戚与共的时刻,人与人多么相像。弗兰克描述他听到号炮的那一幕,简直就是弗里思方才那番叙述的翻版,好像这事儿至关事要,我们都挺在乎似的。其实,我知道他到海滩去是为了寻找迈克西姆;我看出来,他同我一样,也在担心。而此刻,这一切全被遗忘,暂时都被置诸脑后——我俩在电话里的交谈,我俩共同的焦虑不安以及他再三再四说必须见我一面的表示。遗忘的全部原因就在于一艘船在大雾中搁浅了。

一个小男孩朝我们奔来。“船员会淹死吗?”小男孩问。

“他们才不会呢!船员都好端端的,小家伙,”海岸警卫说。“海面平稳,简直同我的手背一样。这一回,决不会有人死伤。”

“要是昨天夜里出事,我们就听不到号炮声了,”弗兰克说。“我们放了五十多个焰火,还有不少鞭炮。”

“我们可照样能听见,”海岸警卫说。“一见号炮的闪光,我们就能认准出事的方向。德温特夫人,看见那潜水员吗?他正在戴上头盔。”

“让我看看潜水员,”小男孩说。

“喏,在那边,”弗兰克俯身指着远处对他说。“就是正在戴头盔的那人。人们就要把他从船上放到水底下去了。”

“他不会被淹死吗?”孩子问。

“潜水员从来不淹死,”海岸警卫说。“他们不停地用气泵给潜水员输送氧气。注意看着他怎么下水。这不下去啦?”

水面晃荡了一会儿,过后又恢复平静。“他下水了,”小男孩说。

“迈克西姆在哪里?”我问。

“他带着一名船员到克里斯去了,”弗兰克说。“船搁浅时,那人大概吓昏了头,一纵身就跳水逃命,我们发现他在这儿的悬崖底下抱着一块礁岩,当然已湿漉漉地成了落汤鸡,浑身上下筛糠似地发抖。这人自然一句英语也不会说。迈克西姆攀下礁岩,发现此人撞在岩石上,划破一个口子,正在大出血,迈克西姆对水手说德语,接着便招呼一艘从克里斯驶来的汽艇,那汽艇当时正在左近游大,活像一条饥肠辘辘的鲨鱼。迈克西姆带着那水手找医生包扎去了。要是运气好,他可能会趁着菲力普斯老头坐下吃午饭那工夫,抓着他给治一治。”

“他什么时候走了?”我问。

“他刚走,您就来了,”弗兰克说。“大概是五分钟之前吧。您怎么没看见那汽艇?他同那德国水手坐在船尾。”

“大概没等我攀上悬岸,他已经走远,”我说。

“处理这类事情,迈克西姆真可谓首屈一指,”弗兰克说。“只要有办法,他总是乐于助人的。您等着瞧,他会把所有船员都请到曼陀丽去作客,给他们吃的,还会招待他们过夜。”

“一点不假,”海岸警卫说。“这位先生会脱下自己的上衣技在别人身上,这我知道。郡里像他这样好心肠的人要是多几位,那才好呢!”

“说得对,我们需要这样的人,”弗兰克说。

大家还是目不转睛地盯着那艘船。几条拖轮仍然没靠上去,而那条救生艇则已掉过头,往克里斯方向开回去了。

“今天不该那条救生艇值班,”海岸警卫说。

“哦,”弗兰克说。“依我看,那些拖轮也无能为力。这回该让拆卸废船的商人们大捞一票了。”

海鸥在我们头顶上盘旋,鸣声凄厉,就像一群饿得发慌的馋猫。几只海鸥飞落在悬崖处的chuan岩上,其余的胆子更大,在船边的海面上飞掠而过。

海岸警卫脱下制帽,擦试着额头。

“好像一丝儿风也没有,对不?”他问。

“是啊,”我说。

观光汽艇载着那些拍照片的游客突突地朝克里斯驶去。“那些人腻啦,”海岸警卫说。

“这也怪不得他们,”弗兰克说。“几小时之内不会再有什么新鲜事儿。在他们动手投转船头之前,得等候潜水员的报告。”

“这倒不假,”海岸警卫说。

“我看逗留在这儿也没多大意思,”弗兰克说。“我们又插不上手,我想吃午饭了。”

因为我没吭声,他也迟疑着没挪步。我感到他正盯着我看。

“您准备怎么样?”他问。

“我想再在这儿呆一会儿,”我说。“随便什么时候吃午饭都行,反正是冷餐,早吃晚吃都没关系。我想看看潜水员怎么操作。”不知什么缘故,我这时无论如何没脸跟弗兰克单独说话。我宁愿子身独处,要不就跟哪个陌生人拉扯一阵闲话,譬如说眼下这个海岸警卫队员。

“您不会再看到什么有趣的事了,”弗兰克说。“不会再有什么趣闻的。于吗不同我一起回去吃点中饭?”

“不,”我说。“实在不想吃……”

“好吧,那么,”弗兰克说,“要是有什么吩咐,您知道到哪儿去找我。整个下午,我都在办事处。”

“好的,”我说。

他朝海岸警卫一点头,攀下悬崖,朝小海湾走去。我不知道自己是不是惹他着恼了。要说冒犯,我也是事出无奈。这些不愉快的事情,总有一天,等到将来的某一天,都会解决的,自从在电话上同他交谈以来,事件层出不穷,我可不愿再为任何事情去伤脑筋。我只希望静静地坐在悬崖上,眺望那艘出事的船只。

“他可是个好人,我是说克劳利先生,”海岸警卫说。

“是的,”我说。

“他还愿为德温特先生赴汤蹈火呢,”他说。

“是的,我也觉得他乐于助人,”我说。

那小男孩还在我们跟前的草地上蹦跳着玩儿。

“潜水员要多久再浮上水面?”小男孩问。

“早着呢,小家伙,”海岸警卫说。

一个身穿浅红色条纹上衣、头戴发网的妇人穿过草地。朝我们走来。“查理,查理,你在哪里?”妇人边走边叫。

“你妈来啦,等着挨骂吧,”海岸警卫说。

“妈,我见到潜水员了,”男孩大叫。

妇人微笑着向我们点头致意。这人并不认识我,是从克里斯来的度假游客。“精彩好戏大概都收场了,对吗?”妇人说。“那边悬崖上的人都说这条船肯定会搁浅好几天。”

“大家都在等潜水员的报告,”海岸警卫说。

“我不明白,他们怎么有办法打发潜水员下水,”妇人说,“待遇一定不错吧。”

“他们确实付出不少钱,”海岸警卫说。

“妈,我要当潜水员,”小男孩说。

“那可得问你爹去,宝贝儿,”妇人说,一边朝我们笑笑。“这地方真美,是不是?”妇人对我说,“我们带了吃的,准备中午野餐,不料碰上大雾天,又加上船只失事。号炮响时,我们正准备回克里斯去,但突然炮声大作,就像在我们鼻子底下发射似的,我吓了一大跳。‘嗬,那是什么声音?’我问丈夫,‘那是海难信号,’他说,‘咱们别往回走,去看看热闹吧。’我怎么也没办法把他拖回去,他呀,跟我这小儿子一样不可救药。至于我,实在不觉得有什么好看。”

“不错,现在是没什么好戏可看了,”海岸警卫说。

“那边的树林风景真美,大概是私人地产吧,”妇人说。

海岸警卫很不自然地咳嗽一声,向我丢了一个眼色,我嘴里嚼着一根草,故意把目光移开。

“不错,那儿全是私人地产,”他说。

“我丈夫说,这些大庄园迟早都要铲平,改建起平房,”妇人说。“我觉得在这儿面朝大海造一座漂亮的小平房,倒挺不错。不过,我大概不会喜欢这儿的冬天。”

“您说得对。冬天这一带很冷清,”海岸警卫说。

我还是自顾自嚼草茎;小男孩绕着圈子来回奔跑。海岸警卫看着手表说:“嗯,我得走了。再见!”他向我行过礼,转身沿着小径往克里斯方向去了。“走吧,查理,找你爸爸去,”妇人说。

她向我友善地颔首致意,信步朝悬崖的边沿走去,小男孩奔跑着跟在她身后。一个穿土黄色短裤和条纹运动茄克的瘦子向妇人招手。三人在一簇荆豆属灌木旁席地而坐,那妇人动手打开盛食物的纸袋。

我多么希望丢开自己的身分,成为他们中的一分子,大嚼熟透的煮鸡蛋和罐装夹肉面包,开怀放声大笑,同他们拉扯家常,然后到了下午,就随他们漫步走回克里斯,在沙滩上赛跑,等回到他们的住所,大家以海虾作为点心。可是这一切都是做不到的。我还是得独自穿过林子回曼陀丽去,等候迈克西姆。至于两人会谈些什么,他会用何种眼光看我,说话时声音是悲是怒,我全不知道。我坐在悬崖上,一点不觉得饿,压根儿没想到吃午饭。

闲人更多了,全爬上山来看那艘船。这是当天下午耸人听闻的头号精彩新闻。闲人都是从克里斯来的度假游客,我一个也不认识。海面平静如镜。海鸥已不再在头顶盘旋,而是飞落在离搁浅船不远的水面上。下午,有更多的观光汽艇驶来;对于克里斯驾艇出游的人来说,这一天不啻是个盛大的节日。潜水员曾浮上水面,可后来又下潜了。一艘拖轮吐着烟驶走了,另一艘留在近处待命。港务长乘坐灰色汽艇,驶离现场,身边带着几个人,其中包括再次浮上水面的潜水员。在出事的船只上,水手倚着舷侧,向海鸥撒食物残屑。观光小艇上的游客缓慢地划着桨,绕着大船打来回。真是一点儿新鲜事也没有!这时恰逢最低潮,那船倾侧得相当厉害,连螺旋桨都能看得一清二楚。酉边的天空出现了层层叠叠的白云;太阳显得惨白无力;天还是热得够呛。那个穿红色条纹上衣、带小男孩的妇人站起身来,沿着小径,信步朝克里斯方向走去;那穿短裤的男子拎着野餐食品篮跟在后边。

我看看手表,已经三点多了。我站起身,下山朝小海湾走去。海湾同平时一样,静悄悄的不见人影,圆卵石呈现一片深深的暗灰色。小埠头内的海水亮晃晃的,就像一面镜子。我走过圆卵石时脚下发出古怪的嘎吱声,重叠的云层这时已布满头顶的天空,太阳钻进了云堆。当我来到小湾子靠大海的一边时,我看见贝恩正蹲在两块礁石中间的一起海水中,把小海螺往手心里攒。我走过他身边,影子恰好投射在水面上。贝恩抬起头来,看见是我,马上咧嘴一笑。

“白天好,”他说。

“午安,”我说。

他慌忙站起身来,展开一块污秽的手巾,里头全是他摸来的小海螺。

“你吃这玩艺儿吗?”他问。

我不想伤害他的感情,于是就说:“谢谢你。”

他倒了五六只海螺在我手上,我把它们分别塞进衬衣的两个口袋。“跟面包黄油一起吃味道可好呢,”他说。“你得先把它们煮熟。”

“是的,我明白,”我说。

他站在那儿一个劲儿冲着我憨笑。“见到那艘轮船了吗?”他问。

“见了,”我说。“搁浅,对不对?”

“啥?”他说。

“那船搁浅了,”我重复说一遍。“船底可能已撞了个洞。”

他脸上突然没了表情,摆了一副傻相,“没错儿,”他说。“她在那底下挺好的。她不会回来了。”

“等到涨潮,说不定拖轮能把船拉走,”我说。

他没回答,掉转头望着海湾外搁浅的船。从这儿望出去,可以看到船的舷侧,船身的水线以下部分暴露在外,涂着红漆,恰好与黑色的上部形成对照。那根独一无二的烟囱,洋洋自得的歪头对着远处的悬崖。水手们还是倚着舷侧喂海鸥,凝望着海水,小艇正划四克里斯去。

“那是条德国船,对吧?”贝恩说。

“我不知道,”我说。“不知是德国还是荷兰的。”

“撞上暗礁的部位一定破了,”他说。

“恐怕是这样。”我说。

他再次露齿一笑,用手背擦擦鼻子。

“这条船会一块一块地碎裂,”他说。“它可不会像上回那小船,咕咚就沉到海底。”他自得其乐地一笑,伸出手指去掏鼻子。我没吭声。“鱼儿已把她吃光了,对吗?”他说。

“谁?”我问。

他翘起大拇指,朝海面方向示意。“她,”他说。“那另一位。”

“鱼儿不会吃船的,贝恩,”我说。

“啥?”他问,一边瞪眼望着我,又摆出那种木然的傻相。

“我得回家去,”我说。“再见。”

我撇下他,朝那条穿林子而过的小径走去,故意不往海滩小屋看一眼。我知道小屋就在我的右方,阴沉沉,静悄悄。我径直步入小径,上坡穿林而去。走到半路,我收住脚步,稍事休息,透过树丛仍能望见向海岸倾侧着的搁浅船只。观光游艇都已开走,失事船上的水手也钻进下面的舱房不见了。层层叠叠的云块遮没了整个天空。不知从哪个方向刮起一阵轻风,迎面吹来。一片树叶从头顶落下,掉在我手上。我莫名其妙地打了个寒颤。接着,风停了,天又变得像刚才那样闷热。那艘船倾侧着动弹不得,甲板上不见一个人影,细长的黑色烟囱指向海岸,好不凄凉!海上风平浪静,所以海水冲洗着小湾子里的圆卵石,只发出有节制的轻微声响。我再次挪动脚步,沿着小径,穿过林子走去。我只觉得双腿不听使唤,举步勉强,头部沉甸甸的,心头充满一种异样的不祥预感。

我走出林子,穿过草坪。宅子看上去何其宁静,像是一处由人加以护卫的隐蔽的藏身所,英姿更胜往日。我站在草坡边,望着低处的宅子,困惑和自豪奇特地交织在一起,兴许是第一次真正意识到这就是我的家,我的归宿在这里,曼陀丽属我所有。带竖框的窗子映着这儿的一草一木和平台上的盆花。一缕轻烟正从一个烟囱徐徐升上天空。草坪上刚经刈割的青草透出一股干草似的甜香。栗子树上有一只画眉在婉转啼鸣,一只黄色的蝴蝶在我面前胡乱扇动翅膀,向平台飞去。

我走进屋子,穿过门厅,来到餐厅。我的那副刀叉餐具还在原处,可迈克西姆那一副已撤去了。餐具柜上给我留了冷猪肉和凉拌菜。我迟疑了半响,接着伸手拉铃,罗伯特从帷幕后走进屋来。

“德温特先生回来了?”我问。

“是的,太太,”罗伯特说。“他两点过后回来,草草吃完中饭又走了。他问起您,弗里思说大概在海滩看那艘搁浅的船。”

“老爷说过什么时候回来吗?”我问。

“没有,太太。”

“也许,他走另一条路去了海滩,”我说。“我俩正好错过。”

“是的,太太,”罗伯特说。

我看看冷猪肉和凉拌菜,虽觉肚里空空,但不想吃东西。此刻,我不想吃冷猪肉。“您这就吃午饭?”罗伯特问。

“不,”我说。“不吃。请给我端茶,罗伯特,送到藏书室。不要蛋糕、煎饼之类的东西。清茶一杯,外加黄油面包就行了。”

“遵命,太太。”

我走进藏书室,在临窗座位上坐下。杰斯珀不在跟前,我觉得很不自在。小狗一定在迈克西姆身边。那条老狗躺在篓子里睡大觉。我捡起《泰晤士报》,顺手翻过几页,可什么也没读进去。我这会儿的自我感觉有点反常,仿佛是在原地踏步挨时间,又像在牙科医师的候诊室里坐等。我知道,这时绝对没法安下心来做编结活,也读不进书。我等着出事儿!某种未能预见的意外。一早上担惊受怕已经够我受了,不料接着又发生船只搁浅的事,加上没吃午饭——这一切竟使我在思想深处产生某种自己无法理解的潜伏的兴奋感。我像是跨进了生活里的一个新阶段,一切都变得与昨天不完全相同。昨晚穿戴整齐参加化装舞会的那女人已留在往昔,舞会至今,像是已过了好长一段时间。这会儿临窗而坐的我是个新人,是个经历了蜕变的新人……罗伯特给我端来茶点,我狼吞虎咽地吃黄油面包。他还端来一些煎饼和几片夹肉面包,外加一块蛋糕。他一定觉得单单端上黄油面包有失体面,自然也不合曼陀丽的老规矩。见到煎饼和蛋糕,我很高兴,这时我才记起除了早上十一点半喝过的几口冷茶,我连早饭也不曾吃。我喝过第三杯茶,罗伯特又进屋来了。

“德温特先生还没口来吧,太太,”他说。

“没有,”我说。“什么事?有人找他?”

“是的,太太,”罗伯特说。“克里斯的港务长、海军上校塞尔来电话找老爷。他问是否同意他到这儿找德温特先生亲自谈一谈。”

“我不知道怎么回答才好,”我说。“他可能老半天也不回来。”

“是的,太太。”

“你去对他说,让他五点钟再打来,”我吩咐说。不料罗伯特离开房间一会儿,又走了回来。

“塞尔海军上校说如果方便,他想找您谈谈,太太。”罗伯特说。“上校说事情相当紧急,他打电话找克劳利先生,可没人接听。”

“那行,倘若是急事,我当然必须见他,”我说。“告诉他如果他愿意,请他马上就来。他有车吗?”

“我想有吧,太太。”

罗伯特走出房间去。我暗自纳闷,我该对塞尔海军上校说些什么呢?此人来访一定跟船只搁浅有关,可我不明白,这关迈克西姆什么事。要是船在小海湾里搁了浅,那自然又当别论,因为海湾位于曼陀丽庄园地界之内,也许,他们想把礁岩炸掉,或是采取其他救护措施,所以来征求迈克西姆的同意。可是那片开阔的公用海湾以及水底下的暗礁都不归迈克西姆所有。塞尔海军上校找我谈这些,只能是浪费时间。

此人一定是搁下电话筒就上车动身的,所以不到一刻钟,他已被引领着走进藏书室来。

他身穿制服,还是那身下午一两点钟光景我在望远镜里看到的打扮。我从临窗的座位上站起,同他握手。“很抱歉我丈夫还没回来,塞尔海军上校,”我说。“他一定又上了海边的悬崖。在这之前,他进城到过克里斯。我一整天没见他人影。”

“不错,我听说他到过克里斯,可是我没在城里遇上他,”港务长说。“他一准翻过那几座山头步行回来了,而当时我还坐着汽艇留在海上。另外,克劳利先生也到处找不到。”

“恐怕那艘船一出事,大家都乱了套啦,”我说。“我也在山头上看热闹,午饭也没吃。我知道,克劳利先生方才也在那儿。这艘船现在怎么办?您说拖轮能把它拖开吗?”

塞尔海军上校用双手在空中划了个大圈。“船底撞破了个洞,有这么大,”他说。“船开不回汉堡啦,这事不用咱们操心,尽可让船主和劳埃德协会的代办去商量着解决。不,德温特夫人,我不是为了那艘船才登门拜访的。当然,船只出事也可以说是我来访的间接原因。简单点说,我有消息向德温特先生奉告,可我简直不知道用什么方法对他说才好。”他那双明亮的蓝眼睛笔直地望着我。

“什么样的消息,塞尔海军上校?”

他从衣袋掏出一块白色的大手帕,攥了攥鼻子,然后才说:“呃,德温特夫人,向您奉告,我同样觉得很为难,我实在不愿给您和您丈夫带来苦恼和悲痛。您知道,咱们克里斯城的人都热爱德温特先生。这个家族始终不吝于造福公众。我们无法让往事就此埋没,这对他对您都是很痛苦的,不过鉴于目前的情况,又实在不得不重提往事。”他顿了片刻,把手帕塞回衣袋,接着,尽管屋子里只有他同我两人,他却压着嗓门往下说:

“我们派潜水员下去察看船底,这人在底下发现了重要情况。事情的大概经过是这样:他发现船底的大洞之后,就潜向船的另一侧检查,看看是否还有其他遭受损坏的部位。这时,他不期然在大船的一侧碰上一艘小帆船的龙骨,那龙骨完好无损,一点没撞破。当然罗,潜水员是本地人,他一眼就认出那原来是已故德温特夫人的小帆船。”

我的第一个反应是感恩不尽,幸好迈克西姆不在场。昨晚我的化装惹出一场风波,紧接着又来这么一下新的打击,真是老天捉弄人,太可怕了!

“我很难过,”我一字一顿地说。“这种事谁也没料到。是不是非告诉德温特先生不可?难道不能让帆船就这么沉在海底算了?又碍不着谁的,是不是?”

“德温特夫人,在正常情况下自然可以让沉船留在海底。这个世界上,我要算最不愿意去打扰这艘沉船的人了;另外,正如我刚才所说,要是我有办法使德温特先生免受刺激,我甘愿作出任何牺牲。但事情并不到此为止,德温特夫人。我派出的潜水员在小帆船前后左右察看了一番,发现另一个更加重要的情况,船舱的门关得严严实实,海浪并没把它打穿;舷窗也都关闭着。潜水员从海底捡了块石头,砸碎一扇舷窗,伸头往舱里张望,船舱里满是水,一定是船底某处有个洞,海水就从那儿涌了进来,除此之外,看不出船上还有其他受到破坏的部位。可是接下来,潜水员看到了有生以来最骇人的景象,德温特夫人。”

塞尔海军上校收住话头,回头一望,像是怕被仆人偷听了去。“舱里躺着一具尸骸,”他轻声说。“当然,尸体已经腐烂,肌肉都消蚀了。不过还能看出那确是一具尸体,潜水员辨认出头颅和四肢。接着,他就浮上水面,直接向我报告了详情。现在您该明白了,德温特夫人,为什么我非见您丈夫不可。”

我瞪眼望着他,始而莫名其妙,继而大惊失色,接着胸口一阵难过。简直想吐。

“都以为她是独自出海去的,”我轻声哺哺着。“这么说来,自始至终一定有人跟她在一起,而别人全不知道?”

“看来是这么一回事,”港务长说。

“那会是谁呢?”我问。“要是有人失踪,家属亲人肯定会发现的。当时都沸沸扬扬传说这件事,报上也是连篇累牍的报道。可是这两位航海人,怎么一个留在舱内,德温特夫人的尸体却过了几个月在好几英里之外被捞了起来?”

塞尔海军上校摇摇头说:“我同您一样,猜不透其中底细。我们掌握的全部情况就是舱里有具尸骸,而这事又非上报不可。我怕事情会因此同个满城风雨,德温特夫人。我想不出有什么办法可以封住人们的嘴。对您和德温特先生说来,这是桩很不愉快的事情。你们二位在这儿安安静静过日子,希望生活美满,可偏偏出了这样的事。”

我现在明白了自己为什么有不祥的预感。原来,凶险的不是那艘搁浅的船,也不是那些厉声怪叫的海鸥,或是那根朝着海岸倾斜的细长的黑烟囱。可怕的乃是那纹丝不动的暗黑色的海水及水底下的秘密;可怕的是潜水员下潜到冰凉、寂寥的海底,偶然中撞上了吕蓓卡的船和吕蓓卡旅伴的尸体。此人的手已摸过那条船,他还曾朝船舱里张望;与此同时,我却坐在海边悬崖上,对这些事一无所知。

“要是不必对他说起,”我说,“要是能把整个事情瞒着他,那就好了。”

“您知道,德温特夫人,只要有可能,我一定会瞒着他的,”港务长说。“但是事情关系重大,我个人的好恶只得撇在一边。我得履行职责。发现了尸体,我非上报不可。”他突然停住,因为正在这时门开了,迈克西姆走进屋来。

“你好,”他说,“出了什么事了?我不知道大驾光临,塞尔海军上校。有何见教?”

我再也忍受不下去,只好还自己怯懦妇人的本来面目,走出藏书室,顺手把门带上。我甚至没敢往迈克西姆的脸看一眼,只是依稀觉得他没戴帽子,穿着很不整洁,一副疲惫不堪的神态。

我傍着正门,站在大厅里,杰斯珀正从盆子里饮水,舌头舔得好不热闹。狗见了我。顿时摇尾乞怜,一面则继续喝水。喝够了水,长耳狗慢腾腾跨着大步跑到我跟前,后肢着地站立着,用前肢搔我的衣服。我吻了一下狗的额头,接着就走过去在平台坐下。危机终于降临了,我得面对现实才好。多少时间以来郁积的恐惧,我的怯懦,我的腼腆羞态,我那种百般驱之不去的自卑感——眼下这一切非克服不可,都得暂时靠边站。这一回要是再失败,那就一辈子输定了,再也不会有另外的机会。我在盲目的绝望中祈祷苍天赐我勇气,狠狠用指甲掐自己的手。我坐着呆呆凝望草坪和平台上的盆花,足足有五分钟之久。然后,我听到车道上有汽车开动的声音。一定是塞尔海军上校,他把事情经过对迈克西姆原原本本交代清楚,就驾车走了。我站起身,拖着缓慢的步子,穿过大厅,往藏书室走去,一边不住地在衣袋里翻弄贝思给我的小海螺,接着又把它们紧紧捏在手里。

迈克西姆站在窗前,背对着我。我在门旁站定,等他转过身来,可他照样一动也没动。我把双手抽出衣袋,走去站在他身旁。我执着他的手,把它贴在自己的脸颊上。他还是一声不吭,站在那儿出神。

“我真难过”,我低声说。“难过极了。”他没有回答我。他的手冰凉冰凉。我吻他的手背,接着吻他的手指,一个接着一个。“我不愿让你独自经受这一切,”我说,“我与你分担。二十四小时之内,迈克西姆,我已长大成人,永远不再是一个小孩了。”

他伸出手臂,把我紧紧搂在身边。什么矜持,什么腼腆,都从我身上一扫而光。我用脸擦着他的肩胛,问道:“你原谅我了吗?”

他总算对我说话了:“原谅你?你做了什么事竟要我原谅?”

“昨晚的事,”我说。“你大概以为我是故意的。”

“喔,那事我已忘啦,”他说。“我对你发脾气了,是不?”

“是的,”我说。

他不再说什么,只是仍然把我紧紧搂着。“迈克西姆,”我说,“我们难道不能一切从头开始?两人不能从今天起同甘共苦吗?我不奢望你爱我,我不作非分之想,让我做你的朋友和伴侣吧,就算一个贴身小厮。我只有这点要求。”

他用双手捧起我的脸,凝视着我。我这才发现他的脸那么瘦削,上面皱纹密布,神容憔悴,眼圈浮肿得厉害。

“你对我的爱究竟有多深?”他问。

我一时答不上来,只能呆呆地看他,望着他失魂落魄的深色双眼和那苍白而憔悴的脸。

“一切都晚啦,宝贝,太晚了,”他说。“我们失去了绝无仅有的过幸福日子的机会。”

“不,迈克西姆,别这么说,”我说。

“我要说,”他说。“现在一切全完了。事情终于发生了。”

“什么事?”我问。

“一直在我料想中的事,日复一日,夜复一夜,我都梦见这事发生。我们注定没好日子过。我是说你我两人。”他在临窗位子上坐下,我跪在他面前,双手搭着他的肩。

“你在说些什么?”我问。

他用自己的双手覆盖着我的手,探究我的脸色。“吕蓓卡得胜了,”他说。

我目不转睛地望着他,心跳的节奏都变得异样了,被他握着的双手顿时变得冰冷。

“她的幽灵老是在你我中间徘徊,”他说。“她那该死的阴影始终横插在你我两人中间。我老在心底犯疑,这事总有一天会暴露出来,怀着这种恐惧心理,我的宝贝儿,我亲爱的小宝贝,我怎么能像现在这样拥抱你呢?我一直记得她临死时看我的眼神,那种慢慢在嘴角荡开的不怀好意的微笑。就在当时她已知道事情会暴露的;她深信自己最终一定会得胜。”

“迈克西姆,”我在他耳畔柔声说,“你在说些什么?你都对我说了些什么?”

“她的船被人发现了,”他说。“是今天下午被潜水员发现的。”

“不错,”我说。“这我知道。塞尔海军上校来通知的。你是在想那具尸体吧?就是潜水员在船舱里发现的那具尸体。”

“是的,”他说。

“这说明她当时不是一个人,”我说。“这说明吕蓓卡当时和另一个人一起出航。你现在得查明这人是谁。就是这么一回事,对吗,迈克西姆?”

“不,”他说。“不,你不明白。”

“我要同你分担这份愁苦,宝贝,”我说。“让我助你一臂之力。”

“谁也没同吕蓓卡在一起,她是独自一人,”他说。

我跪在地上,盯着他的脸,盯着他的双眼。

“船舱里躺着的是吕蓓卡的尸体,”他说。

“不,”我说。“不是的。”

“埋入墓穴的不是吕蓓卡,”他说。“那是一个没人认领无名女尸。当时压根儿没发生什么海难事故。吕蓓卡不是淹死的。是我杀了她。我在小海湾处的海滩小屋开枪打死了吕蓓卡,接着把她的尸体拖进船舱,当夜把船开出去,让她沉没在今天他们发现她的地方。死在船舱里的是吕蓓卡。现在请你看着我的眼睛告诉我,你还爱我吗?

Chapter nineteen

It was Maxim. I could not see him but I could hear his voice. He was shouting for Frith as he ran. I heard Frith answer from the hall and come out on the terrace. Their figures loomed out of the mist beneath us. 'She's ashore all right, ' said Maxim. 'I was watching her from the headland and I saw her come right into the bay, and head for the reef. They'll never shift her, not with these tides. She must have mistaken the bay for Kerrith harbour. It's like a wall out there, in the bay. Tell them in the house to stand by with food and drink in case these fellows want anything, and ring through to the office to Mr Crawley and tell him what's happened. I'm going back to the cove to see if I can do anything. Get me some cigarettes, will you?' Mrs Danvers drew back from the window. Her face was expressionless once more, the cold white mask that I knew. 'We had better go down, ' she said, 'Frith will be looking for me to make arrangements. Mr de Winter may bring the men back to the house as he said. Be careful of your hands, I'm going to shut the window. ' I stepped back into the room still dazed and stupid, not sure of myself or of her. I watched her close the window and fasten the shutters, and draw the curtains in their place. 'It's a good thing there is no sea running, ' she said, 'there wouldn't have been much chance for them then. But on a day like this there's no danger. The owners will lose their ship, though, if she's run on the reef as Mr de Winter said. ' She glanced round the room to make certain that nothing was disarranged or out of place. She straightened the cover on the double bed. Then she went to the door and held it open for me. 'I will tell them in the kitchen to serve cold lunch in the dining-room after all, ' she said, 'and then it won't matter what time you come for it.

Mr de Winter may not want to rush back at one o'clock if he's busy down there in the cove. ' I stared at her blankly and then passed out of the open door, stiff and wooden like a dummy. 'When you see Mr de Winter, Madam, will you tell him it will be quite all right if he wants to bring the men back from the ship? There will be a hot meal ready for them any time. ' 'Yes, ' I said. 'Yes, Mrs Danvers. ' She turned her back on me and went along the corridor to the service staircase, a weird gaunt figure in her black dress, the skirt just sweeping the ground like the full, wide skirts of thirty years ago. Then she turned the corner of the corridor and disappeared. I walked slowly along the passage to the door by the archway, my mind still blunt and slow as though I had just woken from a long sleep. I pushed through the door and went down the stairs with no set purpose before me. Frith was crossing the hall towards the dining-room. When he saw me he stopped, and waited until I came down into the hall. 'Mr de Winter was in a few moments ago, Madam, ' he said. 'He took some cigarettes, and then went back again to the beach. It appears there is a ship gone ashore. ' 'Yes, ' I said. 'Did you hear the rockets, Madam?' said Frith. 'Yes, I heard the rockets, ' I said. 'I was in the pantry with Robert, and we both thought at first that one of the gardeners had let off a firework left over from last night, ' said Frith, 'and I said to Robert, "What do they want to do that for in this weather? Why don't they keep them for the kiddies on Saturday night?" And then the next one came, and then the third. "That's not fireworks, " says Robert, "that's a ship in distress. " "I believe you're right, " I said, and I went out to the hall and there was Mr de Winter calling me from the terrace. ' 'Yes, ' I said. 'Well, it's hardly to be wondered at in this fog, Madam. That's what I said to Robert just now. It's difficult to find your way on the road, let alone on the water. ' 'Yes, ' I said. 'If you want to catch Mr de Winter he went straight across the lawn only two minutes ago, ' said Frith. "Thank you, Frith, ' I said. I went out on the terrace. I could see the trees taking shape beyond the lawns. The fog was lifting, it was rising in little clouds to the sky above. It whirled above my head in wreaths of smoke. I looked up at the windows above my head. They were tightly closed, and the shutters were fastened. They looked as though they would never open, never be thrown wide.

It was by the large window in the centre that I had stood five minutes before. How high it seemed above my head, how lofty and remote. The stones were hard and solid under my feet. I looked down at my feet and then up again to the shuttered window, and as I did so I became aware suddenly that my head was swimming and I felt hot. A little trickle of perspiration ran down the back of my neck. Black dots jumped about in the air in front of me. I went into the hall again and sat down on a chair. My hands were quite wet. I sat very still, holding my knees. 'Frith, ' I called, 'Frith, are you in the dining-room?' 'Yes, Madam?' He came out at once, and crossed the hall towards me. 'Don't think me very odd, Frith, but I rather think I'd like a small glass of brandy. ' 'Certainly, Madam. ' I went on holding my knees and sitting very still. He came back with a liqueur glass on a silver salver. 'Do you feel a trifle unwell, Madam?' said Frith. 'Would you like me to call Clarice?' 'No, I'll be all right, Frith, ' I said. 'I felt a bit hot, that's all. ' 'It's a very warm morning, Madam. Very warm indeed. Oppressive, one might almost say. ' 'Yes, Frith. Very oppressive. ' I drank the brandy and put the glass back on the silver salver. 'Perhaps the sound of those rockets alarmed you, ' said Frith; 'they went off so very sudden. ' 'Yes, they did, ' I said. 'And what with the hot morning and standing about all last night, you are not perhaps feeling quite like yourself, Madam, ' said Frith. 'No, perhaps not, ' I said. 'Will you lie down for half an hour? It's quite cool in the library. ' 'No. No, I think I'll go out in a moment or two. Don't bother, Frith. ' 'No. Very good, Madam. ' He went away and left me alone in the hall. It was quiet sitting there, quiet and cool. All trace of the party had been cleared away. It might never have happened. The hall was as it had always been, grey and silent and austere, with the portraits and the weapons on the wall. I could scarcely believe that last night I had stood there in my blue dress at the bottom of the stairs, shaking hands with five hundred people. I could not believe that there had been music-stands in the minstrels' gallery, and a band playing there, a man with a fiddle, a man with a drum. I got up and went out on to the terrace again. The fog was rising, lifting to the tops of the trees. I could see the woods at the end of the lawns. Above my head a pale sun tried to penetrate the heavy sky.

It was hotter than ever. Oppressive, as Frith had said. A bee hummed by me in search of scent, bumbling, noisy, and then creeping inside a flower was suddenly silent. On the grass banks above the lawns the gardener started his mowing machine. A startled linnet fled from the whirring blades towards the rose-garden. The gardener bent to the handles of the machine and walked slowly along the bank scattering the short-tipped grass and the pin- point daisy-heads. The smell of the sweet warm grass came towards me on the air, and the sun shone down upon me full and strong from out of the white mist. I whistled for Jasper but he did not come. Perhaps he had followed Maxim when he went down to the beach. I glanced at my watch. It was after half past twelve, nearly twenty to one. This time yesterday Maxim and I were standing with Frank in the little garden in front of his house, waiting for his housekeeper to serve lunch. Twenty-four hours ago. They were teasing me, baiting me about my dress. 'You'll both get the surprise of your lives, ' I had said. I felt sick with shame at the memory of my words. And then I realized for the first time that Maxim had not gone away as I had feared. The voice I had heard on the terrace was calm and practical. The voice I knew. Not the voice of last night when I stood at the head of the stairs. Maxim had not gone away. He was down there in the cove somewhere. He was himself, normal and sane. He had just been for a walk, as Frank had said. He had been on the headland, he had seen the ship closing in towards the shore. All my fears were without foundation. Maxim was safe. Maxim was all right. I had just experienced something that was degrading and horrible and mad, something that I did not fully understand even now, that I had no wish to remember, that I wanted to bury for ever more deep in the shadows of my mind with old forgotten terrors of childhood; but even this did not matter as long as Maxim was all right. Then I, too, went down the steep twisting path through the dark woods to the beach below. The fog had almost gone, and when I came to the cove I could see the ship at once, lying about two miles offshore with her bows pointed towards the cliffs. I went along the breakwater and stood at the end of it, leaning against the rounded wall.

There was a crowd of people on the cliffs already who must have walked along the coastguard path from Kerrith. The cliffs and the headland were part of Manderley, but the public had always used the right-of-way along the cliffs. Some of them were scrambling down the cliff face to get a closer view of the stranded ship. She lay at an awkward angle, her stern tilted, and there were a number of rowing-boats already pulling round her. The lifeboat was standing off. I saw someone stand up in her and shout through a megaphone. I could not hear what he was saying. It was still misty out in the bay, and I could not see the horizon. Another motor boat chugged into the light with some men aboard. The motor boat was dark grey. I could see someone in uniform. That would be the harbour-master from Kerrith, and the Lloyd's agent with him. Another motor boat followed, a party of holiday-makers from Kerrith aboard. They circled round and round the stranded steamer chatting excitedly. I could hear their voices echoing across the still water. I left the breakwater and the cove and climbed up the path over the cliffs towards the rest of the people. I did not see Maxim anywhere. Frank was there, talking to one of the coastguards. I hung back when I saw him, momentarily embarrassed. Barely an hour ago I had been crying to him, down the telephone. I was not sure what I ought to do. He saw me at once and waved his hand. I went over to him and the coastguard. The coastguard knew me. 'Come to see the fun, Mrs de Winter?' he said smiling. 'I'm afraid it will be a hard job. The tugs may shift her, but I doubt it. She's hard and fast where she is on that ledge. ' 'What will they do?' I said. 'They'll send a diver down directly to see if she's broken her back, ' he replied. 'There's the fellow there in the red stocking cap. Like to see through these glasses?' I took his glasses and looked at the ship. I could see a group of men staring over her stern. One of them was pointing at something. The man in the lifeboat was still shouting through the megaphone. The harbour-master from Kerrith had joined the group of men in the stern of the stranded ship. The diver in his stocking cap was sitting in the grey motor boat belonging to the harbour-master. The pleasure boat was still circling round the ship. A woman was standing up taking a snapshot. A group of gulls had settled on the water and were crying foolishly, hoping for scraps.

I gave the glasses back to the coastguard. 'Nothing seems to be happening, ' I said. 'They'll send him down directly, ' said the coastguard. 'They'll argue a bit first, like all foreigners. Here come the tugs. ' 'They'll never do it, ' said Frank. 'Look at the angle she's lying at. It's much shallower there than I thought. ' "That reef runs out quite a way, ' said the coastguard; 'you don't notice it in the ordinary way, going over that piece of water in a small boat. But a ship with her depth would touch all right. ' 'I was down in the first cove by the valley when they fired the rockets, ' said Frank. 'I could scarcely see three yards in front of me where I was. And then the things went off out of the blue. ' I thought how alike people were in a moment of common interest. Frank was Frith all over again, giving his version of the story, as though it mattered, as though we cared. I knew that he had gone down to the beach to look for Maxim. I knew that he had been frightened, as I had been. And now all this was forgotten and put aside: our conversation down the telephone, our mutual anxiety, his insistence that he must see me. All because a ship had gone ashore in the fog. A small boy came running up to us. 'Will the sailors be drowned?' he asked. 'Not them. They're all right, sonny, ' said the coastguard. "The sea's as flat as the back of my hand. No one's going to be hurt this time. ' 'If it had happened last night we should never have heard them, ' said Frank. 'We must have let off more than fifty rockets at our show, beside all the smaller things. ' 'We'd have heard all right, ' said the coastguard. 'We'd have seen the flash and known the direction. There's the diver, Mrs de Winter. See him putting on his helmet?' 'I want to see the diver, ' said the small boy. 'There he is, ' said Frank, bending and pointing - 'that chap there putting on the helmet. They're going to lower him into the water. ' 'Won't he be drowned?' said the child. 'Divers don't drown, ' said the coastguard. "They have air pumped into them all the time. Watch him disappear. There he goes. ' The surface of the water was disturbed a minute and then was clear again. 'He's gone, ' said the small boy. 'Where's Maxim?' I said. 'He's taken one of the crew into Kerrith, ' said Frank; 'the fellow lost his head and jumped for it apparently when the ship struck.

We found him clinging on to one of the rocks here under the cliff. He was soaked to the skin of course and shaking like a jelly. Couldn't speak a word of English, of course. Maxim went down to him, and found him bleeding like a pig from a scratch on the rocks. He spoke to him in German. Then he hailed one of the motor boats from Kerrith that was hanging around like a hungry shark, and he's gone off with him to get him bandaged by a doctor. If he's lucky he'll just catch old Phillips sitting down to lunch. ' 'When did he go?' I said. 'He went just before you turned up, ' said Frank, 'about five minutes ago. I wonder you didn't see the boat. He was sitting in the stern with this German fellow. ' 'He must have gone while I was climbing up the cliff, ' I said. 'Maxim is splendid at anything like this, ' said Frank. 'He always gives a hand if he can. You'll find he will invite the whole crew back to Manderley, and feed them, and give them beds into the bargain. ' "That's right, ' said the coastguard. 'He'd give the coat off his back for any of his own people, I know that. I wish there was more like him in the county. ' 'Yes, we could do with them, ' said Frank. We went on staring at the ship. The tugs were standing off still, but the lifeboat had turned and gone back towards Kerrith. 'It's not their turn today, ' said the coastguard. 'No, ' said Frank, 'and I don't think it's a job for the tugs either. It's the ship-breaker who's going to make money this time. ' The gulls wheeled overhead, mewing like hungry cats; some of them settled on the ledges of the cliff, while others, bolder, rode the surface of the water beside the ship. The coastguard took off his cap and mopped his forehead. 'Seems kind of airless, doesn't it?' he said. 'Yes, ' I said. The pleasure boat with the camera people went chugging off towards Kerrith. "They've got fed up, ' said the coastguard. 'I don't blame them, ' said Frank. 'I don't suppose anything will happen for hours. The diver will have to make his report before they try to shift her. ' 'That's right, ' said the coastguard. 'I don't think there's much sense in hanging about here, ' said Frank; 'we can't do anything. I want my lunch. ' I did not say anything. He hesitated. I felt his eyes upon me. 'What are you going to do?' he said. 'I think I shall stay here a bit, ' I said. 'I can have lunch any time. It's cold. It doesn't matter. I want to see what the diver's going to do. '

Somehow I could not face Frank just at the moment. I wanted to be alone, or with someone I did not know, like the coastguard. 'You won't see anything, ' said Frank; 'there won't be anything to see. Why not come back and have some lunch with me?' 'No, ' I said. 'No, really ... " 'Oh, well, ' said Frank, 'you know where to find me if you do want me. I shall be at the office all the afternoon. ' 'All right, ' I said. He nodded to the coastguard and went off down the cliff towards the cove. I wondered if I had offended him. I could not help it. All these things would be settled some day, one day. So much seemed to have happened since I spoke to him on the telephone, and I did not want to think about anything any more. I just wanted to sit there on the cliff and stare at the ship. 'He's a good sort, Mr Crawley, ' said the coastguard. 'Yes, ' I said. 'He'd give his right hand for Mr de Winter too, ' he said. 'Yes, I think he would, ' I said. The small boy was still hopping around on the grass in front of us. 'When's the diver coming up again?' he said. 'Not yet, sonny, ' said the coastguard. A woman in a pink striped frock and a hairnet came across the grass towards us. 'Charlie? Charlie? Where are you?' she called. 'Here's your mother coming to give you what-for, ' said the coastguard. 'I've seen the diver, Mum, ' shouted the boy. The woman nodded to us and smiled. She did not know me. She was a holiday-maker from Kerrith. 'The excitement all seems to be over doesn't it?' she said; 'they are saying down on the cliff there the ship will be there for days. ' 'They're waiting for the diver's report, ' said the coastguard. 'I don't know how they get them to go down under the water like that, ' said the woman; 'they ought to pay them well. ' 'They do that, ' said the coastguard. 'I want to be a diver, Mum, ' said the small boy. 'You must ask your Daddy, dear, ' said the woman, laughing at us. 'It's a lovely spot up here, isn't it?' she said to me. 'We brought a picnic lunch, never thinking it would turn foggy and we'd have a wreck into the bargain. We were just thinking of going back to Kerrith when the rockets went off under our noses, it seemed. I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Why, whatever's that?" I said to my husband. "That's a distress signal, " he said; "let's stop and see the fun. " There's no dragging him away; he's as bad as my little boy. I don't see anything in it myself. ' 'No, there's not much to see now, ' said the coastguard.

"Those are nice-looking woods over there; I suppose they're private, ' said the woman. The coastguard coughed awkwardly, and glanced at me. I began eating a piece of grass and looked away. 'Yes, that's all private in there, ' he said. 'My husband says all these big estates will be chopped up in time and bungalows built, ' said the woman. 'I wouldn't mind a nice little bungalow up here facing the sea. I don't know that I'd care for this part of the world in the winter though. ' 'No, it's very quiet here winter times, ' said the coastguard. I went on chewing my piece of grass. The little boy kept running round in circles. The coastguard looked at his watch. 'Well, I must be getting on, ' he said; 'good afternoon!' He saluted me, and turned back along the path towards Kerrith. 'Come on, Charlie, come and find Daddy, ' said the woman. She nodded to me in friendly fashion, and sauntered off to the edge of the cliff, the little boy running at her heels. A thin man in khaki shorts and a striped blazer waved to her. They sat down by a clump of gorse bushes and the woman began to undo paper packages. I wished I could lose my own identity and join them. Eat hard-boiled eggs and potted meat sandwiches, laugh rather loudly, enter their conversation, and then wander back with them during the afternoon to Kerrith and paddle on the beach, run races across the stretch of sand, and so to their lodgings and have shrimps for tea. Instead of which I must go back alone through the woods to Manderley and wait for Maxim. And I did not know what we should say to one another, how he would look at me, what would be his voice. I went on sitting there on the cliff. I was not hungry. I did not think about lunch. More people came and wandered over the cliffs to look at the ship. It made an excitement for the afternoon. There was nobody I knew. They were all holiday-makers from Kerrith. The sea was glassy calm. The gulls no longer wheeled overhead, they had settled on the water a little distance from the ship. More pleasure boats appeared during the afternoon. It must be a field day for Kerrith boatmen. The diver came up and then went down again. One of the tugs steamed away while the other still stood by. The harbour-master went back in his grey motor boat, taking some men with him, and the diver who had come to the surface for the second time.

The crew of the ship leant against the side throwing scraps to the gulls, while visitors in pleasure boats rowed slowly round the ship. Nothing happened at all. It was dead low water now, and the ship was heeled at an angle, the propeller showing clean. Little ridges of white cloud formed in the western sky and the sun became pallid. It was still very hot. The woman in the pink striped frock with the little boy got up and wandered off along the path towards Kerrith, the man in the shorts following with the picnic basket. I glanced at my watch. It was after three o' clock. I got up and went down the hill to the cove. It was quiet and deserted as always. The shingle was dark and grey. The water in the little harbour was glassy like a mirror. My feet made a queer crunching noise as I crossed the shingle. The ridges of white cloud now covered all the sky above my head, and the sun was hidden. When I came to the further side of the cove I saw Ben crouching by a little pool between two rocks scraping winkles into his hand. My shadow fell upon the water as I passed, and he looked up and saw me. 'G' day, ' he said, his mouth opening in a grin. 'Good afternoon, ' I said. He scrambled to his feet and opened a dirty handkerchief he had filled with winkles. 'You eat winkles?' he said. I did not want to hurt his feelings. 'Thank you, ' I said. He emptied about a dozen winkles into my hand, and I put them in die two pockets of my skirt. 'They'm all right with bread-an'-butter, ' he said, 'you must boil 'em first. ' 'Yes, all right, ' I said. He stood there grinning at me. 'Seen the steamer?' he said. 'Yes, ' I said, 'she's gone ashore, hasn't she?' 'Eh?' he said. 'She's run aground, ' I repeated. 'I expect she's got a hole in her bottom. ' His face went blank and foolish. 'Aye, ' he said, 'she's down there all right. She'll not come back again. ' 'Perhaps the tugs will get her off when the tide makes, ' I said. He did not answer. He was staring out towards the stranded ship. I could see her broadside on from here, the red underwater section showing against the black of the top-sides, and the single funnel leaning rakishly towards the cliffs beyond. The crew were still leaning over her side feeding the gulls and staring into the water. The rowing-boats were pulling back to Kerrith. 'She's a Dutchman, ain't she?' said Ben. 'I don't know, ' I said. 'German or Dutch. ' 'She'll break up there where she's to, ' he said. 'I'm afraid so, ' I said.

He grinned again, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. 'She'll break up bit by bit, ' he said, 'she'll not sink like a stone like the little 'un. ' He chuckled to himself, picking his nose. I did not say anything. 'The fishes have eaten her up by now, haven't they?' he said. 'Who?' I said. He jerked his thumb towards the sea. 'Her, ' he said, 'the other one. ' 'Fishes don't eat steamers, Ben, ' I said. 'Eh?' he said. He stared at me, foolish and blank once more. 'I must go home now, ' I said; 'good afternoon. ' I left him and walked towards the path through the woods. I did not look at the cottage. I was aware of it on my right hand; grey and quiet. I went straight to the path and up through the trees. I paused to rest half-way and looking through the trees I could still see the stranded ship leaning towards the shore. The pleasure boats had all gone. Even the crew had disappeared below. The ridges of cloud covered the whole sky. A little wind sprang from nowhere and blew into my face. A leaf fell onto my hand from the tree above. I shivered for no reason. Then the wind went again, it was hot and sultry as before. The ship looked desolate there upon her side, with no one on her decks, and her thin black funnel pointing to the shore. The sea was so calm that when it broke upon the shingle in the cove it was like a whisper, hushed and still. I turned once more to the steep path through the woods, my legs reluctant, my head heavy, a strange sense of foreboding in my heart. The house looked very peaceful as I came upon it from the woods and crossed the lawns. It seemed sheltered and protected, more beautiful than I had ever seen it. Standing there, looking down upon it from the banks, I realized, perhaps for the first time, with a funny feeling of bewilderment and pride that it was my home, I belonged there, and Manderley belonged to me. The trees and the grass and the flower tubs on the terrace were reflected in the mullioned windows. A thin column of smoke rose in the air from one of the chimneys. The new-cut grass on the lawn smelt sweet as hay. A blackbird was singing on the chestnut tree. A yellow butterfly winged his foolish way before me to the terrace. I went into the hall and through to the dining-room. My place was still laid, but Maxim's had been cleared away. The cold meat and salad awaited me on the sideboard.

I hesitated, and then rang the dining-room bell. Robert came in from behind the screen. 'Has Mr de Winter been in?' I said. 'Yes, Madam, ' said Robert; 'he came in just after two, and had a quick lunch, and then went out again. He asked for you and Frith said he thought you must have gone down to see the ship. ' 'Did he say when he would be back again?' I asked. 'No, Madam. ' 'Perhaps he went to the beach another way, ' I said; 'I may have missed him. ' 'Yes, Madam, ' said Robert. I looked at the cold meat and the salad. I felt empty but not hungry. I did not want cold meat now. 'Will you be taking lunch?' said Robert. 'No, ' I said. 'No, you might bring me some tea, Robert, in the library. Nothing like cakes or scones. Just tea and bread-and-butter. ' 'Yes, Madam. ' I went and sat on the window-seat in the library. It seemed funny without Jasper. He must have gone with Maxim. The old dog lay asleep in her basket. I picked up The Times and turned the pages without reading it. It was queer this feeling of marking time, like sitting in a waiting-room at a dentist's. I knew I should never settle to my knitting or to a book. I was waiting for something to happen, something unforeseen. The horror of my morning and the stranded ship and not having any lunch had all combined to give birth to a latent sense of excitement at the back of my mind that I did not understand. It was as though I had entered into a new phase of my life and nothing would be quite the same again. The girl who had dressed for the fancy dress ball the night before had been left behind. It had all happened a very long time ago. This self who sat on the window-seat was new, was different ... Robert brought in my tea, and I ate my bread-and-butter hungrily. He had brought scones as well, and some sandwiches, and an angel cake. He must have thought it derogatory to bring bread-and-butter alone, nor was it Manderley routine. I was glad of the scones and the angel cake. I remembered I had only had cold tea at half past eleven, and no breakfast. Just after I had drunk my third cup Robert came in again. 'Mr de Winter is not back yet is he, Madam?' he said. 'No, ' I said. 'Why? Does someone want him?' 'Yes, Madam, ' said Robert, 'it's Captain Searle, the harbour-master of Kerrith, on the telephone. He wants to know if he can come up and see Mr de Winter personally. ' 'I don't know what to say, ' I said. 'He may not be back for ages. ' 'No, Madam. ' 'You'd better tell him to ring again at five o'clock, ' I said.

Robert went out of the room and came back again in a few minutes. 'Captain Searle would like to see you, if it would be convenient, Madam, ' said Robert. 'He says the matter is rather urgent. He tried to get Mr Crawley, but there was no reply. ' 'Yes, of course I must see him if it's urgent, ' I said. 'Tell him to come along at once if he likes. Has he got a car?' 'Yes, I believe so, Madam. ' Robert went out of the room. I wondered what I should say to Captain Searle. His business must be something to do with the stranded ship. I could not understand what concern it was of Maxim's. It would have been different if the ship had gone ashore in the cove. That was Manderley property. They might have to ask Maxim's permission to blast away rocks or whatever it was that was done to move a ship. But the open bay and the ledge of rock under the water did not belong to Maxim. Captain Searle would waste his time talking to me about it all. He must have got into his car right away after talking to Robert because in less than quarter of an hour he was shown into the room. He was still in his uniform as I had seen him through the glasses in the early afternoon. I got up from the window-seat and shook hands with him. 'I'm sorry my husband isn't back yet, Captain Searle, ' I said; 'he must have gone down to the cliffs again, and he went into Kerrith before that. I haven't seen him all day. ' 'Yes, I heard he'd been to Kerrith but I missed him there, ' said the harbour-master. 'He must have walked back across the cliffs when I was in my boat. And I can't get hold of Mr Crawley either. ' 'I'm afraid the ship has disorganized everybody, ' I said. 'I was out on the cliffs and went without my lunch, and I know Mr Crawley was there earlier on. What will happen to her? Will tugs get her off, do you think?' Captain Searle made a great circle with his hands. "There's a hole that deep in her bottom, ' he said, 'she'll not see Hamburg again. Never mind the ship. Her owner and Lloyd's agent will settle that between them. No, Mrs de Winter, it's not the ship that's brought me here. Indirectly of course she's the cause of my coming. The fact is, I've got some news for Mr de Winter, and I hardly know how to break it to him. ' He looked at me very straight with his bright blue eyes.

'What sort of news, Captain Searle?' He brought a large white handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. 'Well, Mrs de Winter, it's not very pleasant for me to tell you either. The last thing I want to do is to cause distress or pain to you and your husband. We' re all very fond of Mr de Winter in Kerrith, you know, and the family has always done a lot of good. It's hard on him and hard on you that we can't let the past lie quiet. But I don't see how we can under the circumstances. ' He paused, and put his handkerchief back in his pocket. He lowered his voice, although we were alone in the room. 'We sent the diver down to inspect the ship's bottom, ' he said, 'and while he was down there he made a discovery. It appears he found the hole in the ship's bottom and was working round to the other side to see what further damage there was when he came across the hull of a little sailing boat, lying on her side, quite intact and not broken up at all. He's a local man, of course, and he recognized the boat at once. It was the little boat belonging to the late Mrs de Winter. ' My first feeling was one of thankfulness that Maxim was not there to hear. This fresh blow coming swiftly upon my masquerade of the night before was ironic, and rather horrible. 'I'm so sorry, ' I said slowly, 'it's not the sort of thing one expected would happen. Is it necessary to tell Mr de Winter? Couldn't the boat be left there, as it is? It's not doing any harm, is it?' 'It would be left, Mrs de Winter, in the ordinary way. I'm the last man in the world to want to disturb it. And I'd give anything, as I said before, to spare Mr de Winter's feelings. But that wasn't all, Mrs de Winter. My man poked round the little boat and he made another, more important discovery. The cabin door was tightly closed, it was not stove in, and the portlights were closed too. He broke one of the ports with a stone from the sea bed, and looked into the cabin. It was full of water, the sea must have come through some hole in the bottom, there seemed no damage elsewhere. And then he got the fright of his life, Mrs de Winter. ' Captain Searle paused, he looked over his shoulder as though one of the servants might hear him. 'There was a body in there, lying on the cabin floor, ' he said quietly. 'It was dissolved of course, there was no flesh on it. But it was a body all right. He saw the head and the limbs.

He came up to the surface then and reported it direct to me. And now you understand, Mrs de Winter, why I've got to see your husband. ' I stared at him, bewildered at first, then shocked, then rather sick. 'She was supposed to be sailing alone?' I whispered, 'there must have been someone with her then, all the time, and no one ever knew?' 'It looks like it, ' said the harbour-master. 'Who could it have been?' I said. 'Surely relatives would know if anyone had been missing? There was so much about it at the time, it was all in the papers. Why should one of them be in the cabin and Mrs de Winter herself be picked up many miles away, months afterwards?' Captain Searle shook his head. 'I can't tell any more than you, ' he said. 'All we know is that the body is there, and it has got to be reported. There'll be publicity, I'm afraid, Mrs de Winter. I don't know how we're going to avoid it. It's very hard on you and Mr de Winter. Here you are, settled down quietly, wanting to be happy, and this has to happen. ' I knew now the reason for my sense of foreboding. It was not the stranded ship that was sinister, nor the crying gulls, nor the thin black funnel pointing to the shore. It was the stillness of the black water, and the unknown things that lay beneath. It was the diver going down into those cool quiet depths and stumbling upon Rebecca's boat, and Rebecca's dead companion. He had touched the boat, had looked into the cabin, and all the while I sat on the cliffs and had not known. 'If only we did not have to tell him, ' I said. 'If only we could keep the whole thing from him. ' 'You know I would if it were possible, Mrs de Winter, ' said the harbour-master, 'but my personal feelings have to go, in a matter like this. I've got to do my duty. I've got to report that body. ' He broke off short as the door opened, and Maxim came into the room. 'Hullo, ' he said, 'what's happening? I didn't know you were here, Captain Searle? Is anything the matter?' I could not stand it any longer. I went out of the room like the coward I was and shut the door behind me. I had not even glanced at Maxim's face. I had the vague impression that he looked tired, untidy, hatless. I went and stood in the hall by the front door. Jasper was drinking noisily from his bowl. He wagged his tail when he saw me and went on drinking. Then he loped towards me, and stood up, pawing at my dress.

I kissed the top of his head and went and sat on the terrace. The moment of crisis had come, and I must face it. My old fears, my diffidence, my shyness, my hopeless sense of inferiority, must be conquered now and thrust aside. If I failed now I should fail for ever. There would never be another chance. I prayed for courage in a blind despairing way, and dug my nails into my hands. I sat there for five minutes staring at the green lawns and the flower tubs on the terrace. I heard the sound of a car starting up in the drive. It must be Captain Searle. He had broken his news to Maxim and had gone. I got up from the terrace and went slowly through the hall to the library. I kept turning over in my pockets the winkles that Ben had given me. I clutched them tight in my hands. Maxim was standing by the window. His back was turned to me. I waited by the door. Still he did not turn round. I took my hands out of my pockets and went and stood beside him. I reached out for his hand and laid it against my cheek. He did not say anything. He went on standing there. 'I'm so sorry, ' I whispered, 'so terribly, terribly sorry. ' He did not answer. His hand was icy cold. I kissed the back of it, and then the fingers, one by one. 'I don't want you to bear this alone, ' I said. 'I want to share it with you. I've grown up, Maxim, in twenty-four hours. I'll never be a child again. ' He put his arm round me and pulled me to him very close. My reserve was broken, and my shyness too. I stood there with my face against his shoulder. 'You've forgiven me, haven't you?' I said. He spoke to me at last. 'Forgiven you?' he said. 'What have I got to forgive you for?' 'Last night, ' I said; 'you thought I did it on purpose. ' 'Ah, that, ' he said. 'I'd forgotten. I was angry with you, wasn't I?' 'Yes, ' I said. He did not say any more. He went on holding me close to his shoulder. 'Maxim, ' I said, 'can't we start all over again? Can't we begin from today, and face things together? I don't want you to love me, I won't ask impossible things. I'll be your friend and your companion, a sort of boy. I don't ever want more than that. ' He took my face between his hands and looked at me. For the first time I saw how thin his face was, how lined and drawn. And there were great shadows beneath his eyes. 'How much do you love me?' he said.

I could not answer. I could only stare back at him, at his dark tortured eyes, and his pale drawn face. 'It's too late, my darling, too late, ' he said. 'We've lost our little chance of happiness. ' 'No, Maxim. No, ' I said. 'Yes, ' he said. 'It's all over now. The thing has happened. ' 'What thing?' I said. 'The thing I've always foreseen. The thing I've dreamt about, day after day, night after night. We're not meant for happiness, you and I. ' He sat down on the window-seat, and I knelt in front of him, my hands on his shoulders. 'What are you trying to tell me?' I said. He put his hands over mine and looked into my face. 'Rebecca has won, ' he said. I stared at him, my heart beating strangely, my hands suddenly cold beneath his hands. 'Her shadow between us all the time, ' he said. 'Her damned shadow keeping us from one another. How could I hold you like this, my darling, my little love, with the fear always in my heart that this would happen? I remembered her eyes as she looked at me before she died. I remembered that slow treacherous smile. She knew this would happen even then. She knew she would win in the end. ' 'Maxim, ' I whispered, 'what are you saying, what are you trying to tell me?' 'Her boat, ' he said, 'they've found it. The diver found it this afternoon. ' 'Yes, ' I said. 'I know. Captain Searle came to tell me. You are thinking about the body, aren't you, the body the diver found in the cabin?' 'Yes, ' he said. 'It means she was not alone, ' I said. 'It means there was somebody sailing with Rebecca at the time. And you have to find out who it was. That's it, isn't it, Maxim?' 'No, ' he said. 'No, you don't understand. ' 'I want to share this with you, darling, ' I said. 'I want to help you. ' "There was no one with Rebecca, she was alone, ' he said. I knelt there watching his face, watching his eyes. 'It's Rebecca's body lying there on the cabin floor, ' he said. 'No, ' I said. 'No. ' "The woman buried in the crypt is not Rebecca, ' he said. 'It's the body of some unknown woman, unclaimed, belonging nowhere. There never was an accident. Rebecca was not drowned at all. I killed her. I shot Rebecca in the cottage in the cove. I carried her body to the cabin, and took the boat out that night and sunk it there, where they found it today. It's Rebecca who's lying dead there on the cabin floor. Will you look into my eyes and tell me that you love me now?'



j0n6dj2y2w : 2017-06-20#118
第20章

藏书室里安静极了,只听见杰斯珀呱哒呱哒舔脚掌。长耳狗一定踩了荆棘,皮肤里扎了刺,所以才老是啃啮吮吸个没完。接着,迈克西姆腕上手表的滴答声在耳畔响起,这种轻微的声音正标志着日复一日的生活常规。突然间,我脑海里无缘无故掠过一句学生时代常用的幼稚可爱的谚语:“岁月流逝不待人。”我翻来复去一再念叨这句话。“岁月流逝不待人。”就这样,迈克西姆的手表滴答不停,杰斯珀躺在我身旁的地板上舔脚掌;此外,藏书室里再没别的声响。

我想,人们在承受巨大的突然打击之际,譬如说死亡,或是失去一条胳膊一条腿什么的,起初可能并没有感觉。假如别人砍去你的手,几分钟之内你并不意识到手已没了,而是照样觉得手指健在;你把手指一个又一个伸开,在空中挥舞,其实啥也没有,没有手,没有手指。

我跪在迈克西姆身边,紧紧偎依着他,双手抚摸着他的肩头,一时像是完全麻木了,既不觉得痛楚,也不受恐惧折磨,心头一点没有发发然的感觉。我想我得把杰斯珀脚掌里的刺挑出来,过后又想,罗伯特是不是就要进屋来收拾茶具。此时此地我居然会想到这些——杰斯珀的脚掌、迈克西姆的手表、罗伯特、茶具,真是怪事儿。我竟如此不动感情,保持着如此反常的镇静,丝毫不觉得什么烦恼,对此,我自己也莫名其妙。我对自己说,慢慢地,我的感觉将恢复过来,理解力也会重新变得正常。到时候,他讲给我听的情况以及迄今为止所发生的一切,都会像拼板游戏中的一块块图板那样各归其位,凑合成某种图案。可是在这一刻,我完全麻木了,没有感情,没有思想,感官全部不起作用,只是迈克西姆怀里的一个木偶。后来,他开始吻我。以前他从没有这样吻过我。我双手托着他的头,闭上眼睛。

“我多么爱你,”他在我耳畔柔声低语。“多么多么地爱你。”

我想,日日夜夜,我一直希望能听到他说这句话,现在他终于说了。早在蒙特卡洛,在意大利,还有在回到曼陀丽之后,我曾多少次想像过这一幕。他终于说了。我睁开眼,看着他头顶上方那一小角帷幕,他还是如饥似渴地尽情吻我,一边喃喃唤着我的名字。我仍然望着帷幕,发现帷幕上有一小块因日光曝洒而褪了色,不如顶上的一幅鲜艳。我又想,此刻我多么镇定而冷静,眼睛盯着那角帷幕,任迈克西姆亲吻。生平第一次,他对我说他爱我。

突然,他一把将我推开,从临窗的座位上站起。“你看,我没说错,”他说。“太晚了!现在你不爱我了。干吗要爱呢?”他走到壁炉边站定。“就当我什么也没说,”他说。“我保证再也不讲这种傻话。”

我顿时意识到了一切,骤然一阵心痛。“什么太晚了,”我赶快说,一面从地板上站起身来,走到他身边,伸出双臂抱住他。“不许再说这话!你不明白,我爱你胜过世间的一切。不过,方才受你一吻,我简直出了神,激动得完全麻木了,什么事都不明白,就好象一点知觉也没剩下。”

“你不爱我了,”他说。“所以才变得这样麻木。我懂,我理解。对你来说,一切都为时已晚,是不?”

“不!”我说。

“刚才这一幕该早四个月发生,”他说。“我早应该意识到这一点。女人毕竟不同于男人。”

“再吻吻我吧,”我说。“咱俩应该一辈子在一起,什么也不向对方隐瞒,谁的阴影都没法离间我们。说定了,我亲爱的,我求求你。”

“没有时间了,”他说。“可能只剩下几个小时,或者是几天。出了这件事,咱俩怎么可能一辈子在一起?我已对你说过,人们发现了那艘沉船,同时还发现了吕蓓卡。”

我傻乎乎地凝视着他,不明白他在说些什么。“他们会怎么样呢?”我问。

“他们会认出尸体,”他说。“那船舱里有的是线索。她的衣服和皮鞋,还有手上的戒指。他们会认出她的尸体,接着就想起上次那具女尸,那已埋入墓穴的无名女子。”

“你准备怎么办?”我低声问。

“不知道,”他说。“我不知道。”

果然不出我所料,感觉一点一滴地恢复着,双手复又有了热气,汗津津,粘糊糊。我觉得血直往脸上冲,梗塞了嗓门。我的双颊烧得火辣辣,不知不觉中又想到塞尔海军上校、潜水员、劳埃德协会的代办以及搁浅船上的那些倚身舷侧、凝视海水的水手。我还想到克里斯城的店主和吹着口哨穿街过巷替人跑腿的小厮,想象着教区牧师如何步入教堂,克罗温夫人如何在花园里修剪玫瑰,还有悬崖上那穿浅红色衣服的妇人和她的小男孩。消息很快就会传进这些人的耳朵;也许只消再过几个小时,明天吃早饭以前,就会闹得家喻户晓:“他们已发现德温特夫人的沉船,还说舱里有一具女尸。”舱里有一具女尸。吕蓓卡还躺在船舱的地板上,根本没有入土。葬身墓穴的是另外一个女人。迈克西姆杀死了吕蓓卡,吕蓓卡压根儿不是淹死的。他在林中小屋开枪打死吕蓓卡,接着把尸体拖上船,之后就把船沉入海湾。那阴暗寂寞的小屋,雨水不住拍打着屋顶,淅沥作声。拼板一块又一块凑集起来,在我跟前蓦地跃出一幅图画。互不相干的场景一幕又一幕在我迷离的头脑里闪现:法国南部汽车旁座上迈克西姆,我仿佛听见他说:“差不多一年前发生的事整个改变了我的生活,我非一切从头开始不可……”沉默寡言的迈克西姆;郁郁不欢的迈克西姆。怪不得他从来不提吕蓓卡,不说她的名宇。怪不得迈克西姆不喜欢那小海湾,总要避开那小石屋。我仿佛听见他说:“要是你头脑里同样保存我对往事的种种记忆,你也不会愿意上那鬼地方去。”怪不得他头也不回地沿着林中小径攀登;怪不得吕蓓卡死后他在藏书室里通宵达旦踱步。踱来踱去,踱去踱来!我仿佛又听见他对范-霍珀夫人说:“我离家时很匆忙,”说时微微杜眉。还有范-霍珀夫人的聒噪:“听人说他怎么也不能从丧妻之痛中恢复过来。”我还想起昨夜的化装舞会,自己如何穿了吕蓓卡的舞服走到楼梯口。“是我杀了吕蓓卡,”迈克西姆曾这样说。“是我在林中小屋开枪打死了吕蓓卡。”而潜水员已发现她的尸体,就在船舱的地板上……

“现在我们怎么办?”我问。“怎么跟人说呢?”

迈克西姆没答话,站在壁炉旁,两眼圆睁,呆呆望着前方,可又什么也没看见。

“有谁知情?”我问:“有没有什么人了解情况?”

他摇摇头说:“没有。”

“只有你我两人知道?”我问。

“只有你我两人知道,”他说。

“弗兰克!”我突然想起此人。“你敢断定弗兰克不知道吗?”

“他怎么能知道呢?”迈克西姆说。“当时就我一人在场。夜漆黑漆黑……”没等说完,他就在一张椅子里颓然坐下,用手按着脑门。我走到他身边跪下,他却一动也不动。我把他遮脸的双手扳开,直视着他的眼睛。“我爱你,”我轻声细语。“我爱你。你现在该相信我了吧?”他吻我的脸和双手;他像个求人救援的孩子,紧紧捏着我的双手不放。

“我当时以为自己肯定会发疯,”他说。“每天坐在这屋子里,等着事情的败露。还得坐在那边的书桌旁,答复那些可怕的慰问信。在报上登讣告,接受采访——死了人之后总有诸如此类毫无意义的麻烦事。与此同时,我得照常吃喝,装得像个神志健全的正常人,当着弗里思和其他仆人的面,当着丹弗斯太太的面。我没有勇气把丹弗斯太太赶走,因为她对吕蓓卡了解至深,可能发生怀疑,猜到事情的事相……弗兰克一直呆在我身边,守口如瓶,深深地同情我。‘你干吗不离开这儿?’他当时三番四次这样劝我。‘宅子里的事我可以代管。你应该离家散散心。’还有贾尔斯和比阿特丽斯这一对夫妻。我那可怜的好姐姐,不识世故的比阿特丽斯,她老是说;‘你的样子真怕人,一定病得不轻。怎么不找个大夫看看?’这些人我都不得不见,同时我又深知自己对他们说的每句话都是弥天大谎。”

我还是牢牢执着他的手,紧紧依偎着他。“有一次,我差点儿把一切都告诉你,”他说。“就是杰斯珀直奔小海湾而你又去海滩小屋找绳子的那天。我俩就像此刻一样坐在这儿。我正要开口,可是弗里思和罗伯特端茶进来了。”

“不错,”我说。“我记得。你干吗不告诉我?这样就浪费了不少我俩本来可以亲密相处的时光,多少天,多少个礼拜就这么过去了。”

“你那时的态度太冷漠,”他说。“老是独自带杰斯珀去逛花园,从来不像此刻这样到我身边来亲热亲热。”

“你干吗不告诉我?”我柔声说。“干吗不对我说?”

“我以为你在这儿过得不舒心,觉得腻烦,”他说。“我年龄比你大得多,你同弗兰克在一起,好像谈笑更自如一些,跟我在一起的时候,总是那么古怪,那么不自然,那么腼腆。”

“我看出你在想念吕蓓卡,还叫我怎么跟你亲热?”我说“我看出你仍然爱着吕蓓卡,怎么能要你再来爱我?”

他把我搂在身边,搜寻我的目光。

“你在胡说些什么?你这话是什么意思?”他问。

我跪在他旁边,把上身挺直。“每当你抚摸我的时候,我就想,你在拿我和吕蓓卡相比,”我说。“每当你对我说话,每当你看着我,或是同我一起在花园散步,一起进餐的时候,我总感到你在提醒自己:‘当年我同吕蓓卡在一起也是这样的’。”他用迷惘的目光看着我,好像听不懂我的话。

“我说得不对吗?”我说。

“喔,我的天!”他一把推开我,站起身,扭着双手,在房间里踱开了。

“怎么啦?出什么事了?”我问。

他猛一个转身,看着抱膝坐在地板上的我。“你以为我爱吕蓓卡?”他说。“你以为我杀她那当儿还爱她?告诉你吧,我恨她!我与这女人的婚姻是一出滑稽戏,打一开始就是。这女人心肠狠毒,活该下地狱,是个十足的坏女人。我们从来不曾彼此相爱;两人在一起没有一时一刻的幸福可言。吕蓓卡根本不懂得爱,这女人没有柔情,没有起码的是非观,甚至有点不正常。”

我抱膝坐在地板上,专注地望着他。

“当然,她很聪明,”他说。“精得像魔鬼。见过她的人无不以为她是世上心肠最好、最慷慨大方、最有才华的人。她能看准不同的对象说不同的话,知道该怎么调节自己的情绪去迎合别人。要是她同你结识,她一定会挽着你的手臂,陪我走进花园,一边呼唤杰斯珀,一边跟你谈花,谈音乐和绘画,或是随便什么其他她听说过的你的特别爱好。你也会像其他人一样受她的骗,围在她的脚旁对她崇拜得五体投地。”

他还是在藏书室里不住地踱来踱去。

“我娶她的时候,别人都说我是世上最幸运的男子,”他说。“她长得那么美,才华出众,又会迎合别人,所以就连那位当时人们最难讨好的老奶奶,也从一开始就喜欢她。奶奶对我说:‘一个妻子得有三种美德:教养、头脑和姿色。她三样俱备。’我相信奶奶的话,或者说曾逼着自己信以为真。可是,与此同时,在我心底始终有一点儿疑虑,她的眼神不对头……”

拼板一块一块凑齐,吕蓓卡开始以其本来的真面目出现在我眼前;她从相片镜框的虚幻天地走出来,成了一个有血有肉的真人。策马前进的吕蓓卡;双手紧抓缰绳的吕蓓卡;得意洋洋的吕蓓卡,从吟游诗人画廊俯身向下,唇边挂着胜利者的微笑。

我又一次回想起自己在海滩上站在贝思身旁的情景。“你心肠好,”他说。“不像另一位,你不会把我送疯人院吧?”当年,曾有人乘夜色正浓穿过林子,那人个子颀长,体态窈窕,给人蛇一般的感觉……

可是迈克西姆仍自顾自说话,一边继续在藏书室来回踱步。“过了不久,我就抓住她的把柄,那时我们结婚才五天。你还记得那天我开车带你上蒙特卡洛山顶的情景吗?我是想旧地重游,回忆一下往事。她曾坐在那山头上,放声大笑,黑发迎风飘拂;她把自己的经历告诉我,那些话我怎么也不愿对第三者重复一遍。这时我才意识到自己做了何等愚蠢的事,娶了一个什么样的老婆!姿色、头脑和教养。喔,上帝!”

他突然哽咽着说不下去了,到窗子旁站定,眺望户外的草坪。他居然发出一声笑,居然就这么站着怪笑不止。我再也无法忍受,那笑声叫我害怕,使我寒心。我受不了!

“迈克西姆!”我大叫一声。“迈克西姆。”

他点了一支烟,站在窗旁不声不响地猛抽。接着,他又一次转过身,重新开始踱步。“当时我就差一点杀了她,”他说。“那次要杀她可太容易了。走错一条路,滑了跤。你一定还记得那儿的悬崖峭壁。那天你真被我吓得不轻,对吗?你可能以为我是个疯子。说不定我也确实是个疯子。跟魔鬼一起生活的人神志不可能健全,对不?”

我坐在地板上,看他来来回回不停地踱走。

“就在那儿的山头上,在那悬崖的边沿,她跟我讲定一桩交易:‘我替你治家,替你管理你家祖传的宝地曼陀丽。只要你愿意,我可以使这所宅子成为全国首屈一指的闻名去处,人们会跑来作客,羡慕我们,在背地议论说我俩是全英国最幸运、最美满的郎才女貌的一对。多大的愚弄,迈克斯,同时又是多大的成功!’她坐在山腰狂笑,把一朵鲜花撕成碎片。”

迈克西姆把只抽了四分之一的香烟扔进空荡荡的炉膛。

“结果我没动手伤害她,”他说。“我只是呆呆地望着她,什么也没说,由她去笑。后来,我们又一起上车,驶离悬崖。她知道我只好听她的,回到曼陀丽,接纳公众参观,大宴宾客,让人们去说我们的婚姻乃是本世纪最成功的结合;她知道与其在结婚一周之后让周围为数不多的请亲好友笑话,与其让这些人了解她当时亲口对我说起的隐私,我宁愿牺牲荣耀和名誉,抛开个人感情,舍弃世上一切其他东酉;她也知道我这人无论如何不肯上法院闹离婚,把她的丑事抖出去,从而让人在背后指指戳戳,让报纸尽情地恶意中伤,让这一带的邻人一听说我的名字就交头接耳,让克里斯来的远足游客成群结队寻上门来,探头探脑往里张望,一边评头品足:‘他就住在这儿。这宅子叫曼陀丽,宅子的主人就是那个我们在报上读到过打官司闹离婚的。对于他的妻子,你记得法官怎么说来着?’”

他走过来,在我面前站定,伸出双手说:“你鄙弃我,是不是?我的耻辱,我的憎恨和我的厌恶,你都不能理解。”

我没吭声。我紧握他的双手,放在自己的胸口。我不在乎他的耻辱。他对我说的事情没有一件跟我有关系。我只想着一句话,翻来复去念叨一句话:迈克西姆不爱吕蓓卡,他从来没爱过她,自始至终没有。他和她两人从来没享受过一时一刻的幸福。迈克西姆还在说话,我仍然洗耳恭听,但是他的话对我已不起任何作用,我压根儿不在乎。

“我对曼陀丽考虑得太多,”他说。“老是把曼陀丽放在第一位,置于一切之上。这种畸形的感情不会有好结果,教堂里做礼拜时谁也不提倡这种感情。基督对于石块、砖瓦、围墙没有留下任何教诲,也没说过人应该如何去热爱属于他所有的那块土地,他的土壤,他的小天地。这一切都不是基督教教义的内容。”

“我的宝贝儿,”我说。“我的迈克西姆,亲爱的。”我把他的双手贴在自己脸上,用嘴唇凑上去。

“你理解吗?”他问。“真的理解吗?”

“是的,”我说。“我亲爱的。”但我马上又把头扭开,免得让他看到我的脸。我是否理解他,究竟有什么关系?我的心轻松释然,犹如一根随风飘荡的鸟羽,因为他从未爱过吕蓓卡。

“我不愿再回想那几年的生活,”他慢悠悠地说。“我甚至不愿对你说起那些往事,提起我的羞愧和耻辱,提起我和她两人如何生活在谎言中,一起演出一出拙劣而下贱的滑稽戏,当着仆人的面,当着弗里思老头那样忠心耿耿、真诚老实的人。这儿的人全相信她,崇拜她,可这些人不知道她在背后取笑他们,学着他们的样嘲弄这些人。我还记得宅子里开游园会、露天音乐会或是有其他表演时,如何挤满一屋子的人。她四处走动,脸上挂着天使般的甜笑,挽着我的手臂,在表演结束后向一小队儿童发奖品。可是到了下一天,她会在黎明起身,开车去伦敦,钻进泰晤士河畔她的公寓套间,那样子就像野兽钻进沟壑里的洞穴,在那儿度过不可告人的五天以后,到周末才回来。喔,我可是不折不扣按讲定的交易条件办事,从来没拿她的事对外人说。她那种魔鬼般的鉴赏力把曼陀丽弄成了目前这样子。花园、灌木丛和幸福谷里的石南花,你以为我父亲在世时就有这些花花草草吗?不,当时庄园一片荒芜。不错,景色是很美的,那是一种荒凉寂寥的独特的美。可是,庄园急待高明之手进行修膳照拂,还得花一大笔钱。我父亲怎么也不愿意花这笔钱,而要不是吕蓓卡,我也不会想到在这上头花钱。你今天在宅子各个房间里见到的摆设,有一半原先并不搁在现在的地方。今天的客厅,今天的晨室——那全是吕蓓卡布置的。弗里思在接待日十分自豪地指给来客看的那些椅子、护壁的挂毯——这又是吕蓓卡的主意。当然,有些家具摆设原来就是宅子里的东西,贮藏在里屋。我父亲对家具和绘画一窍不通,所以大多数东西都是吕蓓卡购置的。你今天见到的美丽的曼陀丽,有口皆碑的曼陀丽,上了照片和绘画的曼陀丽,那都是吕蓓卡她的杰作。”

我一声不吭,紧紧搂着他。我但愿他就这样不停地往下说,但愿他的积仇会就此消散,一些陈年宿怨、嫉愤和污秽都会随着一扫而光。

“我们就这样在一起过日子,”他说。“一个月接着一个月,一年复又一年。我只好随遇而安,都是为了曼陀丽。她在伦敦的胡作非为与我无关,因为那些事无损曼陀丽一根毫毛。开始那几年,她还检点,谁也不说她坏话,背地里的窃窃私语也没有一句。可她慢慢地放肆起来。你知道男人如何染上酗酒的恶习吗?开始时并不上瘾,每次只喝上一点儿,可能过五六个月才烂醉一次。接着,周期变得越来越短,不久,每个月,每半个月,每过几天就得大喝一通。什么安全系数,什么内心深处的防范戒备,全都消失殆尽。吕蓓卡就是这样。她开始把自己的一帮狐群狗党请到这儿来。她一次邀请一两个,周末宴会时让他们混在宾客当中。所以,在开始时,我还无所察觉,拿不准这些人是谁。她常在小海湾里的石屋举行野餐。有一次,我从苏格兰打猎回来,发现她跟六七个朋友在海滩小屋鬼混,都是些我从来没见过的陌生人。我向她提出警告,她却毫不在意地一耸肩说:‘这跟你有什么关系?’我对她说,她尽可以上伦敦去和朋友幽会,但曼陀丽是我的家,她也得按当初说定的规矩办事。她微笑着没说什么,可后来竟同弗兰克调起情来。羞羞答答的忠实朋友,可怜的弗兰克!一天,他来找我,说是想离开曼陀丽,去另谋职业。我和他就在这间藏书室里争辨了两个钟头,到末了我才明白他的苦衰。他终于忍不住了,对我说了真话。他说那女人一刻也不放过他,老是到他那儿去,设法引诱他到海滩小屋作客。亲爱的弗兰克,多可怜!他不知道真相,一直把假象当真,以为我们是一对美满的恩爱夫妻。

“我指责吕蓓卡不该打弗兰克的主意,不料她勃然大怒,把我骂得狗血喷头,用的全是她那种独特语言中的肮脏字眼。那一回真叫做大出洋相,看着一定叫人恶心讨厌。过后,她又去了伦敦,一住就是一个月。等她回来以后,起初倒还老实,我以为她总算接受了教训。后来,比阿特丽斯和贾尔斯来度周末,那次我才认识到自己先前的怀疑不是捕风捉影:比阿特丽斯确实讨厌吕蓓卡。我敢说,比阿特丽斯以自己那种古怪、暴躁、不加掩饰的作风,一眼看穿了她,猜出我们夫妇的关系不正常。那一次的周末假日,大家彼此提防,全担着心事。贾尔斯跟着吕蓓卡驾船出海,比阿特丽斯和我在草坪上憩息。等两人回来,贾尔斯乐滋滋的好不得意,看见这模样,再一看吕蓓卡的眼神,我就知道她开始向贾尔斯灌迷汤,重演她对付弗兰克的那套故技。吃晚饭时,我注意到比阿特丽斯一直盯着贾尔斯看,贾尔斯那晚的笑声远比平时响亮,话也特别多。与此同时,吕蓓卡端坐在餐桌上首,活像个天使。”

拼板已差不多凑齐。那些奇形怪状的小片小块,我曾用笨拙的手指想把它们拼拢来,可硬是不成图案。怪不得我一说到吕蓓卡,弗兰克的态度那么反感。还有比阿特丽斯那种不自然的贬抑神态。人们闭口不谈吕蓓卡,我总以为是出于同情和怜悯,不料真正的原因却在于耻辱和困窘。我居然始终未能看出端倪,这简直不可思议。世上有几个像我这样的笨蛋,因为没法挣脱羞怯和腼腆的自我羁缚,过去受罪,今天还继续遭难;而由于自身的盲目和愚钝,竟还在自己面前筑起一堵障眼的大墙,使自己无法看清事实真相。这就是过去的我!我设想了一幕又一幕失真的图景,独自坐在那儿观赏;我从来没有足够的勇气去探求真相。其实,我只要跨出一步,稍稍克服腼腆的羞态,迈克西姆早在四个月或五个月前就会把一切向我和盘托出。

“那是比阿特丽斯和贾尔斯在曼陀丽度过的最后一个周末,”迈克西姆说。“我再也没向两人单独发出邀请。此后,这对夫妇只有在正式场合才来作客,来参加游园会或舞会。比阿特丽斯在我面前只字不提,我也不对她挑明。但我觉得她请到我在过着什么样的生活;我觉得她知道事情的真相;她像弗兰克一样,了解事情的底细。这以后,吕蓓卡又变得十分狡猾,从表象看,她的行为真可谓无懈可击。可每逢我有事出门,她留在曼陀丽,我就压根儿不知道这儿会发生什么样的丑事。她可以诱惑弗兰克和贾尔斯,甚至可以把庄园里的任何一个工匠搞上手,还可以到克里斯城随便拖一个情夫来,不管什么样的男人都行……然后就非同出爆炸性的丑闻不可,接踵而来的是我朝夕担心的流言蜚语,飞短流长。”

我仿佛又站在林中小屋旁,谛听雨点拍打屋顶的淅沥声;我仿佛又看见游艇模型上的尘埃和坐卧两用沙发上耗子咬的破洞;我仿佛又看见贝恩白痴般直瞪瞪的双眼,还听得他说:“你不会把我送进疯人院吧?”我又想起那条穿林而过的陡峭幽径;一个妇人倘若躲在树后,夜礼服经晚风吹拂,定会沙沙的作声。

“她有个表哥,”迈克西姆一字一顿地说。“那人出过洋,后来又回了英国。只要我出门旅行,这人就来此鬼混。弗兰克常见到他。此人名叫杰克-费弗尔。”

“我认识这个人,”我说。“你去伦敦那天他来过。”

“你也见到他了?”迈克西姆问。“干吗不告诉我?我从弗兰克那儿听说这人来过。弗兰克看见他的车开进庄园大门。”

“我不想告诉你,”我说。“我怕一说又会惹起你对吕蓓卡的回忆。”

“惹起我的回忆?”迈克西姆轻声自语。“喔,老天爷,难道我还用别人来惹起回忆吗?”

他直勾勾望着前方,一时没接着往下说。我不知道他是不是跟我一样,正在想着海湾里那灌满了海水的沉船船舱。

“她老是请那个名叫费弗尔的家伙到海滩小屋去,”迈克西姆接着叙述。“对仆人她总是说出海去了,天亮前不会回来。其实她在小屋里同那家伙一起过夜。我又一次提出警告,对她说清楚,倘若再让我撞见这人,不管在庄园的哪个角落,我就开枪打死他。那人历史不清白,是个下残坯子……一想到这人在曼陀丽的林子里大摇大摆散步,玷污了像幸福谷这样的地方,我简直要发疯。我对她明说,我受不了这种侮辱。她又是一耸肩,这回倒是忘了骂几句亵渎的脏话。我还注意到她的脸色比平时苍白,神态有点仓促不安,人看上去相当憔悴。看到她这副模样,我不禁问自己,等这女人开始显出老态,自己也觉得老之将至,还不知道会变成个什么样的怪物。日子就这样一天天过去,没再出多大的意外。一天,她又上伦敦去,可当天就回了家。这在她倒是难得。我没料到她回来,所以到弗兰克家吃晚饭去了。当时手头有不少事要办。”

他这会儿的语调变得仓猝短促。我紧紧握着他的双手。

“吃过晚饭,十点半光景,我才回家,一眼看见大厅的椅子里搁着她的围巾和手套。我不明白她这么快就回家来到底是什么原因。我走进展室,她不在屋里。我猜想她大概又上海湾去了。这时我突然猛醒,对于这种充满谎言和欺骗的肮脏生活,自己已忍无可忍。事情好歹总得有个解决。我想是不是应该抓起一支枪,去吓一吓那情夫,吓一吓那对狗男女。于是我马上出发到海滩小屋去。仆人根本不知道我曾回家来过。我溜进花园,穿过林子,看见小屋的窗口亮着灯光。我直奔小屋而去。可是出乎我的意料,屋里只有吕蓓卡一人。她躺在两用沙发上,旁边的烟灰碟里堆满了烟蒂,她看上去像是得了病,神色反常。

“我开门见山就骂费弗尔那混蛋,她一言不发,静静听着。‘这种丢脸的日子你我两人应该过够了,’我说。‘今天就算是个终结。你明白吗?你在伦敦放浪与我无关,你可以在那里跟费弗尔同居,或是随便找个称心的情夫。在这儿可不行。不许你在曼陀丽胡来。’

“她沉默了一会,目不转睛地望着我,过后微微一笑说;‘倘若我喜欢在这儿住,怎么办?’

“‘你应该明白我们的交换条件,’我说。“对于我俩之间那桩该遭天罚的肮脏买卖,我可是守信用的,对不?你却说话不作数,你以为你可以把我的屋子,我的家,当作你在伦敦的艳窟吗?我忍气吞声地受够了。上帝作证,吕蓓卡,今天给你最后一个机会。’

“我记得她把香烟掐熄在沙发旁的烟灰碟里,然后站起身,双手举过头顶伸了个懒腰。

“‘你说得不错,迈克斯,’她说。‘是时候了,我该掀开新的一页了。’

“她显得非常苍白,非常瘦弱。她开始在房间里踱步,双手塞在裤袋里。穿着航海服,她像个小男孩,那张娃娃脸同波特切利①画中的天使一模一样——

①十六世纪意大利画家。

“‘你想过没有?’她说,‘你简直没法拿出像样的证据来指责我。我是说倘若你想同我离婚,把事情闹到法庭上去。你明白吗?打一开始起,你就没抓住我一丁点儿的证据。你的朋友,甚至那些仆人,全都相信我们的婚姻美满至极。’

“‘要是我扯着弗兰克出来讲话呢?’我说。‘还有比阿特丽斯。’

“她仰天大笑。‘弗兰克能说我什么呢?’她说。‘你对我了解至深,难道这点都不明白?至于比阿特丽斯,倘若她出现在证人席上,我一定让她变成一个十足的嫉妒心很重的街坊泼妇,因为丈夫偶尔昏了头,做了傻事,才来法庭打官司。这难道不是世上最容易办到的事吗?不,迈克斯,要证明我行为不端,够你费心的了。’

“她把身子的重心压在脚跟上,前后摇晃,双手插在口袋里,嘴上挂着浅笑,目不转睛看着我。‘你想过吗?我可以让我的贴身女仆丹尼出面,在法庭上立誓提供任何教给她的证词。而其他的仆人,出于无知的盲从,也都会跟她依样画葫芦在法庭上宣誓。在他们眼里,我俩是同住曼陀丽的夫妇,对不对?其他人,包括你所有的朋友,我们这个小圈子里的一切人,也都这么看。好吧,我倒要看看你怎么来证明我们其实没有夫妇关系。’

“她在桌子边沿坐下,晃着两条腿,盯着我看。

“‘我俩扮演恩爱夫妻的角色不是非常成功吗?’她问。我至今还记得自己当时曾盯着她的那只脚看,脚上穿着条纹花样的凉鞋,一前一后摆动不止。看着看着,我的眼睛开始发酸,头也莫名其妙地突然剧痛起来。

“‘我们两人,我是说丹尼和我,可以让你显得像个不折不扣的大傻瓜,’她低声说。‘使别人不相信你,迈克斯,谁也不会相信你的。’那只脚还在我眼前来回晃动,那只穿着蓝白相间花纹凉鞋的该死的脚!

“突然,她蹭地滑下桌子,站在我面前,脸上仍然笑容可掬,双手还是插在袋子里。

“‘假如我有个孩子,迈克斯,’她说,‘不管是你本人还是世上随便哪一个外人,都将无法证明孩子不是你生的。小家伙将在曼陀丽长大成人,姓你家的贵姓。到时候你也无计可施啊!等你死了,曼陀丽将自这孩子所有;你根本没法防止这样的事情发生。财产的继承关系是无法避免的。为了你钟爱的曼陀丽,你当然希望有个继承人,对不?看着我的儿子躺在栗子树下的童车里,在草坪上玩跳蛙游戏,在幸福谷捉蝴蝶,你不高兴吗?看着我的儿子一天天长大,心里明白一旦你死了,这一切将全都归他所有,这难道不是你一生中最大的幸福吗?迈克斯?’

“她顿了一顿,仍然把身子重量压在脚跟上摇晃,接着又点起一支烟,走去站在窗边。她开始放声大笑,哈哈地笑个不停,我觉得她好像永远不会住嘴了。‘天哪,多有趣!’她说。‘真是有趣到极点,妙不可言!对啦,刚才你听没听到我说,我该掀开新的一页了?现在你总该明白我为什么说这话,那些妄自尊大的本地人,你家那些该死的佃户,这一来他们肯定会高兴吧?他们会说:这正是我们一直翘首期望的喜事,德温特夫人!我将做一个十全十美的良母,迈克斯,就好像我始终是个十全十美的贤妻。谁也看不透其中的秘密,谁也无法了解事实真相。’

“她转过身来,面对着我,脸上挂着微笑,一只手插在口袋子里,另一只手拿着香烟。我杀死她的时候,她还在笑。我是朝她心窝开枪的,子弹不偏不倚穿心脏而过。她并没有立刻倒下,而是在原地站了一会儿,盯着我看,脸上慢慢绽开笑容,两眼睁得滚圆……”

迈克西姆的声音越来越轻,最后竟成了低声的耳语;他那被我握着的手冰凉冰凉。我没敢看他,移开目光盯着身旁地毯上打瞌睡的杰斯珀,它的尾巴不时微微一甩,敲打着地板。

“我当时忘了,”迈克西姆这时的嗓门压得非常低,声音显出十分的疲惫,一点不带感情。“开枪杀人竟会流出那么多的血。”

杰斯珀尾巴下面的地毯上有个破洞,是香烟烧坏的。我暗自忖度,这破洞出现至今不知已有多久。有人说白蜡树皮可用来补地毯。

“我不得不跑到海湾去打水,”迈克西姆说。“来来回回跑了好几趟。她死时不在壁炉旁,可在那儿竟然也溅了一片血迹。在她倒下的地方,前后左右更是全成了血泊。外边起风了。窗子没插销,所以一开一闭。乒乒乓乓碰撞不止。屋子里,我跪在地上,手拿抹布,身边放着一桶水。”

我不禁想到:还有拍打屋顶的雨水呢!他怎么不记得了?雨点子虽细却密,淅沥入耳。

“我把她的尸体拖上了船,”他说。“那时是十一点半光景,可能快十二点了。外面一片漆黑。那晚上没有月光,吹着一阵强劲的西风。我把她的尸体拖进船舱,扔在那儿,接着只好仓促开船,船尾拖着救生橡皮筏,迎着风浪,驶出小埠头。风向虽顺,可惜只是阵风。我在海岬的掩护下,正好处在下风头。我记得主帆张到一暗桅杆上轧住了。你知道,驾船这活儿我已多时不干。我从未随吕蓓卡一起出海。

“我还考虑到潮水的因素,那晚的潮水既急又猛,汹涌冲进小海湾。风像是通过漏斗从海岬处吹下。我驾着帆船驶过灯塔,进了海湾。我绕着圈子航行,避开那突出的礁岩。船首的小三角帆在风中啪啪作响,我怎么也没法扣紧帆脚索把它张满。一阵狂风吹来,猛地把帆脚索从我手里打落,那绳索马上绕着桅杆卷作一团。帆颤抖着发出巨大的劈啪声。像是有谁在我头顶挥舞鞭子。我记不得在这种场合驾船人应该如何动作才对,我当时什么都记不得了。我曾伸手去抓那根帆脚索,可绳索在我头上随风飘荡。这时迎面又吹来一阵大风,帆船开始向一侧漂去,接近礁岩。天暗极了。在那漆黑而滑溜的甲板上,真是伸手不见五指。我好不容易才跌跌撞撞下到舱里,手里拿着一块大尖铁。要是此刻再不采取行动,就太晚了,因为帆船离礁岩已很近,如果再漂流六七分钟,就会离开深水。我旋开船壳上的海底阀门,海水顿时涌进来;我用大尖铁猛击船底木板,其中一块马上裂作两半;我把大尖铁从缺口处退出,又去猛击另一块底板。海水漫上我的脚面。我让吕蓓卡的尸体留在那儿的地板上,接着就去把两扇舷窗-一关紧,又把舱门锁上。待我走上甲板,我发现船离礁岩已不满二十码。我把甲板上的零碎东西扔下海去——一个救生圈、一对长柄桨、一团绳子。我爬进橡皮筏子,划离帆船,接着又停住桨,回头凝望。帆船仍在随风漂流,同时又正歪着头逐渐下沉。三角帆还是颤抖不已,打响鞭似地劈啪作声。我想深夜里倘若有人在悬崖上行走,定会听到这劈啪的帆声。也许海湾远处有从克里斯港来的渔人,他的小渔船浮在水面像个幽灵,我没法看清。帆船的桅杆开始摇晃,并出现裂缝。突然,船翻了。与此同时,桅杆拦腰折断。救生圈和长柄桨从我身旁荡开去,帆船却不见了。我记得自己当时曾对着帆船原先的位置呆呆看了好一会儿,然后才划着桨回到小海湾。这时开始下雨了。”

迈克西姆沉吟着,仍然以呆滞的目光望着前方。接着,他转过脸来,看着坐在他身旁地板上的我。

“这就是全部经过,”他说。“都说完了。我把筏子拴在浮筒上。反正换了她一定也会这么干。我回到小屋一看,地板被海水冲得湿漉漉的,那也可能是她本人打扫屋子时洒的水。我沿着小径穿过林子,走回屋来,上了楼梯,来到更衣室。我还记得自己如何脱衣就寝。屋外风雨凄苦,其势越来越猛。丹弗斯太太来敲门时,我正坐在床上。我穿着晨衣,走去开门,同她说了几句话。她担心吕蓓卡出什么意外;我劝她回去睡觉。我把门关上,走回房间,穿着晨衣在窗口坐下,看黑夜里的倾盆大雨,听海湾里的阵阵涛声。”

我俩就这样一声不吭,坐在藏书室里。我还是执着他冰凉的双手;我不明白罗伯特怎么还不来收拾茶具。

“那艘船沉没的地方离岸太近,”迈克西姆说。“我原来想把船开到海湾外面。要是沉在那一带,就不会被人发现了。沉船太靠近海岸了。”

“都是那艘轮船,”我说。“要不是那艘轮船搁浅,就不会出这桩事,那还不是照样神不知鬼不觉。”

“沉船大靠近海岸了,”迈克西姆再说一遍。

我俩又沉默了,我开始觉得极度的疲乏。

“我早料到总有一天要出事,”迈克西姆说。“即使在我去埃奇库姆比认那无名女尸的当儿,我就知道这样做无济于事。最多只不过再等一段日子,挨过一段时间。到最后吕蓓卡总要得胜。后来我遇上了你,可这并没有改变事情的性质,是不?把爱情倾注在你身上也根本没法改变事情的性质。、吕蓓卡料到自己最终会得胜。我看见她死时犹在微笑。”

“吕蓓卡死了,”我说。“这一点我们必须记住。吕蓓卡死了,死人不会说话;死人无法提供证词。她不能再加害于你了。”

“可她的尸骸还在,”他说。“而且已被潜水员发现,就躺在船舱的地板上。”

“我们可以向别人解释,”我说。“得想个法儿自圆其说才行。那尸体是谁,你不认识;那人你以前从来没见过。”

“可她的衣物在船舱里,”他说。“还有手上的戒指。即使衣服已被海水消蚀,还会有别的线索。这不是海难事故中受害者的尸体,并没有在岸石上撞得支离破碎。没人进过那船舱,那天晚上我把她扔在舱里,她一定还是以同样的姿势躺在那儿的地板上。几个月以来,沉船一直在老地方,谁也没去动它一动。帆船就在原先沉没的地点,躺在海底。”

“泡在水里的尸体是要腐烂的,对不?”我压低嗓子问。“就算没人去动过尸体,海水也一定把她消蚀了,对不?”

“不知道,”他说。“我不知道。”

“有没有办法去打听一下,探明真相?”我问。

“明天早晨五点半,潜水员还要下水去,”迈克西姆说。“塞尔已作了布置,准备设法把帆船打捞上来。到时候,左近不会有人围观。但我得跟他们一起去走一遭。他说好派汽艇到小海湾来接我。明天早晨五点半。”

“把你接了去之后又怎么样呢?”我问。“要是把船打捞上来,下一步会发生什么事?”

“塞尔准备把他们的大驳船泊在海口的深水处。要是沉船的船木还没腐烂,整艘船还没解体,他就可以用起重机把船吊起,装进驳船,驶回克里斯。塞尔说,他计划把驳船泊在一条人迹不至的小河的源头,那是个僻静的去处,离克里斯港有一半路程。那地方船只进出方便,可退潮时一片淤泥,游客没法把船划过去。所以,使用那一片水域的将只有我们几个。他说,得先把帆船里的水抽空,把船弄干净。同时,他还要去找一名医生来。”

“找他干吗?”我问。“找医生干什么?”

“我不知道,”他说。

“要是他们认出那是吕蓓卡的尸体,你就说上次那具女尸你认错了,”我说。“你得讲清楚,埋进墓穴的女尸是个错误,一个可怕的大错。你还得说明白,去埃奇库姆比认尸的那天,你正发病,晕头转向,不能对自己的所作所为负责。但是即便在当时,你也没有把握,自己是不是认准了。整个儿事情是个错误,仅此而已。你就这么说,好不好?”

“好,”他说。“好的。”

“他们抓不住你的把柄,”我说。“那天夜里没有人看见你。出事时你已上床了。他们什么证据也没有。这事除了你我两人,谁也不知道,甚至连弗兰克也一无所知。这世界上,迈克西姆,只有你我两人知情。”

“是的,”他说。“是这样。”

“人们会以为船是倾侧着沉没的,当时她恰好在舱里,”我说。“人们会设想,她下舱去是想找根绳子或者别的什么东西。就在她下舱的那工夫,海岬处吹来一阵狂风,船一个翻身,把吕蓓卡反锁在里面。大家都会这样想的,是不是?”

“不知道,”他说。“我不知道。”

突然间,藏书室背后的小房间里,电话铃声大作。


chapter twenty

It was very quiet in the library. The only sound was that of Jasper licking his foot. He must have caught a thorn in his pads, for he kept biting and sucking at the skin. Then I heard the watch on Maxim's wrist ticking close to my ear. The little normal sounds of every day. And for no reason the stupid proverb of my schooldays ran through my mind, 'Time and Tide wait for no man. ' The words repeated themselves over and over again. 'Time and Tide wait for no man. ' These were the only sounds then, the ticking of Maxim's watch and Jasper licking his foot on the floor beside me. When people suffer a great shock, like death, or the loss of a limb, I believe they don't feel it just at first. If your hand is taken from you you don't know, for a few minutes, that your hand is gone. You go on feeling the fingers. You stretch and beat them on the air, one by one, and all the time there is nothing there, no hand, no fingers. I knelt there by Maxim's side, my body against his body, my hands upon his shoulders, and I was aware of no feeling at all, no pain and no fear, there was no horror in my heart. I thought how I must take the thorn out of Jasper's foot and I wondered if Robert would come in and clear the tea things. It seemed strange to me that I should think of these things, Jasper's foot, Maxim's watch, Robert and the tea things. I was shocked at my lack of emotion and this queer cold absence of distress. Little by little the feeling will come back to me, I said to myself, little by little I shall understand. What he has told me and all that has happened will tumble into place like pieces of a jig-saw puzzle. They will fit themselves into a pattern. At the moment I am nothing, I have no heart, and no mind, and no senses, I am just a wooden thing in Maxim's arms. Then he began to kiss me. He had not kissed me like this before. I put my hands behind his head and shut my eyes. 'I love you so much, ' he whispered. 'So much. ' This is what I have wanted him to say every day and every night, I thought, and now he is saying it at last. This is what I imagined in Monte Carlo, in Italy, here in Manderley. He is saying it now. I opened my eyes and looked at a little patch of curtain above his head. He went on kissing me, hungry, desperate, murmuring my name. I kept on looking at the patch of curtain, and saw where the sun had faded it, making it lighter than the piece above. 'How calm I am, ' I thought. 'How cool. Here I am looking at the piece of curtain, and Maxim is kissing me.

For the first time he is telling me he loves me. ' Then he stopped suddenly, he pushed me away from him, and got up from the window-seat. 'You see, I was right, ' he said. 'It's too late. You don't love me now. Why should you?' He went and stood over by the mantelpiece. 'We'll forget that, ' he said, 'it won't happen again. ' Realization flooded me at once, and my heart jumped in quick and sudden panic. 'It's not too late, ' I said swiftly, getting up from the floor and going to him, putting my arms about him; 'you're not to say that, you don't understand. I love you more than anything in the world. But when you kissed me just now I felt stunned and shaken. I could not feel anything. I could not grasp anything. It was just as though I had no more feeling left in me at all. ' 'You don't love me, ' he said, 'that's why you did not feel anything. I know. I understand. It's come too late for you, hasn't it?' 'No, ' I said. "This ought to have happened four months ago, ' he said. 'I should have known. Women are not like men. ' 'I want you to kiss me again, " I said; 'please, Maxim. ' 'No, ' he said, 'it's no use now. ' 'We can't lose each other now, ' I said. 'We've got to be together always, with no secrets, no shadows. Please, darling, please. ' "There's no time, ' he said. 'We may only have a few hours, a few days. How can we be together now that this has happened? I've told you they've found the boat. They've found Rebecca. ' I stared at him stupidly, not understanding. 'What will they do?' I said. "They'll identify her body, ' he said, 'there's everything to tell them, there in the cabin. The clothes she had, the shoes, the rings on her fingers. They'll identify her body; and then they will remember the other one, the woman buried up there, in the crypt. ' 'What are you going to do?' I whispered. 'I don't know, ' he said. 'I don't know. ' The feeling was coming back to me, little by little, as I knew it would. My hands were cold no longer. They were clammy, warm. I felt a wave of colour come into my face, my throat. My cheeks were burning hot. I thought of Captain Searle, the diver, the Lloyd's agent, all those men on the stranded ship leaning against the side, staring down into the water. I thought of the shopkeepers in Kerrith, of errand boys whistling in the street, of the vicar walking out of church, of Lady Crowan cutting roses in her garden, of the woman in the pink dress and her little boy on the cliffs.

Soon they would know. In a few hours. By breakfast time tomorrow. 'They've found Mrs de Winter's boat, and they say there is a body in the cabin. ' A body in the cabin. Rebecca was lying there on the cabin floor. She was not in the crypt at all. Some other woman was lying in the crypt. Maxim had killed Rebecca. Rebecca had not been drowned at all. Maxim had killed her. He had shot her in the cottage in the woods. He had carried her body to the boat, and sunk the boat there in the bay. That grey, silent cottage, with the rain pattering on the roof. The jig-saw pieces came tumbling thick and fast upon me. Disjointed pictures flashed one by one through my bewildered mind. Maxim sitting in the car beside me in the south of France. 'Something happened nearly a year ago that altered my whole life. I had to begin living all over again ... ' Maxim's silence, Maxim's moods. The way he never talked about Rebecca. The way he never mentioned her name. Maxim's dislike of the cove, the stone cottage. 'If you had my memories you would not go there either. ' The way he climbed the path through the woods not looking behind him. Maxim pacing up and down the library after Rebecca died. Up and down. Up and down. 'I came away in rather a hurry, ' he said to Mrs Van Hopper, a line, thin as gossamer, between his brows. 'They say he can't get over his wife's death. ' The fancy dress dance last night, and I coming down to the head of the stairs, in Rebecca's dress. 'I killed Rebecca, ' Maxim had said. 'I shot Rebecca in the cottage in the woods. ' And the diver had found her lying there, on the cabin floor ... 'What are we going to do?' I said. 'What are we going to say?' Maxim did not answer. He stood there by the mantelpiece, his eyes wide and staring, looking in front of him, not seeing anything. 'Does anyone know?' I said, 'anyone at all?' He shook his head. 'No, ' he said. 'No one but you and me?' I asked. 'No one but you and me, ' he said. 'Frank, ' I said suddenly, 'are you sure Frank does not know?' 'How could he?' said Maxim. "There was nobody there but myself. It was dark.. . ' He stopped. He sat down on a chair, he put his hand up to his forehead. I went and knelt beside him. He sat very still a moment. I took his hands away from his face and looked into his eyes. 'I love you, ' I whispered, 'I love you. Will you believe me now?' He kissed my face and my hands.

He held my hands very tightly like a child who would gain confidence. 'I thought I should go mad, ' he said, 'sitting here, day after day, waiting for something to happen. Sitting down at the desk there, answering those terrible letters of sympathy. The notices in the papers, the interviews, all the little aftermath of death. Eating and drinking, trying to be normal, trying to be sane. Frith, the servants, Mrs Danvers. Mrs Danvers, who I had not the courage to turn away, because with her knowledge of Rebecca she might have suspected, she might have guessed... Frank, always by my side, discreet, sympathetic. "Why don't you get away?" he used to say, "I can manage here. You ought to get away. " And Giles, and Bee, poor dear tactless Bee. "You're looking frightfully ill, can't you go and see a doctor?" I had to face them all, these people, knowing every word I uttered was a lie. ' I went on holding his hands very tight. I leant close to him, quite close. 'I nearly told you, once, ' he said, 'that day Jasper ran to the cove, and you went to the cottage for some string. We were sitting here, like this, and then Frith and Robert came in with the tea. ' 'Yes, ' I said. 'I remember. Why didn't you tell me? The time we've wasted when we might have been together. All these weeks and days. ' 'You were so aloof, ' he said, 'always wandering into the garden with Jasper, going off on your own. You never came to me like this. ' 'Why didn't you tell me?' I whispered. 'Why didn't you tell me?' T thought you were unhappy, bored, ' he said. 'I'm so much older than you. You seemed to have more to say to Frank than you ever had to me. You were funny with me, awkward, shy. ' 'How could I come to you when I knew you were thinking about Rebecca?' I said. 'How could I ask you to love me when I knew you loved Rebecca still?' He pulled me close to him and searched my eyes. 'What are you talking about? What do you mean?' he said. I knelt up straight beside him. 'Whenever you touched me I thought you were comparing me to Rebecca, ' I said. 'Whenever you spoke to me or looked at me, walked with me in the garden, sat down to dinner, I felt you were saying to yourself, "This I did with Rebecca, and this, and this. " ' He stared at me bewildered as though he did not understand. 'It was true, wasn't it?' I said. 'Oh, my God, ' he said.

He pushed me away, he got up and began walking up and down the room, clasping his hands. 'What is it? What's the matter?' I said. He whipped round and looked at me as I sat there huddled on the floor. 'You thought I loved Rebecca?' he said. 'You thought I killed her, loving her? I hated her, I tell you. Our marriage was a farce from the very first. She was vicious, damnable, rotten through and through. We never loved each other, never had one moment of happiness together. Rebecca was incapable of love, of tenderness, of decency. She was not even normal. ' I sat on the floor, clasping my knees, staring at him. 'She was clever of course, ' he said. 'Damnably clever. No one would guess meeting her that she was not the kindest, most generous, most gifted person in the world. She knew exactly what to say to different people, how to match her mood to theirs. Had she met you, she would have walked off into the garden with you, arm-in-arm, calling to Jasper, chatting about flowers, music, painting, whatever she knew to be your particular hobby; and you would have been taken in, like the rest. You would have sat at her feet and worshipped her. ' Up and down he walked, up and down across the library floor. 'When I married her I was told I was the luckiest man in the world, ' he said. 'She was so lovely, so accomplished, so amusing. Even Gran, the most difficult person to please in those days, adored her from the first. "She's got the three things that matter in a wife, " she told me: "breeding, brains, and beauty. " And I believed her, or forced myself to believe her. But all the time I had a seed of doubt at the back of my mind. There was something about her eyes ... " The jig-saw pieces came together piece by piece, the real Rebecca took shape and form before me, stepping from her shadow world like a living figure from a picture frame. Rebecca slashing at her horse; Rebecca seizing life with her two hands; Rebecca, triumphant, leaning down from the minstrels' gallery with a smile on her lips. Once more I saw myself standing on the beach beside poor startled Ben. 'You're kind, ' he said, 'not like the other one. You won't put me to the asylum, will you?' There was someone who walked through the woods by night, someone tall and slim. She gave you the feeling of a snake ... Maxim was talking though.

Maxim was walking up and down the library floor. 'I found her out at once, ' he was saying, 'five days after we were married. You remember that time I drove you in the car, to the hills above Monte Carlo? I wanted to stand there again, to remember. She sat there, laughing, her black hair blowing in the wind; she told me about herself, told me things I shall never repeat to a living soul. I knew then what I had done, what I had married. Beauty, brains, and breeding. Oh, my God!' He broke off abruptly. He went and stood by the window, looking out upon the lawns. He began to laugh. He stood there laughing. I could not bear it, it made me frightened, ill. I could not stand it. 'Maxim!' I cried. 'Maxim!' He lit a cigarette, and stood there smoking, not saying anything. Then he turned away again, and paced up and down the room once more. 'I nearly killed her then, ' he said. 'It would have been so easy. One false step, one slip. You remember the precipice. I frightened you, didn't I? You thought I was mad. Perhaps I was. Perhaps I am. It doesn't make for sanity, does it, living with the devil. ' I sat there watching him, up and down, up and down. 'She made a bargain with me up there, on the side of the precipice, ' he said. ' "I'll run your house for you, " she told me, "I'll look after your precious Manderley for you, make it the most famous show-place in all the country, if you like. And people will visit us, and envy us, and talk about us; they'll say we are the luckiest, happiest, handsomest couple in all England. What a leg-pull, Max!" she said, "what a God-damn triumph!" She sat there on the hillside, laughing, tearing a flower to bits in her hands. ' Maxim threw his cigarette away, a quarter smoked, into the empty grate. 'I did not kill her, ' he said. 'I watched her, I said nothing, I let her laugh. We got into the car together and drove away. And she knew I would do as she suggested: come here to Manderley, throw the place open, entertain, have our marriage spoken of as the success of the century. She knew I would sacrifice pride, honour, personal feelings, every damned quality on earth, rather than stand before our little world after a week of marriage and have them know the things about her that she had told me then.