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，
- 主题发起人 j0n6dj2y2w
- 发布时间 2017-01-24
别人怎么开始看的， 我不知道， 我介绍的是我的个人体验，
[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]
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]
最后编辑: 2017-02-05
[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,
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,
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[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]
'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]
[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]
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]
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.
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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.
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最后编辑: 2017-02-14
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。
[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。
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最后编辑: 2017-02-14
哎！中文都快看不懂了
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。
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。
'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.
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.
'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.
'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.
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.
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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.
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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。
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。
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.
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.
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.
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.
[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[/FONT]
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[/FONT]
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.
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.
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.
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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