So the elderly nurse knitted over the sleeping baby in Regent’s Park. So Peter Walsh snored.
于是，老保姆在摄政公园里织毛线，小宝宝在一旁熟睡。于是，彼德·沃尔什在打鼾。
He woke with extreme suddenness, saying to himself, “The death of the soul.”
他在突然间醒了过来，自言自语说：“灵魂的死亡。”
“Lord, Lord!” he said to himself out loud, stretching and opening his eyes. “The death of the soul.” The words attached themselves to some scene, to some room, to some past he had been dreaming of. It became clearer; the scene, the room, the past he had been dreaming of.
“主啊，主！”他大声地自言自语，伸着懒腰睁开了眼睛。“灵魂的死亡。”这句话与他刚才梦见的某个风景、某间房间和某段过去联系在了一起。一切变得更为清晰了，他刚才梦见的某个风景、某间房间和某段过去。
It was at Bourton that summer, early in the ‘nineties, when he was so passionately in love with Clarissa. There were a great many people there, laughing and talking, sitting round a table after tea and the room was bathed in yellow light and full of cigarette smoke. They were talking about a man who had married his housemaid, one of the neighbouring squires, he had forgotten his name. He had married his housemaid, and she had been brought to Bourton to call — an awful visit it had been. She was absurdly over-dressed, “like a cockatoo,” Clarissa had said, imitating her, and she never stopped talking. On and on she went, on and on. Clarissa imitated her. Then somebody said — Sally Seton it was — did it make any real difference to one’s feelings to know that before they’d married she had had a baby? (In those days, in mixed company, it was a bold thing to say.) He could see Clarissa now, turning bright pink; somehow contracting; and saying, “Oh, I shall never be able to speak to her again!” Whereupon the whole party sitting round the tea-table seemed to wobble. It was very uncomfortable.
那是在90年代初，那年夏天在伯尔顿，当时他正热恋着克拉丽莎。当时那里人丁兴旺，人们围桌而坐，喝茶、聊天、玩笑，房间里沐浴着黄色的灯光，香烟把房间里的每个角落都弄得烟雾缭绕。他们谈论着一个娶了家中女仆的男人，是一个住在隔壁的乡绅，他忘记那人叫什么名字了。乡绅娶了自家的女仆，并带她来伯尔顿拜访——那是次糟糕的拜访。那女仆把自己打扮得花枝招展的，实在可笑，“像只花鹦鹉。”克拉丽莎曾模仿她的口气这么说过，而那个女人还老是说个没完。她唧唧呱呱，说个不停。克拉丽莎模仿她说话的样子。然后有个人问——是萨利·西顿——如果他知道她在婚前已有过一个孩子，那这事是否会影响他们的感情呢（在当时，在男女混杂的场合说出这种话，实属胆大妄为的事情）？他此时仿佛又看见了当年的克拉丽莎，她的脸涨得通红，恨不得有个地洞钻下去，她说道：“哦，我再也不想和她说话了！”于是，坐在茶桌边的所有人都似乎局促不安起来。那气氛真是尴尬极了。
He hadn’t blamed her for minding the fact, since in those days a girl brought up as she was, knew nothing, but it was her manner that annoyed him; timid; hard; something arrogant; unimaginative; prudish. “The death of the soul.” He had said that instinctively, ticketing the moment as he used to do — the death of her soul.
他没有因为她介意这件事而责怪她，因为在那个时代像她那样被养育长大的姑娘基本上啥也不懂，但她的态度还是惹恼了他：害羞而又严肃，傲慢而又无趣，还有些呆板。“灵魂的死亡。”他刚才本能地说出了这句，像平日里一样，他把这个时刻贴上一张标签——灵魂的死亡。
Every one wobbled; every one seemed to bow, as she spoke, and then to stand up different. He could see Sally Seton, like a child who has been in mischief, leaning forward, rather flushed, wanting to talk, but afraid, and Clarissa did frighten people. (She was Clarissa’s greatest friend, always about the place, totally unlike her, an attractive creature, handsome, dark, with the reputation in those days of great daring and he used to give her cigars, which she smoked in her bedroom. She had either been engaged to somebody or quarrelled with her family and old Parry disliked them both equally, which was a great bond.) Then Clarissa, still with an air of being offended with them all, got up, made some excuse, and went off, alone. As she opened the door, in came that great shaggy dog which ran after sheep. She flung herself upon him, went into raptures. It was as if she said to Peter — it was all aimed at him, he knew –“I know you thought me absurd about that woman just now; but see how extraordinarily sympathetic I am; see how I love my Rob!”
每个人都慌里慌张。在她说话时，每个人都似乎在点头，然后又各说各的了。他能看到那时的萨利·西顿，像个喜欢恶作剧的小孩，身子前倾，脸红扑扑的，想要讲话，但又不敢，克拉丽莎真的把大家吓怔住了（她是克拉丽莎最要好的朋友，总是在克拉丽莎家玩，但她们俩是完全不同的两个人。萨利·西顿是个迷人的女子，漂亮，黑肤，那时候大家对她的评价是胆大妄为，他常给她雪茄，她就在卧室里抽。她不是和谁订了婚，就是和家人闹了别扭，老帕里对她和彼德两个都不喜欢，这正是使自己和萨利间建立起了友谊的主要原因）。然后，克拉丽莎依然带着一副所有人都冒犯了她的神气，站了起来，找了个借口，一个人走掉了。她打开门，那条毛茸茸的大牧羊犬跑了进来。她一下子抱住了它，欣喜若狂。彼德感觉她好像是在对他说话——一切都是冲着他的，他知道——“我知道你认为我刚刚对那个女人的态度很荒谬，可你看看我是个多么有爱心的人呀，看看我有多喜欢我的罗布呀！”
She shut the door. At once he became extremely depressed. It all seemed useless — going on being in love; going on quarrelling; going on making it up, and he wandered off alone, among outhouses, stables, looking at the horses. (The place was quite a humble one; the Parrys were never very well off; but there were always grooms and stable-boys about — Clarissa loved riding — and an old coachman — what was his name?– an old nurse, old Moody, old Goody, some such name they called her, whom one was taken to visit in a little room with lots of photographs, lots of bird-cages.)
她关上门。他立刻变得极度沮丧。一切都似乎纯属浪费——继续爱着，继续吵着，继续装着。他独自溜达在外屋和马厩间，看着马匹（这地方很有些寒酸，帕里家从来也没富有过，但他家总有马夫和马童——克拉丽莎爱骑马——还有一个老车夫——他叫什么来着？——和一个老保姆，老穆迪，老古迪，别人好像都叫她这种名字，来找她的人会被带到一间小房间，那里挂着许多相片，还有许多鸟笼）。
It was an awful evening! He grew more and more gloomy, not about that only; about everything. And he couldn’t see her; couldn’t explain to her; couldn’t have it out. There were always people about — she’d go on as if nothing had happened. That was the devilish part of her — this coldness, this woodenness, something very profound in her, which he had felt again this morning talking to her; an impenetrability. Yet Heaven knows he loved her. She had some queer power of fiddling on one’s nerves, turning one’s nerves to fiddle-strings, yes.
这是个糟糕透顶的夜晚！他变得越来越沮丧，不仅仅因为那件事，而是因为一切。他无法面对克拉丽莎，无法向她解释，无法说出口来。那里总是有很多人——而她会表现得一如既往，就像什么也没发生一般。这是她身上恶魔般的部分——这种冷酷，这种呆板，埋藏在她的内心深处。今天早晨和她说话时他又再次感觉到了，她的心是那么深不可测。不过，上帝知道他爱她。她有一种挑拨人们神经的奇特力量，是的，她可以把你的神经挑拨成琴弦。
They had always this queer power of communicating without words. She knew directly he criticised her. Then she would do something quite obvious to defend herself, like this fuss with the dog — but it never took him in, he always saw through Clarissa. Not that he said anything, of course; just sat looking glum. It was the way their quarrels often began.
他们总是有种奇特的沟通能力，不需要语言的沟通。她凭本能就知道他在批评她。接着她就会目的明确地做些什么来为自己辩护，比如与这条狗淘气——但这从来也骗不了他，他总是能看穿克拉丽莎。当然，他并不说穿这一点，只是闷闷不乐地坐在那里。他们之间的争执往往就是以这种方式开场的。
He had gone in to dinner rather late, from some idiotic idea of making himself felt, and had sat down by old Miss Parry — Aunt Helena — Mr. Parry’s sister, who was supposed to preside. There she sat in her white Cashmere shawl, with her head against the window — a formidable old lady, but kind to him, for he had found her some rare flower, and she was a great botanist, marching off in thick boots with a black collecting-box slung between her shoulders. He sat down beside her, and couldn’t speak. Everything seemed to race past him; he just sat there, eating. And then half-way through dinner he made himself look across at Clarissa for the first time. She was talking to a young man on her right. He had a sudden revelation. “She will marry that man,” he said to himself. He didn’t even know his name.
那天他很晚才进去吃晚饭，因为想让别人注意到他，他坐在老帕里小姐边上——就是海伦娜姑妈——帕里先生的姐姐，她应该是餐前祷告的主持人。她披着白色的羊绒围巾坐在那儿，脑袋对着窗户——一个令人畏惧的老太太，不过对他很和善，因为他曾给过她一些稀有的花卉。她是个了不起的植物学家，时常穿着厚重的靴子，一只黑色的标本箱扛在肩头，出外去观赏植物。彼德在她身旁坐下，开不了口。一切似乎都在他身旁飞逝而去，而他只能坐在那儿，吃着饭。饭吃到一半的时候，他才头一回朝克拉丽莎那里瞄了一眼。她正在和坐在她右边的一个小伙子说话。他突然来了一种预感。“她会嫁给这个男人的。”他自言自语说。他那时甚至连此人的名字都还不知道呢。
For of course it was that afternoon, that very afternoon, that Dalloway had come over; and Clarissa called him “Wickham”; that was the beginning of it all. Somebody had brought him over; and Clarissa got his name wrong. She introduced him to everybody as Wickham. At last he said “My name is Dalloway!”– that was his first view of Richard — a fair young man, rather awkward, sitting on a deck-chair, and blurting out “My name is Dalloway!” Sally got hold of it; always after that she called him “My name is Dalloway!”
在那天下午，就在那天下午，达洛维来了。克拉丽莎管他叫“威克姆”，一切就是这样开始的。某个人把他带了过来，而克拉丽莎搞错了他的名字。她用威克姆这个名字把他介绍给了大家。最后他纠正说：“我的名字是达洛维！”——那是他第一次见到理查德——他是个漂亮的小伙子，有点笨手笨脚的，坐在一把躺椅上，脱口而出道：“我的名字是达洛维！”萨利抓住这件事不放，以后就一直管他叫“我的名字是达洛维”！
He was a prey to revelations at that time. This one — that she would marry Dalloway — was blinding — overwhelming at the moment. There was a sort of — how could he put it?– a sort of ease in her manner to him; something maternal; something gentle. They were talking about politics. All through dinner he tried to hear what they were saying.
他那时候充满了各种各样的预感。这件事——就是她会嫁给达洛维这件事——在那时真的使他头昏眼花、招架不住。在她对待达洛维的态度里有一种——他该怎么说呢？——有一种轻松的感觉，一种母爱的柔情。他们在谈论着政治。整个晚饭过程中，彼德都在聚精会神地想要听出他们在谈论些什么。
Afterwards he could remember standing by old Miss Parry’s chair in the drawing-room. Clarissa came up, with her perfect manners, like a real hostess, and wanted to introduce him to some one — spoke as if they had never met before, which enraged him. Yet even then he admired her for it. He admired her courage; her social instinct; he admired her power of carrying things through. “The perfect hostess,” he said to her, whereupon she winced all over. But he meant her to feel it. He would have done anything to hurt her after seeing her with Dalloway. So she left him. And he had a feeling that they were all gathered together in a conspiracy against him — laughing and talking — behind his back. There he stood by Miss Parry’s chair as though he had been cut out of wood, he talking about wild flowers. Never, never had he suffered so infernally! He must have forgotten even to pretend to listen; at last he woke up; he saw Miss Parry looking rather disturbed, rather indignant, with her prominent eyes fixed. He almost cried out that he couldn’t attend because he was in Hell! People began going out of the room. He heard them talking about fetching cloaks; about its being cold on the water, and so on. They were going boating on the lake by moonlight — one of Sally’s mad ideas. He could hear her describing the moon. And they all went out. He was left quite alone.
他记得，后来他站在客厅里老小姐帕里的位子旁边。克拉丽莎走过去，举止高雅，像个正宗的女主人，想要把他介绍给某人——她说话的口气就好像他们从来也不认识一样，这实在让他光火。然而即使在那个时候，他也依然爱慕着她。他爱慕她的勇敢，她的社交本能，他爱慕她什么都能搞定的能力。“你像个正宗的女主人。”他对她说，她听得浑身抽筋。不过他想达到的正是这种效果。看到她跟达洛维在一起，他就千方百计想要伤害她。于是她离开了他。他有了那么一种感觉，他们都联合起来偷偷地反对他——他们在他的背后，有说有笑的。他站在那里，站在帕里小姐的位子旁边，仿佛是个木雕的人形，谈论着野花。他从没有，从没有受过这种地狱般的折磨！他一定是连要假装在听帕里小姐说话都忘记了，最后他清醒过来，他看见帕里小姐显得很是心烦意乱，一副异常愤怒的样子，她两只眼珠突出来，眼神定定的。他几乎要喊出来，他无法专心，因为他已身陷地狱了！人们纷纷走出房间。他听到他们在说去拿披风的事，还说湖面上很凉什么的。他们准备在月光下泛舟湖上——那是萨利出的一个疯点子。他能听到她在那里形容月色呢。大家都走了出去。只把他一个人留在了房间里。
“Don’t you want to go with them?” said Aunt Helena — old Miss Parry!– she had guessed. And he turned round and there was Clarissa again. She had come back to fetch him. He was overcome by her generosity — her goodness.
“你不想和他们一起去吗？”海伦娜姑妈说——老小姐帕里！——她已经猜到了。他转过身去，又看见了克拉丽莎。她是回来叫他的。他被她的宽仁、她的善良感动了。
“Come along,” she said. “They’re waiting.” He had never felt so happy in the whole of his life! Without a word they made it up. They walked down to the lake. He had twenty minutes of perfect happiness. Her voice, her laugh, her dress (something floating, white, crimson), her spirit, her adventurousness; she made them all disembark and explore the island; she startled a hen; she laughed; she sang. And all the time, he knew perfectly well, Dalloway was falling in love with her; she was falling in love with Dalloway; but it didn’t seem to matter. Nothing mattered. They sat on the ground and talked — he and Clarissa. They went in and out of each other’s minds without any effort. And then in a second it was over. He said to himself as they were getting into the boat, “She will marry that man,” dully, without any resentment; but it was an obvious thing. Dalloway would marry Clarissa.
“来呀，”她说，“他们等着呢。”他这一辈子还从没有感觉这么开心过！不用说一句话，他们就和好了。他们走到湖边。他享受了二十分钟的完美幸福。她的音容笑貌、她的衣裙（轻飘飘的，红白相映）、她的活泼个性、她的冒险精神，都叫他倾倒；她让大家都下了船去岛上探险，她吓着了一只母鸡；她欢笑，她唱歌。而与此同时，他知道得很清楚，达洛维爱上她了，她也爱上了达洛维。不过那不要紧，什么都没关系。他们坐在地上说话——他和克拉丽莎。他们不用费力就能了解彼此的内心。那么，这事就在一瞬间结束了。他们上船时他自言自语说：“她会嫁给那个男人的。”语气呆板，没有丝毫怨恨的痕迹，但这是桩显而易见的事。达洛维会娶克拉丽莎。
For himself, he was absurd. His demands upon Clarissa (he could see it now) were absurd. He asked impossible things. He made terrible scenes. She would have accepted him still, perhaps, if he had been less absurd. Sally thought so. She wrote him all that summer long letters; how they had talked of him; how she had praised him, how Clarissa burst into tears! It was an extraordinary summer — all letters, scenes, telegrams — arriving at Bourton early in the morning, hanging about till the servants were up; appalling tête-à-têtes with old Mr. Parry at breakfast; Aunt Helena formidable but kind; Sally sweeping him off for talks in the vegetable garden; Clarissa in bed with headaches.
至于说到他自己，他很荒唐。他对克拉丽莎的要求（如今他明白这点了）很荒唐。他是在要求不可能的事。他出尽了洋相。然而，要不是他那么荒唐，她说不定还是会接受他的。萨利是这么认为的。她那年整个夏天里都在给他写长信：人们是如何谈论他的，她是如何赞扬他的，克拉丽莎是如何痛哭流涕的！那是个不寻常的夏天——书信呀，争吵呀，电报呀，他一早上就来到了伯尔顿，在附近闲逛，直到仆人们起床。早饭时，他心惊胆战地坐在老帕里先生的对面；海伦娜姑妈虽严肃，但和善；萨利强行将他拉到菜园子里去说话；克拉丽莎因头痛卧床不起。
Dalloway rowed them in. He said nothing. But somehow as they watched him start, jumping on to his bicycle to ride twenty miles through the woods, wobbling off down the drive, waving his hand and disappearing, he obviously did feel, instinctively, tremendously, strongly, all that; the night; the romance; Clarissa. He deserved to have her.
达洛维把他们划回岸边。彼德一言不发。不过，人们还是看出了他的兴奋，只见他跳上自行车——得骑上二十分钟才能穿过树林呢——摇摇晃晃地骑下了车道，挥了挥手，走掉了，他显然本能地、极度地、强烈地感觉到了一切：那个夜晚，那份浪漫，克拉丽莎。达洛维应该得到她。
The final scene, the terrible scene which he believed had mattered more than anything in the whole of his life (it might be an exaggeration — but still so it did seem now) happened at three o’clock in the afternoon of a very hot day. It was a trifle that led up to it — Sally at lunch saying something about Dalloway, and calling him “My name is Dalloway”; whereupon Clarissa suddenly stiffened, coloured, in a way she had, and rapped out sharply, “We’ve had enough of that feeble joke.” That was all; but for him it was precisely as if she had said, “I’m only amusing myself with you; I’ve an understanding with Richard Dalloway.” So he took it. He had not slept for nights. “It’s got to be finished one way or the other,” he said to himself. He sent a note to her by Sally asking her to meet him by the fountain at three. “Something very important has happened,” he scribbled at the end of it.
最后的一场争吵，他相信那次可怕的争吵比他一生中的任何事件都来得更为重要（这么说也许有点夸张——但直到今天他还是如此认为的），发生在一个异常炎热的午后三点钟。一件琐事导致了它的发生——午饭时萨利说起了达洛维，还管他叫“我的名字是达洛维”，于是乎，克拉丽莎突然间僵住了，脸涨得通红，这种样子是她特有的，随后厉声说道：“我们已经听够了这个弱智的笑话。”那就是一切，但对他来说她刚才说的这句肯定是这个意思，“我只是在和你逗乐罢了，我和理查德·达洛维之间才有着真正的默契”。于是，他接受了现实。他连着好几夜失眠了。“无论如何，这事总得有个了结。”他自言自语。他让萨利给克拉丽莎送了一张字条，约她下午三点在喷泉旁边见面。“有件很重要的事发生了。”他在字条末尾潦草地写道。
The fountain was in the middle of a little shrubbery, far from the house, with shrubs and trees all round it. There she came, even before the time, and they stood with the fountain between them, the spout (it was broken) dribbling water incessantly. How sights fix themselves upon the mind! For example, the vivid green moss.
喷泉在一片小小的灌木林中央，离房子很远，四周围绕着大小树木。她早早来到那里，甚至在约定的时间之前。他们站在喷泉的两头，喷嘴（已经坏了）不住地滴水。有些景色会多么执着地逗留在人们的脑海里呀！比如，他始终记得，那明绿的青苔。
“Clarissa!” he cried. “Clarissa!” But she never came back. It was over. He went away that night. He never saw her again.
“克拉丽莎！”他喊道，“克拉丽莎！”可她再也不会回来了，一切都结束了。他当天晚上就离开了。从此再没有见她。
She did not move. “Tell me the truth, tell me the truth,” he kept on saying. He felt as if his forehead would burst. She seemed contracted, petrified. She did not move. “Tell me the truth,” he repeated, when suddenly that old man Breitkopf popped his head in carrying the Times; stared at them; gaped; and went away. They neither of them moved. “Tell me the truth,” he repeated. He felt that he was grinding against something physically hard; she was unyielding. She was like iron, like flint, rigid up the backbone. And when she said, “It’s no use. It’s no use. This is the end”– after he had spoken for hours, it seemed, with the tears running down his cheeks — it was as if she had hit him in the face. She turned, she left him, went away.
她一动不动。“告诉我实情。告诉我实情，”他不停地说。他感觉脑门似乎快要爆炸了。她整个人似乎都萎缩了，如木头人一般。她没有动。“告诉我实情，”他再次说道。那个老头布莱科普夫突然拿着《泰晤士报》从天而降了，他瞅着他们俩，一脸的茫然，随后走掉了。他们俩依旧一动不动。“告诉我实情。”他又一次说道。他感觉自己像在打磨什么质地坚硬的东西，她就是不肯屈服。她像块铁，像块燧石，挺直着背脊。当她说出，“没有用了，没有用了，一切都结束了。”——在此之前，他似乎已经一连说了好几个小时，直说得泪水打湿了面颊——他感觉脸上似乎挨了她一记耳光。她转过身去，从他身边跑开了。
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