“I have been told,” the merchant began, “that you were a Brahman, a learned man, but that you seek to be in the service of a merchant. Might you have become destitute, Brahman, so that you seek to serve?”
Siddhartha went to Kamaswami the merchant, he was directed into a rich house, servants led him between precious carpets into a chamber, where he awaited the master of the house.
席特哈尔塔去拜访商人卡马斯瓦密。他经人指点，走进了一幢富丽堂皇的房子。仆人领着他走过华贵的地毯，进入一间屋，在那儿他等候主人接见。
Kamaswami entered, a swiftly, smoothly moving man with very gray hair, with very intelligent, cautious eyes, with a greedy mouth. Politely, the host and the guest greeted one another.
卡马斯瓦密进来了。这是个敏捷、机灵的男子，头发已经花白，眼睛聪慧、谨慎，嘴巴却显得贪婪。主人与来客亲切地寒暄。
“No,” said Siddhartha, “I have not become destitute and have never been destitute. You should know that I’m coming from the Samanas, with whom I have lived for a long time.”
“If you’re coming from the Samanas, how could you be anything but destitute? Aren’t the Samanas entirely without possessions?”
“I am without possessions,” said Siddhartha, “if this is what you mean. Surely, I am without possessions. But I am so voluntarily, and therefore I am not destitute.”
“That’s everything?”
“Presumable this is how it is. After all, a merchant also lives of what other people own.”
“Well said. But he wouldn’t take anything from another person for nothing; he would give his merchandise in return.”
“And what’s the use of that? For example, the fasting — what is it good for?”
“I can think. I can wait. I can fast.”
“I haven’t thought of this yet, sir. For more than three years, I have been without possessions, and have never thought about of what I should live.”
“But if you don’t mind me asking: being without possessions, what would you like to give?”
“Everyone gives what he has. The warrior gives strength, the merchant gives merchandise, the teacher teachings, the farmer rice, the fisher fish.”
“Yes indeed. And what is it now what you’ve got to give? What is it that you’ve learned, what you’re able to do?”
“So it seems to be indeed. Everyone takes, everyone gives, such is life.”
“I believe, that’s everything!”
“But what are you planning to live of, being without possessions?”
“So you’ve lived of the possessions of others.”
“It is very good, sir. When a person has nothing to eat, fasting is the smartest thing he could do. When, for example, Siddhartha hadn’t learned to fast, he would have to accept any kind of service before this day is up, whether it may be with you or wherever, because hunger would force him to do so. But like this, Siddhartha can wait calmly, he knows no impatience, he knows no emergency, for a long time he can allow hunger to besiege him and can laugh about it. This, sir, is what fasting is good for.”
“You’re right, Samana. Wait for a moment.”
Kamaswami left the room and returned with a scroll, which he handed to his guest while asking: “Can you read this?”
卡马斯瓦密走了出去，又拿着一卷纸回来，递给客人，问道：
Siddhartha looked at the scroll, on which a sales-contract had been written down, and began to read out its contents.
席特哈尔塔细瞧那卷纸，里面记录了一份购货合同，便开始读出其内容。
He handed him a piece of paper and a pen, and Siddhartha wrote and returned the paper.
他递给席特哈尔塔一张纸和一支笔。席特哈尔塔一挥而就，又把纸递还给他。
“Excellent,” said Kamaswami. “And would you write something for me on this piece of paper?”
Kamaswami read: “Writing is good, thinking is better. Being smart is good, being patient is better.”
卡马斯瓦密念道：
Siddhartha thanked and accepted, and lived in the dealers house from now on. Clothes were brought to him, and shoes, and every day, a servant prepared a bath for him. Twice a day, a plentiful meal was served, but Siddhartha only ate once a day, and ate neither meat nor did he drink wine. Kamaswami told him about his trade, showed him the merchandise and storage-rooms, showed him calculations. Siddhartha got to know many new things, he heard a lot and spoke little. And thinking of Kamala’s words, he was never subservient to the merchant, forced him to treat him as an equal, yes even more than an equal. Kamaswami conducted his business with care and often with passion, but Siddhartha looked upon all of this as if it was a game, the rules of which he tried hard to learn precisely, but the contents of which did not touch his heart.
席特哈尔塔道过谢接受了邀请，并且从此在商人家里住下了。有人给他送来了衣服，还有鞋，一个仆人每天伺候他洗澡。白天有两餐丰盛的饭菜，但席特哈尔塔只吃一餐，而且不吃肉也不喝酒。卡马斯瓦密给他讲自己的生意，给他看货物和仓库，还教他算帐。席特哈尔塔学会了很多新东西，但是他听得多说得少。他牢记卡玛拉的话，从来不对商人低声下气，迫使他对自己平等相待，甚至超过了平等相待。卡马斯瓦密小心谨慎地经营他的生意，往往投入极大的热情，而席特哈尔塔却把这一切视为游戏，他努力学会准确掌握游戏的规则，但游戏的内容却并不使他动心。
“It is excellent how you’re able to write,” the merchant praised him. “Many a thing we will still have to discuss with one another. For today, I’m asking you to be my guest and to live in this house.”
He was not in Kamaswami’s house for long, when he already took part in his landlords business. But daily, at the hour appointed by her, he visited beautiful Kamala, wearing pretty clothes, fine shoes, and soon he brought her gifts as well. Much he learned from her red, smart mouth. Much he learned from her tender, supple hand. Him, who was, regarding love, still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly and insatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit, him she taught, thoroughly starting with the basics, about that school of thought which teaches that pleasure cannot be be taken without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every look, every spot of the body, however small it was, had its secret, which would bring happiness to those who know about it and unleash it. She taught him, that lovers must not part from one another after celebrating love, without one admiring the other, without being just as defeated as they have been victorious, so that with none of them should start feeling fed up or bored and get that evil feeling of having abused or having been abused. Wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smart artist, became her student, her lover, her friend. Here with Kamala was the worth and purpose of his present life, nit with the business of Kamaswami.
他到卡马斯瓦密家不久就参与了主人所做的生意。但是，每天一到卡玛拉跟他约定的时间，他就去拜访她，穿着华丽的衣服，精美的鞋子，不久后还给她带礼物。她那红润、聪明的嘴教会了他许多事。因为他在爱情方面还是个孩子，很容易冒失而不知足地陷入情欲之中，就好像跌入无底的深渊一样，所以卡玛拉就从根本上教给他不付出欢娱就得不到欢娱的道理。每一种手势，每一次抚摩，每一回接触，每一道目光，身体的每一个最细小的部位，都有其秘密，而唤醒这秘密都会带来幸福。她教他，在一次爱的盛典之后，恋人如果没有互相惊叹的感觉，没有既征服了对方又被对方征服的感觉，就不要分开这样双方才兴去产生厌倦与乏味，不会有那种勉强别人或被别人勉强的恶劣情绪。他在美丽而聪慧的女艺术家身边享受了许多美妙的时刻，成了她的学生、爱人和朋友。他现时生活的价值和意义可以说完全是在卡玛拉这儿，而不是在卡马斯瓦密的生意当中。
The merchant passed to duties of writing important letters and contracts on to him and got into the habit of discussing all important affairs with him. He soon saw that Siddhartha knew little about rice and wool, shipping and trade, but that he acted in a fortunate manner, and that Siddhartha surpassed him, the merchant, in calmness and equanimity, and in the art of listening and deeply understanding previously unknown people. “This Brahman,” he said to a friend, “is no proper merchant and will never be one, there is never any passion in his soul when he conducts our business. But he has that mysterious quality of those people to whom success comes all by itself, whether this may be a good star of his birth, magic, or something he has learned among Samanas. He always seems to be merely playing with out business-affairs, they never fully become a part of him, they never rule over him, he is never afraid of failure, he is never upset by a loss.”
卡马斯瓦密委托他草拟重要的信函与合同，并且习惯了跟他商量所有重要的事情。他很快就发现，席特哈尔塔对大米和棉花、航运和贸易所知并不多，但是他的手很有运气，而且，席特哈尔塔在沉着镇定方面，在倾听和了解陌生人的技巧方面，胜过了他这个商人。
The friend advised the merchant: “Give him from the business he conducts for you a third of the profits, but let him also be liable for the same amount of the losses, when there is a loss. Then, he’ll become more zealous.”
那朋友给商人出主意：
Kamaswami followed the advice. But Siddhartha cared little about this. When he made a profit, he accepted it with equanimity; when he made losses, he laughed and said: “Well, look at this, so this one turned out badly!”
卡马斯瓦密采纳了这个建议。但是，席特哈尔塔仍然漫不经心。他得了红利，就不动声色地收下，有了亏损，他也是笑笑，说：
It seemed indeed, as if he did not care about the business. At one time, he travelled to a village to buy a large harvest of rice there. But when he got there, the rice had already been sold to another merchant. Nevertheless, Siddhartha stayed for several days in that village, treated the farmers for a drink, gave copper-coins to their children, joined in the celebration of a wedding, and returned extremely satisfied from his trip. Kamaswami held against him that he had not turned back right away, that he had wasted time and money. Siddhartha answered: “Stop scolding, dear friend! Nothing was ever achieved by scolding. If a loss has occurred, let me bear that loss. I am very satisfied with this trip. I have gotten to know many kinds of people, a Brahman has become my friend, children have sat on my knees, farmers have shown me their fields, nobody knew that I was a merchant.”
事实上，他显得对做生意并不上心。有一次，他到了一个村庄，要在那儿收购一大批稻谷。可是当他到达时，稻谷已经卖给了另一个商人。然而，席特哈尔塔还是在那个村子待了几天，招待农民们给他们的孩子铜币，还参加了一个婚礼，然后才满意而归。卡马斯瓦密责备他没有即刻返回，浪费了时间和金钱。席特哈尔塔答道：
“That’s all very nice,” exclaimed Kamaswami indignantly, “but in fact, you are a merchant after all, one ought to think! Or might you have only travelled for your amusement?”
“Surely,” Siddhartha laughed, “surely I have travelled for my amusement. For what else? I have gotten to know people and places, I have received kindness and trust, I have found friendship. Look, my dear, if I had been Kamaswami, I would have travelled back, being annoyed and in a hurry, as soon as I had seen that my purchase had been rendered impossible, and time and money would indeed have been lost. But like this, I’ve had a few good days, I’ve learned, had joy, I’ve neither harmed myself nor others by annoyance and hastiness. And if I’ll ever return there again, perhaps to buy an upcoming harvest, or for whatever purpose it might be, friendly people will receive me in a friendly and happy manner, and I will praise myself for not showing any hurry and displeasure at that time. So, leave it as it is, my friend, and don’t harm yourself by scolding! If the day will come, when you will see: this Siddhartha is harming me, then speak a word and Siddhartha will go on his own path. But until then, let’s be satisfied with one another.”
Futile were also the merchant’s attempts, to convince Siddhartha that he should eat his bread. Siddhartha ate his own bread, or rather they both ate other people’s bread, all people’s bread. Siddhartha never listened to Kamaswami’s worries and Kamaswami had many worries. Whether there was a business-deal going on which was in danger of failing, or whether a shipment of merchandise seemed to have been lost, or a debtor seemed to be unable to pay, Kamaswami could never convince his partner that it would be useful to utter a few words of worry or anger, to have wrinkles on the forehead, to sleep badly. When, one day, Kamaswami held against him that he had learned everything he knew from him, he replied: “Would you please not kid me with such jokes! What I’ve learned from you is how much a basket of fish costs and how much interests may be charged on loaned money. These are your areas of expertise. I haven’t learned to think from you, my dear Kamaswami, you ought to be the one seeking to learn from me.”
卡马斯瓦密企图让席特哈尔塔想念他吃的是卡马斯瓦密的砚，结果是白费力气。席特哈尔塔吃的是他自己的面包，或者更确切地说，他们俩都是吃别人的砚，吃大家的砚。席特哈尔塔根本就听不进卡马斯瓦密的忧虑，而卡马斯瓦密却总是忧心忡忡。如果一桩生意有可能失败，如果一批货物运丢了，如果一个欠债人还不了债，那么，卡马斯瓦密休想让他的伙伴想念大发牢骚或者生气，皱紧眉头，睡不好觉，会有什么好处。有一次卡马斯瓦密指责他，说他懂得的一切都是跟他卡马斯瓦密学的，席特哈尔塔答道：
Indeed his soul was not with the trade. The business was good enough to provide him with the money for Kamala, and it earned him much more than he needed. Besides from this, Siddhartha’s interest and curiosity was only concerned with the people, whose businesses, crafts, worries, pleasures, and acts of foolishness used to be as alien and distant to him as the moon. However easily he succeeded in talking to all of them, in living with all of them, in learning from all of them, he was still aware that there was something which separated him from them and this separating factor was him being a Samana. He saw mankind going trough life in a childlike or animallike manner, which he loved and also despised at the same time. He saw them toiling, saw them suffering, and becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed to him to entirely unworthy of this price, for money, for little pleasures, for being slightly honoured, he saw them scolding and insulting each other, he saw them complaining about pain at which a Samana would only smile, and suffering because of deprivations which a Samana would not feel.
事实上，他的心并没有放在做生意上。做生意对于他攒钱送给卡玛拉有用，可是他做生意赚的钱却远比他所需要的多。此外，席特哈尔塔关心和好奇的恰恰是那样的一些人，其生意、手艺、忧虑、娱乐和愚蠢对于他就像月亮那样陌生和遥远。他轻而易举就成功地做到了跟所有人交谈，与所有人一起生活，向所有人学习。他深深地感到有什么东西把自己跟他们分开了，而这就是他的沙门苦行主义。他看到人们以儿童或动物般的方式生活，他对此既爱又瞧不起。他看到他们操劳，看到他们受苦和衰老，为了一些他认为完全不值得付出这样代价的东西，为了金钱，为了小小的乐趣，为了小小的荣誉，他看到他们互相指责和辱骂，看到他们抱怨那些令沙门付之一笑的痛苦，看到他们为那些让沙门毫不在意的匮乏而烦恼。
He was open to everything, these people brought his way. Welcome was the merchant who offered him linen for sale, welcome was the debtor who sought another loan, welcome was the beggar who told him for one hour the story of his poverty and who was not half as poor as any given Samana. He did not treat the rich foreign merchant any different than the servant who shaved him and the street-vendor whom he let cheat him out of some small change when buying bananas. When Kamaswami came to him, to complain about his worries or to reproach him concerning his business, he listened curiously and happily, was puzzled by him, tried to understand him, consented that he was a little bit right, only as much as he considered indispensable, and turned away from him, towards the next person who would ask for him. And there were many who came to him, many to do business with him, many to cheat him, many to draw some secret out of him, many to appeal to his sympathy, many to get his advice. He gave advice, he pitied, he made gifts, he let them cheat him a bit, and this entire game and the passion with which all people played this game occupied his thoughts just as much as the gods and Brahmans used to occupy them.
这些人无论带给他什么，他都听之任之。给他提供亚麻布的商人他欢迎，找他告贷的欠债人他欢迎，给他讲自己的贫穷故事一讲就是一个钟头的乞丐他也欢迎，其实与沙门相比，乞丐的贫穷恐怕连一半都不够。他对待外国富商和给他刮脸的仆人没什么不同，跟那些在卖香蕉时总是坑他几个小钱的街头摊贩也没什么两样。当卡马斯瓦密来找他，向他诉说苦恼，或是为了一件买卖来责怪他时，他总是好奇而兴致勃勃地听着，对他感到惊奇，力求理解他，尽量使他有一些道理，而且正好是他认为必不可少的那么多，然后便转身离开他，转向下一个要见他的人了。有好多人来找他，好多人想跟他做生意，好多人想骗他，好多人想摸他的底，好多人想唤起他的同情，好多人想向他讨教。他提出建议，表示同情，慷慨解囊，让自己上一点当，而这整个游戏以及所有人在玩这游戏时的热情都使得他全神贯注，正像当年他热衷于神灵与婆罗门时那样。
At times he felt, deep in his chest, a dying, quiet voice, which admonished him quietly, lamented quietly; he hardly perceived it. And then, for an hour, he became aware of the strange life he was leading, of him doing lots of things which were only a game, of, though being happy and feeling joy at times, real life still passing him by and not touching him. As a ball-player plays with his balls, he played with his business-deals, with the people around him, watched them, found amusement in them; with his heart, with the source of his being, he was not with them. The source ran somewhere, far away from him, ran and ran invisibly, had nothing to do with his life any more. And at several times he suddenly became scared on account of such thoughts and wished that he would also be gifted with the ability to participate in all of this childlike-naive occupations of the daytime with passion and with his heart, really to live, really to act, really to enjoy and to live instead of just standing by as a spectator. Butagain and again, he came back to beautiful Kamala, learned the art of love, practised the cult of lust, in which more than in anything else giving and taking becomes one, chatted with her, learned from her, gave her advice, received advice. She understood him better than Govinda used to understand him, she was more similar to him.
有时，他感到胸膛深处有一种衰亡的微弱声音，轻声提醒，轻声抱怨，几乎听不清。后来他开始意识到自己过的是一种奇怪的生活，他所做的事只是一种游戏，他很愉快，感到很快乐，但真正的生活却从身边流逝了，并没有触及他。就像一个球员玩球一样他拿他的生意来玩耍，与他周围的人玩耍，观察他们，跟他们寻开心，而他的心、他的生命的源泉却并不在那儿。这源泉流向了某个地方，离他很远走高飞，渐渐看不到了，不再与他的生活相关。有几次，他由于这样的想法而吓了一跳，希望自己也能满腔热忱、全心全意地参与日常的这些孩子般的行动，真正地生活，真正地做事，真正地享受和生活，而不仅仅是作为旁观者站在一边。他经常去拜访美丽的卡玛拉，学习爱情技巧，崇拜性满足，奉献和索取在这儿比在任何地方都更加合而为一。他跟卡玛拉闲聊，向她学习，给她出主意，也接受她的忠告。而卡玛拉也更加了解他，甚至胜过了当初戈文达对他的了解，她跟他更加相似了。
“Not all people are smart,” said Kamala.
Once, he said to her: “You are like me, you are different from most people. You are Kamala, nothing else, and inside of you, there is a peace and refuge, to which you can go at every hour of the day and be at home at yourself, as I can also do. Few people have this, and yet all could have it.”
有一次他对卡玛拉说：
“No,” said Siddhartha, “that’s not the reason why. Kamaswami is just as smart as I, and still has no refuge in himself. Others have it, who are small children with respect to their mind. Most people, Kamala, are like a falling leaf, which is blown and is turning around through the air, and wavers, and tumbles to the ground. But others, a few, are like stars, they go on a fixed course, no wind reaches them, in themselves they have their law and their course. Among all the learned men and Samanas, of which I knew many, there was one of this kind, a perfected one, I’ll never be able to forget him. It is that Gotama, the exalted one, who is spreading that teachings. Thousands of followers are listening to his teachings every day, follow his instructions every hour, but they are all falling leaves, not in themselves they have teachings and a law.”
“You are the best lover,” she said thoughtfully, “I ever saw. You’re stronger than others, more supple, more willing. You’ve learned my art well, Siddhartha. At some time, when I’ll be older, I’d want to bear your child. And yet, my dear, you’ve remained a Samana, and yet you do not love me, you love nobody. Isn’t it so?”
Siddhartha said nothing, and they played the game of love, one of the thirty or forty different games Kamala knew. Her body was flexible like that of a jaguar and like the bow of a hunter; he who had learned from her how to make love, was knowledgeable of many forms of lust, many secrets. For a long time, she played with Siddhartha, enticed him, rejected him, forced him, embraced him: enjoyed his masterful skills, until he was defeated and rested exhausted by her side.
席特哈尔塔不出声。于是，他们玩爱情游戏，玩卡玛拉熟悉的三十种或四十种不同游戏当中的一种。她的身子柔韧如美洲豹，像猎人的弓；谁向她学过爱情，就会精通许多技巧，洞悉许多秘密。好和席特哈尔塔长久地玩耍，挑逗他，推开他，强迫他，拥抱他，为他的娴熟技巧而高兴，一直到他被征服，精疲力竭地躺在她身边。
Kamala looked at him with a smile. “Again, you’re talking about him,” she said, “again, you’re having a Samana’s thoughts.”
卡玛拉含笑注视着他。
The courtesan bent over him, took a long look at his face, at his eyes, which had grown tired.
他所钟爱的这个情妇俯身看着他，久久地凝视他的脸，凝视他那双疲惫的眼睛。
“It might very well be so,” Siddhartha said tiredly. “I am like you. You also do not love-how else could you practise love as a craft? Perhaps, people of our kind can’t love. The childlike people can; that’s their secret.”
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