第十七章 |《荆棘之城》双语小说免费在线阅读

My name, in those days, was Susan Trinder. Now those days all came to an end.

我的名字，在过去那段日子里，叫做苏珊。钱德。如今那些日子一去不复返了。

I said I was born there.

我说我就生在那儿。

“What was the murdered man, to you?”

“那个被害者，是你什么人？”

“What did you see, on the night of the crime?”

“罪案发生当晚，你都看到些什么？”

The police took every one of us, save Dainty. They took us, and kept us in gaol while they tore up the Lant Street kitchen, looking for clues, for stashes of money and poke. They kept us in separate cells, and every day they came and asked the same set of questions.

警察把我们都带走了，无一遗漏，只除了达蒂。他们这边厢把我们抓起来，关进了监狱；那边厢就把蓝特街的厨房抄了个底朝天，寻找线索，寻找藏匿起来的钱财和赃物。他们没有把我们关在一道，而是打散了关在不同的牢房里。他们每天都过来，问一串一模一样的问题。

I said he was a friend of Mrs Sucksby’s.

我说他是萨克丝贝太太的朋友。

“Been long, at Lant Street?”

“待了多长时间，在蓝特街？”

Here, however, I always stumbled. Sometimes it seemed to me that I had seen Maud take up the knife; sometimes I even seemed to remember seeing her use it. I know I saw her touch the table-top, I know I saw the glitter of the blade. I know she stepped away as Gentleman started to stagger. But Mrs Sucksby had been there too, she had moved as quick as anyone; and sometimes I thought it was her hand I remembered seeing dart and flash… At last I told the simple truth: that I did not know what I had seen. It didn’t matter, anyway. They had John Vroom’s word, and Mrs Sucksby’s own confession. They didn’t need me. On the fourth day after they took us, they let me go. The others they kept longer.

然而，我一听这话，总是一震。有时候，我似乎感觉，当时我看到莫德拿起了刀；有时候，我甚至回想起了目睹她举刀的一幕。我知道我当时看到她摸到桌面上，我知道我看到刀刃一闪。我知道绅士开始摇摇欲坠的时候，她闪到了一旁。可是，萨克丝贝太太也在那儿，她的动作快如闪电；有时候，我觉得我记忆中目睹的那只手，一刺，一闪，那正是她的手…最后，我说了简单的大实话：我也不知道我看到了什么。反正这也没什么要紧的。他们有约翰。瓦儒的证言，还有萨克丝贝太太自己的供词。他们不需要我。在抓走我们的第四天上，他们就把我放了。至于别的人，又让他们多关了一段时间。

Mr Ibbs was brought before the magistrate first. His trial lasted half-an-hour. He was done, after all, not on account of the poke left lying about the kitchen — he was too good at taking the seals and stampings off, for that — but for the sake of some of the notes in his cigarette box. They were marked ones. The police, it turned out, had been watching the business at Mr Ibbs’s shop, for more than a month; and in the end they had got Phil — who, you might remember, had sworn he’d never do another term in gaol, at any cost — to plant the marked notes on him. Mr Ibbs was found to have handled stolen goods: he was sent to Pentonville. Of course, he knew many of the men in there, and might be supposed to have had an easy time among them — except that, here was a funny thing: the fingersmiths and cracksmen who had been so grateful to get an extra shilling from him on the outside, now quite turned against him; and I think his time was very miserable. I went to visit him, a week after he went in. He saw me, and put his hands before his face, and was in general so changed and so brought down, and looked at me so queerly, I could not bear it. I didn’t go again. His sister, poor thing, was found by the police in her bed at Lant Street, while they were going through the house. We had all forgotten her. She was put on the ward of a parish hospital. The move, however, was too great a shock for her; and she died.

艾伯斯先生第一个上法庭见法官。他的审判只花了半个小时。总之，他完蛋了，倒也不是因为那些遍布厨房各个角落的赃物——在弄掉赃物的封印和纹章方面，他可是个老手——而是因为几张藏在他香烟盒里的字条。那些字条上都有记号。这说明，警察大人们监视艾伯斯先生店里的生意，已经有一个多月了；最后，他们还抓住了菲尔——就是，你可能还记得，曾经发誓赌咒说不管付出什么代价，他也再不进监狱的那个人——他们便把字条的事都扣到他头上。艾伯斯先生窝藏赃物：他被送进了潘顿维尔。当然了，他认识不少住在那儿的人，人们可能还觉得他置身其中，会度过一段轻松的时光——只除了，这么一件滑稽的事：那些个原来在外面，因为他多给了一个先令而感激不尽的扒手和骗子，如今都背叛了他；我觉得他的日子非常非常难熬。他关进去了一个星期之后，我跑去探望他。他见了我，便两手挡住脸，乍看上去，他变化非常大，人非常落魄，还有他看我的眼神，也怪里怪气的，让我受不了。我就再没去了。他姐姐，可怜人，警察在蓝特街抄家时，在她的床上发现了她。我们都把她忘了。她被送到教区医院的病房里。然而，这次搬家，对她打击太大；于是她就死了。

John Vroom could not be pinned to any crime, save — through his coat — to that old one of dog-stealing. He was let off with six nights in Tothill Fields, and a flogging. They say he was so disliked in his gaol, the keepers played cards for who should be the one to flog him; that they flung in one or two extras above his twelve, for fun; and that after, he cried like a baby. Dainty met him at the prison gate, and he punched her and blacked her eye. It was thanks to him, though, that she had got clean off from Lant Street.

什么罪名都安不到约翰。瓦儒身上，除了一样——由他的外套引出来的——那桩偷狗的旧案。在Tothill Fields待了六个晚上，他就被放出来了，还吃了一顿鞭子。他们说他在牢房里特别不受待见，看守们用猜牌的办法来选定行刑抽他的人；抽完规定的十二下之后，他们又多抽了一两下，就为了找乐子；鞭子抽完了，他嚎得象个毛孩子。达蒂在监狱门口等他，他给了她一拳，把她的眼睛都打青了。尽管如此，还是多亏了他，她才能从蓝特街脱身。

I never spoke to him again. He took a room for him and Dainty in another house, and kept out of my way. I saw him, only once; and that was in the courtroom, at Mrs Sucksby’s trial. The trial came up very quick. I spent the nights before it at Lant Street, lying awake in my old bed; sometimes Dainty came back, to sleep beside me and keep me company. She was the only one, out of all my old pals, who would: for of course, everyone else supposed — from the story having been put about, before — that I was a cheat. It came out that I had taken that room, in the house across from Mr Ibbs’s; and had lived there, in what seemed a sneaking sort of way, for almost a week. Why had I done that? Then someone said they saw me running, on the night of the murder, with a look of wildness in my eye. They talked about my mother, and the bad blood that flowed in me. They didn’t say I was brave, now; they said I was bold. They said they wouldn’t have been surprised if it was me that had put the knife in, after all; and Mrs Sucksby — who still loved me like a daughter, though I had turned out bad — who had stepped forward and taken the blame…

我再没跟他说过话了。他在别人家里为他自己和达蒂找了个房间，就没在我面前晃了。我又见到他，也只见了一次；那是在法庭上，开庭审判萨克丝贝太太那次。那场审判来的非常快。审判之前的那些夜晚里，我都在蓝特街，躺在我原先睡的那张床上，彻夜难眠；有时候达蒂会回来，睡在我身边，给我做伴。她是我旧日伙伴中，唯一一个这么做的人：因为，当然了，每个人都以为——从之前散播出去的风言风语里——我是个骗子。还说我藏在艾伯斯先生家对面房子的房间里；住在那儿，几乎算得上鬼鬼祟祟了，住了差不多一个星期。我为什么要那么做呢？这时就有人说，案发那天夜里，他们看到我一脸疯狂地跑过去。他们说起我的母亲，还有流淌在我身体里，我血里的恶根。现在他们不说我胆子大。总之，他们说如果是我捅的那一刀，他们也不会觉得惊奇；而萨克丝贝太太——尽管我学坏了，她还是一如既往，把我当女儿一样疼爱——她冲到前面，一力承担了所有责难…

More than once I said, “Suppose it could be proved she never did it?”

我说了不止一次，“要是能证明她没干过，又如何呢？”

When I walked out in the Borough, people cursed me. Once, a girl threw a stone at me.

我走出门，走到镇子上时，人们都会骂我咒我。还有一回，有个小姑娘朝我扔了块石头。

At any other time it would have broken my heart. Now, I did not care. I had only one thought, and that was to see Mrs Sucksby as often as I could. They had her in the Horsemonger Lane Gaol: I spent all my days there — sitting on the step outside the gate, when it was too early to be let in; talking with her keepers, or with the man who was to plead her case in court. Some pal of Mr Ibbs’s had found him for us; he was said to have regularly saved the worst sort of villains from the rope. But he told me, honestly, that our case was a bad one. The most we can hope,” he said, “is that the judge show mercy, for the sake of her age.”

换了别的时候，这就能让我心碎了。如今，我也不在乎了。我只有一个念头，就是尽我所能，多去看看萨克丝贝太太。他们把她关在豪斯蒙格街监狱：我白天都守在那儿——如果去得太早，还不得入内，我就坐在门外的台阶上；我跟看守她的人谈话，还跟将要在法庭上为她辩护的人谈话。他是艾伯斯先生的某个熟人帮我们找来的；据说，他总是能把那种坏得透顶的恶棍从绞索上救下来。可是，他如实地告诉我，我们的案子是一件棘手的案子。“我们最大的希望，”他说道，“就是法官顾念到她的年纪，能发发慈悲。”

I did not know, and could not answer. He would leave me then, at the gate of the gaol — going quickly off, stepping into the street and calling out for a cabman; and I’d watch him go with my hands at my head, for his shout, and the rattle of hooves and wheels, the movement of people, the very stones beneath my feet, would seem harsh to me. Everything seemed harsh, and loud, and harder and faster than it ought to have been, just then.

我也不知道，我答不上来。这时，他会把我丢在监狱门口——一阵烟似地跑了，他走到街当中，喊个马车夫来；而我就看着他走，两手抱着头，因为他的喊声，还有马蹄声、车轮声，人流扰攘，似乎都变得刺耳难耐；我脚下的每一块路石，好象也变得粗砺无比。就在那个时候，好象每一件事都令人无法忍受了，嘈杂至极，较其原本应有的形态，更沉重更严酷，更叫人眼花缭乱。

He’d shake his head. “Where is the evidence?” he’d say. “Besides, she has admitted to it. Why should she do that?”

他摇摇头。“证据呢？”他说道。“另外，她也认罪了。为什么她会认罪呢？”

I would have written letters; if I had known how to write, and who to send them to. I would have gone to the house of the man who was to be judge; if I had known how to find it. But I did nothing like that. What little comfort I got, I got at Mrs Sucksby’s side; and the gaol, though it was so grim — so dark, and bleak — at least was also quiet. I got to spend more time there than I ought to have, through the kindness of the keepers: I think they thought me younger and less of a sharper than I was. “Here’s your daughter,” they’d say, unlocking the gate to Mrs Sucksby’s cell; and every time, she would quickly lift her head and study my face, or glance beyond my shoulder, with a troubled look — as if, I thought, not quite believing they had let me come again and meant to let me stay. Then she’d blink, and try at a smile. “Dear girl. Quite alone?”

要是我知道怎么写信，知道信该寄给谁的话，那我早就写了好多信了。要是我知道如何才能找到那些面临审判的人的家，那我早就奔到他们家里去了。可这样的事儿我一件也没干。我能得到的一丁点儿安慰，就是在萨克丝贝太太身边感觉到的；至于那监狱，尽管它是如此阴森恐怖——如此阴暗，又冰冷无情——最终，也透出些许温情。通过看守们的好心肠，我得以在那儿待得比规定时间更久：我觉得，他们以为我比实际年龄小，也没那么精明。“你女儿来了，”他们会这么说，说着便打开了萨克丝贝太太监房的门锁；而每一次，她都会迅速地抬起头，盯着我的脸，或者瞄一眼我身后，一脸焦躁——就好似，我当时以为，她并不十分确信他们又放我进来了，更打算让我待在监房里。然后，她眨眨眼，挤出个微笑。“好姑娘。一个人来的？”

Many times I would stop, and remember Gentleman, gripping the wound in his stomach, looking disbelievingly at our own disbelieving faces. “How did this happen?” he had said. I wanted to say it, now, to everyone I saw: How did this happen? How can this be? Why do you only stand and watch me…?

有好多次，我停住脚步，回想起绅士，抓着他肚子上的伤口，并不信任地打量着我们不可信任的面孔。“怎么会这样？”他当时说。如今，我想对我见到的每一个人说：怎么会这样？怎么能这样？你为什么站在这儿干看着我…？

“Quite alone,” I’d answer.

“一个人，”我会如是答道。

She liked to sit with my hand in hers. She did not like to talk. When at first I’d weep, and curse, and beg her to take back her story, my words would so upset her I feared she’d grow ill.

她喜欢坐在那儿，把我的手握在手中。她不想说话。要是我想哭，或是口吐咒骂，或是乞求她收回她的证言，我的话语会令她异常痛苦，我担心她会病倒了。

“That’s good,” she’d say after a moment, taking my hand. “Ain’t it? Just you and me. That’s good.”

停一息，她会拉着我的手说道。“也好。不是吗？就你跟我。也好。”

“No more,” she’d say, very pale in the face and set about the mouth. “I done it, that’s all. I don’t want to hear no more about it.”

她面色惨白地开了口，“别再说了，”她会说道。“是我干的，就这样。我再也不想听到这些话了。”

So then I’d remember that dander of hers, and keep silent, and only smooth her fingers in mine. They seemed to grow thinner, every time I saw her. The keepers said she left her dinners quite untouched. The sight of the dwindling of those great hands upset me, more than I can say: it seemed to me that everything, that was so wrong, would be put right if only Mrs Sucksby’s hands could be made to be handsome again.

于是，这时候我想起她发脾气的样子，便不说话了，只是摩挲着她的手。每回我看到她，都觉得她的手又瘦了。看守说她的饭动也不动，就放在一旁。那双颤抖的大手令我心如刀绞，痛苦难以言表：仿佛于我而言，只要萨克丝贝太太的双手能够重焕容光，所有的事情，那些错得离谱的事儿，就都能拨乱反正了。

I had spent what money there was in the house at Lant Street, on finding a lawyer; but all that I could make now through borrowing or pawning I put on little dishes to try and tempt her — on shrimps, and saveloys, and suet-puddings. Once I took her a sugar mouse, thinking she might remember the time she had put me in her bed and told me about Nancy from Oliver Twist. I don’t think she did, however; she only took it and set it distractedly aside, saying she would try it later, like she did with everything else. In the end her keepers told me to save my money. She had been passing the dishes to them.

当时，我把蓝特街家中所有的钱都拿来，找了一位律师；而现今，我将我通过借贷和典当所能搞到的一切，都拿来买了小吃，想让她尝尝，让她高兴一点儿——买了虾，买了腊肠，还有牛油布丁。有一回，我给她带了一个糖老鼠，心想说不定她会想起那个时候，她把我抱上床，给我讲《雾都孤儿》里南希的故事。然而，我不觉得她想起了那些事，她只是接过去，心不在焉地放在一旁，说她过一会儿会尝尝的，心思跟对待其他事物一样。到后来，她的看守告诉我，还是省点儿钱吧。她把那些小吃都给他们了。

“You won’t think of leaving?”

“你不会想离开那儿吧？”

Many times she held my face in her hands. Many times she kissed me. Once or twice she gripped me hard, and seemed about to speak on some awful matter; but always, at the last, she would turn the matter aside and it would be lost. If there were things I might have asked her — if I was troubled by queer ideas, and doubts — I kept quiet as she did. That time was bad enough; why make it worse? We talked instead of me — of how I should do now and in the future.

有好多次，她双手捧着我的脸。有好多次，她亲吻我。有一两次，她紧紧地抓着我，好象想说点什么要紧的事儿；可总是到了最后关头，她又把话放到一边，按下不提了。其实我也有事儿想问她——其实我也被一些古怪的念头，和自己的疑心搞得困惑不已的——我像她一样，一直没吱声。那段时间已经够倒霉了；干吗还要把局面搞得更糟呢？我们说话，并没有说我的事——也没有说眼下和将来我该怎么办。

“You’ll keep up the old place, at Lant Street?” she’d say.

“你会一直守在老地方，蓝特街？”她会说道。

“Won’t I!” I’d answer.

“我怎么不会！”我如是答道。

“Leaving? Why, I mean to keep it ready, against the day they let you out…”

“离开？干吗，我还要把那儿收拾整齐呢，等着他们把你放出来的那一天…”

I did not tell her how very changed the house was, now that she and Mr Ibbs, and Mr Ibbs’s sister, had gone. I did not tell her that neighbours had left off calling; that a girl threw a stone at me; that people — strangers — would come and stand, for hours at a time, at the doors and windows, hoping for a glimpse of the place where Gentleman had died. I did not say how hard I had worked, with Dainty, to take the blood-stain from the floor; how we had washed and washed; how many buckets of water we had carried off, crimson; how at last we had had to give it up, because the constant scrubbing began to lift the surface of the boards and turn the pale wood underneath a horrible pink. I didn’t tell her of all the places — the doors, the ceiling — and all the things — the pictures on the walls, the ornaments upon the mantel, the dinner-plates, the knives and forks — that we found marked with streaks and splashes of Gentleman’s blood. And I did not say how, as I swept and scrubbed the kitchen, I chanced on a thousand little reminders of my old life — dog-hairs, and chips of broken cups, bad farthings, playing cards, the cuts on the door-frame made by Mr Ibbs’s knife to mark my height as I grew up; nor how I covered my face and wept, at every one.

我没有告诉她家里现在变化有多大，她和艾伯斯先生，还有艾伯斯先生的姐姐，都不在了。我也没跟她说那些个破口大骂的邻居；还有一个小姑娘朝我扔石头；人们——都是陌生人——跑过来，站在那儿，一站就是几个小时，扒着门窗，巴望着能看一眼绅士咽气儿的地方。我也没说我跟达蒂为了搞掉把地板上的血污，干得多辛苦；我们是如何洗了又洗；我们倒了多少桶水，深红色的水；到最后，我们不得不放弃，因为一直用力地擦地板，地板上留下了印子，下面的白色木头都变成了可怕的粉色。我没有告诉她，我们发现家里到处都是绅士的血——门上，天花板上——所有的家什——墙上的画片儿，壁炉架上的装饰品，餐盘，刀叉上——都有点点道道的血迹。我也没有说，在我清扫擦洗厨房时，不经意地发现了许许多多旧日生活的残余痕迹——狗毛，破杯子的碎片，假便士，纸牌，艾伯斯先生的小刀留在门框上的刻痕，那是随着我一点点长大，为标记我的个子而刻下的；也没说我为了每一个痕迹掩面而泣。

One time the voice was Maud’s.

有一次，这个声音是莫德的。

At night, if I slept, I dreamed of murder. I dreamed I killed a man, and had to walk the streets of London with his body in a bag too small to hold it. I dreamed of Gentleman. I dreamed I met him among the graves at the little red chapel at Briar and he showed me the tomb of his mother. The tomb had a lock upon it, and I had a blank and file and must cut the key to fit; and every night I would set to work, knowing I must work quickly, quickly; and every time, just as the job was almost done, some queer disaster would happen — the key would shrink or grow too large, the file would soften in my fingers; there would be a cut — the final cut — I could not make, never make in time…

到夜里，要是我睡着了，我就会梦到杀人。我梦到我杀了个人，于是不得不把他的尸体装进袋子里，在伦敦的街道上走来走去，那袋子太小，都装不下他。我梦见了绅士。我梦见，我在布莱尔那座红色小礼拜堂的墓地中遇到他，他给我看他母亲的坟墓。那坟墓上有把锁，而我有一把钥匙坯，和一把锉刀，我必须挫出一把能开锁的钥匙；每天夜里我都会，心知我必须挫得快一点，再快一点；而每一回，正当大功即将告成之时，某些怪事就发生了——钥匙缩小了，要么就是变大了，锉刀在我手里变软了；钥匙上有个齿，最后一个齿——我挫不出来，没有一次能够按时挫出来…

I looked, but could not see her.

我抬头张望，却看不到她。

Too late, Gentleman would say.

来不及了，绅士会这么说。

I had not seen her, since the night that Gentleman died. I didn’t know where she was. I knew the police had kept her longer than they kept me — for she gave them her name, and it got into the newspapers; and, of course, Dr Christie saw it. I heard it, from the keepers at the gaol. It had all come out, how she was Gentleman’s wife, and had supposedly been in a madhouse and had escaped; and how the police didn’t know what to do with her — whether to let her go, or lock her up as a lunatic, or what. Dr Christie said only he could decide; so they called him in to examine her. I nearly had a fit when I heard that. I still couldn’t go near bath-tubs. But what happened, was this: he took one look at her, was seen to stagger and grow white; then declared himself only overcome with emotion, to find her so perfectly cured. He said this showed how good his methods were. He had the papers give details of his house. He got lots of new lady patients out of it, I think, and quite made his fortune.

从绅士死的那天夜里至今，我再没见过她。我不知道她在哪儿。我知道警察关她的时间比关我的长——因为她跟他们说了自己的名字，名字就上了报纸；于是，当然了，就给克里斯蒂医生看到了。我听说过这事儿，听监狱里的看守说的。这事儿全传开了，她是绅士的太太，据推测她曾经进过疯人院，又逃出来了；警察不知道拿她怎么办——是放她走，还是把她当疯子锁起来，还是什么别的。克里斯蒂医生说只有他能决定；所以他们把他找来，给她做检查。听到这儿，我差点又犯病了。我还是见不得浴盆。可是接下来发生的事情，是这样的：他看了她一眼，人家就看到他踉跄一步，面色变得煞白；接着就声明，他只是发现她恢复得这么好，激动地不能自己。他说这说明他的方法是多么地好。他让报纸把他的医院详详细细地写了一通。我觉得凭这个，他又多了好多新病人，肯定也让他发了大财。

Too late.

来不及了。

I would think each morning, “will be the day she’ll come.” And then, each night: “Perhaps tomorrow…”

每天清晨我都会这么想，“就是她回来的日子。”然后，每天晚上：“可能是明天…”

But, as I have said, she never did. What came instead, was the day of the trial. It came in the middle of August. The sun had kept on blazing all through that awful summer, and the court — being packed with watchers — was close: every hour a man was called to throw water on the floor to try and cool it. I sat with Dainty. I’d hoped I might sit in the box with Mrs Sucksby, and hold her hand; but the policemen laughed in my face when I asked it. They made her sit alone, and when they took her in and out of the room, they put cuffs on her. She wore a grey prison gown that made her face seem almost yellow, but her silver hair shone very bright against the dark wood walls of the court. She flinched when she first came up, and saw the crowd of strangers that had come to see her tried. Then she found out my face among them and grew, I thought, more easy. Her eye came back to mine, after that, as the day went on — though I saw her looking, too, about the court, as if in search of another. At the last, however, her gaze would always fall.

不过，正如我曾说过的，她没回来过。她重返蓝特街的那一天没有来临，宣判的日子倒来了。那是八月中旬。那个恼人的夏季，烈日当空，阳光灼热，法庭里——挤满了看客——密不透风：每隔一小时，就有个人被喊过来往地上洒水，设法给地面降温。我跟达蒂坐在一起。我原本盼望着我可以跟萨克丝贝太太一块坐在笼子里，握着她的手；可当我提出请求时，警察当着我的面哈哈大笑。他们让她一个人坐在那儿，带她进出法庭时，还给她铐上手铐。她身穿一件灰色号衣，将她的脸衬得焦黄，不过，她那满头银发，倒是被法庭暗色的木墙面衬得光彩动人。第一次上庭时，看到有那么些陌生面孔前来听审，她面露惊惧，颇为不安。这时，她在人群中发现了我的脸，于是就，我觉得，松了一口气。这之后，随着日子一天天过去，她也会回头看我，与我对视一眼——虽然我也看到她四顾张望，好象是在找另一个人。可是，到最后，她的目光总会垂落下来。

I did wonder if she might, however. I wondered it, every day. “Perhaps today,”

然而，我还是很想知道，她究竟会不会回来。我每天都在想这个问题。“说不定，就今天。”

Maud herself was set at liberty, then; and after that, she seemed to vanish. I guessed she had gone back home to Briar. I know she never came to Lant Street. I supposed her too afraid! — for of course, I would have throttled her if she had.

于是，莫德自己就重获自由了；这之后，她似乎就消失了。我猜想她已经回到布莱尔，回家了。我知道她再没来过蓝特街。我觉得她是吓破了胆儿！——因为，当然了，她要是敢回来，我就会掐死她。

When she spoke, her voice was weak. She said she had stabbed Gentleman in a moment of anger, in a quarrel over money he owed for the renting of her room.

她开口说话的时候，声音有气无力的。她说他们在为绅士欠她房租的事争吵，她一怒之下捅了他一刀。

She earned her money from the letting of rooms? asked the prosecuting lawyer.

她通过收房租挣钱吗？检方律师问。

“No.”

“不是。”

“Yes,” she said.

“是的。”她说道。

“At least a minute?” the lawyer said. “You are quite sure? You know how long a minute is? Look at that clock, there. Watch the movement of the hand…”

“至少一分钟？”律师说道。“你能肯定？你知道一分钟有多长吗？看着这个钟，那边。看那个指针的转动…”

And not from the handling of stolen goods, or the unlicensed nursing — commonly known as farming — of orphaned infants?

而不是通过窝赃收赃，或者非法（unlicensed）当保姆——就是俗话说的老妈子——收养无父母的婴儿，挣钱？

Then they brought in men to say they had seen her, at different times, with different bits of poke; and — what was worse — found women who swore they had given her babies that had very soon afterwards died…

这时，他们找来了几个人，这几个人说他们见过她，在不同的时间，带着几个不重样儿的钱包；还有——更倒霉的是——找了几个女人来，这几个女人发誓赌咒说她们把孩子给了她，后来孩子很快就死了…

Then John Vroom spoke. They had put him in a suit like a clerk’s, and combed and shined his hair; he looked more like an infant than ever. He said he had seen everything that took place in the Lant Street kitchen, on the fatal night. He had seen Mrs Sucksby put in the knife. She had cried, “You blackguard, take that!” And he had seen her with the knife in her hand, for at least a minute, before she did.

接着是约翰。瓦儒作证。他们给他套了一件衣裳，像是店员制服，头发也梳得油亮锃亮。他的样子比以前更像个毛孩子。他说那个要命的晚上，他目睹了蓝特街厨房里发生每一件事。他当时看到萨克丝贝太太拿刀捅出去。她叫起来，“你个胡说八道的混蛋，走着瞧！”他还说他看见她动手之前，刀就握在手里了，握了至少有一分钟之久。

We all watched it sweep. The court fell still, to do it. I never knew a minute so long. The lawyer looked back at John. “As long as that?” he said.

我们都看着那钟的指针走字儿。法庭里一片静默，都在看。我还从来都不知道一分钟时间有这么长。律师回头望着约翰。“有这么长时间吗？”他说道。

John began to cry. “Yes, sir,” he said, through his tears.

约翰开始哭了。虽然满脸涕泪，他仍旧说道，“是的，先生，”

Then they brought the knife out, for him to say it was the one. The crowd broke out in murmurs when they saw it; and when John wiped his eyes and looked, and nodded, a lady swooned.

然后他们拿出了那把刀，让他指认凶器。人们一看到刀，都开始窃窃私语；等约翰抹好眼泪，定睛一看，随即点了点头，有个女人当场晕厥。

I nearly started out of my seat, when I heard that. Then I caught Mrs Sucksby’s eye. She shook her head, and looked so pleadingly at me to be silent, I fell back; and it never came out that the knife was sharp not because she had sharpened it, but because I had. They never called me to the stand. Mrs Sucksby would not let them. They did call Charles; but he wept so hard, and shook so badly, the judge declared him unfit. He was sent back to his aunty’s. No-one was told about me, and Maud. No-one mentioned Briar or old Mr Lilly. No-one came forward to say that Gentleman was a villain — that he had tried to rob heiresses — that he had ruined people through the selling of counterfeit stock. They made out that he was a decent young man with a promising future; they said that Mrs Sucksby had robbed him of it through simple greed. They even found out his family, and brought his parents to the trial — and you’ll never believe it, but it turned out that all his tales of being a gentleman’s son were so much puff. His father and mother ran a small kind of draper’s shop, in a street off the Holloway Road. His sister taught piano. His real name was not Richard Rivers or even Richard Wells; it was Frederick Bunt. They drew his picture in the papers. Girls all over England were said to have cut it out and worn it next to their hearts.

我一听这话，差点从座位上跳起来，这时我看到萨克丝贝太太的眼睛。她摇摇头望着我，眼中都是哀求，要我保持安静，我又坐回去；后来再没人说刀这么锋利，并不是由她磨的，而是我磨的。他们没有叫我上证人席。萨克丝贝太太也不会让他们这么做。他们叫来了查尔斯；可是他哭得太凶了，还哆嗦个不停，法官宣布他不宜做证。他被人送回到他婶婶家了。没有人说起我，和莫德。也没有人提到布莱尔或者李老先生。没有人更进一步地说出绅士是个恶棍——他曾经想找女继承人骗婚——他曾经通过出售伪造的股票坑害过别人。他们把他描绘成是一个有着美好前程的正派青年；他们说萨克丝贝太太为一己贪欲，剥夺了他的前程。他们甚至找到了他家里，还把他的父母请到法庭上——你压根儿不会相信，可是这说明，他说他是一位绅士的儿子的话，其实全是吹牛皮。他父亲和母亲经营着一家不大的布料店，就在豪罗威路拐进去的一条街上。他姐姐是教钢琴的。他的真名不是理查德。瑞富斯，甚至也不是理查德。威尔斯；他真名叫弗雷德里克。巴恩特。他们把他的照片登在报纸上。人们说全英格兰的姑娘们都把那张照片剪了下来，放在紧贴心口的地方。

The knife was shown to all the men of the jury then, one by one, and the lawyer said they must be sure to note how the blade was sharpened, more than it naturally would have been for a knife of that kind — that it was the sharpening of it that made Gentleman’s wound so bad. He said that broke in pieces Mrs Sucksby’s story about the quarrel, by showing evidence of forethought —

然后，他们把刀拿给陪审团看，让陪审员逐一看过，检方律师说陪审员们必须确确实实地注意到，那刀刃是磨过的，锋利程度比那种刀具平常所应具有的为甚——正因为这刀如此锋利，才把绅士伤得这么重。他说，通过出示事先准备好的凶器，让萨克丝贝太太关于吵嘴的证言露了破绽——

Then I looked at her face; and saw the spirit and heat and colour half-gone from it, already. She was looking dully about her, at the murmuring crowd — looking for me, I thought, and I rose, and lifted my hand. But she caught my eye, and her gaze, as it had before, moved on: I watched it roam about the room, as if looking for someone or something else — finally it settled and seemed to clear, and I followed it and picked out, at the back of the rows of watchers, a girl dressed all in black, with a veil, that she was just putting down — It was Maud. I saw her, not expecting to see her: and I’ll tell you this, my heart flew open; then I remembered everything, and my heart flew shut. She looked miserable — that was something, I thought. She was sitting alone. She made no sort of sign — to me, I mean; and none to Mrs Sucksby.

这时候，我望着她的脸；看到她脸上的精气神儿、欲望和血色已经去了一半。她茫然四顾，望着窃窃私语的人群——是望着我，我觉得，我站起身来，举起了手。可是她看到我的目光，她的视线，正如此前那般，又游移开去：我看着无目的地扫视整个法庭，仿佛在寻找某人或某个事物——终于，她的目光停顿了，仿佛变得清澈了。我随着她的目光看过去，在旁听席靠后一排里，有个姑娘，一身玄色，脸上罩着面纱，她正好将面纱放下来——那是莫德。我看到她了，却没料到能看到她：我得跟你说，我的心砰一下打开了；然后我想起了每一件事，于是我的心又砰一下关上了。她看上去颇为悲伤——有点怪，我心想。她一个人坐在那儿。她也没表示一下——对我，我是说；也没跟萨克丝贝太太表示一下。

But when I looked at that picture — and when I heard people talk of the awful murder of Mr Bunt, and of vices, and sordid trades — it seemed to me as though they must be talking of something else, something else entirely, not of Gentleman, being hurt, by mistake, in my own kitchen, with my own people all about. Even when the judge sent off the jury, and we waited, and watched the newspaper-men getting ready to run with the verdict as soon as it came; even when the jury, after an hour, returned, and one of them stood and gave back their answer in a single word; even when the judge covered up his horsehair wig with a cloth of black, and hoped that God would have mercy on Mrs Sucksby’s soul — even then, I did not really feel it as you would suppose I might, did not believe, I think, that so many dark and sober gentlemen speaking so many grave and monotonous words could pinch out the spirit and the heat and the colour from the lives of people like me and Mrs Sucksby.

可是，当我看到那张照片——当我听人们说起巴恩特命案，说起各项罪行，说起种种肮脏的交易——似乎于我而言，他们谈论的是别的事，完完全全是别的事，而不是绅士，在我家厨房间里，我家人都在场时，他被失手刺死的事。甚至于，在法官请陪审团退席时，我们等候判决时，看到记者们蓄势待发，只等判决下达时；甚至在过了一个小时之后，陪审团回到法庭上，其中一位站在那儿，只用一个词便给出了回复时；甚至当法官套上他那顶系着根黑色发带的马棕假发，祈愿上帝能够怜悯萨克丝贝太太的灵魂时——甚至之后，我都没有真切地体会到你觉得我应该有的感觉，我不相信，我当时觉得，这么些个面目阴沉又严肃的绅士，说了这么些沉重单调的话，就能够从像我和萨克丝贝太太这种人的生命中，把精气神、欲望和血色剔除掉。

They had her now, of course, in the condemned cell, and one or other of a pair of matrons was always with her. They were kind enough, I suppose; but they were great stout women, like the nurses at Dr Christie’s, and they wore similar canvas aprons, and carried keys: I would catch their eyes and flinch, and all my old bruises would seem to start up aching.

他们现在把她关在，当然了，关在死囚牢房里，还有一两对女看守时刻跟着她。他们心肠也够好了，我觉得；可是，他们都是身材高大，粗壮健硕的女人，跟克里斯蒂医生那儿的护士一样，他们穿着类似的帆布围裙，也拿着一串儿钥匙：我会盯着他们的眼睛，退缩起来，我身上所有的旧伤痕，好象又开始疼了。

Then our lawyer called me to him, to shake my hand and say he was sorry. Dainty was weeping and needed my arm to help her walk. When I looked at Mrs Sucksby again, her head was sunk upon her breast; and when I looked for Maud, she had gone.

这时，我们的律师叫我过去，他跟我握握手，说他很抱歉。达蒂哭起来了，得我扶着才走得动。等我再看萨克丝贝太太时，她的脑袋陷在肩膀中央；等我再找莫德时，她已经走了。

The week that passed after that I remember, now, as not a week at all, but as a single great endless day. It was a day without sleep — for how could I sleep, when sleep might take away thoughts of Mrs Sucksby, who was so soon to die? It was a day, almost, without darkness — for they kept lights in her cell, that burned all through the night; and in the hours I could not be with her, I kept lights burning at Lant Street — every light I could find in the house, and every light I could borrow. I sat alone, with blazing eyes. I sat and watched, as though she might be ill at my side. I hardly ate. I hardly changed my clothes. When I walked, it was to walk quickly to Horsemonger Lane, to be with her; or to walk slowly back, having left her there.

宣判之后的那个星期，我现在还记得，根本就不象一个星期，却像是一天，漫长，没有尽头的一天。那是无眠的一天——因为，当睡眠有可能抹去对萨克丝贝太太的想念，而她很快就会被处死，我怎么还睡得着呢？那是几乎没有晨昏的一天——因为他们一直点着她监房的灯火，整夜都亮着；我不能陪着她的时候，我就一直点着蓝特街的灯火——我在家中能找出来的，和我能借到的每一盏灯。我独自坐着，两眼通红。我坐在那儿呆望着，就仿佛她就在我身边，还生了病。我几乎粒米未进。我几乎没有换过衣裳。我要是行路，那就是飞快地赶到豪斯蒙格街，去陪伴她；要么就是慢吞吞地往回走，把她丢在那儿。

Then again, I could never quite find it in my heart to like them, on their own accounts — for surely, if they were truly worth liking, they would open the door and let Mrs Sucksby go? Instead they were keeping her there, for men to come and hang her.

于是，我再次认识到，我永远不会因为他们自身的缘故，而发自内心地喜欢他们——因为说真的，他们值得别人真心喜欢吗？他们会打开牢门，放萨克丝贝太太走吗？他们没有这么做，相反，他们把她关在那儿，等着刽子手来绞死她。

I tried not to think of that, however — or rather, like before, I found I could not think of it, could not believe it. How much Mrs Sucksby brooded upon it, I can’t say. I know they sent the prison chaplain to her and she spent some hours with him; but she never told me what he said to her, or if it brought her any comfort. Now more than ever, she seemed to like not to speak at all, only to feel the gentle holding of my hand in hers; though now more than ever, too, her gaze as she looked at me would seem sometimes to grow cloudy, and she would colour, and struggle as if with the awful burden of things unsaid…

然而，我尽力不去想这个——又或者，像前面一样，我发现我无法思考此事，无法相信此事。萨克丝贝太太究竟如何盘算此事，我也说不出。我知道他们给她派了个监狱牧师，她跟他一起待了几个钟头；可是她没跟我说他跟她讲了些什么，以及这样是否能给她带来些许安慰。如今更甚于以往，她好象压根儿就不想说话，只是感受着我的手在她手掌中的温柔触感。虽说今时更甚以往，有时候，她也会望着我，目光中雾气腾起，她会脸红，踌躇着，仿佛为了什么重似千斤，却从未说出口的话，而挣扎不已…

But she said only one thing to me, that she meant for me to remember; and that was on the day before her last — the final time I ever saw her. I went to her, with my heart almost breaking, and thought I should find her pacing her cell or plucking at the bars on her window — in fact, she was calm. It was me who wept, and she sat in her prison chair and let me kneel with my head in her lap, and she put her fingers to my hair — taking the pins from it and letting it fall, until it lay across her knee. I had not had the heart to curl it. It seemed to me that I should never have heart enough, ever again.

可是，她只跟我说了一句话，她希望我一直能记在心上；就在她行刑的前一天——我最后一回见她。我去探望她，带着那颗快要碎掉的心，原以为见到她时，她会在牢房中来回度步，或者扒着窗户栏杆，看外面——实际上，她很镇定。倒是我在哭鼻子，而她就坐在囚椅上，让我跪在她脚边，头埋在她腿上，她抚着我的头发——取下发卡，将我的头发放下来，横铺在她膝头。我早已无心理头发。仿佛于我而言，从今往后，我也了无生趣了。

“No!”

“不！”

She nodded. “Better, by far.”

她点点头。“会更好的，很显然嘛。”

I felt some tremor pass through her. Then: “Better, dear girl,” she whispered, “than with me.”

我感觉她浑身一震。然后：“好姑娘，没了我更好啊”她轻声说道。

“How shall I do, Mrs Sucksby, without you?” I said.

“萨克丝贝太太，没了你，我可怎么办啊？”我说道。

“Hush, now,” she said. She stroked my head. “Hush, now…” Her gown was rough upon my cheek, the prison chair hard against my side. But I sat and let her soothe me, as though I might be a child; and at last we both fell silent. There was a little window, high in the wall of her cell, that let in two or three strips of sunlight: we watched them creep across the stone flags of the floor. I never knew light could creep like that. It crept, like fingers. And when it had crept almost from one wall to another, I heard a step, then felt the matron lean to lay her hand upon my shoulder. — “It’s time,” she murmured. “Say your good-byes, now. All right?”

“嘘，好了，”她说道。她拍拍我的头。“嘘，好了…”她的衣裳磨擦着我的脸颊，囚椅抵着我的身子。不过我，就好象我又是个孩子了；到后来，我们俩都陷入沉默。牢房里有扇小窗户，悬在高墙上，有三两束日光透进来：我们就看着那光线，在地板的一块块石头上缓缓移动。我从来都不知道光线会这样移动。就好象手指头挪动似的。当这光线从这面墙上挪过去，就快挪到那面墙上时，我听到有脚步声，随后感觉到，女看守弯下腰来，将手放到我肩头。——“时间到了，”她低声说道。“现在，说再见吧。好吗？”

I hid my face in the folds of her skirt, and wept again.

我将脸埋在她的裙褶中，又开始哭。

“How can you say it? When, if I had stayed with you — if I had never gone with Gentleman to Briar — Oh, I should never have left your side!”

“你怎么能这么说？当时，要是我一直待在你身边——要是我没跟绅士去布莱尔，该多么好——噢，我真不该离开你！”

I almost drew back. Don’t say it! I thought. — Though I do not know if I could have said what it was I wished she would not say; I only knew I was suddenly afraid. Don’t say it! She gripped me tighter. “Dear girl — ” Then the whisper grew fierce. “Watch me, tomorrow,” she said. “Watch me. Don’t cover your eyes. And then, if you should ever hear hard things of me when I am gone, think back –“

我几乎要挣脱开她。什么都别说！我心想——虽然我也不知道，我是否能说中我不想她说出口的话；我只知道，我忽然间害怕起来。什么都别说！她紧紧地抓着我。“好姑娘——”这时，低语变得残忍了。“明天，要看我。”她说道。“要看我。眼睛别闭起来。然后呢，要是我过身之后，你听到什么不好的事情，就想想以前——”

We stood. I looked at Mrs Sucksby. Her gaze was clear still, but her cheek, in a moment, had changed — was grey, and damp, like clay. She began to tremble.

我们站在那儿。我望着萨克丝贝太太。她目光依旧清亮，可就在那一刹那，她脸色大变——变得沮丧，惨白，像黏土一样。她开始哆嗦。

“Dear girl — ” she began, in a broken whisper.

“好姑娘——”她开始，断断续续地小声说道。

“Dear Sue,” she said, “you have been good to me — ” She drew me to her, and put her mouth against my ear. It was cold as the mouth on a corpse, already; but twitched, like it might have been palsied.

“亲爱的苏，”她说道，“你对我真好——”她把我拽到身前，嘴凑到我耳边。那简直像是僵尸的嘴，已经没有热气了；却还抖动着，好象中了风似的。

“I will!” I said. I said it, half in terror, half in relief. “I will!” — Those were my last words to her.

“我会的！”我说道。我半是惊心，半是宽慰地说出这句话。“我会的！”——这就是我最后对她说的话。

Then the matron I suppose must have touched me again; must have led me, stumbling, into the passage beyond the gate. — I don’t recall. What I remember next is passing through the prison yard, feeling the sun come upon my face — and giving a cry, turning away — thinking, how queer and wrong and awful it was, that the sun should shine, still shine, even now, even there…

这时候，我觉得肯定是那位女看守，又碰了我一下；拉着我，扯扯绊绊地，来到门外的走道里。——我也想不起来了。接下来我还记得的是走过监狱的院子，感觉到阳光扑面而来——我大叫一声，脸别到一旁——心里想，此时，此地，这烈日当空，依旧耀眼无比，这是多么诡异，多么荒谬，多么让人恼恨的事啊…

“One of ’em,” she said, with a glance at me. “The other came this morning…”

“其中之一，”她说着瞄了我一眼。“那个是早上来的。”

I only wondered later what she meant. For now, I was too dazed and miserable to wonder anything.

我只是后来才觉得奇怪，她究竟是什么意思。而眼下，我昏昏沉沉的，满怀悲痛，根本无力细想。

There came a keeper’s voice. I heard the rumble of it, but not the words. He was asking something of the matron at my side. She nodded.

这时，传来了一位看守的声音。在我听来，耳中隆隆作响，却连半个字也没听进去。他在问我身边的女看守。她点了点头。

I walked, in a sort of trance, back to Lant Street — only keeping, as much as I could, to the shadows, out of the blazing sun. At the door to Mr Ibbs’s shop I found boys, chalking nooses on the step — they saw me come and ran off, shrieking. I was used to that, however, and let them run; but kicked the nooses away. Inside, I stood a minute to get my breath, and to look about me — at the locksmith’s counter, streaked with dust; and the tools and keyblanks, that had lost their shine; and the hanging baize curtain, that had got torn from its loops and was drooping.

我像个游魂一样走回到蓝特街——一路上只是尽我所能地避开阳光，走在阴影里。在艾伯斯先生的铺子门口，我看到几个小孩，正用粉笔在台阶上画绞索——他们一见我过来，便尖叫着跑开了。不过，我已经习惯这些事了，就随他们去了；却用脚把绞索涂掉。进了门，我在店里站了有一分钟，才缓过气来，我看看周围——看看锁匠的柜台，上面都是灰尘；还有工具和钥匙坯，都失却了光彩；挂在铺子里的厚呢帘子，挂环处早就撕开了，帘子就荡在那儿。

When I walked through to the kitchen, my footsteps crunched: for sometime — I couldn’t say when — the brazier had been knocked from its stand, and coals and cinders still lay scattered on the floor. It seemed too ordinary a thing to do, to sweep them up, set the brazier right; and anyway, the floor was ruined — broken and gaping, from where the police had torn up boards. Underneath it seemed dark, till you brought a light: then you could see earth, two feet below — damp earth, with bones and oyster shells in it, and beetles and wriggling worms.

当我径直走进厨房时，我脚底下咯吱有声：因为什么时候——我也说不出是什么时候——火盆被人踢翻了，煤炭和煤灰还散落在地板上。将煤炭煤灰扫起来，将火盆放妥了，这好象是件太过稀松平常的事，倒叫人不想动手；反正，地板已经全毁了——警察撬过的地方，地板都破碎开裂了。地板下漆黑一团，你要是拿盏灯过来：那就能看到地面了，就在地板下二尺处——潮湿的土壤，里面有碎骨头和牡蛎壳，还有甲虫和蠕动的蠕虫。

I sat, as still and quiet as him, for almost an hour; then Dainty came. She had brought us a supper. I didn’t want it, and neither did she; but she had stolen a purse to buy it, and so I got out bowls and spoons and we ate it slowly, in silence, looking all the time, as we did, at the clock — the old Dutch clock on the mantel — that we knew was steadily ticking, ticking away the last few hours of Mrs Sucksby’s life…

我坐在那儿，像它一样，一动不动，沉默不语，坐了快有一个钟头；后来达蒂来了。她给我们捎来了晚饭。我不想吃，她也不想吃；可是她为了买这顿饭，还特意去偷了个小钱包，于是我拿出了碗筷，我们开始慢慢地吃，默不作声地，一边吃，一边看着钟表——壁炉架上那个古旧的荷兰钟——我们都知道，它会不停滴答，把萨克丝贝太太生命的最后一点儿时光，也滴答掉…

“Won’t you let me stay?” said Dainty, when it came time for her to go. “It don’t seem right, you being here all on your own.” But I said that that was how I wanted it; and finally she kissed my cheek and went; and then it was just me and Charley Wag again, and the house, growing dark about us. I lit more lights. I thought of Mrs Sucksby, in her bright cell. I thought of her, in all the ways I had seen her, not there, but here, in her own kitchen: dosing babies, sipping tea, lifting up her face so I might kiss it. I thought of her carving meat, wiping her mouth, and yawning… The clock ticked on — quicker, and louder, it seemed to me, than it had ever ticked before. I put my head upon the table, upon my arms. How tired I was! I closed my eyes. I could not help it. I meant to keep awake; but I closed my eyes, and slept.

达蒂要走的时候，她说道，“你不要我留下吗？这好象不太好，你自己孤零零地待在这儿。”可我说我就想这样待着；最后她吻过我的脸便离开了；后来又只剩下我和查理威格，这屋子里，也变的越来越暗。我点了好多灯，我想起萨克丝贝太太，此刻正在她的监房里。我想起她，想起我见过的她的种种，也不是在监狱里，而是在这儿，在她自家的厨房里：喂孩子，喝茶，仰起脸来好让我亲到她。我想起她切肉，抹嘴，打哈欠…钟还在滴答——于我而言，似乎比先前滴答得更快，也更响。我脑袋趴在桌上，枕着胳膊。我疲惫极了！我闭上双眼。我实在忍不住。我想保持清醒；可是我闭上了眼睛，睡着了。

The table had been pushed to the corner of the room. I went and sat at it, in Mrs Sucksby’s old chair. Charley Wag lay beneath it — poor Charley Wag, he had not barked since Mr Ibbs had jerked so hard on his collar: he saw me now, and beat his tail, and came and let me tug his ears; but then he slunk away and lay with his head on his paws.

桌子叫人推到了墙角里。我走过去，在桌旁坐下来，就坐在萨克丝贝太太的旧椅子上。查理威格爬在这张椅子底下——可怜的查理威格，自从艾伯斯先生使劲扯过它的项圈之后，它就再没汪过一声：现在它看见了我，拍打着尾巴走过来，让我拉了拉它的耳朵；可是随后它却跳开了，躺到一旁，将脑袋搁在爪子上。

I meant to feel them, if I could. I meant to feel each minute, each second.

如果我能够，我真想触摸到这滴答声。我想触摸每一分，每一秒。

It was seven o’clock in the morning. Mrs Sucksby was going to be hanged in three hours’ time. The people I could hear were on their way to Horsemonger Lane, to get their places for watching. They had come down Lant Street first, for a look at the house.

现在是早上七点。萨克丝贝太太会在三个钟头之内被他们绞死。我听到的那些人都在往豪斯蒙格街赶，赶去抢位子看绞刑。他们先跑到蓝特街来，专为看一眼这所房子。

I slept, for once, without dreaming; and I was woken by a curious sound: the tramping and scuffing of feet, and the rising and falling of voices, in the street outside. I thought, in my half-sleep: “It must be a holiday today, there must be a fair. What day is it?”

我睡着了，头一回，没做梦；后来我被一阵奇怪的声响惊醒：或沉重或拖拉的脚步声，还有高高低低的言语声，就在外面街上。似醒非醒之际，我心想：“今天肯定是个节日，街上肯定在赶集。今天是什么日子？”——这时我睁开了眼睛。

There came more of them, as the morning went on. “Was it here?” I could hear them say. And then: “Here’s the very identical spot. They say the blood ran so fast and so hard, the walls were painted in it.”

日头渐高，来的人更多了。“是这儿吗？”我能听到他们说话。然后是：“百分之二百就是这儿。他们说血喷得又急又猛，四面墙壁上都溅上血了。”

Then I opened my eyes. The candles I had lit had burned to puddles of wax, and their flames were like so many ghosts; but the sight of them made me remember where I was.

先前我点起的蜡烛都烧成了蜡窝窝，蜡烛的火焰就好似栋栋鬼影。不过眼前这番光景，却让我想到了自己身在何处。

— “They say the murdered chap called out against heaven.”

——“他们说那个家伙对天呼救。”

— “They say he’d bilked her of rent.”

——“他们说他赖了她的房租。”

— “They say the woman stifled babies.”

——“他们说那个女人掐死了好几个孩子。”

— “They say –“

——“他们说——”

— “Puts you into a creep, don’t it?”

——“让你毛骨悚然了吧？啊？”

— “Serves him right.”

——“他活该。”

They would come, and stop a minute, and then pass on; some found their way to the back of the house and rattled the kitchen door, stood at the window and tried to see through the chinks in the shutters; but I kept everything locked and fast. I don’t know if they knew I was inside. Now and then a boy would call: “Let us in! A shilling, if you’ll show us the room!” and, “Hoo! hoo! I’m the ghost of the feller as was stabbed, come back to haunt you!” — but I think they did it to tease their friends, not to tease me. I hated to hear them, though; and Charley Wag, poor thing, kept close at my side, and shivered and started and tried to bark, with every call and rattle. — At last I took him upstairs, where the sounds were fainter.

他们会过来，站一分钟，然后继续赶路；有的人摸到房子后面，敲打厨房的门，站在窗边，想从百页窗的缝隙里看个究竟；可是我把门窗都拴好了。我也不清楚他们是否知道我在屋里。偶尔会有个少年大叫道：“让我们进去！给你一先令，要是你给我们看那个房间！”还有，“呜！呜！我就是那个家伙的鬼魂，我被捅死了，我要回来缠住你！”——可是我觉得他们这么做，只是要吓唬朋友，而不是吓唬我。尽管如此，我还是不喜欢听他们说话；查理威格，小可怜，紧紧依偎在我身边，哆哆嗦嗦的，每听到一声叫喊和敲打，它就惊得一跳，张嘴欲吠。——最后我带它上了楼，楼上声音轻一些。

But then, after a while the sounds grew fainter still; and that was worse, for it meant that the people had all passed on, found their spots for watching from, and it was almost time. I left Charley then, and climbed the next set of stairs alone — climbed them slowly, like a girl with limbs of lead; then stood at the attic door, afraid to go in. There was the bed I had been born in. There was the washstand, the bit of oil-cloth tacked to the wall. The last time I had come here, Gentleman had been alive and drunk and dancing with Dainty and John, downstairs. I had stood at the window, put my thumb to the glass, made the frost turn to dirty water. Mrs Sucksby had come and stroked my hair… I went to the window, now. I went, and looked, and almost swooned away, for the streets of the Borough, that had been dark and empty then, were bright, and filled with people — so many people! — people standing in the road, stopping the traffic; and besides them, people on walls, on sills, clinging to posts and trees and chimneys.

可是后来，过了一小会儿，那些声响变的越发轻了；这倒更糟糕了，因为这表示人们都赶过去了，各就其位，只等看戏，时候也差不多到了。这时，我丢下查理，独自走上去三楼的楼梯——慢慢地走，就好似一个四肢由铅做成的姑娘；然后我站在阁楼门口，害怕走进去。阁楼里有我出生时的那张床。阁楼里有洗手台，墙上用图钉钉着一小片油布。我上一回来阁楼，绅士还活着，喝高了，在楼下跟达蒂和约翰跳舞。那时我站在窗边，大拇指按在窗玻璃上，将玻璃上的水汽连成水滴。当时萨克丝贝太太也上来，抚摸着我的头发…这时，我朝窗户走去。我走过去，张望一下，随即险些昏厥，因为镇子上的大街小巷，先前还是昏暗的，空荡荡的，现在亮起来了，挤满了人——这么多人！——人们站在马路上，交通也瘫痪了；在这些人旁边，还有些人扒在墙上，窗台上，跳到邮筒上，树上，烟囱上。有的人把孩子举起来了，有的人伸长了脖子，就为了看得更清楚。

They were looking at the roof of the gate of the gaol. The scaffold was up, the rope already on it. A man was walking about, examining the drop. I saw him do it, feeling almost calm, feeling almost sick. I remembered what Mrs Sucksby had asked, with her last words to me: that I should watch her. I had said I would. I had thought I should bear it. It seemed such a little thing to bear, compared with what she must suffer…

他们都望着监狱大门的顶上。绞架已经立起来了，绞索已经在上面了。有个男人走来走去的，检查机关。我眼见他如此，感觉说不清是平静还是难过。我想起萨克丝贝太太，在她最后的几句话里曾经要求过我的：我得看着她。我说过我会的。我原本以为我经受得住。相比她必须承受的痛苦，这似乎是一件只需些许忍耐力的芝麻小事…

Some were holding children up, some were craning for a better view. Most had their hands across their eyes, to keep the sun off. All had their faces turned one way.

大部分人两手遮着眼睛，为了挡住阳光。他们的面孔都朝着一个方向。

But I said it; and then came the slow, steady striking of ten o’clock. The man at the rope stood down, the door to the prison steps was thrown open, the chaplain showed himself upon the roof, and then the first of the keepers. — I couldn’t do it. I put my back to the window and covered my face with my hands. I knew what followed, then, from the sounds that rose up from the streets. The people had fallen silent at the striking of the clock, the coming of the chaplain; now I heard them all start up with hisses and with hoots — that, I knew, was for the hangman. I heard the very spreading of the sound about the crowd, like oil on water. When the hoots grew louder, I knew the hangman had made some sign or bow. Then, in an instant, the sound turned again, moved faster, like a shiver, like a thrill, through the streets: the cry was sent out: “Hats off!”, and was mixed with bursts of dreadful laughter. Mrs Sucksby must have come. They were trying to see her. I grew sicker than ever, imagining all those strangers’ eyes straining out of their sockets to see what figure she would make, yet not being able to look, myself; but I could not, I could not. I could not turn, or tear the sweating hands from before my face. I could only listen. I heard the laughter change to murmurs and calls for hush: that meant the chaplain was saying prayers. The hush went on, and on. My own heartbeats seemed to fill it. Then the Amen was said; and even while the word was still travelling about the streets, other parts of the crowd — the parts that were nearest the gaol and could see best — broke out in an uneasy sort of murmur. The murmur grew louder, got taken up by every throat — then turned, to something more like a moan, or groan… And I knew that meant that they had led her up to the scaffold; that they were tying her hands, and covering up her face, and putting, about her neck, the noose…

可等我说完；随后就传来十点整的钟声，缓慢而平稳。绞架上的那个男人停住手，通往监狱台阶的门被人撞开了，监狱牧师出现在屋顶上，然后紧跟着的是几个看守。——我看不下去了。我转过身去，背对窗户，双手捂住了脸。然后，听到街上渐起的声浪，我便知道接下去是什么了。人们听到钟声，看到牧师，忽又安静了；这时候，我听到他们一阵骚动，嘴里唏嘘有声，脚下也移动起来——我知道，是他们看见了刽子手。我听到这声音在人群中迅速散播开来，好象油滴到了水里。听到起哄声渐响，我知道是刽子手做了个什么动作，或是鞠了一躬。然后，就一刹那的工夫，声音又变了，传得更快，就好象一个寒战，就好象一激灵，穿过条条街道：一声大喊：“帽子摘了！”，人群里爆发出一阵令人伤心的笑声，叫声跟笑声混在一起。肯定是萨克丝贝太太被带上来了。他们想看看她的样子。我更加难受了，想象着这些陌生人想看清楚她的模样，眼珠都快从眼框里瞪出来了，而我自己却没有勇气看一眼。可是我真的不能，我不能。我无法转过身去，也无法放下捂在脸上的汗津津的双手。我只能听。我听见笑声变成了窃窃私语，和呼吁安静的嘘声：这表明监狱牧师在念祷词，静默在延续，延续。我自己的心跳好象也停滞了。这时候，他们说了阿门；而正当阿门声还在坊间传播时，人群的另一部分——离监狱最近，看得最清楚的那一部分——发出一种令人不快的窃窃议论声。议论的声音变响了，从每个人的喉咙里发出来——然后又变了，变成了某种声音，更象是悲鸣，或者呻吟…我知道，这意味着他们把她带上了绞架；他们捆住她的双手，蒙住她的脸，放下了绞索，套在她脖子上…

Now the man had taken the rope in his hands and was testing the length of it. The people in the crowd stretched their necks further, so they might see. I began to be afraid. Still I thought, however, that I would watch, to the end. Still I said to myself, “I will. I will. She did it for my own mother; I’ll do it for her. What else can I do for her now, except this?”

这时，那个男人将绳索拿在手中，正检查绳索的长度。人群里人们的脖子伸得更长了，这样他们才看得见。我开始害怕了。但是，我还是觉得，我会看着，一直看到一切结束。我还在对自己说，“我会的。我会的。她这么做，是为了我的亲生母亲；我将来也会为了她这么做。如今除了这个，我还能为她做什么呢？”

I moved away. I did not weep. I went to the bed and lay upon it. The sounds changed again, as people found their breaths and voices — unstopped their mouths, unloosed their babies, shuffled and danced about. There came more hoots, more cries, more dreadful laughter; and finally, cheers. I think I had used to cheer myself, at other hangings. I never thought what the cheering meant. Now I listened as those hurrahs went up, and it seemed to me, even in my grief, that I understood. She’s dead, they might as well have been calling. The thought was rising, quicker than blood, in every heart. She’s dead — and we’re alive.

我跳到了一旁。我没有哭。我走到床边，躺到床上。随着人们恢复了呼吸和言语，外面的动静又变了——嘴里又开始说了，怀里的小孩也放下来，拖着转着，手舞足蹈。外面的叫喊声，呼喝声，令人发指的大笑声，越来越响，越来越吵；到了最后，是欢呼声。我想起从前看别人的绞刑，自己经常欢呼雀跃。我从未想过这欢呼的含义。此刻，当喝彩声响起，我听在耳中，仿佛于我而言，尽管满怀悲痛，我明白了许多。她死了，他们或许也曾接受过死神的召唤。这个念头涌上来，比血流还迅疾，涌上每个人的心头。她死了——而我们还活着。

And then, and then, there came a moment — just a single moment, less time than it takes to say it — of perfect, awful stillness: of the stopping of babies’ cries, the holding of breaths, the clapping of hands to hearts and open mouths, the slowing of blood, the shrinking back of thought: This cannot be, this will not be, they won’t, they can’t — And, next, too soon, too quick, the rattle of the drop, the shrieks, as it fell — the groaning gasp, when the rope found its length, as if the crowd had a single stomach and a giant hand had punched it.

之后，之后，就有那么一阵儿——就那么一小会儿，时间比说这句话的工夫都短——静默，骇人的静默：孩子们的哭叫陡然停住，人们屏住了呼吸，两手捂住心口，和张大的嘴巴，血流放慢了，心念在退缩：不能够，不会的，他们不会这样的，他们不能这样——接着，迅疾而突然，是坠落的喀嗒声，伴随喀嗒声响起的尖叫——还有嘶哑的喘息声，这时绞索已经拉直，仿佛这群人共有一个肚子，一只巨灵掌重重地击打到肚子上。

Now I did open my eyes, just for a second. I opened them, and turned, and saw — not Mrs Sucksby, not Mrs Sucksby at all, but what might have been a dangling tailor’s figure, done up to look like a woman, in a corset and a gown, but with lifeless arms, and a drooping head like a bag of canvas stuffed with straw —

此时此刻，我睁开了眼睛，只睁开了一秒钟。我睁开了双眼，转过身去，便看到——不是萨克丝贝太太，根本不是萨克丝贝太太，倒好似一个吊在半空中的裁缝招牌，招牌做成了个女人的样子，穿着胸衣和长裙，却有着两只无生命的胳膊，和一个垂落下来的脑袋，就好象一个塞满稻草的帆布口袋——

I remembered that dangling tailor’s figure, gripped tight in its corset and gown; and I wondered how, if she had shuddered and kicked, we ever should have known it.

我记得那个悬在半空的裁缝招牌，被胸衣和长裙紧紧地箍着；我想知道，要是她身体颤动过，或踢踏过，那是如何一番景象。

Dainty came again that night, to bring me another supper. We didn’t eat any of it. We only wept together, and talked of what we had seen. She had watched with Phil and some other of Mr Ibbs’s nephews, from a spot close to the gaol. John had said only pigeons watched from there. He knew a man with a roof, he said; and went off to climb it. I wondered if he had watched at all; but didn’t say that to Dainty. She herself had seen everything, except the final drop. Phil, who had seen even that, said the fall was a clean one. He thought it was true, after all, what people said, about how the hangman put the knot, when it came to dropping women. Everyone agreed, anyway, that Mrs Sucksby had held herself very boldly, and died very game.

那天夜里，达蒂又来了，又是给我带晚饭来的。我们俩什么东西都没吃。我们只是抱头痛哭，还说起先前我们看到的事。她跟菲尔和艾伯斯先生另外几个外甥一起看的绞刑，就在靠近监狱的一个地方。约翰说过，只有白痴才会在那儿看绞刑。他说他认识一个人，有一片屋顶；还跑去爬到那片屋顶上。我怀疑他压根就没看行刑过程；不过我也没跟达蒂说这事儿。她亲眼目睹了一切，只除了最后那一下。菲尔，他连最后那一下也看了，他说那一下干净利落。毕竟，他以为那都是真的，就是人们所说的，当绞索拿来绞死女人时，刽子手就在上面打个结。反正，人人都认同的，萨克丝贝太太一直都面无惧色，她死时非常勇敢。

But that was something not to be thought on. There were other things to see to, now. I had become an orphan again; and as orphans everywhere must, I began, in the two or three weeks that followed, to look about me, with a sinking heart; to understand that the world was hard and dark, and I must make my own way through it, quite alone. I had no money. The rent on the shop and house had fallen due in August: a man had come and banged on the door, and only gone because Dainty bared her arms and said she would hit him. He had left us alone since then. I think the house had got known as a murder-house, and no-one wanted to take it. But I knew they would, in time. I knew the man would come back one day, with other men, and break in the door. Where would I live, then? How should I do, on my own? I might, I supposed, take a regular job, at a dairy, a dyer’s, a furrier’s — The very thought of it, however, made me want to be sick. Everybody in my world knew that regular work was only another name for being robbed and dying of boredom. I should rather stay crooked. Dainty said she knew three girls who worked, in a gang, as streetthieves, Woolwich-way, and wanted a fourth… But she said it, not quite catching my eye; for we both knew that street-thieving was a pretty poor lay, compared to what I was used to.

不过这件事儿也再没细想下去了。眼下，还有别的事要照管。我再次成为孤儿；像别的孤儿那样，在接下来的两三周里，我开始，环顾身边，心一点一点地沉下去；也明白了世道艰深，世态炎凉，而我孤身只影，必须自寻出路。我没有钱。店铺和家里的房租八月份就到期了：有个男的上门来，把门敲得砰砰响，是达蒂挽起了袖子，说她要揍他了，他才走。从那之后，他就任我们待在这儿了。我觉得这房子已经被人们当作凶宅了，才没人想要它呢。不过，我知道他们很快就会想要这房子了。我知道那个男的有一天会回来，带着其他人，破门而入。到时候，我该住哪里呢？我孤立无援，我该怎么办呢？我可以，我觉得，找个稳定的工作，在牛奶店，染坊，皮货作坊——可是，这个念头让我非常恶心。我生活中的每一个人都知道，稳定的工作只是被剥削和无聊至死的另一个名字。我宁愿当扒手。达蒂说她认识三个姑娘，结了个团伙，都是跟街的扒手，在乌尔威奇街，想找个四姑娘…可她说这话的时候，并不敢看我的眼睛；因为我们俩都知道，相比我过去做的活儿，跟街的扒手是个非常低贱活儿。

But it was all I had; and I thought it might as well do. I hadn’t the heart for finding out anything better. I hadn’t the heart or the spirit for anything at all. Bit by bit, everything that was left at Lant Street had gone — been pawned, or sold. I still wore the pale print dress I had robbed from the woman in the country! — and now it looked worse on me than ever, for I had grown thin at Dr Christie’s, and then thinner still. Dainty said I had got so sharp, if you could have found a way of threading me with cotton, you could have sewn with me. And so, when I packed the bits of stuff I wanted to take with me to Woolwich, there was almost nothing. And when I thought of the people I ought to call on, to say good-bye to, I could not think of anyone. There was only one thing I knew I must do, before I went; and that was the picking up of Mrs Sucksby’s things, from Horsemonger Lane.

可这就是我拥有的全部；我觉得这么着也成。我再无心思去寻找更好的活计。我根本就没有心情或者精神做任何事。一点一点地，遗留在蓝特街上的每件东西都没了——被典当了，或者卖掉了。我还穿着从乡下女人那儿偷来的白底印花衣裳！如今这衣裳穿在我身上，更显得难看了，因为先前我在克里斯蒂医生的医院里长瘦了，现在就更瘦了。达蒂说我变得如此消瘦，要是你能想个法子，拿棉线穿过我的身子，那你就能用我缝衣裳啦。于是，当我收拾我想带到乌尔威奇去的家当时，家里基本上已经没什么东西了。当我想到有哪些人我应当上门拜访，向他们告别时，我也想不出有谁要告别。我走之前，只有一件事我知道我必须做的；就是从豪斯蒙格街拣回萨克丝贝太太的遗物。

I took Dainty with me. I did not think that I could bear it all alone. We went, one day in September — more than a month after the trial. London had changed, since then. The season had turned, and the days grown cooler at last. The streets were filled with dust and straw, and curling leaves. The gaol seemed darker and bleaker than ever.

我让达蒂跟我一道去。我不觉得我能独力承担这些事。九月里的一天，我们过去了——审判过后一个多月了。从那之后，伦敦变了。时节也变了，天气终于转凉。大街小巷里都是尘土和稻草，还有飞旋的树叶。监狱好象比以往更为阴暗，更为凄凉。

But the porter there knew me, and let me through. He looked at me, I thought, in pity. So did the matrons. They had Mrs Sucksby’s things made ready for me, in a wax-paper parcel tied with strings.

不过，那儿的门房认得我，便直接让我进去了。他望着我，我觉得，带着些怜悯。那些女看守也一样。他们把萨克丝贝太太的东西都整理好了，包在一个蜡纸包裹里，外面系着绳子。

“Released, to Daughter,” they said, as they wrote in a book; and they made me put my name there, underneath. — I could write my name quick as anyone now, since my time at Dr Christie’s…

“转交，女儿。”他们一边在一个本子上记录，一边说道。他们让我把名字写在本子上，就写在下面一行——自从我在克里斯蒂医生那儿待过一段时间之后，至今我还是无法象别人那样流利地书写自己的名字…

Then they led me back, across the yards, through the grey prison ground where I knew Mrs Sucksby was buried, with no stone upon her grave, so no-one could come and mourn her; and they took me out under the gate, with its low, flat roof, where I had last seen the scaffold raised. They passed under that roof every day of their lives, it was nothing to them. When they came to say good-bye, they made to take my hand. I could not give it. The parcel was light. I carried it home, however, in a sort of dread; and the dread seemed to make it heavy.

然后他们带我出去，穿过院子，经过监狱那片灰白色的土地，我知道萨克丝贝太太就埋在那儿，她坟上连块石头也没有，这样就没谁能够过来祭奠她；他们让我出了门，我站在低矮平直的门檐下，那正是我前一次看到绞刑架竖起来的地方。在他们的生活中，每天都要从这下面进出，这对他们来说，这实在不算什么。他们过来跟我道别的时候，想握我的手。我却无法伸出手来。那包裹分量很轻。然而我将包裹带回家中，心怀悲痛；悲痛似乎令那包裹重逾千斤。

By the time I reached Lant Street, I was almost staggering: I went quickly with it to the kitchen table, and set it down, and caught my breath and rubbed my arms. What I was dreading was having to open it and look at all her things. I thought of what must be inside: her shoes; her stockings, perhaps still in the shape of her toes and heels; her petticoats; her comb, perhaps with some of her hair in it — “Don’t do it.” I thought. ” Leave it! Hide it! Open it some other time, not today, not now –.”

走到蓝特街的时候，我脚底下也磕磕绊绊的：我快步走进厨房，将包裹放在桌上，屏住呼吸，紧紧抱住胳膊。令我悲痛不已的是，我就要打开包裹，看到她的全部遗物了。我想着这里边得包着什么东西：她的鞋；她的袜子，说不定上面还留着她脚趾和脚跟的形状；她的内衣；她的梳子，梳子上说不定还留着几根头发——不要打开包裹！我心想。就放在一边吧！藏起来算了！换个时候再看吧，今天不要，现在不要——

“Dainty,” I said, “I don’t think I can.”

“达蒂，”我说道。“我觉得我做不到。”

I saw her lip begin to quiver. I could not face her tears.

我看到她的嘴唇开始颤抖。我无法面对她的眼泪。

“All right,” I said. “All right. I’ll do it.”

“好吧，”我说道。“好吧，我打开看。”

She put her hand over mine. “I think you ought to,” she said. “For me and my sister was the same, when we got our mother’s bits back from the morgue. And we left that packet in a drawer, and wouldn’t look at it for nearly a year; and when Judy opened it up the gown was rotted through, and the shoes and bonnet perished almost to nothing, from having gone so long with river-water on them. And then, we had nothing to remember Mother by, at all; save a little chain she always wore. — Which Pa pawned, in the end, for gin-money…”

她将手放在我手上。“我觉得你应该打开看看，”她说道。“因为，我和我的姐妹从敛房拿回我母亲的遗物时，也是同样的心情。我们把那个包裹丢在抽屉里，快一年的时间里，都没多看一眼；后来茱迪打开看的时候，我母亲的衣裳都烂掉了，鞋帽也腐烂得不成形，因为给河水泡了这么长时间。结果，我们手里就没有可以拿来凭吊母亲的东西，一样儿也没有；只除了她经常戴的一条小链子。——也被我爹当了，最后，换了酒钱…”

I sat, and looked at Dainty.

我坐下来，望着达蒂。

My hands were still shaking though, and when I drew the parcel to me and tried to undo its strings, I found the matrons had tied them too tight. So then Dainty tried. She couldn’t undo them either. “We need a knife,” I said, “or a pair of scissors…”

我的双手还是不住颤抖，当我把包裹拽到跟前，开始解包裹上的绳子时，我发觉女看守们把绳子系得太紧了。于是改由达蒂来解绳子。她也解不开。“我们得找把刀来，”我说道，“要么找把剪刀…”

But there was a time, after Gentleman died, when I hadn’t been able to look at any kind of blade, without wincing; and I had made Dainty take them all away, there wasn’t a single sharp thing — except me — in the whole of the house. I tugged and picked at the knots again, but now I was more nervous than ever, and my hands had got damp.

不过，在绅士死后的那段时间里，我不能见到任何锋利的东西，见了就畏缩不前；我让达蒂把这些东西都拿得远远的，整个屋子里一件利器也不剩了——除了我。我又拽拽绳结，可是我这会儿比刚才更紧张，我的双手都汗湿了。

“Oh, Dainty,” I said, “I can’t bear it! Fetch me a cloth, and water, will you? Oh! How horrible it looks –!”

“噢，达蒂，”我说道，“我受不了！给我拿块毛巾来，还有水，好吗？噢！这衣裳，看上去多可怕——！”

They seemed to me like marks on Mrs Sucksby’s own body.

这些线条在我看来，就好象在萨克丝贝太太身上做的记号。

At last, I lifted the parcel to my mouth and took hold of the knots with my teeth: and finally the strings unravelled and the paper sprang out of its folds. I started back. Mrs Sucksby’s shoes, her petticoats and comb came tumbling out upon the table-top, looking just as I had feared. And across them, dark and spreading, like tar, came her old black taffeta gown. I had not thought of that. Why hadn’t I? It was the very worst thing of all. It looked like Mrs Sucksby herself was lying there, in some sort of swoon. The gown still had Maud’s brooch pinned to its breast. Someone had prised the diamonds out — I didn’t care about that — but the silver claws that were left had blood in them, brown blood, so dried it was almost powder. The taffeta itself was stiff. The blood had made it rusty. The rust was traced about with lines of white: the lawyers had shown the gown in court, and had drawn around each stain with chalk.

最后，我将包裹拿近嘴边，用牙咬住绳结：后来绳子断了，蜡纸便散开了。我吓得后退一步。萨克丝贝太太的鞋子，她的内衣和梳子都散落在桌面上，那正是先前让我感到恐惧的场面。在这些东西旁边，深色的，展开来的，如柏油一般，是她那件旧的黑塔夫衣裳。我先前没想到这个。我怎么就没想到呢？这是所有遗物中最让人伤心的东西。看上去，就好象是萨克丝贝太太自个儿躺在那儿，昏厥过去了。那衣裳的胸部仍旧别着莫德的胸针。有人把上面的钻石撬走了——我并不关心这个——可是，那银质枝脚间还留着血迹，褐色的血迹，早已干涸，都快成粉末了。塔夫绸本身坚硬挺刮。血令这布料变成了铁锈色。铁锈色的血迹由白色的线条圈着：律师们在法庭上出示过这件衣裳，还用粉笔将每块血迹勾勒出来。

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It sounds like a paper. Perhaps the matrons have put something there…”

我摇摇头。“我觉得不是蛾子。听声音像是一张纸。说不定是女看守放的什么东西。”

I began to rub. Dainty rubbed, too. We rubbed in the same grim, shuddering way that we had scrubbed the kitchen floor. The cloths grew muddy. Our breaths came quick. We worked first at the skirt. Then I caught up the collar, drew the bodice to me and began to work on that. And, as I did, the gown made a curious sound — a creaking, or rustling, sound.

我开始搓那件衣裳。达蒂也搓。就跟先前擦厨房地板一样，我们以一种令人生畏的，战栗着的劲头儿搓着衣裳。衣裳变得一塌糊涂。我们的呼吸也急促起来。然后我又抓起衣领，将衣裳拽到面前，开始搓衣裳上半身。随着我不停地搓，衣裳发出一阵奇怪的声响——是撕裂声，还是沙沙声。

But when I lifted the dress and shook it, and looked inside, there was nothing, nothing at all. The rustling came again, however, as I laid the gown back down. It seemed to me that it came from part of the bodice — from that part of the front of the bodice that would have lain just below Mrs Sucksby’s heart. I put my hand to it, and felt about. The taffeta there was stiff — stiff not just from the staining of Gentleman’s blood, but from something else, something that had got stuck, or been put, behind it, between it and the satin lining of the gown. What was it? I could not tell, from feeling. So then I turned the bodice insideout, and looked at the seam. The seam was open: the satin was loose, but had been hemmed so as not to fray. It made a sort of pocket, in the gown. I looked at Dainty; then put in my hand. It rustled again, and she drew back.

可是，当我举起衣裳，抖了两下，再往里面看时，里面什么也没有，空空如也。然而，我一放下衣裳，那种沙沙声又来了。我觉得那声音好象来自衣裳的上半身——来自上半身的正面，就是萨克丝贝太太心口下面的地方。我伸手抓住那片衣裳，在手里捏了捏。那块塔夫绸料子挺硬的——倒不是因为有绅士的血污而坚硬，却是因为别的什么东西，先前给人缝进去，或塞进去的某样东西，在塔夫绸和缎子衬里之间。是什么呢？仅凭感觉，我也说不出。所以我把衣裳内里翻出来，查看布料的接缝处。我看看达蒂；然后将手伸进去。衣裳又沙沙作响，达蒂身子缩了回去。

“Is it a moth?” said Dainty. “Is it flapping about, inside?”

“是蛾子吗？”达蒂说道。“是蛾子在扑腾吗？这里边？”

Dainty put down her cloth. “What’s that?” she said. I did not know. I drew the dress closer, and the sound came again.

达蒂放下手里的衣裳。“什么声音？”她说道。我也不知道，我把衣裳拽到眼前，便又听到那种声音。

“Unbroken!” I said. “How is that? Why should she have carried a letter, so close, so carefully, so long — and yet not read it?” I turned it in my hands. I gazed again at the direction. “Whose name is there?” I said. “Can you see?”

封好的！“我说道。”怎么会这样？她为什么揣着这封信，揣得这么密实，这么仔细，这么长时间——却不看看这封信？

“Are you sure it ain’t a moth? Or a bat?”

“你确定不是不是蛾子？或者蝙蝠？”

But what it was, was a letter. Mrs Sucksby had had it hidden there — how long? I could not guess. I thought at first that she must have put it there for me — that she had written it, in gaol — that it was a message for me to find, after they had hanged her. — The thought made me nervous. But then, the letter was marked with Gentleman’s blood; and so must have lain inside the gown since the night he died, at least.

可是，那玩意其实是，是一封信。萨克丝贝太太把它藏在那儿——藏了多久？我也猜不出。刚开始，我以为她是为了我才把信藏在那儿——她先在监狱里写好——那是留给我的信息，在他们吊死她之后好让我找出来。这个想法让我紧张起来。可我随后发现，那封信上沾染了绅士的血迹；所以，至少，自他死的那天夜里起，这封信肯定就在里面了。

Then again, it seemed to me that it must have lain there a good deal longer than that: for as I looked more closely at it I saw how old it was. The creases were soft. The ink was faded. The paper was curved, from where Mrs Sucksby’s taffeta bodice had held it, tight, against her stays. The seal — I looked at Dainty. The seal was unbroken.

随后，我又觉得，似乎这封信藏在那儿的时间，肯定远远不止这么久：因为，更仔细地查看之后，我看清楚了那信有多么旧。折痕都软烂了。墨水颜色也淡了。因为在萨克丝贝太太的塔夫绸衣裳里掖着，紧贴她的胸衣，信纸也卷起来了。信上的封印——我看看达蒂。那封印尚未启封。

Dainty looked, then shook her head. “Can’t you?” she said. But I could not. Hand-writing was harder even upon my eye, than print; and this hand was small, and sloped, and — as I have said — was partly smeared and spotted with awful stains. I went to the lamp, and held the letter close to the wick. I screwed up my eyes. I looked and looked… And it seemed to me at last that if any name was written there, upon the folded paper, it was my own. — I was sure I could make out an S, and then the u that followed it; and then, again, an s —

我将信拿在手中翻来覆去地看。我再次盯住信上的封文。“这是谁的名字？”我说道。“你看得出吗？”达蒂看了看，又摇摇头。“你看不出？”她说道。可我看不出。在我眼里，手写的字比印刷的更难认；况且那字迹又小又斜，况且——正如我曾说过的——有些地方被血迹玷污了，我走到灯下，将信纸凑到烛光跟前。我又揉揉眼睛。我瞧啊瞧…最后，我隐约感觉到，要是那信纸上的封文里写了谁的名字，那准是我的名字。——我确信我辨认出了S，和后边跟着的U；还有，又一个S——

I grew nervous again. “What is it?” said Dainty, seeing my face.

我又紧张起来。“这是什么？”达蒂盯着我的脸说道。

“I don’t know. I think the letter’s for me.”

“我也不知道。我觉得这封信是写给我的。”

“My mother?”

“我母亲？”

“Who else? Oh Sue, you got to open it.”

“还能有谁？噢，苏，你得拆开看看。”

She put her hand to her mouth. And then: “From your own mother!” she said.

她手捂住嘴巴。随后：“是你亲生母亲写的！”她说道。

“I don’t know.”

“我也不知道。”

“But say it tells you — Say it tells you where treasure is! Say it’s a map!”

“可如果这信里告诉你——如果这封信告诉你财宝在什么地方！如果这是个藏宝图的话！”

I didn’t think it was a map. I felt my stomach growing sour with fear. I looked again at the letter, at the S, and the u — “You open it,” I said. Dainty licked her lips, then took it, slowly turned it, and slowly broke the seal. The room was so quiet, I think I heard the tumbling of the slivers of wax from the paper to the floor. She unfolded the page; then frowned. “Just words,” she said.

我不觉得这是幅地图。我感觉我的胃里涌上一股酸水，因为恐惧。我又盯着那些字母，S和U——“你来打开，”我说道。达蒂舔舔嘴唇，接了过去，慢慢地翻过来，慢慢地开启封印。屋子里如此安静，我觉得我都听到信纸上剥落的封蜡掉在地上的声音。她打开信纸；然后眉头皱起：“都是字儿，”她说道。

We went the back way. I would not ask anyone I knew — anyone who had cursed me. I wanted a stranger. So we went north — went fast, towards the breweries up by the river.

我们从后门出去。我才不会去问我认识的人——骂过我的人，我都不找。我想找个陌生人。所以我们去了北边——走得很快，直奔河边的啤酒作坊去了。

I went to her side. I saw lines of ink — close, small, baffling. The harder I gazed, the more baffling they grew. And though I had got so nervous and afraid — so sure that the letter was meant for me, yet held the key to some awful, secret thing I should far rather never know — still, to have it open before me, not being able to understand what it said, was worse than anything.

我走到她身边。我看到一行行的墨水字——紧凑，细小，难懂。我越是费力地看，那些字就变得越难懂。虽然我已如此紧张，如此恐惧——如此确信，这封信是写给我的，然而，手握限免某些惊人秘密的关键，那些我应当熟知，而非一无所知的秘密——虽近在眼前，却无力解读，再没有比这更糟糕的事儿了。

“Come on,” I said to Dainty. I got her her bonnet, and found mine. “Come out to the street, and we’ll find someone to read it for us.”

“快走，”我对达蒂说道。我把她的帽子递给她，又找到我的名字。“快到街上去，咱们得找个人帮咱们读信。”

He saw us coming and gave us a nod. “Want a grater, girls?”

他见我们过来，便向我们点了一下头。“想买个顶针，姑娘？”

I shook my head. “Listen here,” I said — or tried to say, for the walk and my own feeling and fear had taken the breath quite from me.

我摇摇头。“听好，”我说道——或者说，我试图说清楚，因为这一路跑来，加上我自己又惊又惧，我已经上气不接下气了。

There was a man there on a corner. He had a tray on a string about his neck, full of nutmeg-graters and thimbles. But he wore eyeglasses and had — I don’t know what — an intelligent look. I said, “He’ll do.”

某个拐角处有个男人。他有个托盘，托盘上拴着绳子，挂在脖子上，上面放满了肉豆蔻研钵和顶针。不过他戴着一付眼镜，长着一副——我也不知道是什么——一副有文化的模样。我说道，“他可以。”

He turned them over. “Are they good?”

他把硬币都翻过来了。“是真钱吗？”

He sniffed again. “All right.” He took them, and hid them. Then he unhooked his glasses from about his ears, and gave them a rub.

他又嗤之以鼻。“好吧。”他拿了钱，收在身上。然后他从耳上取下眼镜，拿在手里擦了擦镜片。

I put my hand to my heart. “Do you read?” I asked him at last.

我抬手捂住心口。“你识字儿吗？”最后我问他。

He said, “Read?”

他说道，“识字儿？”

Then he saw the paper I held, pushed the glasses further up his nose, and tilted his head.

然后他看看我手里的信，将眼镜拉到鼻子上，歪着头。——有人路过

“Good enough,” I said.

“真得不能再真了，”我说道。

“Now then, let’s see,” he said. “You hold it up, though. Looks legal, this does. I been stung by the law, before. I might not want it to come out later, as how I touched it…”

“那好，让我看看，”他说道，“不过得你拿着。这样做，看起来合法一点。我以前可被法律害苦了。我可不想到后面法律又跳出来，说我如何违了法…”

“Sevenpence,” I said, when I had put the coins together.

等我把硬币都凑到一起，我说道，“六便士，”

“To be opened,” he read, ” on the eighteenth birthday — ” I shook right through when I heard that. He did not notice. Instead, he straightened his head, and sniffed. “Not in my line,” he said. “Not worth my while to stand here and read out letters. That ain’t a-going to make the thimbles fly, is it…?”

“十八岁生日，”他念道，“方可启封——”一听到这儿，我浑身颤抖起来。他没有注意到。相反，他抬起头，嗤之以鼻。“不感兴趣，”他说道。“不值得我浪费时间，站在这里念出来。这一程并不是放飞顶针的助跑，对吧…？”

Some people will charge you for taking a punch. I put my shaking hand in my pocket and brought out all it held. Dainty did the same.

有的人吃了你一记耳光，也要跟你收费。我颤抖的手伸进口袋，把口袋里的东西都抓出来。达蒂也一样。

“Letters, in ladies’ hands? Not books, I mean.”

“字儿，女人写的字儿？不是书上的字儿，我是说。”

He put his glasses back on, and got ready to read. “All the words that are there,” I said, as he did. “Every one. Do you hear?”

他戴上眼镜，准备念信。他要念的时候，我说道，“这儿所有的话都要念，每个字。听到没有？”

He nodded, and began. “To be opened on the eighteenth birthday of my daughter, Susan Lilly –“

他点点头，开始念了。“我女李苏珊十八岁生日方可启封。”

I put the paper down. “Susan Trinder,” I said. “Susan Trinder, you mean. You are reading it wrong.”

我放下信纸。“苏珊。钱德，”我说道。“你是说，苏珊。钱德吧。你念错了。”

“Susan Lilly, it says,” he answered. “Hold it up, now, and turn it.”

“是苏珊。李，这上面说的，”他答道。“拿起来，好，打开。”

But my voice had got thin. There seemed to have come, about my heart, a snake: it was coiling, tight.

可我的语音变细了。我心里好象爬进了一条蛇：蛇在缠绕，在收紧。

“Come on,” he said. His look had changed. “This is interesting, this is. What is it? A will, is it, or a testament? The last statement — there you are — of Marianne Lilly, made at Lant Street, Southuiark, on this day 18th of September 1844, in the presence of Mrs Grace Sucksby, of — ” He stopped. His face had changed again. “Grace Sucksby?” he said, in a shocked sort of voice. “What, the murderess? This is stiff stuff, ain’t it?”

“来吧，”他说道。他的神色变了。“这挺有意思的，有意思。这是什么？是一份遗嘱，是吗？还是遗言？最后一句话——你看——玛丽安妮。李，于南沃克镇蓝特街，一八四四年九月十八日，由格蕾丝。萨克丝贝太太见证，由——”他停住了。他脸色又变了。“格蕾丝。萨克丝贝？”他说道，声音里有一丝震惊。“什么，那个女杀人犯？这是猛料啊，不是吗？”

“What’s the point,” I said, “if you ain’t going to read what’s there…?”

“要是你读到一半不读了…”我说道，“怎么办？”

I did not answer. He looked again at the paper — at the stains. Perhaps he had supposed them ink, before, or paint. Now he said, “I don’t know as I should…”

我没回答他。他又看看那张信纸——看看那些血迹。兴许刚才他以为那是墨水印，或是油墨。现在他说道，“我不知道因为我应该…”

Now, will you shake it about? That’s better — hereby commit — hmm, hmm — to the guardianship of Mrs Grace Sucksby; and desire that she be raised by her in ignorance of her true birth. Which birth is to be made known to her on the day of her eighteenth birthday, 3rd August 1862; on which day I do also desire that there be made over to her one half of my private fortune, “In exchange for which, Grace Sucksby commits into my care her own dear daughter MAUD — Bless me, if you ain’t doing it again! Hold it nice, can’t you? — dear daughter MAUD, and does desire that she be raised similarly ignorant of her name and birth, until the aforementioned date; on which date it is my desire that there be made over to her the remainder of my fortune.

好了，拿着别抖好吗？好的就这样——特此声明——嗯，嗯——交由格蕾丝。萨克丝贝太太监护；自愿将吾女交由此人抚养，并毫不知晓其真实身世。个中详情应于吾女十八岁生辰当日，即一八六二年八月三日，尽数告之；是日吾亦自愿将吾半数私产交付之。以上事项之抵冲条件为，格蕾丝。萨克丝贝太太将其挚爱之亲生女儿莫德交吾照管——帮帮忙，要是你再抖！拿稳了，不行吗？——萨克丝贝太太亦深切盼望于上述日期前，莫德亦毫不知晓其真实身世及姓名。本文启封之日，吾自愿将吾私产余数交付于莫德。

Then he must have seen my face. “All right, all right,” he said. “Let’s see. What’s here?” He drew it closer. ” I, Marianne Lilly, of — what is it? Bear House? Briar House? — of Briar House, Buckinghamshire — I, Marianne Lilly, being sound in mind though feeble in body, hereby commit my own infant daughter SUSAN —

这时他肯定看到了我的面孔。“好吧，好吧，”他说道。“我看看。这儿是什么？”他把信纸拉近。“玛丽安妮。李，写得什么？布尔庄园？布莱尔庄园？——白金汉郡，布莱尔庄园玛丽安妮。李，特此声明将我的亲生女儿苏珊——”

“Maud Sucksby to be raised a gentlewoman; and to know that her mother loved her, more than her own life. — Well!” He straightened up. “Now tell me that wasn’t worth sevenpence. Papers get hold of it, mind, I should say it would be worth a lot more. — Why, how queer you look! Ain’t going to faint, are you?”

“莫德。萨克丝贝将经人抚育成为淑女；并知晓其母爱之有甚于自家性命。——好了！”他直起上身。“现在还说这个不值六便士。要我说，写着这种东西的纸儿，注意，应该值更多钱。——干吗，瞧你一脸怪相！不是要晕倒吧？啊？”

“Susan Lilly to know nothing of her unhappy mother, but that she strove to keep her from care.

“苏珊·李将对其不幸生母一无所知，其母已奋力争取使之免于烦恼。”

“This paper to be a true and legally binding statement of my wishes; a contract between myself and Grace Sucksby, in defiance of my father and brother; which is to be recognised in Law.

“本文本乃吾意愿之真实合法有效表达；乃吾与格蕾丝。萨克丝贝太太订立之协议，与吾父兄皆无关联；自有法律认可。”

“All right?” he said, as he put the graters straight.

“还好吗？”他将研钵摆正了，说道。

Dainty came and caught me. “I am sorry,” I said. “I am sorry.”

达蒂上前来扶住我。“对不起，”我说道，“对不起。”

“Yes.”

“是的。”

“Come as a shock, has it?”

“像飞来横祸一样，对吧？”

I shook my head — or perhaps I nodded, I don’t remember — and gripped the letter, and stumbled from him. “Dainty,” I said. “Dainty –” She sat me down, against a wall. “What is it?” she said. “Oh, Sue, what did it mean?”

我晃晃脑袋——也许我点了点头，我不记得了——抓着信，从他身前晃晃荡荡地走过。“达蒂，”我说道。“达蒂——”她扶我靠着一堵墙坐下来。“怎么了？”她说道。“噢，苏，这是什么意思？”

I had swayed and clutched at his tray. His graters went sliding. “Now take care, do!” he said, in a peevish way. “Here’s all my stock, look, going to tumble and get mashed –“

我早已摇摇欲坠，我一把抓住了他的托盘。他的研钵都滑动起来。“当心点！”他埋怨道。“我的存货都在这儿了，瞧瞧，掉下去就摔坏了——”

The man still looked. “I should get her water,” he called.

那个男人还在张望。“我该给她一点儿水，”他喊道。

“My mother –” I said. I could not finish. It was too much to say — too much, even, to know! My mother, Maud’s mother! I could not believe it. I thought of the picture of the handsome lady I had seen in the box at Briar. I thought of the grave that Maud had used to rub and trim. I thought of Maud, and Mrs Sucksby; and then, of Gentleman. Oh, now I see it! he had said. Now I saw it, too. Now I knew what Mrs Sucksby had longed but been afraid to tell me, at the gaol. If you should hear hard things of me — Why had she kept the secret so long? Why had she lied about my mother? My mother was not a murderess, she was a lady. She was a lady with a fortune, that she meant to be split… If you should hear hard things of me, think back —

“我的母亲——”我说道。我停不下来。要说的话太多了——甚至，要搞清楚的事也太多了！我的母亲，莫德的母亲！我无法相信。我想起我曾在布莱尔的小盒子里看到的俊俏小姐画像。我想起莫德经常去擦拭整理的墓。我想起莫德，和萨克丝贝太太；随后，又想起绅士。噢，我现在明白了！他说过的。现在我也发现了。现在我知道萨克丝贝太太非常想告诉我，却又怕说出口的事了——这个秘密她为什么保守了这么久？我母亲的事她为什么要撒谎？我母亲不是杀人犯，她是个千金小姐。她是个有钱的千金小姐，那些钱她打算一分为二…要是你听说了我的什么坏事，就想想从前——

But I didn’t want water, and I wouldn’t let Dainty go. I clutched her to me and put my face against her sleeve. I began to shake. I began to shake as a rusted lock must shake, when the tumblers lift against their groaning springs, and the bolt is forced loose and flies.

可是我并不想喝水，我也不会让达蒂走。我把她紧紧拉在身边，将脸埋在她衣袖之中。我开始颤抖。我得得打颤，就好似一把锈蚀的锁，锁芯里的簧片卡住了，锁舌被人用力碰得“得得”响。

“Fallen in a fit, has she? Her pal should put a spoon in her mouth, she’ll swallow her tongue.”

“发病了，对吧？她的小姐妹应该在她嘴里放把勺子，她会咬掉自己舌头的。”

I thought, and thought; and began to grow sick. I put the letter before my face and groaned. The thimble man still stood a little way off, and watched me; soon other people gathered and stood watching, too. “Drunk, is she?” I heard someone say. And, “Got the horrors?”

我想了又想；人也开始动弹不得了。我将信纸拿在眼前，不由呻吟起来。顶针男还站在不远处，望着我；很快，别的人也围过来，也站在那儿张望。“她喝醉了，是不是？”我听到某人说道。还有，“碰到可怕的事儿啦？”

I could not bear the sound of their voices, the feel of their eyes. I reached for Dainty and got to my feet; she put her arm about me and helped me stagger home. She gave me brandy to drink. She sat me at the table. Mrs Sucksby’s dress still lay upon it: I took it up and held it in my two fists, and hid my face in its folds; then I gave a cry like a beast, and cast it to the floor. I spread out the letter, and looked again at the lines of ink. S USAN LILLY… I groaned again. Then I got to my feet and began to walk.

我无法忍受他们声音的嘈杂，和被他们注视的感觉；她胳膊扶着我，搀着我踉踉跄跄地回了家。她让我喝了点白兰地。又扶我坐在桌前。萨克丝贝太太的衣裳还放在桌上：我抓起衣裳，将衣裳攥在拳头里，脸埋进衣裳褶子里。然后，我像野兽似的嚎叫一声，将衣裳扔到地上。我摊开信，又望着那行墨水字。苏珊。李…我又呻吟起来。随后，我霍地站起身来，开始度步。

“Dainty,” I said in a sort of pant, as I did. “Dainty, she must have known. She must have known it, all along. She must have sent me there, at Gentleman’s side, knowing he meant at last to — Oh!” My voice grew hoarse. “She sent me there, so he would leave me in that place and bring her Maud. It was only ever Maud she wanted. She kept me safe, and gave me up, so Maud, so Maud –“

“达蒂，”我喘着粗气说道。“达蒂，她肯定已经知道了。她肯定一直就知道这件事。她肯定是明知道绅士最后要干什么，还把我送到那儿，放在绅士身边——噢！”我的声音变得狂野。“她把我送到那儿，这样绅士就可以把我丢到那种地方去，再把她的莫德捎回来。莫德才是她想要的。她照管着我，又把我扔了，这样莫德，这样莫德就——”

“What is it?” she said. “Oh, Sue, you look so queer! What is it?”

“怎么了？”她说道。“噢，苏，你的样子太奇怪了！怎么了？”

But then, I grew still. I was thinking of Maud, starting up with the knife. I was thinking of Maud, letting me hate her. I was thinking of Maud, making me think she’d hurt me, to save me knowing who had hurt me most… I put my hand across my mouth and burst out weeping. Dainty began to weep, too.

可是此时，我又一动不动了。我想起了莫德，提刀跳起来。我想起了莫德，专让我恨她。我想起了莫德，故意让我以为是她陷害了我，就为了不让我知道究竟是谁伤我最深…我手捂着嘴，不可抑制地号哭起来。达蒂也哭了。

“The worst thing of all,” I said, through my tears. “The worst thing of all!”

“再没比这更惨的事儿了，”我边哭边说，“再没比这更惨的事儿了！”

“Maud!” I said. “Oh, Maud!”

“莫德！”我说道，“噢，莫德！”

I saw it, sharp and clear as a line of lightning in a sky of black. Maud had tried to save me, and I had not known. I had wanted to kill her, when all the time — “And I let her go!” I said, getting up and walking about. “Where is she, now?”

我明白了，如同黑色天幕上出现的一线光亮，明显又清晰。莫德想救我，而我当时并不知情。我还想杀了她，一直都想杀了她——“我还把她放走了！”我说着，又动起来，在屋里团团转。“她在哪儿，现在？”

“Miss Lilly?”

“李小姐？”

“Miss Sucksby, call her! Oh! I shall go mad! To think I thought she was a spider that had got you all in her web. To think there was once a time when I stood, pinning up her hair! If I had said — If she had turned — If I had known — I would have kissed her –“

“叫她萨克丝贝小姐！噢！我要发疯了！一想到我以前还以为她是个大蜘蛛，把你所有的一切都抓到她的网里。一想到曾经还有一段时间，我站在那儿帮她盘头发！要是我说了——要是她转过身来——要是我早知道——我会吻她——”

“Where’s who?” said Dainty, almost shrieking.

“谁在哪儿？”达蒂说道，她几乎要尖叫了。

“Kissed her!” I said. “Oh, Dainty, you would have kissed her, too! Anyone would! She was a pearl, a pearl! — and now, and now I’ve lost her, I’ve thrown her away –!”

“吻她！”我说道。“噢，达蒂，你也应该吻她！每个人都应该吻她！她是一颗珍珠，一颗珍珠！——而如今，而如今我已经失去她了，我把她丢开了——！”

“Kissed her?” said Dainty.

“吻她？”达蒂说道。

So I went on. Dainty tried to calm me, and could not. I would only walk and wring my hands, tear my own hair; or else I would sink to the floor and lie groaning. At last, I sank and would not rise. Dainty wept and pleaded — took up water and threw it in my face — ran down the street to a neighbour’s house, for a bottle of salts; but I lay, as if dead. I had got sick. I had got sick in a moment, like that. She carried me up to my old room and put me to sleep in my own bed; when I opened my eyes again she says I looked at her and did not know her, says I fought her, when she tried to take my gown, says I talked like a madwoman, of tartan, and india-rubber boots, and — most especially — of something I said she had taken, that I should die without. “Where is it?” she says I cried. “Where is it? Oh!” — She says I cried it so often, so pitifully, she brought me all my things and held them up before me, one by one; and that finally she found, in the pocket of my gown, an old kid glove, quite creased and black and bitten; and that when she held that up I took it from her and wept and wept over it as if my heart would break.

我就这样说个不停。达蒂想让我安静点，也做不到。我只是走来走去，绞着双手，揪着自己的头发；要么就瘫在地板上，躺在地上呻吟不止。最后，我瘫下去就没起来了。达蒂又是哭，又是哀求——她端来了水，撒在我脸上——又跑到街上，找到一户邻居，要了一瓶盐：可我躺在那儿，跟死了一样。我生毛病了。就那么一瞬间的工夫，我生病了。她把我架回我原先的房间，将我放到我自己的床上；当我再次睁开眼睛时，她说我望着她，都不认识她了，说她帮我脱衣裳的时候，我还打了她，说我说话像个疯女人，穿着花格呢衣裳，和胶鞋，而且——最特别的是——我口口声声说的某样东西，她用过的，没了我就会死。“哪儿去了？”她说我叫喊着。“哪去了？噢！”——她说我叫得如此频繁，如此可怜巴巴，她把我所有的东西都拿来，一件一件拿到我面前；最后她发现，我衣裳兜儿里有只旧羊皮手套，皱得不成样子，黑乎乎的，还有牙印；当她拿起这只手套，我便一把抢了过去，捧着它哭啊哭，仿佛我的心全碎掉了

My love grew level, though, as I grew well again. It grew level, and calm — it seemed to me at last that I had never been so calm in all my life.

尽管如此，随着我的恢复，我的爱又进了一层。这爱进了一层，也冷静下来了——到最后，仿佛于我而言，这辈子都没这么冷静过。

“I’ve lost her,” I’d say, “but I mean to find her. I don’t care if it takes me all my life. I’ll find her out, and tell her what I know. She might have gone away. She might be on the other side of the world. She might be married! I don’t care. I’ll find her, and tell her everything…”

“我失去了她，”我说道，“可是我要找到她。花一辈子的时间我也不在乎。我会找到她，把我知道的都告诉她。她可能已经远走他乡了。她可能已经在另一个世界了。她可能结婚了！我不管。我要找到她，告诉她一切…”

“I’ve lost her,” I’d say again to Dainty; I’d say it, over and over. But I’d say it steadily — in a whisper, at first; then, as the days passed by and I got back my strength, in a murmur; finally, in my own voice.

“我失去了她，”我会对达蒂如是说；我一遍又一遍地说这句话。不过，我不断地说这句话——初时是喃喃；后来，随着日子一天天过去，我恢复了体力，就变成了嘟囔；最后，就是我自己的声音了。

I don’t remember. I kept in a fever for nearly a week, and was after that so feeble I might as well have been in a fever still. Dainty nursed me, all that time — feeding me tea and soups and gruels, lifting me so I might use the chamber-pot, wiping off the horrible sweat from my face. I still wept, and cursed and twisted, when I thought of Mrs Sucksby and how she had tricked me; but I wept more, when I thought of Maud. For all this time I had had as it were a sort of dam about my heart, keeping out my love: now the walls had burst, my heart was flooded, I thought I should drown…

我不记得了。我一直发烧，烧了快有一周，之后，我身体如此虚弱，也还是发热，不得动弹。那段时间里，一直是达蒂在照料我——喂茶，喂汤，喂稀粥，还抱起我，好让我方便，也是她擦掉我脸上的大汗。想到萨克丝贝太太，想到她如何作弄我时，我仍旧哭个不停，口吐咒骂，人蜷成一团；可是当我想到莫德，我哭得更凶了。因为一直以来，在我心周围仿佛有一圈堤坝，拦住了我的爱：如今这堤坝土崩瓦解了，我的心也鲜血淋漓，我觉得我不如淹死算了…

It was all I thought of. I was only waiting, to be well enough to start. And at last I thought I had waited enough. I rose from my bed, and the room — that had used to seem to tilt and turn, whenever I lifted my head — stayed still. I washed, and dressed, got the bag of things I had planned to take with me to Woolwich. I took up the letter, and tucked it into my gown. I think Dainty thought I must have fallen back into my fever. Then I kissed her cheek, and my face was cool.

我心里想的净是这些。我只是坐等，等好得差不多了，就开始找。最后，我觉得我也等够了。我起了床，这房间——无论何时，只要我一抬头，这房间似乎就会歪斜翻转——静静地保持原状。我洗漱完毕，穿好衣裳，拿起包，包里装着我原打算带到乌尔威奇去的东西。我拿起那封信，塞进衣裳里。我觉得，达蒂会认为我肯定又发烧了。于是我吻了她的脸，我的脸是凉的。

“Keep Charley Wag for me,” I said. She saw how grave and earnest I was, and began to cry.

“帮我照看查理威格，”我说道。她见我如此严肃认真，便开始哭泣。

“How will you do it?” she said. I said I meant to start my search at Briar. “But how shall you get there? How shall you pay?” I said: “I’ll walk.” When she heard that, she dried her eyes and bit her lip. “Wait here,” she said. She ran from the house. She was gone for twenty minutes. When she came back, she was clutching a pound. It was the pound she had put, so long ago, in the wall of the starch-works, that she had said we must use to bury her when she had died. She made me take it. I kissed her again.

“你怎么找？”她说道。我说我打算从布莱尔开始找。“可是你怎么去那儿？你拿什么付车钱？”我说道，“我走过去。”她一听这话，便擦干眼泪，咬着嘴唇。“你在这儿等一下，”她说道。她跑了出去。去了有二十分钟。等她回来时，手里攥着一镑钱。就是很久以前，她藏在墙壁里的那镑钱，她说过，等她死了，我们得用这钱埋她。她让我带着钱。我又吻了她。

“Shall you ever come back?” she said. I said I did not know…

“你还会回来吗？”她说道。我说我不知道…

And so I left the Borough a second time, and made the journey down to Briar, over again. There were no fogs, this time. The train ran smooth. At Marlow, the same guard who had laughed at me when I’d asked for a cab, now came to help me from the coach. He didn’t remember me. He wouldn’t have known me if he had. I was so thin, I think he thought I was an invalid girl. “Come down from London to take the air, have you?” he said kindly. He looked at the little bag I held. “Shall you manage it?” And then, as he had last time: “Is no-one come to meet you?”

于是，我第二次离开了镇子，再次启程去布莱尔。这一回没起雾。火车走得很顺利。在马洛村，以前我叫马车时，曾笑话过我的那个警卫，如今跑上前来扶我下车。他不记得我了。要是记得，也不知道我是谁。我太瘦了，我觉得他以为我是个病弱的姑娘。“从伦敦下来，换换空气，对吧？”他和气地说道。他看着我带的小包。“你提得动吗？”随后，跟他上一回一样：“没来人来接你？”

I said I would walk. I did walk, for a mile or two. Then I stopped to rest on a stile, and a man and a girl went by, with a horse and cart, and they looked at me and must have thought I was an invalid, too: for they pulled their horse up and gave me a ride. They let me sit on the seat. The man put his coat about my shoulders.

我说我会走。我走了一两哩路。后来我停下来，在一个梯蹬上休息，一个男的和一个姑娘路过，套着马驾着车，他们看到我，肯定也以为我是个病怏怏的人：因为他们拉住马头，捎了我一程。他们让我坐在座位上。那个男的把他的外套围在我肩头。

“Going far?” he said.

“要走多远？”他说道。

I said I was going to Briar, they could drop me anywhere near Briar — “To Briar!” they said, when they heard that. “But, why ever are you going there? There’s nobody there, since the old man died. Didn’t you know?”

我说我要去布莱尔，他们可以在靠近布莱尔的任何地方把我放下——他们一听这话，便说道，“去布莱尔！可是，你为什么要去那儿？自从那个老人死了之后，那儿就没人了。你不知道吗？”

Nobody there! I shook my head. I said I knew Mr Lilly had been ill. That he had lost the use of his hands and voice, and had to be fed off a spoon. They nodded. Poor gentleman! they said. He had lingered on in a very miserable sort of way, all summer long — in all that terrible heat.

那儿没人了！我摇摇头。我说我知道李先生生病了。他两手，不得不让人用勺子给他喂饭。他们点点头。可怜的绅士！他们说道。他缠绵病榻，景遇非常凄惨，拖了一整个夏天——就在那种恼人的炎热中度过。

“They say he stank, in the end,” they said, dropping their voices. “But though his niece — the scandalous girl, that run off with a gentleman — did you know about that?” — I didn’t answer — “though she come back to nurse him, he died, a month ago; and since then, the house’ve been quite shut up.”

“他们说，到最后，他都发臭了。”他们的声音低落下来。“不过，他的外甥女——那个丑闻姑娘，跟一位绅士私奔的——你知道这事儿吗？”——我没回答——“虽然她回来照顾他，他还是死了，就一个月前；那之后，那宅子就全关闭了。”

“Planning on visiting one of the servants, were you?” they said, looking at my print dress. The servants’ve all gone, too. — All gone but one, who stays to keep thieves out. Shouldn’t like his job. They say the place is haunted, now.”

“你这是打算过去拜访哪个仆人吧？”他们望着我的印花衣裳说道。“仆人也都走了。——都走了，只除了一位，他留下来防贼。也不喜欢他的工作。他们说那个地方现在闹鬼。”

But they only shrugged. They did not know. Some people said she’d gone back to her husband. Some people said she had gone to France…

可他们只是耸耸肩。他们也不知道。有人说她回去找她丈夫了。有人说她去法国了…

So Maud had come, and gone! If I had only known… I turned my head. When I spoke, my voice had a catch. I hoped they would put it down to the jolting of the cart. I said, “And the niece, Miss Lilly? What happened — What happened to her?”

这么说，莫德来过，又走了！要是我早知道…我别过头去。等我开口说话的时候，我的声音里有一丝激动。我希望他们能将其归因于马车的颠簸。我说道，“那个外甥女，是李小姐？她出了——她出了什么事？”

So they put me down where the wall to the Briar park started; and from there, I walked again. The sound of the horse’s hooves grew faint. The road was lonely, the day was bleak. It was only two or three o’clock, but the dusk seemed gathered in the shadows already, waiting to creep and rise. The wall seemed longer than when I had ridden past it in William Inker’s trap: I walked for what felt like an hour, before I saw the arch that marked the gate, and the roof of the lodge behind it. I quickened my step — but then, my heart quite sank. The lodge was all shut up and dark. The gates were fastened with a chain and lock, and piled about with leaves. Where the wind struck the iron bars it made a low sort of moaning sound. And when I stepped to the gates and pushed them, they creaked and creaked.

于是，到了布莱尔花园围墙的地界，他们便把我放下；我从这儿又开始步行。马蹄声渐渐远去。这条路挺偏僻，天色也阴沉沉的。这会儿也就是两三点，可树阴里似乎已有阴霾汇聚，伺机而动。相比从前，我坐威廉。英克尔的马车经过此地时的光景，这围墙似乎变长了：在看到标志着大门的拱顶，和大门里面的门房屋顶之前，我走了感觉有一个钟头。我加快了脚步——可是这时，我的心一沉。门房间门窗紧闭，昏暗凋敝。大门上拴着一根链子，上了锁，门口堆满树叶。风扑在铁栏杆上，带起了某种低沉的呜咽声。当我走到门前，推动大门时，大门吱吱嘎嘎地响啊响。

Here was a blow, all right. But I had expected blows, and was ready to suffer them. When they asked, Should they drive me back to Marlow? I said no, I would go on. I thought the servant must be Mr Way. I thought, “I’ll find him. He’ll know me. And oh! he’s seen Maud. He’ll tell me where she’s gone…”

这只是个谣言罢了。不过我早料到会谣言纷纷的，也已打定主意要扛过去。当他们问我，是不是再把我捎回马洛村时，我说不必，我要走下去。我觉得那个仆人肯定是魏先生。我心想，“我会找他。他认识我。还有，噢！他见过莫德。他会告诉我她去了哪儿…”

“Mr Way!” I called. “Mr Way! Anyone!”

“魏先生！”我喊道。“魏先生！有人吗！”

My voice made a dozen black birds start out of the bushes and fly off, cawing. The noise was awful. I thought, “Surely that will bring someone.” But it didn’t: the birds went cawing on, the wind moaned louder through the bars, I called another time; and no-one came. So then I looked at the chain and lock. The chain was a long one. It was only there, I think, to keep out cows, and boys. I was thinner than a boy, however, now. I thought, “It’s not against the law. I used to work here. I might work here, still…” I pushed the gates again, as far as they would go: and they made a gap just wide enough for me to wriggle my way through.

我的声音将草丛中的十几只黑鸟惊起，鸟儿呱呱叫着飞走了。那呱噪声十分吓人。我心想，“这动静肯定能把人招来。”可是这动静没有招来人：这群鸟儿一直呱呱叫着，风穿过门上的栏杆，呜咽声更响了，我又喊了一声；还是没人出来。于是，我看着那条链子和锁头。那条链子挺长，拴在那儿，我觉得，只是为了防止牛和小孩进入。不过，如今我可比小孩还瘦。我心想，“这也没有违法。我以前在这儿做工。我说不定还在这儿做工呢…”我又推推大门，将大门尽量推到底：两扇门之间就有了一道缝，宽度正好够我蹭进去。

They fell together, at my back, with a dreadful clash. The birds started up again. Still no-one came, though.

大门在我身后碰到一处，带出一声巨响。鸟儿又被惊起。尽管如此，还是没人出来。

It seemed quieter inside the walls, than it had been before — quieter, and queer. I kept to the road. The wind made the trees seem to whisper and sigh. The branches were bare. Their leaves lay thick upon the ground: they had got wet, and clung to my skirt. Here and there were puddles of muddy water. Here and there were bushes, overgrown. The grass in the park was overgrown too, and parched from the summer, but beaten about with rain. It was turning to slime at its tips, and smelt peculiar. I think there were mice in it. Perhaps there were rats. I heard them scurrying as I walked.

围墙里面倒好象比先前在外面时安静些——更安静，也更古怪。我沿着马路走。风过树林，树林仿佛在低语叹息。树枝都光秃秃的。树叶铺在地上，厚厚的一层：叶子是湿的，沾到我裙脚上。到处是一滩滩泥水。到处是杂草，都长疯了。花园里的草也长疯了，早被夏日晒得焦黄，进而又让雨水打蔫了。草叶尖变得粘乎乎的，还有种特别的气味。我觉得草丛里有耗子。说不定还有田鼠。我走过的时候，就听到它们在里面乱窜。我不由加快了脚步。

I gave it a minute, then began to walk.

我静候了一分钟，然后开步走。

I began to go quicker. The road ran down, then began to climb. I remembered driving along it with William Inker, in the dark. I knew what was coming: I knew where it turned, and what I would see when it did… I knew it; but it still made me start, to come so suddenly upon the house again — to see it seem to rise out of the earth, so grey and grim. I stopped, on the edge of the walk of gravel. I was almost afraid. It was all so perfectly quiet and dark. The windows were shuttered. There were more black birds upon the roof. The ivy on the walls had lost its hold and was waving like hair. The great front door — that was always swollen, from the rain — bulged worse than ever. The porch was rilled with more wet leaves. It seemed like a house not meant for people but for ghosts. I remembered, suddenly, what the man and the girl had said, about it being haunted…

道路向前延伸，然后开始上坡。我还记得在黑暗之中，与威廉。英克尔驾车经过这里。我知道接下来的路怎么走：我知道在哪里拐弯，拐了弯之后我又能看到什么…我都知道；可是，这还是让我一阵心悸，忽然间再一次来到这所宅子面前——看到这所宅子森森然矗立在眼前，如此苍白如此阴郁。我停住脚步，站在碎石路边上。我都有点害怕了。这宅子幽暗静谧。窗户都关着。房顶上落了不少乌鸦。墙上的爬山虎早就没了依靠，枝藤就飘荡在空中。宅子正门——因为雨水的缘故，总是膨胀变形的——比以前更鼓。门廊里铺满了湿树叶。这房子好似不是给人住的，而是给幽灵住的。突然，我记起那个男人和那个姑娘说过的话，他们说这儿闹鬼…

That made me shiver. I looked about me — back, the way I had come; and then, across the lawns. They ran into dark and tangled woods. The paths I had used to take with Maud, had disappeared. I put back my head. The sky was grey and spitting rain. The wind still whispered and sighed in the trees. I shivered again. The house seemed to watch me. I thought, “If I can only find Mr Way! Where can he be?” — and I began to walk, around to the back of the house, to the stables and yards. I went carefully, for my steps sounded loud. But here, it was just as quiet and empty as everywhere else. No dogs started barking. The stable doors were open, the horses gone. The great white clock was there, but the hands — this shocked me, more than anything — the hands were stuck, the hour was wrong. The clock had not chimed, all the time I had walked: it was that, I think, that had made the silence so strange. “Mr Way!” I called — but I called it softly. It seemed wrong to call out, here. “Mr Way! Mr Way!”

我打了个冷战。我看看周围——看看后面，我来时的路；随后，我横穿过草坪。草坪铺排到阴暗又纷乱的树林中。从前我陪莫德走过的条条小径，如今都失去了踪影。我仰起头来。天空一派阴沉，还有雨点滴落。风儿仍在林中低语叹息。我又打了个冷战。这宅子似乎在注视着我。我心想，“要是我能找到魏先生就好了！他会在什么地方呢？”——我又举步，绕到宅子后面，走到马厩和院子那边。我走得很小心，因为我的脚步声很响。可是那边也跟别的地方一样，安静，空旷。没有狗叫。马厩的门敞着，马儿都不见了。那个白底儿的大钟还在，可是指针——此事给我的震惊，更甚于其他——那几枚指针都停滞不动，时间也是错的。我一路走来，那钟就不曾敲响过：我觉得，正是这个令这种静谧分外古怪。“魏先生！”我喊道——不过这回声音轻了些。在这里高声呼喊，似乎有些不妥。“魏先生！魏先生！”

Then I saw, rising up from one of the chimneys, a single thread of smoke. That gave me heart. I went to the kitchen door, and tapped. No answer. I tried the handle. Locked. Then I went to the garden door — the door that I had run from, that night, with Maud. That was also locked. So then I went around to the front again. I went to a window, drew back a shutter, and looked inside. I could not see. I put my hands and my face to the glass; and the window, as I pressed, seemed to give against its bolt…

这时我看到，一缕轻烟从一个烟囱中袅袅升起。这令我精神一振。我跑到厨房门口叩门。无人应答。我转转门把手。门上了锁。于是我跑到花园门——就是那天夜里，我跟莫德一道出逃的门。那扇门也锁着。于是我又绕到了前门。我走到一扇窗户跟前，拉开了百叶窗，朝里面张望起来。我什么都看不到。我将双手和面孔凑到窗玻璃上；随着我的挤压，那扇窗好象顶到了插销…

I hesitated for almost a minute; then the rain came, hard as hail. I gave a shove. The bolt flew from its screws and the window swung inwards. I lifted myself up on to the sill, and jumped inside. Then I stood, quite still. The sound of the breaking bolt must have been awful. What if Mr Way had heard it and came with a gun, supposing me a burglar? I felt like a burglar, now. I thought of my mother — My mother was never a thief, however. My mother was a lady. My mother was the lady of this great house… I shook my head. I should never believe it.

我犹豫了差不多一分钟；这时候下起雨了，雨点好象冰雹一样又急又密。我用力推了一下。插销就从插销母上滑开，窗户朝里面打开了。我两手在窗台上一撑，便跳了进去。然后我立稳了，一动不动。坏插销的声响肯定十分骇人。要是魏先生听到了，再端把枪过来，以为我是入室盗窃的贼，那可如何是好？现在我感觉就像个入室盗窃的贼。我想起了我母亲——然而，我母亲根本就不是贼。我母亲是一位千金小姐。我母亲是这所豪宅里的千金小姐…我摇摇头。我永远也接受不了这个事实。

The door was closed: I do not think it had been opened in many weeks. But still, when I turned the handle and pushed it, it moved perfectly silently. All the doors moved silently, in that house. The floor had a dusty carpet, that smothered my steps.

餐厅的门关着：我觉得这门有段日子没开启过了。不过，当我转动门把手，推开门的时候，门悄无声息地打开了。这所宅子里所有的门开合时都悄无声息。地板上铺着浸满灰尘的地毯，也让我的脚步悄无声息。

I began to walk softly about. The room was dark — the dining-room, I thought. I had never been in here before. But I had used to try and imagine Maud, as she sat, with her uncle, at her supper; I had used to imagine the little bites she would take at her meat… I stepped to the table. It was still set, with candlesticks, a knife and a fork, a plate of apples; but it was covered all over with dust and cobwebs, and the apples had rotted. The air was thick. Upon the floor was a broken glass — a crystal glass, with gold at the rim.

我开始蹑手蹑脚地四处走动。这个房间挺昏暗的——我心想，这是餐厅。以前我没来过这儿。不过以前，莫德与她舅舅共进晚餐时，我经常想像着那番景象。我曾想象她一小口，一小口地嚼着肉…我走到桌旁。桌上仍旧摆放着家什，几个蜡烛台，一副刀叉，一盘苹果；可家什上面都蒙着灰尘和蛛网，苹果也都烂掉了。空气沉滞。地板上有个破碎的杯子——一只水晶杯，杯檐烫着金边。

So when I went, I made no sound, and might have glided — as if I were a ghost. The thought was queer. Across from me was another door: the door to the drawing-room. I had never been there, either; so now I crossed to it and looked inside. That room was also dark and hung with cobwebs. There was ash spilling out from the grate. There were chairs, by the hearth, where I thought that Mr Lilly and Gentleman must once have sat, to listen while Maud read books. There was a hard little sofa, with a lamp beside it, that I imagined had been hers. I imagined her sitting there, now. I remembered her soft voice. I forgot to think about Mr Way, remembering that. I forgot to think of my mother. What was she, to me? It was Maud I thought of. I had meant to go down to the kitchen. Instead I went slowly about the hall, by the swollen front door. I climbed the stairs. I wanted to go to her old rooms. I wanted to stand, where she had stood — at the window, at the glass. I wanted to lie upon her bed. I wanted to think how I had kissed her and lost her…

所以我一路走过，什么动静都没搞出来，堪称飘行——就好象一个幽灵。这个想法很诡异。我斜对面还一扇门：去客厅的门。我也从没去过那儿；于是，我径直走过去，站在门边朝里张望。那个房间也黑乎乎的，也挂着蜘蛛网。地上有一些从壁炉里散出来的炉灰。房间里有几张椅子，围成个心型，我觉得那正是李先生跟绅士们曾经端坐着聆听莫德诵读书本的地方。房间里还有个硬底小沙发，旁边放着一盏灯，我觉得那就是她坐的位置。我想象着她现在就坐在那儿。我想起她柔美的声音。想起这些，我便忘了要找魏先生。也忘了我母亲的事儿。她对我而言，又算得什么呢？我心里想的都是莫德。我原想到下面厨房去。却没有去，而是在大厅里，在那扇膨胀变形的大门前慢慢地走来走去。我上了楼梯。我想去她以前住的房间。我想到她站立过的地方站一站——站在窗前，站在镜子前面。我想躺在她的床上。我想好好回想一下，我当初是如何吻她，又是如何失去了她…

I reached the gallery. The door to the library was there, standing part-way open. The creature’s head still hung beside it, with its one glass eye and pointed teeth. I thought of how I had put my fingers to it, the first time I came for Maud. I had waited outside the door, I had heard her reading. — Again, I thought of her voice. I thought so fiercely of it, it seemed to me at last that I could almost hear it. I could hear it as a whisper, as a murmur, in the stillness of the house. I caught my breath. The murmur stopped, then started again. It was not in my own head, I could hear it — it came, from the library… I began to shake. Perhaps the house was haunted after all. Or perhaps, perhaps — I moved to the door and put a trembling hand to it, and pushed it open. Then I stood, and blinked. The room was changed. The paint had all been scraped from the windows, the finger of brass prised from the floor. The shelves were almost bare of books. A little fire burned in the grate.

我来到画廊里。书房的门就在那儿，门虚掩着。门旁边依旧挂着动物脑袋标本，带着一只玻璃眼珠和尖利的牙齿。我想起第一次来接莫德，我是如何将手放在这个标本上。我当时等在门外，我当时听到她在念书。——我再一次地，想起了她的声音。我极度思念她的声音，最后，我仿佛又听她在说话。于静谧之中，我听到她的喃喃低语。我屏住呼吸。这低语停住，随后又响起。这不是我头脑里的声音，我能听出来——这声音是书房里传来的…我开始颤抖。说不定这宅子里真的闹鬼。要么，说不定，说不定——我走到门口，伸出一只颤抖的手，将门推开。然后我站在那儿，眨眨眼睛。这个房间变了个样儿。窗玻璃上的油漆被刮掉了，那黄铜做的手指从地板中翘了起来。书架上几乎没什么书了。壁炉里生着一堆小火。

I walked, as I have said, as a ghost might walk; and when I wept, I wept as a ghost would: silently, not minding the tears as they came falling — as though I knew I had tears enough for a hundred years, and in time would weep them all.

我走起来，正如我曾说过的，就好像一个幽灵在走路；当我哭泣的时候，我也像个幽灵似的：无声无息地，任泪珠滑落，全无意识——就好象我早就知道我有足够哭一百年的眼泪，很快就要把这些眼泪都哭完了。

Then she wrote again; and then she moved to dip her pen in a jar of ink. And as she did that, she drew her fingers from her eyes, her face came up; and she saw me watching. She did not start. She grew perfectly still. She did not cry out. She did not say anything, at first. She only sat with her eyes on mine, a look of astonishment on her face. Then I took a step; and as I did, she got to her feet, letting the pen with the ink upon it roll across the papers and desk and drop to the floor. Her cheek had grown white. She gripped the back of her chair, as if to take her hand from it might mean to fall, or swoon. When I took another step, she gripped it harder.

这时，她又开始写；然后伸手去蘸墨水。她蘸的时候，遮着眼睛的手放下了，脸抬起来，便看到在一旁痴望的我。她没有跳起来。她一动不动了。她也没有叫喊。开始她什么都没说。她只是坐在那儿，眼睛定定地望着我，一脸震惊。然后我向前走了一步，我抬脚的时候，她也站起身来，手中的笔掉了，在纸张和桌子打了几个滚，落到地板上。她两颊变得苍白。她抓住椅子背，好象手拿开了会让她跌倒，或昏厥。等我再上前一步时，她手攥得更紧了。

I pushed the door further. There was Mr Lilly’s old desk. Its lamp was lit. And in the glow of it, was Maud. She was sitting, writing. She had an elbow on the desk, a cheek upon her upturned hand, her fingers half-curled over her eyes. I saw her clearly, because of the light. Her brows were drawn into a frown. Her hands were bare, her sleeves put back, her fingers dark with smudges of ink. I stood and watched her write a line. The page was thick with lines already. Then she lifted the pen, and turned and turned it, as if not sure what to put next. Again she murmured, beneath her breath. She bit her mouth.

我将门再推开一点。便看到李先生的旧书桌。桌上的灯亮着。灯下坐着的，正是莫德。她在写字，一个胳膊肘支在书桌上，手掌撑着脸，手指弯起，遮住了双眼。借着灯光，我将她看得格外分清。她将眉头推起来。她双手没有戴手套，她衣袖挽了上去，手指沾了墨迹。我站在那儿，看着她写完一行。那页纸上已经密密麻麻写满了字。这时她抬起笔，拿在手中转啊转，好象接下来写什么还拿不定主意。呼吸之间，她又在喃喃自语，轻咬着嘴唇。

I pressed my fingers hard into my eyes. I had been thinking, a moment ago, of how I loved her. I’d supposed her lost. I had meant to find her out, through years of searching. To come upon her now — so warm, so real — when I had ached and ached for her — It was too much.

我手用力按住双眼。前一刻我还在想，我有多么爱她。我以为她失踪了。我还打算经年累月地寻找她。现在来到了她面前——如此温暖，如此真实——之前我因她而感到阵阵痛楚时——我百感交集。

“Have you come,” she said, “to kill me?”

“你来了，”她说道，“是来杀我的？”

She said it, in a sort of awful whisper; and I heard her, and saw that her face was white, not just from astonishment, but also from fear. The thought was terrible. I turned away, and hid my own face in my hands. It was still wet, from my falling tears. Now other tears came and made it wetter. “Oh, Maud!” I said. “Oh, Maud!”

她以极低的声音说出这句话；我听在耳中，又见她面孔煞白，不仅有震惊，更有几分恐惧。这个想法太可怕了。我转过身去，双手捂住面孔。我脸上还挂着泪水。这时，新涌出的泪水又混在脸上。“噢，莫德！”我说道——“噢，莫德！”

I had never spoken her name to her before like that, I had only ever said miss; and even now, even here, after everything, I felt the strangeness of it.

我以前从未如此这般地呼唤过她的名字，以前我只是称她小姐；即便此时此地，经过了这许多事之后，我还是感得直呼其名有些怪异。

“I don’t — ” I said. “I can’t — ” She did not come. She only stood, still white, still gripping the back of the chair. So then I wiped my face upon my sleeve, and spoke more steadily. “There was a paper,” I said. “I found a paper, hidden in Mrs Sucksby’s gown…”

“我不是——”我说道，“我不能——”她并没有走过来，她只是站在那儿，依旧面色苍白，依旧抓着椅子靠背。于是我用袖子擦了擦脸，平定心绪，开口说话了。“有个文件，”我说道。“我找到一份文件，藏在萨克丝贝太太的衣裳里…”

“Mr Way?” She frowned. “Mr Way is gone.”

“魏先生？”她眉头蹙起。“魏先生早走了——”

She still did not come to me, though. I wiped my face again. I said, “I got a lift with a man and a girl. They said your uncle died. They said there was nobody here, save Mr Way –“

话虽如此，她仍旧没有走过来。我又擦擦脸。我说道，“我碰到一男一女，搭了一段车。他们说你舅舅去世了。他们说这儿没人了，只有魏先生在——”

“William Inker, they must have meant. He stays with me. And his wife cooks my meals. That’s all.”

“他们说的肯定是威廉。英克尔。他留下陪我。他太太为我煮饭。就是这样。”

“A servant, they said.”

“留了个仆人，他们说。”

I felt the letter, stiff, in my own gown, as I spoke; but she didn’t answer, and I guessed from that — and saw, by the look upon her face — that she knew what paper it was I meant, and what it said. Despite myself, I had a moment of hating her then — just a single moment; and when it passed, it left me weak. I went to the window, so I might sit upon the sill. I said, “I paid someone to read it to me. And then, I got sick.”

说话的时候，我感觉到了那封信，硬邦邦的，在我自己的衣裳里；可她没有应声，我猜是因为——我看到她脸上的表情——她知道我说的文件是什么，也知道其中内容。虽然我情之所至，那一瞬间，我心头还是略过一丝失落——仅仅一瞬间而已；等我心情恢复，这失落感让我疲惫难支。我走到窗边，这样好在窗台上坐下来。我说道，“我花钱找人帮我念了这封信。后来，我就病了。”

“I am sorry,” she said. “Sue, I am sorry.”

“我很抱歉，”她说道。“苏，我很抱歉。”

“Don’t you grow frightened?” She shrugged, gazed down at her hands. Her look grew dark. “What have I,” she said, “to be frightened of, now?”

“你不害怕吗？”她耸了一下肩膀，目光垂落到自己的双手上。她神色变得黯淡。“现在，”她说道，“我还有什么好怕的？”

“Only them, and you? In this great house.” I looked about me, and shivered.

“只有他们，和你吗？在这么大的宅子里…”我环顾四周，不由打了个冷战。

There was so much to the words, and to the way she said them, I did not answer at first. When I spoke again, I spoke more quietly.

这句话，和她的语气，都意味万千，一开始我没回答她。等我再次开口，我的语气平静了许多。

She shook her head. She spoke quietly, too. “Not then,” she said. “Not until Richard took me to London. Then she — ” She coloured, but lifted her head. “Then I was told.”

她摇摇头。她也静静地开口了。“刚开始不知道，”她说道。“理查德带我到了伦敦，我才知道。当时萨——”她脸红了，却又抬起了头。“当时就告诉我了。”

“Not before?” I said.

“之前没说过？”我说道。

“When did you know?” I said. “When did you know everything, about us, about — Did you know, at the start?”

“你是什么时候知道的？”我说道。“你什么时候知道这一切的，关于我们俩的事，关于——一开始，你就全知道吗？”

“Not before.”

“之前没说过。”

I should have been glad to think it, once. Now it was all of a piece with every bleak and terrible thing I had suffered and seen and learned, in the past nine months.

曾几何时，我会因此而感到快慰。现如今，这跟过我去九个月以来，亲身遭受的和亲眼所见的种种阴谋诡计并无二致。

“They tricked you, too, then.”

“那他们也耍了你。”

For a minute, we said nothing. I let myself sink against the window and put my cheek against the glass. The glass was cold. The rain fell hard, still. It struck the gravel before the house and made it churn. The lawn seemed bruised. Through the bare wet branches of the tangled wood I could just make out the shape of yews, and the pointed roof of the little red chapel.

有一分钟的时间，我们都没说话。我任自己无力地靠在窗户上，面孔抵着窗玻璃。玻璃是凉的。雨还是下得很大。雨点砸在宅子前的碎石路上，将碎石砸得纷纷翻动起来。草坪仿佛也受了伤。透过那片光秃秃又湿漉漉的树木枝头，我只能分辨出衫树的形状，和红色的小礼拜堂的尖顶。

“I thought my mother was mad,” she said. “Instead –” She could not say it. Neither could I. Not yet. But I turned to look at her again, and swallowed, and said, “You went to see her, at the gaol.” I had remembered the matron’s words. She nodded. “She spoke of you,” she said.

“我以为我母亲是个疯子，”她说道，“谁知——”她说不下去了。我也说不下去了。我们都还说不出这句话。不过我又转过身来，望着她，咽下唾沫，说道，“你去看她了，在监狱里。”我想起了女看守的话。她点点头。“她说起你，”她说道。

“That she hoped you never knew. That she wished they might hang her, ten times over, before you should. That she and your mother had been wrong. That they meant to make you a commonplace girl. That that was like taking a jewel, and hiding it in dust. That dust falls away…”

“她说她希望你永远都不知情。她说她希望在你知道一切之前，他们能判她十次绞刑。她说她和你母亲都错了。她说他们本想把你教养成一个平凡的姑娘。她说这就好象是得了件宝贝，把宝贝藏在炉灰里一样。她说你出淤泥而不染…”

I closed my eyes. When I looked again, she had at last come closer.

我闭上双眼。等我睁眼再看，她总算走近了一点。

“My mother is buried there,” I said. “I used to look at her grave, thinking nothing. I thought my mother was a murderess.”

“我母亲就葬在那儿，”我说道。“以前我常常看到她的墓地，心里却什么都没想到。我还以为我母亲是个杀人犯。”

“Of me? What did she say?”

“说到我？她说我什么？”

“I don’t want it,” I said.

“我不想要，”我说道。

“Sue,” she said. This house is yours.”

“苏，”她说道。“这座宅子是你的。”

“The money is yours. Half of your mother’s money. All of it, if you wish. I have claimed none of it. You shall be rich.”

“钱也是你的。你母亲的一半财产。要是你想要，就全拿去。我说过一分也不要的。你会很有钱的。”

“I don’t want to be rich. I never wanted to be rich. I only want –“

“我不想变有钱。我从来就不想变成有钱人。我只想——”

“I only want you,” I said.

“我只想要你，”我说道。

But I hesitated. My heart was too full. Her gaze was too close, too clear. I thought how I had seen her, last — not at the trial, but on the night that Gentleman died. Her eyes had glittered. They did not glitter now. Her hair had been curled. Now it was smooth, unpinned, she had put it back and tied it with a simple ribbon. Her hands did not tremble. They were bare, and marked, as I have said, with spots and smudges of ink. Her brow had ink upon it, too, from where she had pressed it. Her dress was dark, and long, yet fell not quite to the floor. It was silk, but fastened at the front. The highest hook was left undone. I saw the beating of her throat behind it. I looked away. Then I looked back, into her eyes.

可我犹豫一下。我忽然语塞了。她的目光近在咫尺，清澈透亮。我想起上一次看到她——不是在法庭上，而是在绅士毙命的那天夜里。当时她的双眼闪闪发光。如今她的双眼失却了光彩。当时她是卷发。如今她是直发，没有盘起来，她将头发收拢在后面，只用一根带子系着。她的双手也没有颤抖。那双手没有戴手套，而且，正如我所说的，手上净是斑斑点点的墨水印。她眉头上也有墨水印，就是她手扶过的地方。她的衣裳是暗色的，很长，倒也没有拖到地板上。衣裳是丝质的，却是前开襟的。最上面的钩扣没有系上。我看到钩扣后面她颈项上的搏动。我别开视线。随后我又望着她，直望进她眼睛深处。

“You do not know me,” she said, in a queer, flat voice. “You never did. There were things –” She drew in her breath and would not go on.

“你不了解我，”她说道，声音呆板而古怪。“你出来就不了解我。有些事——”她深吸一口气，再没说下去。

The blood spread across her face. She unjoined her hands, took another step to me and almost, almost reached. But then she turned and lowered her gaze. She stood at the desk. She put her hand to the paper and pen.

她脸上迅速泛起两朵红云。她张开双手，朝我走了几步，眼看就要碰到我了。可她又转过身去，低下头来。她站在书桌旁。手放在纸笔上。

She did not answer, did not look up; but turned that page and read from another.

她没有回答，也没有抬眼看我；却翻了一页，开始读下一页。

“My uncle — ” she said, looking up fearfully. “My uncle’s books — You thought me good. Didn’t you? I was never that. I was — ” She seemed, for a moment, almost to struggle with herself. Then she moved again, went to the shelves behind the desk, and took up a book. She held it, tight to her breast; then turned and brought it to me. She opened it up in her hands. Her hands, I think, were shaking.

“我舅舅——”她抬起眼，怯生生地说道。“我舅舅的书——你以为我是好人。不是吗？我从来不是那样的。我其实——”她似乎，有那么一瞬，内心颇有些矛盾挣扎。然后她又动起来，走到书桌后的书架前，抽出一本书。她拿着书，紧紧抱在胸前；然后转过身，将书拿到我身边。她两手翻开书。她的手，我觉得，在颤抖。

“How delicious,” she read, ” was the glow upon her beauteous neck and bare ivory shoulders, as I forced her on her back on the couch. How luxuriously did her snowy hillocks rise against my bosom in wild confusion –“

“我将她按倒在沙发上，她那柔美脖颈和象牙般双肩上的光彩，是多么迷人眩目。情急慌乱之下，她雪白酥胸抵在我胸膛上，让我心性大发。”

“Here,” she said, as she looked across the page. “Or, here.” I saw her gaze settle. And then, in the same flat voice she had spoken in before, she began to read.

她扫一眼书页，说道，“这儿，要不，这儿。”我见她的目光定住了。然后，她开始用先前那种呆板声音诵读。

“What things?” I said. She didn’t answer. I rose, and went closer to her. “What things?”

“什么事？”我说道。她没有回答。我站起身来，走近她。“是什么事？”

“What?” I said.

“什么呀？”我说道。

“I scarcely knew what I was about; everything now was in active exertion — tongues, lips, bellies, arms, thighs, legs, bottoms, every part in voluptuous motion.”

“我所欲为何，我亦懵懂不解；当下一切皆不能自持，惟顺性而为——唇舌，四肢，臀部，皆汇入欲望洪流中。”

She nodded.

她点点头。

Now my own cheek coloured. “What?” I said, in a whisper.

这时我自己脸色变了。“什么呀？”我小声说道。

“Every one of them, like this? Are you sure?”

“每一本，都是这样的？你肯定？”

“All, like this?”

“全部，都是这样的？”

She turned more pages, read again. “Quickly my daring hand seized her most secret treasure, regardless of her soft complaints, which my burning kisses reduced to mere murmurs, while my fingers penetrated into the covered way of love –“

她翻过几页，又开始念。“我手已抓到她身上最神秘的宝藏，全然不顾她的低声抗议，我火热的吻将她的抗议变成了呢喃轻语，我手指探入那幽静隐蔽的花径中——”

She nodded again.

她又点点头。

She stopped. Her heart was beating harder, though she had kept her voice so flat. My own heart was also beating rather hard. I said — still not quite understanding: “Your uncle’s books?”

她停下了。虽然她令自己的声音平稳无波，可她的心却跳得格外急促。我自己的心也跳得很急。我依旧不明所以，我说道：“你舅舅的书？”

“Quite sure.”

“千真万确。”

I took the book from her and looked at the print on the pages. It looked like any book would, to me. So I put it down, and went to the shelves and picked up another. That looked the same. Then I took up another; and that had pictures. You never saw any pictures like them. One was of two bare girls. I looked at Maud, and my heart seemed to shrink.

我从她手中接过书，看着书页上的印刷字。在我眼里，这本书跟别的书没什么区别。所以我把这本书放下，自己走到书架前，找了另一本来。那本书看上去跟前面的一样。于是我又挑了一本；这本书里有些画片儿。你可没见过那种画片儿。其中一张画片儿上是两个没穿衣裳的姑娘。我望着莫德，我的心好象猛地一缩。

“You knew it all,” I said. That’s the first thing I thought. “You said that you knew nothing, when all the time –“

“你什么都懂，”我说道。这是我想到的第一件事。“你一直说你什么都不懂——”

“You knew it all! You made me kiss you. You made me want to kiss you again! When all the time, you had been coming here and –“

“你什么都懂！你勾引我，让我吻了你。你一而再地勾引我，让我吻你！那时候，你跑到这儿来就——”

“I did know nothing,” she said.

“我是什么都不懂，”她说道。

“Oh, Maud,” I said. “If I had only known! To think, of you — ” I began to cry. “To think of your uncle — Oh!” My hand flew to my mouth. “My uncle!” That thought was queerer than anything. “Oh!” I still held the book. Now I looked at it and let it drop as if it burned me. “Oh!”

“噢，莫德，”我说道。“要是我早知道！我一想到，你——”我开始哭喊。“我一想到你舅舅——噢！”我的手飞快地掩住嘴。“是我舅舅！”这个想法比别的事都怪异。“噢！”我手里还捧着书。这时我看到这本书，任其掉落在地，就好象被它烫到了。“噢！”

She did not answer.

她没有回答。

“To think of him,” I said, “that sod! Oh, stinking was too good for him!” I wrung my hands. “And now, to look at you and see you here, still here, with his books about you –!”

“一想到他，”我说道，“那个流氓！噢，臭掉了真是太便宜了他！”我绞着双手。“再看到你，看到你在这儿，还待在这儿，他的书都在你身边——！”

It was all I could say. Maud stood very still, her hand upon the desk. I wiped my eyes. Then I looked again at the smears of ink on her fingers.

我只会说这个了。莫德一动不动地站着，她手放在书桌上。我擦擦眼睛。然后我又望着她手上的墨水印。

“How can you bear it?”

“你怎么受得了这个？”

My voice broke off. She watched my face. I thought of the times I had come to the library door, heard the smothered rising and falling of her voice. I thought of her reading to gentlemen — to Gentleman — while I sat, eating tarts and custards with Mrs Stiles and Mr Way. I put my hand to my heart. It had shrunk so small and tight, it hurt me.

我的话音戛然而止。她盯着我的脸。我想起许多次我来到书房门口，听到她那高高低低的读书声，闷声闷气的。我想起她为绅士们诵读——为绅士们——的时候，我却跟斯黛尔太太和魏先生在一起，坐在厨房里，吃着水果馅饼和奶油冰淇淋。我手捂住心口。我的心紧紧缩成一团，令我痛苦难当。

I gazed across the shelves; and wanted to smash them. I went to her, and reached to draw her close. But she held me off. She moved her head, in a way that at any other time I should have called proud.

我环视书架，心里只想把这些书架捣个稀巴烂。我走到她跟前，伸手想拉她。她却甩开我。她仰着头，那副神情，换了别的时候，我会称之为傲然。

“Don’t pity me,” she said, “because of him. He’s dead. But I am still what he made rne. I shall always be that. Half of the books are spoiled, or sold. But I am here. And look. You must know everything. Look how I get my living.”

“不要因为他，”她说道。“就怜悯我。他已经死了。而我还是他造就的那个我。我今后也还是那个我。半数的书，不是毁了就是卖了。而我还在这儿。看吧。你必须知道所有事。看看我是如何谋生的。”

I looked at her, not understanding. I looked at the paper in her hand. Then my heart missed its beat.

我望着她，不甚明了。我看看她手里的纸。然后我的心不会跳了。

“You are writing books, like his!” I said. She nodded, not speaking. Her face was grave. I don’t know how my face seemed. I think it was burning.

“你在写书，写他收藏的那种书！”我说道。她点点头，没有说话。她神情沮丧。我不知道我是什么表情。我觉得我的脸火辣辣地烧起来了。

“Books, like that!” I said. “I can’t believe it. Of all the ways I thought I’d find you — And then, to find you here, all on your own in this great house –“

“写这种书！”我说道。“我无法相信。原来我想我要千方百计地寻找你，然后，在这儿找到你了，在这个大宅子里，就你自己。”

She picked up a paper from the desk — the paper that I had seen her write on. The ink was still damp. “I asked a friend of my uncle’s, once,” she said, “if I might write for him. He sent me to a home for distressed gentlewomen.” She smiled, unhappily. They say that ladies don’t write such things. But, I am not a lady…”

她从书桌上拣起一张纸——就是先前我看到她书写的那张纸。纸上墨迹未干。“我曾经问过我舅舅的一位朋友，”她说道，“我是否可以帮他写点东西。他把我送到收留落魄良家妇女的地方。”她苦笑。“他们说良家妇女不写这种东西。但是，我不是良家妇女。”

“I am not alone,” she said. “I have told you: I have William Inker and his wife to care for me.”

“我不是孤身一人，”她说道。“我跟你说过：我有威廉。英克尔和他太太照顾我。”

Again, she looked almost proud. “Why shouldn’t I?” she said.

再一次地，她的神情近乎傲然。“为什么我不该写？”她说道。

I did not know. “It just don’t seem right,” I said. “A girl, like you –“

我也不知道。“就是有点不对劲，”我说道。“一个大姑娘家，像你这样的——”

“To find you here, all on your own, writing books like that –!”

“在这儿找到你，就你自己，还写这种书？”

I did not answer for a moment. I looked again at the paper in her hand. Then I said quietly, “Is there money in it?”

我没有回答。停了片刻，我又看看她手里的稿子。然后我轻轻说道，“这有利可图吗？”

She blushed. “A little,” she said. “Enough, if I write swiftly.”

她脸红了。“有一点儿。”她说道。“要是我写得快一点，也够用。”

“Like me? There are no girls like me.”

“像我这样的？没有谁家的姑娘像我。”

“And you — You like it?”

“那你——你喜欢写吗？”

“Hate you!” I said. “When I have fifty proper reasons for hating you, already; and only –” Only love you, I wanted to say. I didn’t say it, though. What can I tell you? If she could still be proud, then so, for now, could I… I didn’t need to say it, anyway: she could read the words in my face. Her colour changed, her gaze grew clearer. She put a hand across her eyes. Her fingers left more smudges of black there. I still couldn’t bear it. I quickly reached and stopped her wrist; then wet my thumb and began to rub at the flesh of her brow. I did it, thinking only of the ink, and her white skin; but she felt my hand and grew very still. My thumb moved slower. It moved to her cheek. Then I found I had cupped her face in my hand. She closed her eyes. Her cheek was smooth — not like a pearl, warmer than pearls. She turned her head and put her mouth against my palm. Her lips were soft. The smudge stayed black upon her brow; and after all, I thought, was only ink.

“讨厌你！”我说道。“我都有五十个名正言顺的理由恨你了；我——”我想说的是，我爱你。可我没说出口。我该怎么跟你说呢？要是她还这么傲气，那么我，那会儿，我能…反正，无须我亲口说出：她能从我脸上读出我的心意。她神色变了。她的目光变得更加清亮。她一只手捂住眼睛。她的手在眉眼间留下更多的黑色污迹。我还是看不惯。我迅速抬手拉住她的手腕；然后沾湿大拇指，开始擦她眉头的污迹。我手里擦着，心里只想着墨水，和她雪白的皮肤；而她则一动不动。我手里慢下来。我的手移到她的脸颊上。这时我发觉我已将她的脸捧在手中。她闭起双眼。她的脸颊十分光洁——并不像珍珠，比珍珠更温润。她侧过头，嘴唇贴到我掌心里。她双唇非常柔软。她眉头的污迹还是黑的；我觉得，其实那只是墨水。

She blushed still harder. “I find I am good at it…” She bit her lip. She was still watching my face. “Do you hate me for it?” she said.

她脸更红了。“我发现我擅长写…”她咬着嘴唇。她还盯着我的脸。“你是不是因此而讨厌我？”她说道。

She took up the lamp. The room had got darker, the rain still beat against the glass. But she led me to the fire and made me sit, and sat beside me. Her silk skirts rose in a rush, then sank. She put the lamp upon the floor, spread the paper flat; and began to show me the words she had written, one by one.

她提起灯。房里已经有些暗了，雨点仍旧敲打着窗户。而她将我领到壁炉旁，让我坐下，她在我身边落座。她的丝绸裙子浮起来了，随后又落下。她将灯放在地上，将纸张铺开；开始逐一向我展示她写就的字字句句。

“What does it say?” I said, when I had.

“这上面都写了什么？”我说道。

When I kissed her, she shook. I remembered what it was, then, to make her shake by kissing her; and began to shake, too. I had been ill. I thought I might faint! We moved apart. She put her hand against her heart. She had still held the paper. Now it fluttered to the floor. I stooped and caught it up and smoothed the creases from it.

当我吻到她，她不禁颤抖起来。这时，我记起这种感觉了，吻到她便会令她浑身颤抖；我也开始颤抖了。我生过病。我觉得我要昏过去了！我们分开来，她本来还捏着那张纸。这会儿那纸飘到地上了。我弯腰拾起来，将纸上的折印展平。

She said, “It is filled with all the words for how I want you… Look.”

她说道，“这上面的词句都是描述我有多么想念你…瞧。”