第十三章 |《荆棘之城》双语小说免费在线阅读

I remember that Richard comes to me, and again puts his shoe to my skirts, to nudge me, then stands and laughs when I will not stir, then leaves me.

我记得理查德走过来，又用脚踢踢我的裙子，想我醒觉，见我没反应，他站在一旁笑起来，随后便离去了。

The night which follows I remember brokenly. I remember that I keep at the side of the bed with my eyes quite hidden, and will not rise and go down to the kitchen, as Mrs Sucksby wishes.

那天夜里接下来发生的事，我断断续续记得一些。我记得我一直跪在床边，脸深埋在被子上，萨克丝贝太太想我起身去楼下厨房，我不肯。

That I must rise at last, to visit the privy; and that the red-haired, fat-faced girl — Dainty — is made to show me to it, then stands at the door to keep me from running from it into the night.

最后我必须起来了，得去趟厕所；他们让那个红发阔脸姑娘——达蒂——带我去，她站在门外，以防我从厕所夺门而出，逃入黑夜。

I remember that I weep again, and am given more of my drops in brandy.

我记得我又哭了，他们给了我白兰地，里面兑了更多药水。

I remember that someone brings me soup, which I will not eat. That the lamp is taken away and the room made dark.

我记得有人给我端来一碗汤，我没喝。有人提走了灯，屋内顿时一片黑暗。

That I am undressed and put in a night-gown not my own. That I sleep, perhaps for an hour — that I am woken by the rustling of taffeta — that I look in horror to see Mrs Sucksby with her hair let down, shrugging off her gown, uncovering flesh and dirty linen, snuffing out her candle, then climbing into the bed beside me.

有人给我更衣，我穿上了一件别人的睡衣。我睡着了，好象睡了一个小时——我被一阵塔夫绸的沙沙声惊醒——我眼含憎恶地看着萨克丝贝太太，她头发散下来，耸肩缩头脱掉衣裳，看着她脱去了衣裳的身体和脏兮兮的内衣，看着她吹熄蜡烛，跳上了床。

The fitful sleeping makes the hours pass slowly: it seems to me the night has many nights in it — has years of nights! — through which, as if through drifts of smoke, I am compelled to stumble.

忽醒忽睡令时间流逝变慢：似乎于我而言，这一晚的时光暗含了许多个夜晚——经年累月的夜晚都包含其中！——置身于此，仿佛置身于漂浮的青烟中，踩空了脚。

I remember that she lies, thinking me sleeping — puts her hands to me, then draws them back — finally, like a miser with a piece of gold, catches up a lock of my hair and presses it to her mouth.

我记得她躺在我身边，以为我睡熟了——她将手放在我身上，随后又收回——最后，好似守财奴抓住了黄金一般，她抓起我一束头发，印到嘴上。

I know that I am conscious of the heat of her, the unfamiliar bulk and sour scents of her.

我知道我感觉到了她的体热，陌生的庞大身躯和汗酸体味。

I know that she falls swiftly into an even sleep, and snores, while I start in and out of slumber.

我知道她很快便沉入梦乡，还扯起呼噜，其时我正开始进入忽醒忽睡状。

I wake now, believing I am in my dressing-room at Briar; now, in my room at Mrs Cream’s; now, in a madhouse bed, with a nurse vast and comfortable beside me.

我忽而清醒，忽而以为自己仍身在布莱尔的卧室中；忽而是克里姆太太家中；忽而是疯人院的病床，身边还有个身型硕大却令我倍感安慰的护士。

I wake, a hundred times. I wake to moan and long for slumber — for always, at the last, comes the remembrance, sharp and fearful, of where I truly lie, how I arrived there, who and what I am.

我惊醒了数百回。醒时呻吟，渴盼昏睡——因为每每到最后一刻，回忆浮现，我身在何处，如何抵达，我是何人，有何身份。如此种种，锥心刺骨，令人恐惧。

At last I wake and do not sleep again. The dark has eased a little. There has been a street-lamp burning, that has lit the threads of the bleached net scarf hung at the window; now it is put out. The light turns filthy pink. The pink gives way, in time, to a sickly yellow.

最后我醒了，再也无法入睡。黑夜的颜色淡了些。先前窗外有街灯闪烁，照亮了挂在窗前的披肩，披肩的线条清晰可见；此时那街灯熄灭。街上照入的光亮转为浑浊的粉红色，粉色很快又变成令人恶心的黄色。

I still wear my gloves, but my clothes and shoes and leather bag Mrs Sucksby has locked in a box — “In case you should wake bewildered, darling, and, thinking you was at home, get dressed, walk off and be lost.” — I remember her saying it, now, as I stood dosed and dazed before her.

我仍戴着手套，而我的衣裳鞋帽和皮包都给萨克丝贝太太锁进一只箱子里了——“万一你稀里糊涂醒过来，亲爱的，以为你还在家里，自己穿了衣裳跑出去，跑丢了怎么办。”——我记得她如是说，此时我站在她面前，头晕眼花，心下一片茫然。

It creeps, and with it creeps sound — softly at first, then rising in a staggering crescendo: crowing cocks, whistles and bells, dogs, shrieking babies, violent calling, coughing, spitting, the tramp of feet, the endless hollow beating of hooves and the grinding of wheels. Up, up it comes, out of the throat of London.

黎明悄悄潜进，还带着潜行的声响——初始时是轻响，随后是参差错落的声响，愈来愈嘈杂：打鸣的公鸡，哨声和铃声，狗吠，婴儿啼哭，粗暴的呼喝，咳嗽，吐痰，脚步踢踏，无休止的马蹄声和车轮的吱呀声。愈来愈响，自伦敦的心肺之中喷薄而出，愈来愈响。

Where did she put the key? — and the key to the door of the room? I shiver again, more violently, and grow sicker than ever; but my thoughts are horribly clear. I must get out. I must get out! I must get out of London — go anywhere — back to Briar. I must get money. I must, I think — this is the clearest thought ot all — I must get Sue! Mrs Sucksby breathes heavily, evenly.

她把箱子钥匙放哪儿了？——还有房间钥匙？我又打了个冷战，剧烈的颤抖令我更不适了；然而我头脑中的种种念头却十分清晰。我一定要逃出去。我一定要逃出去！我一定要逃出伦敦——随便去哪儿——回到布莱尔。我一定要搞到钱。我一定要，我觉得——这是我头脑中最为清晰的念头——我一定要把苏救出来！萨克丝贝太太的呼吸沉重而均匀。

It is six or seven o’clock. Mrs Sucksby sleeps on at my side, but I am wide awake now, and wretched, and sick at my stomach. I rise, and — though it is May, and milder here than at Briar — I shiver.

这是清晨六七点时分。萨克丝贝太太在我身旁沉睡，而此时我已完全清醒，心中痛苦不堪，胃里非常不适。我起身——尽管时值五月，这里比布莱尔还暖和些——我还是打了个冷战。

Where might she have put the keys? Her taffeta gown is hanging from the horse-hair screen: I go silently to it and pat the pockets of its skirt. Empty. I stand and study the shelves, the chest of drawers, the mantelpiece — no keys; but many places, I suppose, where they might be concealed.

她会把钥匙放在哪儿？她的塔夫绸衣裳挂在那马鬃屏风上：我蹑手蹑脚走过去，摸摸衣裳口袋。空的。我立在原处，橱柜，壁炉架一一看过——没见钥匙；不过我心想，有好多地方可以给他们藏钥匙。

Then she stirs — does not wake, but moves her head; and I think I know — think I begin to remember… She has the keys beneath her pillow: I recall the crafty movement of her hand, the muffled ringing of the metal.

这时，她动了一下——并未醒来，只动了动头；我觉得我知道了——我想起来了…她昨晚将钥匙放在了枕下：我记起她手上那狡猾的动作，那金属钥匙抓在手中发出的叮当声。

“My dear, I loves you for trying,” she says, wiping her mouth. “But the girl ain’t been born that’s got the touch that will get past me, when I’ve a mind to something.” Her grip is strong about my arm; though turns to a caress. I shudder. “Lord, ain’t you cold!” she says then. “Here, sweetheart, let us cover you up.” She pulls the knitted quilt from the bed and puts it about me. “Better, dear girl?”

“我亲爱的，我就喜欢看你要怎么着。”她抹抹嘴说道。“可是呢，有本事从我手里混过去的姑娘，还没出生呢！只要我留个心眼儿。”她攥住我胳膊，却又卸去手上的力道，变成了轻抚；我身子一抖。“主啊，你不冷吗！”这时她说道。“来，小乖乖，快裹起来！”她拉过床上的拼花被子，裹在我身上。“好点了没，好姑娘？”

I take a step. Her lips are parted, her white hair loose upon her cheek. I step again, and the floorboards creak. I stand at her side — wait a moment, uncertain; then put my fingers beneath the edge of pillow and slowly, slowly, reach.

我上前一步。她嘴巴张着，白发散乱地掩在面颊上。我又上前一步，地板条咯吱一响。我立在她身边——等了片刻，还拿不定主意；随后将手伸到她枕头边上，慢慢地，慢慢地，探进去。

She opens her eyes. She takes my wrist, and smiles. She coughs.

她睁开眼睛，一把擒住我手腕，笑了。她咳嗽两声。

“I wish you were dead, then.”

“那我想你还是死了好。”

“Oh, now,” she answers, rising. “What kind of talk is that?”

“噢，好了，”她起身答道。“说那种话干吗？”

My hair is tangled, and has fallen before my face. I regard her through it.

我头发乱作一团，垂落在面前。我从头发后面注视着她。

She shakes her head, still smiles. “Wild words, dear girl!” She sniffs. There has come, from the kitchen, a terrible odour. “Smell that? That’s Mr Ibbs, a-cooking up our breakfasts. Let’s see who wishes she was dead, now, that’s got a plate of bloaters before her!”

她摇摇头，仍旧面带微笑。“净说傻话，好姑娘！”她吃吃地笑。从厨房里飘来一阵令人作呕的味道。“闻到了么？那是艾伯斯先生，在烧早饭呢。好，让我们看看，是谁在说要寻死的话，给她一大盘熏鱼！”

“I wish I were dead,” I say.

“我想我还是死了好。”我说道。

She rubs her hands again. Her hands are red, but the sagging flesh upon her arms has the hue and polish of ivory. She has slept in her chemise and petticoat; now she hooks on a pair of stays, climbs into her taffeta gown, then comes to dip her comb in water and brush her hair. “Tra la, hee hee,” she sings brokenly, as she does it.

她又搓搓手。她双手是红的，而她胳膊上松垂的肌肤却有着象牙般的色泽。她跳进了塔夫绸裙子，走过去梳子蘸过水，梳头。“啦啦，嘿嘿，”她一边梳头，一边有一搭没一搭地唱着。

I keep my own tangled hair before my eyes, and watch her. Her naked feet are cracked, and bulge at the toe. Her legs are almost hairless. When she bends to her stockings, she groans. Her thighs are fat and permanently marked by the pinch of her garters.

我蓬乱的头发还搭在眼前，我仍旧注视着她。她光着脚，脚上皴裂了，脚趾鼓着。她腿上几乎没有汗毛。肥硕的大腿上有吊袜带勒出的印子。

“Come down?” I say. I must go down, if I am to escape. But I look at myself. “Like this? Won’t you give me back my gown, my shoes?”

“下楼？”我说道。假使我要逃跑，那我一定要下楼去。可我看看自己。“就这副样子？你不把我的衣裳和鞋还给我吗？”

“There now,” she says, when she is dressed. A baby has started crying. “That will set my others all off. Come down, dear girl — will you? — while I give ’em their pap.”

等她穿带完毕，她说道，“这个，好了，”一个婴儿开始啼哭。“这一哭就得把我别的宝贝儿都吵醒了。下楼吧，好姑娘——来吗？——看我给孩子们喂饭嘛。”

Perhaps I say it too keenly, however; or else my look has something of cunning, or desperation, in it. She hesitates, then says, “That dusty old frock? Them boots? Why, that’s walking-gear. Look here, at this silken wrapper.” She takes up the dressing-gown from the hook on the back of the door. “Here’s what ladies wear, for their mornings at home. Here’s silken slippers, too. Shan’t you look well, in these? Slip ’em on, dear girl, and come down for your breakfast. No need to be shy. John Vroom don’t rise before twelve, there’s only me, and Gentleman — he’s seen you in a state of dishabilly, I suppose! — and Mr Ibbs. And him, dear girl, you might consider now in the light of — well, let’s say an uncle. Eh?”

然而，也许是我的话语太过急切，也许是我表情中有某种狡黠，抑或是绝望。她稍事犹豫，随后说道，“那件又脏又旧的上衣？那双靴子？干吗呀，那都是旅行装。瞧这儿，瞧这件丝绸衣裳。”她拿起挂在门后的一件睡衣。“这是专门给女士们早上在家穿的衣裳。这是鞋，也是丝的。你穿上不也很好看吗？快穿上，好姑娘，穿好了就下楼吃早饭。可千万别不好意思，没那个必要。约翰。瓦儒十二点之前都起不来床，楼下只我，和绅士——我猜他！——还有艾伯斯先生。他呢，好姑娘，现在按辈分你可以管他叫——得了，就叫他叔叔吧。好吧？”

So then I go to the window, to push at the sashes. They will lift, by an inch or two, and the rusting nails that keep them shut I think might give, if I pushed harder.

于是我走到窗边，去推动那窗框。我想假使我再用点力，窗户能抬起一两寸来，那钉住了窗户的钉子也会有所松动。

I turn away. The room is hateful to me; but I will not go with her, undressed, down to that dark kitchen. She pleads and coaxes a little longer; then gives me up, and goes.

我将脸别到一旁。我痛恨这间屋子；可我也决不会衣冠不整地跟她下楼，去那个黑黢黢的厨房。她连求带哄地说了一阵，然后放弃游说，离我而去。

But then, the window frame is narrow, the drop is great; and I am still undressed. Worse than that, the street has people in it; and though at first I think to call to them — to break the glass, to signal and shriek — after a second I begin to look more closely at them, and I see their faces, their dusty clothes, the packets they carry, the children and dogs that run and tumble at their sides. There is life, said Richard, twelve hours ago. It is hard, it is wretched. It would have been yours, but for Mrs Sucksby’s kindness in keeping you from it…

然而我随后发现，那窗框窄，窗户宽；我也没穿衣裳。更甚于此的是，街道上都是人；虽然一开始，我想冲他们呼救——打碎玻璃，招手并尖叫——可是停了一秒，待我仔细观察他们，我看到他们的面孔，他们的满是灰尘的衣裳，他们手里拿着的袋子，他们身边奔跑跌倒的孩子和狗。那就是生活——十二个小时前，理查德如是说。那就是艰难悲惨的生活。那就是你本该过的生活，可是萨克丝贝太太的善心让你免于过那种日子…

The key turns in the lock. I step at once to the box that holds my clothes, to try the lid. It is shut up tight, and is stout.

钥匙转动，房门落锁。我立即走到装着我衣裳的箱子旁，想打开它。那箱子箱门紧闭，坚固异常。

I start back from the glass, and cover my face up with my hands.

我双手赶忙捂住面孔，从窗前退开。

When Mrs Sucksby comes again, however, I am ready.

而等萨克丝贝太太回来时，我已准备停当。

“Listen to me,” I say, going to her. “You know that Richard took me away from my uncle’s house? You know my uncle is rich, and will seek me out?”

“听我说，”我走上前说道。“你知道理查德是我舅舅家里将我拐出来的吗？你知道我舅舅是个财主，会来找我吗？”

At the door to the house with the shutters with the heart-shaped holes, a girl in a dirty bandage sits and feeds her baby. She lifts her head, catches my gaze; and shakes her fist at me.

对面宅子的百叶窗上是些心型的孔，一个缠着肮脏绷带的姑娘坐在门口，正在喂孩子。她抬起头，望见我的目光，而后朝我挥挥拳头。

“Mr Lilly,” I say, as I do it. “You know who I mean. He still thinks me his niece, at least. Don’t you suppose he will send a man, and find me? Do you think he will thank you, for keeping me like this?”

“就是李先生，”我边退边说道。“你知道我说的是谁。至少他还以为我是他外甥女。你不觉得他会派人来找我吗？你觉得他会为你如此待我而感激你吗？”

“Your uncle?” she says. She has brought me a tray, but stands in the door” place until I move back.

“你舅舅？”她说道。她端来一个托盘，却一直站在门口，直到我退了一步，将她让进屋。

“I should say he will — if he cares so much about it. Ain’t we made you cosy, dear?”

“我敢说他会感激我的——假如他这么在意这事儿。我们待你不好吗？亲爱的？”

“You know you have not. You know you are keeping me here against my will. For God’s sake, give me my gown, won’t you?”

“你待我如何，你心里清楚。你清楚你把我关在这儿是违背我意志的。看在上帝的份上，把我的裙子还给我好不好？”

“All right, Mrs Sucksby?” — It is Mr Ibbs. My voice has risen, and has brought him out of the kitchen to the foot of the stairs. Richard, too, has stirred in his bed: I hear him cross his floor, draw open his door, and listen.

“好了吗，萨克丝贝太太？”是艾伯斯先生的声音。先前我声音提高，将他从厨房招到了楼梯口。睡在床上的理查德也被惊动了：我听得他穿过房间，拉开房门，侧耳倾听。

“All right!” calls Mrs Sucksby lightly. There, now,” she says to me. “And here’s your breakfast, look, growing chilly.”

“好啦！”萨克丝贝太太扬声叫道。“这个，好了，”她对我说道。“这是你的早餐，瞧，都要凉了。”

She waits and, when I do not answer, leaves me. Richard closes his door and goes back to his bed. I hear him humming.

她等我回应，见我无意作答，便转身离去。理查德关了门，走到床边。我听他哼哼着小曲。

“There, now,” she says again. The tray has a plate and a fork upon it, and a linen napkin. Upon the plate there are two or three amber-coloured fish in a juice of butter and water. They have fins, and faces. About the napkin there is a ring of polished silver, a little like the one that was kept for my especial use at Briar; but without the initial.

“这个，好了，”她又说道。托盘上有一个盘子和一把叉子，还有一块亚麻餐巾。盘中有两三条鱼，琥珀色的鱼身裹着汤汁。鱼鳍鱼头俱在。餐巾上套了个光闪闪的银环，竟有几分象我在布莱尔专用的那个，惟独少了个大写字母。

She sets the tray upon the bed. The door is open; but I know that Mr Ibbs still stands at the foot of the stairs, that Richard waits and listens at the top.

她将托盘放在床上。门还开着；不过我知道艾伯斯先生还站在楼梯口，理查德也还在上面观望。

“Please let me go,” I say.

“请让我走。”我说道。

Mrs Sucksby shakes her head.”Dear girl,” she says, “go where?”

萨克丝贝太太摇摇头。“好姑娘，”她说道。“上哪儿去啊？”

I think of taking up the plate, hurling it against the ceiling, the window, the wall. Then I think: You must be strong. You must be strong and ready to run. And so I sit and eat — slowly, wretchedly, carefully picking out the bones from the amber flesh. My gloves grow damp and stained; and I have none with which to replace them.

我很想抄起盘子，摔到天花板上，摔到窗户上，摔到墙上。可我转念一想：你得结实点。你得结实点，准备逃跑。于是我坐下来开吃。我满心悲伤，缓慢又小心地拣出鱼刺。我手套被油腻沾湿了，而我又没有新手套替换。

After an hour, Mrs Sucksby comes back, to take the empty plate. Another hour, and she brings me coffee. While she is gone I stand, again, at the window, or press my ear to the door. I pace, and sit, and pace again. I pass from fury to maudlin grief, to stupor.

过了一个钟头，萨克丝贝太太回来收拾空盘子。又过了一个钟头，她为我端来了咖啡。她不在的空挡里，我时而凭窗而立，时而将耳朵贴在门上倾听。我一息走，一息坐，坐了又起身度步。心情由狂躁暴怒，至脆弱悲伤，至恍惚麻木。

When I wake next, it is again unnaturally early. There has appeared in the room a little basket chair, painted gold, with a scarlet cushion on it. I take it to the window and sit with the dressing-gown about me, until Mrs Sucksby yawns and opens her eyes.

待再次醒转，我发现自己又清醒得过早。房间里多了个小藤椅，漆成金色，上面放个猩红色的垫子。我将椅子搬到窗前，身穿睡衣呆坐窗边，直到萨克丝贝太太打了声哈欠，睁开了眼。

But then Richard comes. “Well, Maud — ” is all he says. I see him, and am filled with a blistering rage. I make a run at him, meaning to strike his face: he wards off the blows and knocks me down, and I lie upon the floor and kick, and kick —

而此时理查德来了。“好了，莫德——”闻得其声，我五脏内里便霍地燃起怒火，见得人来，我奔上前正要扬手打他耳光。他闪身让过，将我推倒在地。我躺在地上，又踢又打——

Then they dose me again with medicine and brandy; and a day or two passes in darkness.

然后他们又给我灌了些药水和白兰地；我在黑暗中度过了一两天。

“Dear girl, all right?” she says, as she will say every day, every day; and the idiocy or perversity of the question — when all is so far from being right, as to be so wrong I would almost rather die than endure it — prompts me to grind my teeth or pull at my hair, and gaze at her in loathing. “Good girl,” she says then, and, “Like your chair, do you, dear? I supposed you would.” She yawns again, and looks about her. “Got the pot?” she says.

“好姑娘，睡得好吗？”她以日日问候的熟稔口气说道；这自说自话问候中的荒诞不经——当一切事务远远偏离正轨，偏离到令我宁可死，也不愿忍受——激得我银牙紧咬，发根直立，满眼厌恶地瞪着她。“好姑娘，”接着她说道，“喜欢你的椅子吗？亲爱的？我猜你会喜欢的。”她又打哈欠，看看左右。“夜壶呢？”她说道。

I am used in my modesty to taking the chamber-pot behind the horse-hair screen. “Pass it over, will you, sweetheart? I’m ready to bust.”

我用夜壶时，出于矜持，将它拿到了马鬃屏风后面。“拿过来，好吗？小乖乖？我憋坏了。”

I do not move. After a second she rises and fetches it herself. It is a thing of white china, dark inside with what, when I saw it first, in the half-light of morning, I queasily took to be clumps of hair; but which proved to be decoration merely — a great eye with lashes, and about it, in a plain black fount, a motto:

我一动不动。之后她起身自己去拿夜壶。那是个白色瓷器，于清晨的微光中，我第一眼就见那壶中有一团黑色的东西，我以为是头发，不由一阵恶心；不过再看时，却发现那只是个装饰——一只长了睫毛的大眼睛，周围有一圈谚语，以普通的黑体字写就：

AND I’LL NOT TELL OF WHAT I’VE SEEN!

不言所见

USE ME WELL AND KEEP ME CLEAN

持洁持善

The eye gives me, always, a moment or two of uneasiness; but Mrs Sucksby sets the pot down and carelessly lifts her skirt, and stoops. When I shudder, she makes a face.

那只眼睛总令我感到不安；而萨克丝贝太太将之放于地上，大咧咧地提起裙子蹲上去。她见我浑身一震，便冲我做了个鬼脸。

“Not nice, is it, dear? Never mind. We shall have you a closet, in our grand house.”

“不好看是吧，这玩意，亲爱的？别放在心上。等咱有了漂亮的大房子，就给你弄一个小梳洗间。”

She straightens, pushes her petticoat between her legs. Then she rubs her hands.

她站起身，提起两腿间的衬裙，然后搓搓手。

“What do you say to this? How about we dress you up today, make you look handsome? There’s your own gown in the box. But, it’s a dull old thing, ain’t it? And queer and old-fashioned? How about we try you in something nicer. I got dresses saved for you — got ’em wrapped in silver-paper — that fine, you won’t believe it. What say we bring Dainty in and get ’em fitted up? Dainty’s clever with a needle, though she seems so rough — don’t she? That’s just her way. She was what you would say, not brought up, but dragged up. But she is kind at her heart.”

“你觉得这样如何？今天我们给你穿戴好，让你的样子漂亮点？你自个儿的裙子在箱子里。不过，那件裙子旧了，一点儿也不鲜亮，你不觉得吗？怪里怪气的，样子也过时了？今天穿点漂亮的如何？我给你留了几件衣裳——都用油纸包着呢——好漂亮，你想不到的。把达蒂喊来如何？让她把那些衣裳改得合身些？达蒂可会做针线了，别看她笨头笨脑的——挺傻的是吧？她就那样儿。她是那种让你觉得，不是从小长到这么大的，而是囫囵个儿就已经是这个样儿了。但是她的心地很善良。”

A PRESENT FROM WALES

于威尔士赠。

“Now, then,” she says. She is looking me over, and her eyes are gleaming.

“好了，来吧，”她说道。她端详着我，眼波流动。

She has my attention, now. Dresses, I think. Once I am dressed, I might escape.

此时她吸引了我的注意。穿戴整齐，我心想。等我穿戴整齐，就可以逃跑了。

Then she goes off — locks the door, of course, behind her — comes back with Dainty.

随后她便离去了——当然，锁了好房门——回来时带着达蒂。

She sees the change in me, and is pleased. She brings me another breakfast of fish, and again I eat it. She brings me coffee, sweet as syrup: it makes my heart beat hard.

她瞧出我心意转变，颇为高兴。她又给我端来一些鱼，我又都吃光了。她给我拿来咖啡，甜得象糖浆：这咖啡令我心跳加剧。

They are carrying paper boxes. They set them down upon the bed, untie their strings and draw out gowns. Dainty sees them, and screams. The gowns are all of silk: one of violet, with yellow ribbon trimming it, another of green with a silver stripe, and a third of crimson. Dainty takes up an edge of cloth and strokes it.

她们抱来些纸盒，将纸盒放在床上，解开拴纸盒的细绳，取出衣裳。达蒂一见那些衣裳，便惊呼连连。那都是丝质衣裳：一件紫色，配黄色丝带，另一件绿底银条，还有一件深红色的。达蒂揪起衣裳边儿，拿在手里摩挲着。

“Pongee?” she says, as if in wonder.

“府绸？”她如坠梦幻般说道。

Then she brings me a can of hot water. She wets a towel and tries to wash me. I will not let her, but take the towel from her, press it against my face, under my arms, between my legs. — The first time, in all my life, that I washed myself.

然后她给我送来一桶热水。她打湿毛巾，想帮我擦洗一番。我才不会允许她这么做，我从她手中夺过毛巾，自己擦脸、腋下和私处。——这是我人生中第一次，自理梳洗。

“Pongee, with a foulard rouche,” says Mrs Sucksby — the words coming awkwardly, fleshily out of her mouth, like cherry stones. She lifts the crimson skirt, her chin and cheeks as red in the reflected light of the silk as if stained with cochineal.

“府绸，和印花软薄绸，”萨克丝贝太太说道——这些字眼如同鲜红色的石子儿般，由她口中期期艾艾蹦将出来。

I have not known such colours, such fabrics, such gowns, exist. I imagine myself in them, upon the streets of London. My heart has sunk. I say, “They are hideous, hideous.”

我都不知道世上的衣裳可以如此色彩万千，可以有这许多质料，可以有这许多样式。我想象着自己身着这些衣裳，走在伦敦的大街小巷中。我的心一沉。我说道，“这些衣裳真丑陋，丑陋。”

She catches my eye. “What do you say, my dear, to these?”

她望着我的眼睛。“感觉如何？我亲爱的，这些衣裳？”

She blinks, then recovers. “You say that now. But you been kept too long in that dreary great house of your uncle’s. Is it to be wondered at if you’ve no more idea of fashion, than a bat? When you makes your debut, dear girl, upon the town, you shall have a set of dresses so gay, you shall look back on these and laugh your head off to think you ever supposed ’em bright,” She rubs her hands. “Now, which best takes your fancy? The arsenic green and the silver?”

她眨眨眼，随即回复常态。“你说这话呢。不过你被关在你舅舅那幢死气沉沉的大宅子里，关得时间太长了。要是说你对流行的感觉还比不过一只蝙蝠，那有什么好奇怪的呢？等你踏入城里的社交圈儿，好姑娘，你就得有一大堆光鲜华丽的衣裳，等你再回头看这几件，想到你曾经还嫌它们花哨，那头也要笑歪了。”她搓搓手。“好了，哪一件你最中意？这件绿底儿银条的？”

Dainty looks at me in disgust.

达蒂望着我，一脸厌恶神色。

“Haven’t you a grey,” I say, “or a brown, or a black?”

“你就没有灰颜色的衣裳吗？”我说道，“褐色的也行，要么黑色的？”

“Make it the violet, then,” I say at last. I think the stripe will blind me, the crimson make me sick; though I am sick, anyway.

“那就穿紫色的吧。”我最后说道。我觉得条纹会绕花我的眼，深红会让我眼晕不适；而我已颇为不适。

Mrs Sucksby goes to the chest of drawers and opens it up. She brings out stockings, and stays, and coloured petticoats.

萨克丝贝太太走到橱柜前，拉开柜上的抽屉。她拿出几双丝袜，几件内衣和花花绿绿的衬裙。

“Grey, brown or black?” says Mrs Sucksby. “When there’s silver here, and violet?”

“这儿有了银色的，还有紫色的，”萨克丝贝太太说道。“你还要什么灰的，褐色的或者黑色的？”

The petticoats astonish me: for I have always supposed that linen must be white — just as, when I was a child, I thought that all black books must turn out Bibles.

那些衬裙令我颇为震惊：因为我一直以为亚麻布料只有白色——就好似儿时的我，以为所有黑皮书翻开来都是《圣经》。

But I must be coloured now, or go naked. They dress me, like two girls dressing a doll.

然而此刻，我只好花花绿绿的，要不就得光着。她二人为我穿衣装扮，好似两个姑娘在装扮洋娃娃。

Now, as I look on, and while Dainty stitches, she goes with it to the light of the window, makes herself comfortable in the creaking basket chair, and begins to sort through the items inside. I watch as she fingers slippers, playing-cards, combs. It’s my jewels she wants, however. She finds in time the little linen packet, unwraps it and tips the contents into her lap.

此时，我正望着她，达蒂在改衣裳，她将包拿到窗前光亮处，自己舒舒服服地坐进那把咯吱作响的藤椅，开始挑拣包里的东西。我见她一一拈起绣鞋，扑克和梳子。不过，她想要的是我的珠宝。她很快就翻出那个亚麻布的小口袋，解开来，将袋中之物倒在腿上。

“Now, where must we nip it?” says Mrs Sucksby, studying the gown. “Hold still, my dear, while Dainty takes her measure. Lord, look at your waist. — Hold steady! A person don’t want to wriggle while Dainty’s by with a pin in her hand, I can tell you. — That’s better. Too loose, is it? Well, we can’t be particular about the size — ha, ha! — the way we get ’em.”

“好了，哪儿还要改改？”萨克丝贝太太上下打量着裙子。“让达蒂瞧瞧尺寸，我亲爱的，别动。俄滴神啊，看看你的腰身。——别动！我可以负责任地告诉你，达蒂手拿别针在别人旁边忙活的时候，别人晃都不敢晃一下——这样就好多了。太大了，对吧？算了，咱也不好太挑剔这尺寸——哈，哈！——这衣裳的来路。”

They take away my gloves; but bring me new ones. On my feet they put white silk slippers. “May I not wear shoes?” I say, and Mrs Sucksby answers: “Shoes? Dear girl, shoes are for walking in. Where” ve you got to walk to…?” She says it distractedly. She has opened up the great wooden box and brought out my leather bag.

她们摘下我的手套；却给我拿来一副新的。她们将洁白的缎面绣鞋放在我脚边。“我能否不穿鞋？”我说道，萨克丝贝太太答道：“鞋？好姑娘，鞋是要走路了才穿的。你还要走路去哪儿…？”她玩笑似的说出这番话。她打开那个大木头箱子，取出我的皮包。

It is the brooch of brilliants I once imagined Sue breathing upon, and polishing, and gazing at with a squinting eye. Now Mrs Sucksby holds it up and studies it with her own eye narrowed. It sparkles. It sparkles, even here.

那是枚光彩夺目的胸针，我曾想象过苏将它拿在手中，呼吸凝重，抹去水汽，眯起眼睛细细端详。如今，萨克丝贝太太攥着枚胸针，眯起眼睛细细端详。胸针闪耀着光芒。即便在此处，那胸针也闪耀着光芒。

“Now, what’s here? A ring. A bangle. A lady’s picture.” She gazes at this in an assessing way; then all at once her expression changes. I know whose features she is seeing there, upon the face where once I looked for mine. She puts it quickly aside. “A bracelet of emeralds,” she says next, “in fashion at the time of King George; but with handsome stones. We shall find you a nice price for those. A pearl on a chain. A ruby necklace — that’s too heavy, that is, for a girl with your looks. I got you a nice set of beads — glass beads, but with such a shine, you’d swear they was sapphires! — suit you much better. And — Oh! What’s this? Ain’t that a beauty? Look Dainty, look at the stunning great stones in that!”

“好了，这儿有什么？一个项圈，一个手镯。一个小姐的画像。”她以估测价值的眼神看着这些东西；一见画像，她神色立即变了。我明白她看到的是谁的画像，我曾在那张面孔上寻找自己的脸。她顺手将那画像丢到一旁。“一条祖母绿手链，”接着她说道，“乔治王时代流行的样式；不过镶着漂亮的宝石。我们会帮你给这些玩意儿寻个好价钱。一个珍珠镶在链子上，一条红宝石项链——这玩意太沉了，真的是，对你这样外表的姑娘来说太沉了。我给你一条漂亮的链子——玻璃珠儿串起来的，可是也有这么亮，你见了绝对会以为是蓝宝石！——更适合你戴，而且——噢！这什么玩意儿？这不就找着宝贝了吗？快来看达蒂，看看这些闪闪发光的漂亮宝石！”

“I know the place for this,” she says. “Dear girl, you won’t mind –?” She opens its clasp and pins it to the bosom of her gown. Dainty lets fall her needle and thread, to watch her.

“我知道该把这玩意送到哪儿去。”她说道。“好姑娘，你不会在意吧？”她解开胸针上的别针，将之别在自己胸前。

Dainty looks. “What a spanker!” she says.

达蒂张望着。“果然是块宝贝！”她说道。

My heart beats hard again. “The Queen of Diamonds,” I say.

我心跳再次加剧。“钻石女皇，”我说道。

“Oh, Mrs S!” she says.”You looks like a regular queen.”

达蒂呆望着她，任由针线自手中滑落。“噢！萨太太！”她说道。“你的样子完全就是个女王！”

She eyes me uncertainly — not knowing if I mean to compliment or mock. I do not know, myself.

她将信将疑地看我一眼——不明白我是要赞美还是要嘲讽。我自己也不明白。

There is a square of glass upon the chimney-piece, with plaster hearts about it: I turn, and see what I can of my face and figure, in that.

壁炉架上有面方形镜子，石膏像框以鸡心纹饰串成：我转过身去，从镜中看到我的面貌外型，究竟变成了何种模样。

I barely recognise myself. My mouth is white. My eyes are swollen and red, my cheeks the texture and colour of yellowing flannel. My unwashed hair is dark with grease at the scalp. The neck of the gown is low, and shows the lines and points of the bones about my throat.

我勉强认出了自己。嘴唇煞白，眼睛又红又肿，两颊肌肤显出变黄的法兰绒样的色泽和纹理。久未梳洗的头发油腻异常，暗淡无光。那衣裳的衣领颇低，我脖颈上骨骼的点点线线毕露无遗。

For a time, then, we say nothing. Dainty finishes her work, then combs my hair and twists and pins it into a knot. Then they make me stand, so they might survey me. They look expectant, tilt their heads; but their faces fall. Dainty rubs her nose. Mrs Sucksby drums her fingers across her lips, and frowns.

这时，我们陷入片刻静默。达蒂做完活儿，便为我梳头，将我头发盘起，以发卡固定，盘了个发髻。然后她们要我站着，以便好好审视我。她们歪着脑袋，眼露期许；然而很快她们便沉下脸来。达蒂揉着鼻子。萨克丝贝太太手轻叩着嘴唇，皱起了眉头。

“Perhaps violet, after all,” says Mrs Sucksby, “ain’t the colour for you, dear girl. Brings out the shadows under your eyes and makes ’em seem rather too like bruises. And as for your cheek — what say you give it a bit of a pinch, put the roses back in it? No? Let Dainty try for you then. She’s got a grip like thunder, she has.”

“看来，也许这紫色，”萨克丝贝太太说道，“并不是适合你的颜色，好姑娘。倒显出你眼睛下面的黑眼圈，搞得太象是青了一块。至于说你的脸——你给它稍微掐两下如何，好让血色回到脸上？不要？那就让达蒂帮你掐。她手劲大得象雷公，她有的是劲儿。”

Dainty comes and seizes my cheek, and I cry out and twist from her grasp.

达蒂过来捏我的脸，我哭叫着挣脱开她。

She has unlocked the door. Dainty passes before me and, after a second, I follow.

她打开了门锁。达蒂从我面前走过，停了一秒钟，我跟着她走了出去。

“All right, you cat!” she says, tossing her head and stamping. “I’m sure, you can keep your yellow face!”

“好了好了，你个坏心眼的！”她甩头顿足说道。“我不招你了，你就当你的黄脸婆吧！”

But I cannot bear to be handled again, and will not let her unfasten the violet dress.

然而我无法忍受她们的再次摆弄，便不肯让她解开这件紫衣。

“Hi! Hi!” says Mrs Sucksby. “Miss Lilly is a lady! I want her spoke to like one. You put that lip in.” Dainty has begun to pout. “That’s better. Miss Lilly, how about we take the gown off and try the green and silver? Only a touch of arsenic in that green — won’t harm you at all, so long as you keep from sweating too hard in the bodice.”

“嘿！嘿！”萨克丝贝太太说道。“李小姐可是个上等人！我希望人家跟她讲话的时候恭敬点。”达蒂撅起嘴巴。“把你的嘴巴收回去！这还差不多。李小姐，我们换掉这件衣裳，再试试那件绿底儿银条的如何？就是这种绿色里有一丁点儿砒霜（arsenic）——对你一点儿伤害也没有，只要你胸衣里面不要出太多汗。”

“You like it, dear girl?” she says then, her face and voice grown softer. “There! I knew the silks would bring you round at last. Now, what say we go down and stun the gents? Miss Lilly? — Dainty, you go on first. Them stairs are tricky, I should hate for Miss Lilly to take a tumble.”

“你喜欢这件，好姑娘？”于是她说道，她神情和声音都变得柔和。“好了，我们下楼去，给爷们们看看，震一震他们，如何？李小姐？——达蒂，你走前边。那些个楼梯都不好走，万一给李小姐摔着了，那我可要着急了。”

I still wish I had shoes, a hat, a cloak; but I will run, bare-headed, in silken slippers, if I must. I will run, all the way to Briar. Which was the door, at the foot of the stairs, that I ought to take? I am not sure. I cannot see. Dainty walks ahead of me, and Mrs Sucksby follows anxiously behind. “Find your step, dear girl?” she says. I do not answer. For there has come, from some room close by, an extraordinary sound — a sound, like the cry of a pea-hen, rising, then trembling, then fading to silence. I start, and turn. Mrs Sucksby has also turned.

我仍旧期盼能有一双鞋，一顶帽子和一件斗篷；不过，假使必须为之，那我也能跑，光着头，穿着丝绸绣鞋跑。我会用尽一切办法跑回布莱尔。我该走楼梯脚上哪扇门？我拿不准。我也看不清。达蒂走在我前面，萨克丝贝太太跟在后面，担心我会踩空了。“脚底下踩实了吗？好姑娘？”她说道。我没答话。因为从近旁某个房间，传出一阵奇异的声音——那声音，好似雌孔雀的叫声，声音升起，随后变为颤音，逐渐低落而至沉寂。我惊得一跳，转过身来。萨克丝贝太太也在转身张望。

“Go on, you old bird!” she cries, shaking her fist. And then, to me, more sweetly: “Not frightened, dear? Why, that’s only Mr Ibbs’s aged sister, that is kept to her bed, poor thing, and prone to the horrors.”

“叫吧，你个老鸟！”她挥舞着拳头叫道。然后，对着我，十分和蔼亲切地说道：“没吓坏了吧，亲爱的？别怕，那就是艾伯斯先生的姐姐而已，上了年纪，长期卧床，可怜的家伙，老是大惊小怪的。”

The kitchen is warmer than I recall, and darker. Richard and the boy, John Vroom, are sitting at the table playing at dice. They both look up when I appear, and both laugh.

那厨房比我记忆中更闷热，也更幽暗。理查德和那少年，约翰。瓦儒，正坐在桌边掷骰子。当我出现在厨房，他们一同抬头张望，又一同笑起来。

“I’ll bruise your eyes, get my hands on you,” says Mrs Sucksby. “Miss Lilly is only tired. Get out of that chair, you little waster, and let her sit down.”

“我两只手一起上，把你打成熊猫眼。”萨克丝贝太太说道。“李小姐就是有点儿累了。把椅子让出来，你个小窝囊废，让她坐。”

She smiles. The cry comes again, I hear it and hasten down the shadowy stairs — my limbs aching and cracking as I do it, and my breath coming quick. Dainty waits at the bottom. The hall is small, she seems to fill it. “In here,” she says. She has opened the door to the kitchen. There is a street-door behind her, I think, with bolts across it. I slow my step. But then Mrs Sucksby comes and touches my shoulder. “That’s right, dear girl. This way.” I step again, and almost stumble.

她面带微笑。艾伯斯先生的姐姐又叫了一声。我听了不由加快脚步，走下幽暗的楼梯——下楼时我四肢生疼，关节咯吱作响，呼吸愈来愈急促。达蒂等在下面，那厅堂不大，她一个人就仿佛已将地方都占满了。“在这儿，”她说道。她已打开了通往厨房的门。我心想，她身后还有一扇面街的门，上面横着门闩。我放慢脚步。然而萨克丝贝太太过来，揽住我肩膀。“没事的，好姑娘。这边走。”我又举步向前，脚步勉强，几乎跌倒。

John says, “Look at the face on that! Who bruised the eyes, then? Dainty, say it was you and I’ll kiss you.”

约翰说道，“快瞧瞧那张脸哟！是谁把这眼睛打成熊猫眼的？达蒂，你要说是你干的，那我就亲亲你。”

“I don’t care,” I say, “to be thought a friend of yours. I don’t care to be thought a friend to any of you. I come among you because I must; because Mrs Sucksby wills it, and I haven’t life left in me to thwart her. For the rest, remember this: I loathe you all.”

“我才不喜欢，”我说道，“让别人以为我是你的朋友。我才不喜欢让别人以为我是你们之中任何一个人的朋友。我跟你们混在一道，因为我必须如此；因为萨克丝贝太太的意志如此，我身上再无一丝气力好违逆她了。至于其他人，请记住：我憎恨你们所有人。”

She says this, locking the door at her back, pocketing the key, then crossing the kitchen and trying the other two doors, making sure they are fast. — “Keep the draughts out,” she says, when she sees me watching her.

她一面说出这番话，一面锁好身后的门。她将钥匙放进口袋，穿过厨房，推了推另外两扇门，确定那两扇门都已锁好。——当她见我一直注视着她时，说道，“这样不漏风。”

John throws the dice again, and reckons up his score, before he rises. Richard pats the empty seat. “Come, Maud,” he says. “Come, sit beside me. And if you will only promise not to fly at my eyes — as you did, you know, on Wednesday — then I shall swear, on Johnny’s life! not to knock you down again.”

约翰起身前，还要再掷一遍骰子，数过点数。理查德拍拍空位子，“过来，莫德，”他说道。“来，坐我旁边。只要你答应不扑过来抓我的眼睛——你知道，就象你星期三干的那桩好事——那我就发誓，以小约翰的性命发誓！再不把你推到地上了。”

John scowls. “Don’t you make so free with my life,” he says; “else, I might make free with yours — you hear me?”

约翰面色一沉。“你别随随便便拿我的性命当儿戏，”他说道。“否则，我也会拿你的性命当儿戏——听到没有？”

He puts his hand to me, and I dodge it, drawing my skirts away. The fastening of the doors, the closeness of the kitchen, has filled me with a kind of bleak bravado.

他朝我伸出手，我提了裙子闪身让过。这房门的紧锁，这厨房的憋闷，令我心中充满某种破釜沉舟的决绝。

Richard does not answer. He holds my gaze, and smiles. “Come, let us be friends again, hmm?”

理查德没回应。他盯着我的眼睛，笑了。“过来，让我们再次成为朋友吧，嗯？”

She nods. “And all my infants sleeping?”

她点点头。“我的孩子们都睡着了？”

“Gentleman give ’em a dose, half an hour ago.”

“半小时前，绅士给他们喂了点酒。”

“There’s nothing,” I say slowly, “that could be served to me here, that wouldn’t be to me as ashes.”

“这儿没有一样东西，”我一字一句地说道，“够资格服侍我，这儿所有一切，我都视如草芥。”

“And why not?” she says at last, forcing a laugh. “You make yourself comfy, my dear. I’ll take this hard old chair here, do me good.” She sits and wipes her mouth. “Mr Ibbs not about?”

“为什么不呢？”最后她勉强挤出一个笑容说道。“让你自己舒服点，我亲爱的。我就坐那边那个硬板凳好了，对我有好处。”她坐下来擦了擦嘴。“艾伯斯先生不在？”

And I sit, not in the empty place beside him, but in the great rocking-chair, at the head of the table. I sit in it and it creaks. John and Dainty gaze quickly at Mrs Sucksby, who blinks at me, two or three times.

说完我就落座，并未坐在他身边的空位，而是坐进那把占据了桌边主位的大摇椅中。一坐上去，那椅子便咯咯吱吱。约翰和达蒂飞快地瞄一眼萨克丝贝太太，后者正望着我，眼睛眨了两三下。

“Good boy, good boy. Keep it nice and quiet.” She gazes at me. “All right, Miss Lilly? Like a spot of tea, perhaps?” I do not answer, but rock in my chair, very slowly. “Or, coffee?” She wets her lips. “Make it coffee, then. Dainty, hot up some water. — Like a cake, dear girl, to chase it down with? Shall John slip out and fetch one? Don’t care for cakes?”

“好孩子，好孩子。让他又乖又安静。”她又望着我。“好了，李小姐？或许会喜欢来一壶茶？”我没回答，只是坐在椅中摇晃着，缓缓地摇晃着。“要么，咖啡？”她舔舔嘴唇。“那就来壶咖啡。达蒂，去烧点水。——好姑娘，想来块蛋糕吗，伴着咖啡一齐下肚儿？要不要叫约翰奔出去找块蛋糕来？不喜欢蛋糕？”

She shakes her head. “Why, what a mouth you’ve got, for poetry! As for the cake, now –?” I look away.

她摇头晃脑。“哎哟，你这小嘴多么伶俐呀，天生就会唱诗歌！对了，蛋糕，现在——？”我眼睛望着别处。

“Gone off on a job,” says John. “Took Charley Wag.”

“出去做活儿了，”约翰说道。“带着查理威格。”

If I had a dart, I think, I might threaten them with it, make Mrs Sucksby give up her keys. If I had a broken bottle. If I had a knife.

假使我有一枚飞镖，我心想，便可拿来威胁他们，逼萨克丝贝太太交出钥匙。我有个破瓶子就好了。我有把刀就好了。

Richard rolls a cigarette. Tobacco smoke, and smoke from the lamps and spitting candles, already drifts from wall to wall. The walls are brown, and faintly gleam, as if painted with gravy; they are pinned, here and there, with coloured pictures — of cherubs, of roses, of girls on swings — and with curling paper clippings, engravings of sportsmen, horses, dogs and thieves. Beside Mr Ibbs’s brazier three portraits — of MR CHUBB, MR YALE and MR BRAMAH — have been pasted to a board of cork; and are much marked by dart-holes.

理查德卷了一支烟。烟卷冒着青烟。油灯和吐着焰苗的蜡烛上冒出的烟雾在屋中盘旋缭绕。四周的墙壁是褐色的，仿佛用卤水刷过；墙上到处钉着彩色的画片儿——小天使的，玫瑰的，荡秋千的姑娘的——还有曲别针别着的一张张版画，画的有运动员、马群、狗和贼人。艾伯斯先生的火盆旁边有三副素描——分别是夏勃、叶鲁和布雷玛先生——贴在一块软木板上，画上有许多飞镖扎的洞。

Dainty sets about making the coffee. A gaudy clock ticks, and strikes the hour.

达蒂开始做咖啡。一只艳俗的钟滴答有声，并于整点敲响。

Richard lights his cigarette, narrows his eyes against the smoke and looks me over. “Pretty dress,” he says. “Just the colour for you.” He reaches for one or the yellow ribbon trimmings, and I hit his hand away. “Tut, tut,” he says then. “Temper not much improved, I fear. We were in hopes that you would sweeten up in confinement. As apples do. And veal-calves.”

理查德点着香烟，被烟雾熏得眯起眼睛，而后上下打量我。“衣裳真漂亮，”他说道。“这颜色正适合你。”他伸出手，想摸摸黄色丝带，我将他的手打开。于是他说道，“啧啧，我看这脾气没怎么改善嘛。我们满心希望，禁闭之中，你会变得讨人喜欢些。就象苹果那样。还有牛。”

But the room is so stiflingly hot, and I am so weary and sick, my head falls back and I sleep.

然而，这屋子热得令人窒息，我又如此困倦，如此不适，我脑袋后仰，沉沉睡去。

“Common girl says that, sounds awfully vulgar. Lady says it, sounds almost sweet. Still, dear” — here she leans across the table, drops her voice — “I wish you mightn’t speak so nasty.”

“听听这话，”她说道。“给一般姑娘讲，听起来就粗俗得要命。给千金小姐讲，听起来简直就是发嗲嘛。还是要说一句，亲爱的”她从桌上探过身子，压低了声音——“我希望你说话别这么恶毒。”

When I wake, it is five o’clock. The dice are put away. Mr Ibbs is returned. Mrs Sucksby is feeding babies, and Dainty is cooking a supper. Bacon, cabbage, crumbling potatoes and bread: they give me a plate and, miserably picking free the strips of fat from the bacon, the crusts from the bread, as I pick bones from my breakfasts of fish, I eat it. Then they put out glasses. “Care for some tipple, Miss Lilly?” Mrs Sucksby says. “A stout, or a sherry?”

待我醒转，已是五点。色子给人收起来了。艾伯斯先生也已回来。萨克丝贝太太在喂孩子，达蒂在做晚饭。熏肉，白菜，土豆泥和面包：他们给了我一份，我心怀悲愤，拣掉熏肉上的肥肉条，剥去面包皮，正如我挑出早餐鱼块上的刺，我将这份晚餐都吃下去了。这时他们拿出几只玻璃杯。“想来两口吗，李小姐？”萨克丝贝太太说道。“来杯黑啤，要么雪利酒？”

I hold her gaze. “And you think,” I answer levelly, “you wishes are something to me, do you?”

我直视她的眼睛。“那你以为，”我语调平稳地答道，“我会把你的心意放在心上，是吗？”

Dainty washes napkins in a bowl of brown water, then sets them before the fire to steam and stink.

达蒂在洗餐巾，盆里的水已洗成褐色。她洗好便将餐巾放在火炉前烘烤，水汽蒸腾，散发出臭味。

John and Richard play again at dice, and quarrel over the game.

约翰和理查德又在玩色子，耍两把便吵将起来。

I drink my coffee, then, and don’t speak again. Mrs Sucksby sits, softly beating her hands upon the table-top, her brows drawn together into a frown.

于是我喝着咖啡，再没开口。萨克丝贝太太坐在桌旁，双手轻轻拍打着桌面，她双眉紧锁，眉峰蹙起。

He smiles. Mrs Sucksby colours, then laughs. “Hark at that,” she says.

他笑了。萨克丝贝太太脸色一变，随即也大笑。

I close my eyes. My stomach aches and aches. If I had a knife, I think again. Or an axe…

我闭上双眼，胃中阵阵绞痛。假使我有一把刀，我又寻思。或者一把斧子…

“Go to hell, will you?” I say.

“你下地狱去吧。”我说道。

She flinches, and colours harder; her eyelids flutter and she looks away.

她目露畏色，脸上颜色更甚；眼皮忽扇着，目光移至别处。

“A gin?” says Richard, some look of mischief in his eye.

“来杯杜松子酒？”理查德说道，他眼中闪着狡黠的光。

I sleep poorly, and wake, each morning, sick and clear-headed and afraid; and I sit in the little gold chair, running over the details of my confinement, working out my plan of escape. For I must escape. I will escape. I’ll escape, and go to Sue. What are the names of the men who took her? I cannot remember. Where is their house? I do not know. Never mind, never mind, I shall find it out.

我睡得不好，每日清晨醒来，身子不适，头脑却清醒，心里都是恐惧；我坐在那个小金椅上，反复思量这些禁闭时日中的种种细节，苦思脱逃之计。因为我必须逃脱。我要逃走。我要逃走，再去搭救苏。抓走她的那些人名叫什么？我记不得了。他们的医院在哪里？我不知道。不要紧，不要紧，我会找到那儿的。

I take a gin. The taste of it is bitter to me, but the sound of the silver spoon, striking the glass as it stirs, brings a vague and nameless comfort.

我要了一杯杜松子酒。于我而言，这酒的味道颇为苦涩，不过那银匙搅拌酒时，碰撞杯身的丁冬声，却给我某种懵懂又无名的快感。

I go early to bed — am undressed, every time, by Mrs Sucksby, who takes my gown and petticoats and locks them up, then locks up me.

我很早便上床安歇——每回都由萨克丝贝太太为我更衣，她将我的裙子、胸衣收起锁好，然后便将我锁好。

So that day passes. So pass the days that follow.

今日便如此消磨过去。其后的时日也如此消磨度过。

First, though, I will go to Briar, beg money from my uncle — he’ll still believe himself my uncle, of course — and if he’ll give me none, I’ll beg from the servants! I’ll beg from Mrs Stiles! Or, I’ll steal! I’ll steal a book from the library, the rarest book, and sell it –!

首先，我会回到布莱尔，求我舅舅给我钱——当然，他仍以为自己是我舅舅——假使他一分钱也不给我，我就去乞求仆人们！我去求斯黛尔太太！不然，我就去偷！我去书房里偷书，就偷最珍贵的那一本，然后卖了它——！

I have Mr Huss and Mr Hawtrey. Mr Huss — who liked to see me climb a staircase. Could I go to him, put myself in his power? I think I could, I am desperate enough… Mr Hawtrey, however, was kinder; and invited me to his house, to his shop on Holywell Street. — I think he’ll help me. I am sure he will. And I think Holywell Street cannot be far — can it? I do not know, and there are no maps here. But I shall find out the way. Mr Hawtrey will help me, then. Mr Hawtrey will help me find Sue…

我认识哈斯先生和霍粹先生。哈斯先生——他喜欢看着我上楼梯。我会去找他，将自己送到他手里吗？我想我会，我已绝望至此…不过，霍粹先生更善良些；他曾邀我去他府上，去他开在霍利威尔街的店里。——我觉得他会帮助我。我肯定他会的。我觉得霍利威尔街不会太远——会吗？我不知道，此处也无地图。可是我会找到路。然后霍粹先生会帮助我。霍粹先生会帮我找到苏…

Or, no, I won’t do that. — For the thought of returning to Briar makes me shudder, even now; and it occurs to me in time that I have friends in London, after all.

再不然，不行，我做不了。——因为回布莱尔的念头令我浑身颤抖，即便是此时此刻；很快我又想起，我在伦敦竟有几位朋友。

So my thoughts run, while the dawns of London break grubbily about me; while Mr Ibbs cooks bloaters, while his sister screams, while Gentleman coughs in his bed, while Mrs Sucksby turns in hers, and snores, and sighs. If only they would not keep me so close! One day, I think, each time a door is made fast at my back, one day they’ll forget to lock it. Then I’ll run. They’ll grow tired of always watching. — But, they do not. I complain of the thick, exhausted air. I complain of the mounting heat. I ask to go, oftener than I need, to the privy: for the privy lies at the other end of that dark and dusty passage at the back of the house, and shows me daylight. I know I could run from there to freedom, if I had the chance; but the chance does not come: Dainty walks there with me every time, and waits until I come out. — Once I do try to run, and she easily catches me and brings me back; and Mrs Sucksby hits her, for letting me go.

每当我身后有一扇门被他们紧锁住，我就想，总有一天，总有一天他们会忘记锁门。到时我就逃跑。他们会日渐疲于监视。——然而，他们未曾松懈。我抱怨这稠腻的令人筋疲力尽的空气。我抱怨这挥之不去的热气。我要求去厕所的次数，比我需要的更频繁：因为厕所位于屋后那条阴暗肮脏通道的另一头，那儿可令我重见日光。我知道我可以从那儿奔向自由，假使我有机会的话；然而机会总不降临：每回达蒂都要跟我一道走过去，再一直等到我出来。——有一回我试着跑两步，她轻而易举地就抓住了我，将我带回屋子。萨克丝贝太太打了她一记，因为是她带我出去的。

Now and then, other men will come — or boys, or else, more rarely, women and girls — with plunder, to be sold to Mr Ibbs and then sold on. They come, any hour of the day, with astonishing things — gross things, gaudy things — poor stuff, it seems to me, all of it: hats, handkerchiefs, cheap jewels, lengths of lace — once a hank of yellow hair still bound with a ribbon. A tumbling stream of things — not like the books that came to Briar, that came as if sinking to rest on the bed of a viscid sea, through dim and silent fathoms; nor like the things the books described, the things of convenience and purpose — the chairs, the pillows, the beds, the curtains, the ropes, the rods… There are no books, here. There is only life in all its awful chaos. And the only purpose the things are made to serve, is the making of money. And the greatest money-making thing of all, is me.

偶尔，会有些男人找上门——要么是些少年，也有女人和姑娘们来，更少见些——带着包裹，打算卖与艾伯斯先生。然后就卖掉了。他们不问晨昏，随时会到，来时带着些惊人的东西——粗货，俗物——在我看来，质聊低劣，都是些：帽子，手帕，廉价珠宝，几段花边——有次拿来的是一卷黄色毛线，还系着带子呢。源源不断的物流——与书籍流向布莱尔不同，书籍仿佛于隐晦无声中辗转沉沦，沉入一片粘稠的海洋，休眠于海底；也与书本上描述的事物不同，书本上那些用途明确，与人便利的事物——椅子，枕头，床，窗帘，绳索，棍棒…此处没有书本。在这片骇人的喧嚣中，只有生活。那些事物给收下来，唯一的用途，便是生财。其中最重要的生财之物，便是我。

Richard takes me upstairs, and hits me. “I’m sorry,” he says, as he does it. “But you know how hard we have worked for this. All you must do is wait, for the bringing of the lawyer. You are good at waiting, you told me once. Why won’t you oblige us?”

理查德将我捉上楼，也打了我一记。“我很抱歉，”他边打边说道。“可是你知道我们为这事干得多辛苦。你须做的全部只是等待，等方便请律师过来。你跟我说过，你善于等待。你为何就不肯从了我们？”

I pass many hours in silence, brooding on this. I sit, in the kitchen, in the shadows at the edge of lamp-light — Perhaps they’ll forget me, I think. Sometimes it almost seems that they do: the stir of the house goes on, Dainty and John will kiss and quarrel, the babies will shriek, the men will play at cards and dice.

我于沉默中度过许多时光，心中盘算着此事。在厨房里，我坐在灯光边缘处的暗影中——或许他们会忘了我，我心想。有时，情势似乎表明他们忘却了我：屋里继续是一派纷乱景象，达蒂和约翰又亲又吵，小宝贝们尖叫连连，男人们玩纸牌或色子。

The blow makes a bruise. Every day I sea how it has lightened, thinking, Before that bruise quite fades, I will escape!

那一记打出块淤青来。我日日看那淤青如何消退，心想：在这块淤青褪去前，我就要逃脱！

“Not chilly, dear girl?” Mrs Sucksby will say. “Not peckish? Why, how warm your brow is! Not taking a fever, I hope? We can’t have you sick.” I do not answer. I have heard it all before. I let her tuck rugs about me, I let her sit and chafe my fingers and cheek.

“不冷吧，好姑娘？”萨克丝贝太太会如是说。“不饿吧？咦，你额头好烫！不是发烧吧，我怕是？咱可不能让你病着。”我并不作答。这番话以前我都听过。我任她拿毯子将我裹起，我由她坐下来揉搓我的手指和脸颊。

So my thoughts run, while the dawns of London break grubbily about me; while Mr Ibbs cooks bloaters, while his sister screams, while Gentleman coughs in his bed, while Mrs Sucksby turns in hers, and snores, and sighs. If only they would not keep me so close!

当伦敦的黎明在我身边脏兮兮地扩展开来时，当艾伯斯先生烹调熏鱼时，当他姐姐发出尖叫时，当绅士在床上咳嗽连连时，当萨克丝贝太太在她床上翻身，又是打鼾，又是叹气时，我心中便会冒出这些念头。要是他们没有如此严密地看管我！

“Are you rather low?” she’ll say. “Just look at them lips. They’d look handsome in a smile, they would. Not going to smile? Not even” — she swallows — “for me? Only glance, dear girl, at the almanack.” She has scored through the days with crosses of black. “There’s a month nearly gone by already, and only two more to come. Then we know what follows! That ain’t so long, is it?” She says it, almost pleadingly; but I gaze steadily into her face — as if to say that a day, an hour, a second, is too long, when passed with her.

“你很不开心吗？”她会如是说。“瞧瞧这小嘴。笑起来肯定好看，肯定的。不笑一个吗？都不肯”——她咽下口水——“给我笑一个吗？好姑娘，就只看着那个老黄历。”她在黄历上画黑十字，以此计算时日。“差不多已经过了一个月了，只要再等两个多月。然后我们就知道结果啦！这时间不算很长，不是吗？”她几乎哀求地说出此话；然而我定定地盯住她的脸——仿佛在说，同她一道，度过一天，一小时，哪怕一秒，也嫌漫长。

John goes, and returns in half an hour with a finch in a wicker basket. They fuss about that, then. They hang it from a beam, they shake it to make it flutter; Charley Wag, the dog, leaps and whines beneath it. It will not sing, however — the room is too dark — it will only beat and pluck at its wings and bite the bars of its cage.

约翰去了，半小时不到就回来了，带回来一只家雀儿，养在柳条笼子里。于是，他们围着鸟儿忙做一团。他们将鸟挂在房梁上，他们摇晃笼子，让鸟儿扑腾不止。那只狗，查理。威格，在笼子下面呜咽着跃跃欲试。可那鸟儿不叫——这屋里太暗——那鸟儿只是扑打着翅膀，叨咬笼子上的柳条。

At last they forget it. John takes to feeding it the blue heads of matches — he says he plans, in time, to make it swallow a long wick, and then to ignite it. Of Sue, no-one speaks at all.

最后他们将鸟儿抛到了脑后。约翰给它喂蓝色的火柴头儿——他说他打算，过不多久，给鸟儿喂一根长蜡烛芯儿，再将它点着了。根本无人提及苏。

“Oh, now!” Her fingers clench about my hand; then slacken, then pat. “Still seems rather queer to you, does it, sweetheart?” she says. “Never mind. What can we get you, that will lift you spirits? Hey? A posy of flowers? A bow, for your pretty hair? A trinket box? A singing bird, in a cage?” Perhaps I make some movement. “Aha! Where’s John? John, here’s a shilling — it’s a bad one, so hand it over fast — nip out and get Miss Lilly a bird in a cage. — Yellow bird, my dear, or blue? — No matter, John, so long as it’s pretty…” She winks.

“噢，对了，”她紧握我的手；时而松开，时而拍两下。“好象还是特别不习惯，对吧，小乖乖？”她说道。“别放在心上。咱们该搞点什么东西来，好让你提提精神呢？哎？一束花？发卡？配你漂亮的头发？百宝盒？会唱歌的鸟，关在笼子里的？”许是我身子动弹了一下。“啊哈！约翰呢？约翰，这儿有一先令——是个假先令，所以要快点花掉——麻溜儿出去，给李小姐买只鸟儿回来。——黄鸟儿，我亲爱的，还是蓝鸟儿？——不管了，约翰，只要是漂亮鸟儿…”她目光闪烁。

Once, Dainty looks at me as she puts out our suppers, and scratches her ear. “Funny thing,” she says, “how Sue ain’t come back from the country, yet. Ain’t it?”

曾有一回，达蒂做晚餐时，她望着我，搔搔耳朵。“这事儿有意思，”她说道，“苏在乡下怎么还不回来。有意思吧？”

That last little bit of business that Gentleman left her to see to had money in. More money than was meant for her share. She’s up and cut, Dainty, with the cash.”

绅士交她办理的最后那点儿小活儿，让她盯住，把钱收回来。那笔钱比先前说好分给她的钱多。她起了心，达蒂，卷了钱跑路了。

Mrs Sucksby glances at Richard, at Mr Ibbs, and then at me. She wets her mouth. “Look here,” she says to Dainty, “I haven’t wanted to talk about it, but you might as well know it, now. The truth is, Sue ain’t coming back, not ever.

萨克丝贝太太看一眼理查德，看一眼艾伯斯先生，又看一眼我。她舔舔嘴唇。“看这儿，”她对达蒂说道，“我本来不想再提起这事儿，不过现在你也可以了解这事儿了。这个真相是，苏不回来了，再不会回来了。”

“Done a flit? Sue Trinder?” He snorts. “She ain’t got the nerve.”

“潜逃了？程苏？”他嗤之以鼻。“她就没长这根神经。”

“Johnny, you ain’t going to guess what! Sue’s took all of Mrs Sucksby’s money, and that’s why she ain’t come back. Done a flit. Just about broke Mrs Sucksby’s heart. If we see her, we got to kill her.”

“小约翰，这事儿你可猜不到呢！苏把萨克丝贝太太的钱全卷跑了，这就是为什么她不回来的原因。潜逃了。真是伤透了萨克丝贝太太的心。要是我们看到她，我们得杀了她。”

Dainty’s mouth falls open. “No! Sue Trinder? What was like your own daughter? — Johnny!”

达蒂下巴掉了下来，“不会吧！程苏珊？就是那个像你亲生女儿一样的家伙？——小约翰！”

“She done it,” says Mrs Sucksby, with another glance at me, “and I don’t want to hear her name said in this house. That’s all.”

“是她干的。”萨克丝贝太太说道，说着还望了我一眼。“我不想在这个家里听到她的名字。就这样。”

John chooses that moment to come down, for his supper.

约翰正好挑了这个时候下楼吃晚饭。

“Well, she done it.”

“得了吧，是她干的。”

“What did I just say?” says Mrs Sucksby hoarsely. “I won’t have her name said.” She lifts her arm, and John falls silent. But he shakes his head and gives a whistle. Then after a moment, he laughs.

“我刚说什么来着？”萨克丝贝太太声音嘶哑地说道。“我不想别人提起她的名字。”她扬起胳膊，约翰不吱声了。然而他摇摇头，发出一阵嘘声。又过了片刻，他哈哈大笑。

“Sue Trinder, turned out a sharper!” says John.

“程苏珊，变得比以前聪明啦！”约翰说道。

Mrs Sucksby sees him scowling at me; and leans and hits him.

萨克丝贝太太见他对我怒目而视，便探过身子来打他。

But it seems to me, too, that they forget her quickly enough. It seems to me that even John and Dainty forget her.

然而在我看来，他们将她忘记得似乎太快了。在我看来，似乎连约翰和达蒂也忘了她。

It is a short-memoried house, after all. It is a short-memoried district.

毕竟，这是一所善忘的房子。这是一个善忘的街区。

“More meat for us, though, ain’t it?” he says, as he fills his plate. ” — Or would be, if it wasn’t for the lady there.”

“不过这下我们有更多的肉吃了，不是吗？”当他添了满盘的食物，说道。“或者说，应该有更多的肉，假使不分给我们这位大小姐的话。”

After that, if the men and women who come to the house ask after Sue, they are taken aside and told, like John and Dainty, that she has turned out wicked, double-crossed Mrs Sucksby and broken her heart. They all say the same: “Sue Trinder? Who’d have thought her so fly? That’s the mother, that is, coming out in the child…” They shake their heads, look sorry.

此后，一旦有男女来此处打听苏的下落，就会被拉到一旁，像约翰和达蒂那样被人告知，她学坏了，出卖了萨克丝贝太太，伤透了她的心。他们都不约而同地说：“程苏珊？谁想得到她这么狠心？那可是老母亲啊，那可是，从小看着她长大…”他们大摇其头，一脸惋惜。

“That’s bad blood for you,” says Richard. He also looks at me. “Shows up in queer ways.”

“你骨子里就流着坏血。”理查德说道。他也望着我。“说话阴阳怪气的。”

She imagines I brood upon my past. But I am still brooding on my future.

她以为我在思索我的过往。然而我仍在思索我的未来。

The woman with the bandaged face, who nurses her baby on the step of the house with the shutters with the heart-shaped holes, disappears; her place is taken by another — who, in her turn, moves on, to be replaced by another, who drinks. What’s Sue, to them? What’s Sue, to me? I’m afraid, here, to remember the pressing of her mouth, the sliding of her hand. But I’m afraid, too, of forgetting. I wish I could dream of her. I never do. Sometimes I take out the picture of the woman I supposed my mother, and look for her features there — her eyes, her pointed chin. Mrs Sucksby sees me do it. She watches, fretfully. Finally she takes the picture away.

那个面缠绷带，坐在对面带心型百叶窗的宅子门口奶孩子的女人，不见了踪影。她的位置被另一人取而代之——一个正在饮酒的人，而此人，接下来又将为他人取代。苏于他们，算得何人？苏于我，又算得何人？身在此处，我生怕忆及苏双唇的触感，和她游走的手。然而，我也生怕忘却了这些。我期盼能梦见她。我从未梦到她。有时，我取出那曾被我当作母亲的妇人的画像，细细查看，借以寻找她的样貌——她的双眼，她的尖下巴。萨克丝贝太太见我如此，不由目露焦虑。后来她将这画像收了去。

Many times I wake in the night to the sound of footsteps, the creak of wheels — a man is running, a family taking flight, quietly, in darkness.

有好多次，我在夜里被脚步声和车轮的吱呀声惊醒——是谁在跑动，是谁家在黑暗中离去，不知所踪。

“Don’t you be thinking,” she says, “on things that are done and can’t be changed. All right, dear girl? You think of the time to come.”

“别想那些事儿了，”她说道，“那些生米煮已经煮成熟饭，再也没法改变的事儿。好吗，好姑娘？你想想接下来的事儿吧。”

I am still watching keys as they are turned — soon one will be left in a lock, I know it. I am watching Dainty and John, Mr Ibbs — they are growing too used to me. They’ll turn careless, they’ll forget. Soon, I think. Soon, Maud. So I think; until this happens.

当钥匙转动，我仍在仔细留意——马上就有一把钥匙会给他们落在锁上，我知道。我仔细留意着达蒂和约翰，艾伯斯先生——他们对我渐渐习以为常。他们会变得漫不经心，他们会忘了警惕。很快，我心想。很快的，莫德。我这么想着；直到这件事发生。

One day, however, he goes, but returns in an hour. The house is quiet, for once: Mr Ibbs and John are out, and Dainty is sleeping in a chair. Mrs Sucksby lets him into the kitchen, and he throws off his hat and kisses her cheek. His face is flushed and his eyes are gleaming.

然而某天，他外出后，不到一个钟头却又折回来。此时屋里有片刻的安宁：艾伯斯先生和约翰出去了，达蒂坐在椅中呼呼大睡。萨克丝贝太太由他进了厨房，他甩掉帽子，亲了她的面颊。他脸色通红，目光炯炯。

Richard takes to leaving the house each day, not saying where he is going. He has no money, and will have none until the bringing of the lawyer: I think he goes only to walk the dusty streets, or to sit in the parks; I think the heat and the closeness of the Borough kitchen stifles him as much as it stifles me.

理查德日日外出，却并不说明去向。他身无分文，律师一日不来，他便一日无钱：我以为他外出，仅是漫步于灰尘满布的街道，要么呆坐于公园内；我想，这镇子上厨房中的躁热和憋闷令我窒息，于他也一样。

“Better than that,” he says. He reaches for me. “Maud? What do you think? Come, out of the shadows. Don’t look so fierce! Save that, till you’ve heard my news. It concerns you, rather.”

“比这个更妙，”他说道。他向我伸出手。“莫德？你感觉如何？过来，别坐在黑影里。别一脸怒气！留着你的脾气，等听完我的消息再说。这个消息跟你大有关系哟。”

“Dear boy, I can’t imagine! Have all your horses come up at once?”

“好小伙儿，我想不出呀！收拾停当，整装待发啦？”

He has seized my chair and begun to haul me closer to the table. I shake him off.

他抓住我的椅子，将椅子拉到桌边。我挥手赶开他。

“Concerns me, how?” I say, moodily. I have been sitting, thinking over the shape of my life.

“跟我有关系，怎么有关系？”我生气地说道。我一直坐着，苦苦思索我人生的情势。

“Well, what do you think?” he says.

“好啦，你觉得如何？”他说道。

“Not her,” he says again, more quietly. “I mean, another friend of yours. You won’t guess?”

“不是她，”他又说一遍，声音更轻了。“我是说，是你另外一位朋友。你不猜了？”

“A letter,” he says, “from — well, guess who? Will you guess, Maud?” I say nothing. He pulls a face. “Won’t you play? Shall I give you a clue? It is someone you know. A friend, very dear.”

“是一封信，”他说道。“来自——对了，猜猜是谁？要猜猜吗？莫德？”我一言不发。他挤出个鬼脸。“你不玩了？我是不是该给你个提示？这是个你认识的人。一位朋友，非常亲近的朋友。”

I turn my face. “Why should I? You mean to tell me, don’t you?”

我别过脸去。“我为何要猜？你打算告诉我的，不是吗？”

I rise, pull down his arm, see a line oft ink; then push him away.

我站起身，拽下他的胳膊，瞧见一行墨迹；便又将他推开。

“Not her. You think they give them paper, where she is?” He glances at Dainty; who opens and closes her eyes, and then sleeps on.

“不是她。你觉得在她待的地方，他们会给他们纸张吗？”他瞥一眼达蒂，达蒂眼睛开开合合，随即便睡着了。

My heart gives a lurch. “Sue!” I say at once. But he jerks his head, and snorts.

我心一颤。“苏！”我立即说道。可他脑袋猛地一扭，并嗤之以鼻。

“A bond, dear boy?” says Mrs Sucksby, stepping to his side.

“是字据吧，小伙子？”萨克丝贝太太说着走到他身边。

He waits another moment; then: “Mr Lilly,” he says. “Your uncle, that was. — Aha!” I have started. “You are interested!”

于是他又等了片刻：“李先生，”他说道。“是你舅舅。——啊哈！”我惊得一跳。“你有兴趣了！”

“Now, now.” He holds the letter high. “It has my name upon it, not yours.”

“好的，好的。”他将信高高举起。“信封上写着我的名字，不是你的。”

“Let me see,” I say. Perhaps my uncle is searching for me, after all.

“给我看，”我说道。毕竟，或许我舅舅正在寻找我。

“Let me see!”

“给我看！”

“You’ll see. Look here.” He puts his hand to his waistcoat pocket and draws something out. A paper. He waves it.

“你会看到的。瞧这儿。”他手伸进马甲口袋，掏出个物件来。那是一张纸，他拿在手中挥舞着。

“I never said it was,” says Richard. The letter’s from him, but sent by another: his steward, Mr Way.”

“我从来没说它是，”理查德说道。“信是从他那儿寄出的，却是另一个人寄的：是他的管家，魏先生。”

“That’s not my uncle’s hand,” I say — so disappointed, I could strike him.

“那不是我舅舅的字迹。”我说道——我如此失望，简直要抬手揍他了。

“More curious still, hmm? Well, you shall understand that, when you read it. Here.” He unfolds the paper and hands it to me. “Read this side, first. It’s a postscript; and explains, at least — what I’ve always thought so queer — why we’ve heard nothing from Briar, till now…”

“更好奇了，嗯？好了，等你读完信，你就明白了。给你。”他打开信递给我。“先读这一面。这是附笔；至少解释了——我一直觉得奇怪的事——为何到现在，我们一点儿布莱尔的消息也没听到…”

“Mr Way?”

“魏先生？”

The hand is cramped. The ink is smeared. I tilt the paper to catch what light I can; then read.

那字迹潦草难认。墨迹团团。我将信纸歪向我能捕捉到的光亮处，读将起来。

— I found today among my master’s private papers, this letter, & do suppose he meant it to be sent; only, he fell into a grave indisposition shortly after having wrote it, sir, which indisposition he continues in to this day.

——今日我于我家主人私人文件中，发现此信，便料想他本打算将之寄出；无奈完成此信后不久，他便身染沉疴，先生，那正是令他至今未能痊愈之沉疴。

Dear Sir.

亲爱的先生。

— Mrs Stiles & me did think at first, that this was through his niece having run off in such a scandalous manner; though we beg leave to notice, sir, that his words herein suggest him not to have been overly astonished by that deed; as, begging leave again sir, no more were we.

——斯黛尔太太会同在下首先想到，皆因他外甥女以如此令人不齿之手段离家出走所致，尽管我等得知请容我失礼，先生，他信中言辞表明他不曾为此事过分震惊；请容我再次失礼先生，不曾比我等更为惊愕。

— Mr Martin Way, Steward of Briar.

——魏马丁先生，布莱尔之管事。

I look up, but say nothing.

我抬起眼，却未发一言。

— We send this respectfully, sir, and presume to hope it finds you cheerful.

——我等斗胆发出此信，冒昧地期盼此信圆满寄至贵处。

Richard sees my expression and smiles. “Read the rest,” he says. I turn the paper over. The letter is short, and dated 3rd of May — seven weeks ago, now. It says this.

理查德见了我的表情，他笑了。“读读剩下的。”他说道。我翻到背面。信的正文简短，日期是五月三日——七个星期之前了。信里写着：

To Mr Richard Rivers, from Christopher Lilly, Esq.

致芮理查先生，李克礼呈。

Mrs Sucksby instantly takes it up, to read herself. As she labours over the words, she grows flushed. When she has finished, she gives a cry: “That blackguard! Oh!”

萨克丝贝太太立即将信拾起，自己读起来。当她费力地读到那些话语，她脸色变得通红。待她读完，她发出一声叫喊：“这个老淫棍！噢！”

— Sir. I suppose you have taken my niece, Maud Lilly. I wish you joy of her! Her mother was a strumpet, and she has all her mother’s instincts, if not her face. The check to the progress of my work will be severe; but I take comfort in my loss, from this: that I fancy you, sir, a man who knows the proper treating of a whore. — C. L.

吾料阁下已与鄙甥女李莫德私合，盼阁下安享其乐。其母本淫妇，鄙甥女若未承其母容貌，亦尽承其本性。吾呕心之作骤遇阻凝，固惨痛非常；然吾诚以为阁下深谙处置淫妇之道，痛中念及，吾心甚慰。——克礼

I read it, two or three times; then read it again; then let it fall.

我读了三两遍，方读完此信；随后又读一遍，才由这页纸自我手中飘落。

“A wicked man, that’s all. A wicked man, who is ill, as he ought to be. No-one you know. Go back to sleep.” She reaches for me. “Oh, my dear –“

“就是一大坏蛋。一个大坏蛋，他病倒了，那是他活该自找。你不认识。回去睡觉去。”她朝我伸出手。“噢，我亲爱的——”

Her cry wakes Dainty. “Who, Mrs Sucksby? Who?” she says.

她的叫声惊醒了达蒂。“谁啊，萨克丝贝太太？谁啊？”她说道。

The letter has upset me, more than I should have believed. I don’t know if it is the words that have wounded me most; or the final proof they seem to give, to Mrs Sucksby’s story.

这封信令我倍受打击，比我原先料想的更甚。我也不知，伤我最甚的，是那话语，还是那番话语似乎已赋予萨克丝贝太太的故事以最终佐证。

Mrs Sucksby comes to me. She makes to reach, not for the door, but for my face. I push her off — go quickly, to the second door, and then the third. — “Let me out! Let me out!” She follows.

萨克丝贝太太走上前来。她伸出手，却不是朝那门，而是朝着我的脸。我一把将她推开——飞快地奔过去，奔向第二扇门。而后转向第三扇。——“放我出去！放我出去！”她跟在我身后。

But I cannot bear to be watched by her, and by Richard, with my feelings in such a stir. I walk as far from them as I may — some two or three steps — to the brown kitchen wall; then I walk from there to another wall, and from there to a door; and I seize and vainly turn the handle.

然而我无法容忍她和理查德的注视，正值我的情感如此纷乱无绪。我走到一旁，尽我所能远离他们——也就三两步远——走向厨房那褐色的墙壁；然后转向另一面墙壁，走到一扇门前；攥住门把手，徒劳地乱扭一通。

“Leave me alone,” I say.

“让我自个儿待着。”我说道。

“Let me out,” I say.

“放我出去，”我说道。

“Dear girl,” she says, “don’t let yourself be upset by that old villain. Why, he ain’t worth your tears!”

“好姑娘，”她说道，“别让你自己被那个老恶棍伤害到。干吗呀，他值不上你的眼泪珠儿！”

“Let you out, to where? Ain’t everything here, that you need now? Ain’t everything here, or coming? Think of them jewels, them gowns –“

“让你出去，去哪儿？这儿的一切不正是你需要的吗？这儿的一切，还有那些就要到手的？把这些看成珠宝，看成衣裳——”

“Will you let me out?”

“你会放我出去吗？”

She has come close again. Again, I push her away. I step back to the gravycoloured wall, and put my hand to it — a fist — and beat and beat it. Then I look up. Before my eyes is the almanack, its pages swarming with crosses of black. I catch hold of it, and pluck it from its pin. “Dear girl — ” Mrs Sucksby says again. I turn and throw it at her.

她再次走上前来。我再次推开她。我走到卤水色的墙壁前，面对墙壁，以手握拳，以拳击墙，一拳又一拳。这时我抬起头来。我眼前正是那本黄历，纸面上布满黑色的十字。我一把抓住黄历，将其自图钉上拽下。“好姑娘——”萨克丝贝太太又说道。我转过身，将黄历扔到她身上。

But I pass my days in a sort of restless lethargy; and at night — for it is too hot to sleep — at night I stand at the narrow window in Mrs Sucksby’s room, gazing blankly at the street.

然而，我的时光都在某种不得安宁又死气沉沉的气氛中度过；在夜间——天气热到令人难以入睡——在夜间，我会坐到萨克丝贝太太房间那扇窄窗边，空洞地望着街道。

But afterwards, I fall weeping; and when the fit of tears has passed, I think I am changed. My spirit has gone. The letter has taken it from me.

然而之后，我便失声痛哭；一阵泪珠儿过后，我想我变了个人。我精魂已去。那封信夺走了我的精魄。那黄历回到墙上，我由它去了。

The almanack goes back upon the wall, and I let it stay there. It grows steadily blacker, as we all inch nearer to our fates. The season advances. June grows warm, then even warmer. The house begins to be filled with flies. They drive Richard to a fury: he pursues them with a slipper, red-faced and sweating. — “You know I am a gentleman’s son?” he will say. “Would you think it, to look at me now? Would you?”

黄历波澜不惊地日渐变黑，如同我们全体一寸寸地迫近宿命的终点。季节轮换。六月天气转热，随后变得更热。屋中开始有苍蝇乱舞。苍蝇将理查德迫得抓狂：他提着拖鞋扑杀苍蝇，直扑得小脸通红，汗如雨下。——“你知道我是一位绅士的儿子？”他会如是说道。“你会想到，看到我现在这付样子吗？你会吗？”

I do not answer. I have begun, like him, to long for the coming of Sue’s birthday in August. I will say anything they wish, I think, to any kind of solicitor or lawyer.

我没回应。我已开始，同他一样，盼望着八月里苏的生日的来到。我想，我会同随便什么讼师或律师说他们想让我说的话。

“Come away from there, sweetheart,” Mrs Sucksby will murmur if she wakes. They say there is cholera in the Borough. “Who knows but you won’t take a fever, from the draught?”

如果萨克丝贝太太醒来，她会喃喃说道，“过来，别坐那儿，小乖乖，”他们说镇子上有霍乱。“谁知道呢不过你不会受风发热吗？”

“You watch her close,” Mrs Sucksby tells her, drawing on gloves. “Anything happen to her, I’ll kill you.” Me, she kisses. “All right, my dear? I shan’t be gone an hour. Bring you back a present, shall I?”

“你仔细看牢了她，”萨克丝贝太太边戴手套，边告诉她说。“她发生任何事，我都会宰了你。”对我，她亲了几记。“好吗，我亲爱的？我去去就来，不到一个小时。给你带个礼物回来，要不要？”

May one take a fever, from a draught of foetid air? I lie down at her side until she sleeps; then go back to the window, press my face to the gap between the sashes, breathe deeper.

有人会因为给臭烘烘的空气吹了一下，就受风发热吗？我躺到她身边，直到她睡熟了；然后又回到窗边，将脸贴在窗框间缝隙处，深深地呼吸着。

I do not answer. Dainty lets her out, then pockets the key. She sits, draws a lamp across the table-top, and takes up work. Not washing napkins — for there are fewer babies, now: Mrs Sucksby has begun to find homes for them, and the house is daily growing stiller — but the pulling of silk stitches from stolen handkerchiefs. She does it listlessly, however. “Dull work,” she says, seeing me look. “Sue used to do this. Care to try?”

我没答话。达蒂送她出门，然后将钥匙收进口袋。她坐下来，从桌面上拽过一盏灯，便执起活计。没去洗涤尿席——因为现在孩子少了：萨克丝贝太太已着手为他们寻找人家，这屋中日渐一日愈发地安静了——只听见撕扯手帕针脚的声音，那手帕都是偷来的。而她无精打采地忙活着。“磨人的活儿，”她见我望着她，便说道。“苏过去经常干这个。想试试吗？”

I almost forget that I mean to escape. Perhaps they sense it. For at last they leave me, one afternoon — at the start of July, I think — with only Dainty to guard me.

我几乎已忘记我是打算逃跑的。或许他们也感觉到了。因为终于，某天中午——我想是七月初的某天——他们扔下我，只留了达蒂看管我。

I shake my head, let my eyelids fall; and presently, she yawns. I hear that; and am suddenly wide awake. If she will sleep, I think, I might try the doors — steal the key from her pocket! She yawns again. I begin to sweat. The clock ticks off the minutes — fifteen, twenty, twenty-five. Half an hour. I am dressed in the violet gown and white silk slippers. I have no hat, no money — never mind, never mind. Mr Hawtrey will give you that.

我摇摇头，垂下眼帘；这时，她打了个哈欠。我听在耳中；我忽然前所未有地清醒。假使她睡着了，我心想，我便可以试试那些个门——从她口袋里偷出钥匙！她又打哈欠。我开始冒汗了。时间在钟声滴答中流逝——十五分钟，二十分钟，二十五分钟。半小时。我身穿紫色衣裳，白色绣鞋。我没有帽子，身无分文——不要紧，不要紧。霍粹先生会给你这些东西的。

“Mrs Sucksby says I must go with you, every time; else I’ll catch it. Here.” She sighs, and stretches. The silk of her gown is stained beneath the arms, the stain edged white. She takes out the key, unlocks the door, leads me into the passage. I go slowly, watching the lurching of her back. I remember having run from her before, and how she caught me: I know that, even if I might hit her aside now, she would only rise again at once and chase me. I might knock her head against the bricks… But I imagine doing it, and my wrists grow weak, I don’t think I could.

“萨克丝贝太太说我必须跟着你，时刻跟着；不然我就倒霉了。来吧。”她叹口气，伸了个懒腰。她胳膊下面的衣袖已经脏了，污迹的边儿发白。她拿出钥匙，打开门，引我进了通道。我望着她蹒跚的背影，走得很慢。我想起以前从她身边跑开，又如何被她捉住：我清楚，即便我能把她打倒在地，她也只会立即站起来，捉住我。我可以拿板砖拍她的脑袋…然而我，我的手腕便阵阵发虚，我不觉得我做得到。

“I’m afraid — I’m afraid I must visit the privy.”

“我恐怕——我恐怕我得拜访一下厕所。”

She jumps. “What is it?”

她跳将起来。“什么事？”

“I’ll go with you, though.”

“那我得跟你一道去。”

She rolls her eyes. “Never knew a girl for sickness, like you. Is that what they call a lady’s constitution?”

她眼珠转转。“从没听说谁家姑娘像你这样不舒服的。这就是他们说的女士的不便之处吗？”

Sleep, Dainty. Dainty, sleep. Sleep, sleep… Sleep, damn you!

睡吧，达蒂。达蒂，睡吧。睡吧，睡吧…快睡呀！你这该死的！

But she only yawns, and nods. The hour is almost up.

而她只是打哈欠，头一点一点的。时间快到了。

She puts down her work, pulls a face. “Must you? Right now, this minute?”

她放下手中的活计，摆了个长脸。“非去不可啊？就现在，这会儿？”

“You needn’t. You might stay at your sewing, if you like…”

“你大不必去。如果你喜欢，你可以留下做针线…”

“Dainty,” I say.

“达蒂，”我说道。

“I think it must be. I’m sorry, Dainty. Will you open the door?”

“我觉得肯定是的。我好抱歉，达蒂。能开一下门吗？”

“Yes.” I place my hand on my stomach. “I think I am sick.”

“是的，”我将手放在胃部。“我觉得好不舒服。”

“Go on,” she says, when I hesitate. “Why, what’s up?”

“跟上，”当我犹豫时，她说道。“干吗呀，怎么了？”

“All right?” calls Dainty. I do not answer. The floor is earth, stamped hard. The walls are powdery white. From a wire hang strips of newsprint.

“好了吗？”达蒂喊道。我没回答。厕所的地是泥地，夯得很结实。墙壁是白垩的，一根绳子上挂了些报纸撕成的纸条。

“No, I’ll wait.” She leans against the wall. “Do me good, take the air.”

“不，我要等的。”她斜靠着墙。“呼吸这儿的空气，对我有好处。”

“Nothing.” I catch hold of the privy door and draw it to me, slowly. “You needn’t wait,” I say.

“没事。”我抓住厕所的门，慢慢拉近身边。“你不必等我，”我说道。

The air is warm and foul. In the privy it is warmer, and fouler. But I step inside and close the door and bolt it; then look about me. There is a little window, no bigger than my head, its broken pane stopped up with rag. There are spiders, and flies. The privy seat is cracked and smeared. I stand and think, perhaps for a minute.

这儿的空气又热又臭。厕所里的空气更加热也更加臭。可我还是走了进去，关了门，插好插销；然后环顾周围。厕所里有扇小窗户，还不比我脑袋大，窗户上的破玻璃用碎布堵着。还有好些蜘蛛和苍蝇。厕所里的座位破旧不堪，污迹斑斑。我立在原地，想了大约一分钟。

“What is it?”

“什么事？”

I turn to face the door, put my mouth to a gap in the wood.

我转过来面朝门，将嘴凑到木门的裂缝上。

“What?” She tries the door. “Come out, miss.”

“什么？”她想推开门。“出来，小姐。”

LADIES’ AND GENTLEMEN’S CAST-OFF CLOTHING, IN GOOD OR INFERIOR CONQITION, WANTED FOR — WELSH MUTTON & NEW-LAID EGGS — Think, Maud.

男女二手服装，成色较新，想要——威尔士羊肉，新鲜鸡蛋——快想办法，莫德。

“Dainty,” I say quietly.

“达蒂，”我轻轻地说道。

“Dainty, I am not well. You must fetch me something.”

“达蒂，我不舒服。你得帮我拿点东西。”

“But I’m not to leave you, miss!”

“可我不能离开你，小姐！”

“Be quick!”

“快点！”

“The top-most drawer, on the right. Will you hurry? If I might just make myself neat, and then lie down. I always take it so badly –“

“最上面的抽屉，在右手边。你能快点吗？如果我能把自己弄干净，然后躺下。我总是把它看得很糟——”

I run out of the passage and into the court — I remember this, I remember the nettles, the bricks. Which way from here? There are high walls all about me. But I run further, and the walls give way. There’s a dusty path — it was slick with mud, when I came down it before; but I see it, and know it — I know it! — it leads to an alley and this, in turn, leads to another path, which crosses a street and leads me — where? To a road I do not recognise, that runs under the arches of a bridge. I recall the bridge, but remember it nearer, lower. I recall a high, dead wall. There is no wall here.

我跑出通道，跑进天井——我记得这儿，我记得院中的荨麻，和砖石。哪条路好出去呢？我周围都是高高的院墙。而等我又跑出些距离，便在院墙间看见了路。那是一条土路——从前经过这条路时，路上还满是泥泞；然而我一见这路，便认出来了——我认出来了！——这路通往一个小巷，而小巷过去是另一条小路，小路横穿街道，将我引至——何处？将我引至一条不认识的马路，这条马路在桥拱下面伸展开来。我记起这桥，印象中这桥却更近，也更矮。我还记起一堵高大坚固的墙。而眼前并没有墙。

“I must keep here, then, until Mrs Sucksby comes! But say that John, or Mr Ibbs, should come first! Or say I swoon? And the door is bolted! What will Mrs Sucksby think of us, then?”

“那我就得一直待在这儿，等到萨克丝贝太太过来！可是约翰，或者艾伯斯先生会先过来的！要么说我昏倒了？这个门还拴着呢！到那时，萨克丝贝太太会如何想我们？”

“Oh, Lord,” she mutters. And then: “In the chest of drawers, you say?”

“噢，主啊，”她嘟囔着，随后说道，“在橱柜抽屉里吗，你是说？”

“Oh,” she says, understanding me at last. She drops her voice. “Caught you out, has it?”

她终于明白了，压低声音说道，“噢，就看出你来那个了？”

“All right.”

“好的！”

“Will you go for me, Dainty?”

“你能去帮我拿吗？达蒂？”

“I can’t. I daren’t. Dainty, you must go to the drawer, in the chest in my room upstairs. Will you? There is something there. Will you? Oh, I wish you would hurry! Oh, how it rushes! I am afraid of the men coming back –“

“我不能，我不敢。达蒂，你得到我楼上房间的橱柜抽屉里拿。好吗？噢，我希望你快一点！噢，它喷出来了，我好怕男人们回来——”

Her voice is fading. I press my ear to the wood, hear her feet, the opening and swinging back of the kitchen door. — I slide the bolt and run.

她声音渐渐远去。我将耳朵贴在木门上，倾听她的脚步声，厨房开门声和门板晃荡声。我打开插销，拔腿就跑。

“All right!”

“好的！”

So I whip myself along. Only the traffic checks me, the rushing horses and wheels: at every crossing I pause, then cast myself into the mass of cabs and waggons; and I think it is only my haste, my distraction — that, and perhaps the vividness of my dress — that makes the drivers pull at their reins and keep from running me down. On, on, I go. I think once a dog barks at me, and snaps at my skirt. I think boys run beside me, for a time — two boys, or three — shrieking to see me stagger. “You,” I say, holding my hand against my side, “will you tell me, where is Holywell Street? Which way, to Holywell Street?” — but at the sound of my voice, they fall back.

我一路不住鞭策自己。只是这交通妨碍了我，那奔跑的马匹和车轮：每个十字路口，我都要停下，然后毅然投入车水马龙的洪流中；我想就是因为我的仓促，我的心不在焉——还有，也许是我衣裳太过艳丽——才使得司机们纷纷收紧缰绳，以免狂奔的马蹄将我踢倒。跑啊跑，我不停地跑。我觉得有只狗冲我叫了两声，嘶咬住我的裙子。我觉得有群少年跟随我跑了一会儿——三两个少年——见我脚步踉跄，他们尖叫不已。“你们，”我双臂抱在胸前说道。“你们能告诉我，霍尼威尔街在哪儿吗？”然而我话音未落，他们便四散退去。

No matter. Keep going. Keep the house at your back, and run. Take wider roads now: the lanes and alleys twist, and are dark, you must not get caught in them. Run, run. No matter that the sky seems vast and awful to you. No matter that London is loud. No matter that there are people here — no matter that they stare — no matter that their clothes are worn and faded, and your gown bright; that their heads are covered, yours bare. No matter that your slippers are silk, that your feet are cut by every stone and cinder —

不管了。一直跑吧。将这房子抛在身后，快跑。现在要拣大路走：那些小巷和小路曲折幽暗，你一定不能在这里边让他们逮住了。快跑，快跑。莫去管那广阔无垠的天空在你眼中多么耀眼。莫去管伦敦的嘈杂。莫去管身旁的行人——莫去管他们惊奇的目光。莫去管他们衣裳破旧，而你衣着鲜亮，他们戴着帽子，而你披头散发。莫去管你那双缎面绣鞋，和你被石子尘土磨伤的双足——

I go more slowly then. I cross a busier road. The buildings are grander here — and yet, two streets beyond them the houses are shabby. Which way must I go? I will ask again, I will ask in a moment; for now, I will only walk, put streets and streets between myself and Mrs Sucksby, Richard, Mr Ibbs. What matter if I grow lost? I am lost already…

于是我放慢脚步，穿过一条更热闹的马路。路边的房屋也更为高大——而两条街开外的房屋却破败不堪。我该走哪边？我会再找人问路的，我马上就问；因为此时，我只须走，在我与萨克丝贝太太和理查德、艾伯斯先生等人之间走出条条街道便可。迷了路又如何？我这不已经迷了路…

Then I cross the mouth of a rising passage of yellow brick and see at the end of it, dark and humped above the tips of broken roofs, its gold cross gleaming, the church of St Paul’s. I know it, from illustrations; and I think Holywell Street is near it. I turn, pick up my skirts, make for it. The passage smells badly; but the church seems close. So close, it seems! The brick turns green, the smell grows worse. I climb, then suddenly sink, emerge in open air and almost stumble.

这时我走进一条上坡的黄砖走廊，在走廊尽头望见，层层破烂屋顶之外，有座深色拱顶，其上一个金十字架隐隐泛光，那是圣保罗教堂。我在插画里见过；我想霍尼威尔街便在那附近。我转身提起裙子，便要过去。走廊里气味难闻；但那教堂仿佛近在咫尺。近得仿佛伸手可触！墙砖变成了绿色，气味更加难闻。我跳将过去，随即落下，落在敞开的空气中，险些绊倒。

I have expected a street, a square. Instead, I am at the top of a set of crooked stairs, leading down to filthy water. I have reached the shore of the river. St Paul’s is close, after all; but the whole of the width of the Thames is flowing between us. I stand and gaze at it, in a sort of horror, a sort of awe.

我原以为眼前是条街道，是个广场。出乎意料，我站在一段弯折楼梯的顶上，楼梯下去是肮脏污秽的河水。我已到了河岸边。圣保罗教堂近在眼前；然而，宽阔的泰晤士河横在我与教堂之间。我立在原地望着圣保罗教堂，心中有些许惊恐，些许敬畏。

All along the shore I have come to, however, are warehouses, with working men about them; and presently, as I become aware of them, they also spot me — spot my gown, I suppose — first stare, then signal and call. That jerks me out of my daze. I turn — go back along the yellow passage, take up the road again.

许多货栈沿着我所在的河岸一字排开，货栈周围都是劳作的人；此刻，当我注意到他们，他们也发现了我——我猜是发现了我的裙子——目光先是一呆，随后示意、招呼。这令我自恍惚中猛然惊醒。我转身——径直走回黄色走廊，又上了那条路。

I remember walking beside the Thames, at Briar. I remember seeing it seem to fret and worry at its banks: I thought it longed — as I did — to quicken, to spread. I did not know it would spread to this. It flows, like poison. Its surface is littered with broken matter — with hay, with wood, with weed with paper, with tearings of cloth, with cork and tilting bottles. It moves, not as a river moves, but as a sea: it heaves. And where it breaks, against the hulls of boats, and where it is thrown, upon the shore, and about the stairs and the walls and wooden piers that rise from it, it froths like sour milk.

我记起在布莱尔时，漫步于泰晤士河畔，我记起眼见这河水不断拍打、侵蚀着河岸：当时我以为这条河渴望着——正如当时的我——奔流而下，愈来愈急，一去不复返。那时我并不知道这条河会流至此地。河水流淌，仿佛毒药一般。河面上散乱地漂浮着些破烂——干草，木头，杂草，纸片，衣裳上扯下的布条，瓶塞和歪在水里的瓶子。河水流淌，并不像一条河，倒像是一片海：波浪起伏。河浪拍打船身，冲上河滩，冲刷着台阶、堤坝和木质码头桩，浪头泛着白沫，像变酸了的牛奶。

It is an agony of water and of waste; but there are men upon it, confident as rats — pulling the oars of rowing-boats, tugging at sails. And here and there, at the river’s edge — bare-legged, bent-backed — are women, girls and boys, picking their way through the churning litter like gleaners in a field. They don’t look up, and do not see me, though I stand for a minute and watch them wade.

那是河水心中的恼恨，是垃圾心中的恼恨；而河上也有些男子，自信自如，如仓鼠一般——摇着划艇的桨，用力拽着船帆。河边到处都是——光着腿子，弯着腰——女子，姑娘和少年，涉水而行，好似田野中拾麦穗的农人。虽然我立了一刻，望着他们艰难涉水，他们却未曾抬眼，也未看我。

He points me out a flight of steps, and stares as I climb them.

他给我指了条近路，又惊愕地目送我奔向他指的路。

Everybody stares — men, women, children — even here, where the road is busy again, they stare.

每个人都目瞪口呆——男男女女，孩子们——即便在这儿，这条马路也很热闹，他们都目瞪口呆。

I have seen the bridge that I must cross to reach St Paul’s, but it seems to me that I am lower than I ought to be, and I cannot find the road that will lead me up: the streets I am walking now are narrow, unpaved, still reeking of dirty water. There are men upon them, too — men of the boats and warehouses, who, like the others, try to catch my eye, whistle and sometimes call; though they do not touch me. I put my hand before my face, and go on faster.

适才我已看到那座去圣保罗教堂所必经的桥，可我的身材似乎比我必须的矮小，我找不出去那座桥的路了：此时我走过的街道路面狭窄，未铺砾石，仍旧散发着肮脏河水的臭气。路上也有些男子——船上的男子，货栈里的男子，跟其他人一样，想引起我的注意，吹着口哨，有时还叫喊；不过他们都未影响到我。我手遮住脸，加快了脚步。

The soles of my slippers I think are beginning to tear. Don’t mind it, Maud. If you start to mind it, you will weep.

我觉得绣鞋的鞋底开始破了。别管它，莫德。假使你开始想这事，你会哭的。

At last I find a boy, dressed like a servant. “Which way is the bridge,” I say, “to the other shore?”

最后我找了个少年，衣着颇似仆役之人。“哪条路，”我说道，“可以走到对岸？”

I think of tearing off a fold of skirt to cover my naked head.

我想扯下一条裙子的褶裥来遮住我光秃秃的头。

I think of begging a coin. If I knew what coin to beg for, how much a hat would cost me, where it might be bought, I would do it. But I know nothing, nothing; and so simply walk on.

我想乞求一枚硬币。如果我知道要什么硬币，一顶帽子要多少钱，在哪里可以买到，我就会去做。但我什么都不知道，什么也不知道，所以就继续往前走。

Suppose Richard should come? Again, I cover my face. A moment, and I’ll go on. The sun is hot. A moment, to find my breath. I close my eyes. Now, when people stare, I cannot see them.

不怕理查德找来吗？我再次掩面。稍停片刻，我就继续走。日光炎热。稍停片刻，容我喘息停当。我闭起双眼。好了，现在人们再目瞪口呆，我也看不见了。

I sit. The bridge is higher than I imagined it. I have never been so high! The thought makes me dizzy. I touch my broken shoe. May a woman nurse her foot on a public bridge? I do not know. The traffic passes, swift and unbroken, like roaring water.

我坐下来。那座桥比我想像中更高，我从未到过如此高的地方！这想法令我头晕眼花。我感觉到鞋底的破洞。女子可在桥上公然揉脚吗？我不知道。桥上车水马龙，川流不息，好似奔流咆哮的河水。

There is a break in the wall at the start of the bridge with, set into it, a shallow stone bench. Hung up beside it is a belt of cork — meant for throwing, it says upon a sign, to those in difficulties upon the river.

桥头的桥栏壁上有道裂口，裂口变成了矮凳，旁边挂着一条拴着瓶塞的带子——原是要丢弃的，倒成了给河上遇困的人们看的一个招牌。

I open my eyes. A man, rather aged. A stranger to me. I let my hand fall.

我睁开眼。一个男子，颇上了年纪，是个陌生人。我放下掩面的手。

Then the road ahead of me begins to rise, and I see again the gleam of water. The bridge, at last! — that makes me walk quicker. But walking quicker makes the slippers tear more; and after a moment, I am obliged to stop.

这时，我面前的路开始上坡，我又瞧见了河水的粼光。桥，终于到了！——桥令我加快了脚步。可脚快了，鞋底的洞却更大了；过了一息，我不得不停住脚。

Then someone comes and stands before me, and speaks. “I’m afraid you’re unwell.”

这时有人过来，站在我面前，还开口说话。“我恐怕你是身子不适了。”

“Will you help me?” I say. He hears my voice and his look changes.

“你能帮帮我吗？”我说道。他听到我的声音，神色立即变了。

He touches his hat, makes a sort of bow. He might be a friend of my uncle’s. His voice is a gentleman’s voice, and his collar is white. He smiles, then studies me closer. His face is kind. “Are you unwell?”

他触下帽子，身子略微一倾，算是行过了礼。他可能就是我舅舅的一位朋友。他话音彬彬有礼，非常绅士，他的衣领是雪白的。他微笑着，然后凑上来仔细看我。他面容和善。“你身子不适？”

“Of course,” he says. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

“当然，”他说道。“怎么了？你受伤了？”

“Not hurt,” I say. “But I have been made to suffer, dreadfully. I — ” I cast a look at the coaches and waggons upon the bridge. “I’m afraid,” I say, “of certain people. Will you help me? Oh, I wish you would say you will!”

“没受伤。”我说道。“可是我曾被迫遭受痛苦。我——”我瞥一眼桥上来往的马车和货车。“我害怕，”我说道，“某些人。你能帮帮我吗？噢，我希望你说你能！”

“Don’t be afraid,” he says. Perhaps I look bewildered. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“别害怕，”他说道。也许我神情颇为迷惑。“我并无意惊扰你。”

“Thank God!” I say. “Oh, thank God! But, listen to me.” I grip him harder. “I have nothing — no money to pay you with –“

“感谢上帝！”我说道。“噢，感谢上帝！不过，听我说。”我紧紧抓住他。“我一无所有，我没钱付给你——”

“I have said it, already. But, this is extraordinary! And you, a lady — Will you come with me? You must tell me all your story; I shall hear it all. Don’t try to speak, just yet. Can you rise? I’m afraid you’re injured about the feet. Dear, dear! Let me look for a cab. That’s right.”

“我已经说了我能。不过，这太不同寻常了！还有你，一位小姐——你愿意随我来吗？你必须把你的事都告诉我；我会耐心倾听。暂时先别说话。你能站起来吗？我恐怕你脚上受了伤。亲爱的，亲爱的！等我叫辆马车。这样就好。”

He gives me his arm, and I take it and stand. Relief has made me weak.

他将胳膊伸给我，我挽住他站起身来。片刻歇息倒令我异常虚弱。

“Of course, of course. What else? Come, look, here’s what we need.” He leans into the road, raises his arm: a cab pulls out of the stream of traffic and halts before us.

“当然，当然。还有什么？来吧，瞧，这儿有我们需要的东西。”他身子探进马路，抬起手臂：一辆马车驶出车流，在我们面前刹住。

I stop, with my foot upon the step. He puts his hand upon my waist. “Go on,” he says, urging me into the coach.

我停住，脚还留在踏步上。他将手放在我手腕上。“上车啊，”他说道，极力推我上车。

“Thank God!” I say again, lifting my foot. He comes behind me as I do it.

“感谢上帝，”我抬起脚又说道。他紧跟在我身后。

“After all,” I say quickly, “I think I should walk. Will you tell me the way?”

“毕竟，”我飞快地说道，“我觉得我应该步行，你能告诉我路吗？”

“Now, then!” he says, smiling.

“好啦！算了！”他微笑着说道。

“– But I have a friend, who I think will help me. If you’ll take me to him?”

“——可我还有一位朋友，我想他会帮助我。你是否能带我去找他？”

The gentleman seizes the door and draws it back. The cab is covered, and dark. “Take care,” he says. “Can you manage? Take care. The step is rather high.”

这位绅士抓住车门，将门拽开来。车厢包得密密实实，一片漆黑。“小心，”他说道。“你能行吗？小心。这个踏步很高。”

I step back.

我收回踏步上的脚。

“Money?” He puts his hand over mine. “I should not take it. Don’t think of it!”

“钱？”他将手覆在我手上。“我才不要钱。别老想着钱！”

“The day is too hot to walk. You are too weary. Go on.” His hand is upon me still. He presses harder. I twist away and we almost struggle.

“这天气步行太热了。你也太疲倦了。上车吧。”他手还放在我身上。手里加了力。我挣扎着要甩开，我们几乎打起来了。

“That’s right,” he says. And then: “Why look, how prettily you climb!”

“这样就好。”他说道。随后：“你为何这付模样，多惹人怜爱的小羊羔啊！”

“I have changed my mind.”

“我改变主意了。”

“Let go of me.”

“让我走。”

“Do you wish to cause a fuss? Come, now. I know a house –“

“你想小题大做吗？来吧，快。我知道有个地方——”

“Come, now.”

“来吧，快。”

“Well, he’ll like you better, I think, when you have washed your hands and changed your stockings and taken a tea. Or else — who knows? — when you have done those things you may find you like me better. — Hmm?”

“好呀，我想，等你洗过手，换过袜子，喝过茶，他会更愿意见到你。要么——谁知道呢？——等你做完这些事，你会发现你更喜欢我。——嗯？”

“A house? Haven’t I told you that I want only to see my friend?”

“一个地方？我不曾告诉你我只想去见我朋友吗？”

“There’s been a mistake here. This man is insulting me.” — The man lets me go, then.

“刚才发生了一个误会。这个男人要侮辱我。”于是这男子放我走了。

His face is still kind, he still smiles; but he takes my wrist and moves his thumb across it, and tries, again, to hand me into the coach. We struggle properly, now. No-one tries to intervene. From the other vehicles in the road I suppose we are quite hidden. The men and women passing upon the bridge look once, then turn their heads.

他面容依旧和善，依旧微笑着；然而他攥住我的手腕，再次试图将我推入车厢。这时我们又有拉扯。无人过问。从路上的车上看过来，我觉得我们非常隐蔽。路经桥面的男男女女偶尔会看一眼，随后脑袋转向别处。

I move further about the coach, still calling up. “Will you take me? Will you take me, alone? I shall find someone to pay you, I give you my word, when we arrive.”

我追着马车又跑了些路，口中依然叫喊着。“你等带上我吗？你能带上我，就我一个人吗？我会找个人付你车钱，等我们到了，我马上实现我说过的话。”

There is the driver, however. I call to him. “Can’t you see?” I call.

不过还有一位车夫。我朝他叫喊起来。“你没瞧见吗？”我喊道。

The man has come close again. “Come on,” he says — not smiling, now. “There’s no need for this. What are you playing at? It’s clear you’re in some sort of fix. Shouldn’t you like the stockings, the tea?”

那男子再次凑过来。“来吧，”他说道——此时脸上再无笑容了。“不需要付钱。你在玩什么？很清楚你身陷入某种困境。你不喜欢丝袜？不喜欢茶？”

He hears the name and snorts — in scorn, or laughter, I cannot tell. But he raises his whip. “That way,” he says, gesturing over the bridge; “then westwards, by Fleet Street.”

他听了街名，嗤之以鼻——是奚落，还是嘲笑，我也说不出。不过他扬起皮鞭。“那边，”他指着那座桥说道；“然后向西，走到佛立特街。”

The driver looks me over blankly as I speak. When he learns I have no money, he turns his head and spits. “No fare, no passage,” he says.

那车夫目光空茫地望着我，听我说完这番话。当他听说我身无分文时，他转过头啐了一口。“没钱，不带。”他说道。

“Let go of me,” I say.

“让我走。”我说道。

“Thank you.” I begin to walk. The man reaches for me.

“谢谢你。”我开始步行。那男子伸手欲抓住我。

I almost shriek it. He falls back. “Go on, then!” he says. “You damn little teaser.”

我几乎是尖叫着喊出这个字。他退开。“那就走吧！”他说道。“你个该死的轻浮鬼。”

But I still call up to the driver. “Will you tell me, then,” I say, “which way I must walk? I must reach Holywell Street. Will you tell me, which way I must take, for there?”

然而，我仍在对车夫呼喊。“那你能告诉我，”我说道，“我得走哪条路？我得去霍尼威尔街。你能告诉我，我得走哪条路，才到得了那儿吗？”

“You don’t mean it.”

“你才不是这个意思。”

“Let go!”

“走！”

I walk, as quickly as I can. I almost run. But then, after a moment, the cab comes beside me and slows to match my pace. The gentleman looks out. His face has changed again.

我尽我所能，快步向前。几乎要奔起来了。然而其时，走了一息，一辆马车来到我身边，减慢速度以跟上我的步伐。那位绅士看过来。他的面孔又变了。

“I’m sorry,” he says, coaxingly. “Come up. I’m sorry. Will you come? I’ll take you to your friend, I swear it. Look here. Look here.” He shows me a coin. “I’ll give you this. Come up. You mustn’t go to Holywell Street, they are bad men there — not at all like me. Come now, I know you’re a lady. Come, I’ll be kind…”

“我很抱歉，”他花言巧语地说道。“上来吧。我很抱歉。你上来吗？我会带你去找你的朋友，我发誓。瞧这儿，瞧这儿。”他给我看一枚硬币。“我会给你这个。上来吧。你千万不可去霍尼威尔街，那儿都是坏人——可跟我完全不一样。快来吧，我知道你是个良家妇女，来吧，我会对你好的…”

So he calls and murmurs, half the length of the bridge; until finally a line of waggons forms behind the crawling cab, and the driver shouts that he must go on. Then the man draws back, puts up his window with a bang; the cab pulls away. I let out my breath. I have begun to shake. I should like to stop, to rest; I dare not, now. I leave the bridge: here the road meets another, more busy than those on the southern shore; but more anonymous too, I think. I am grateful for that, though the crowds — the crowds are terrible. Never mind, never mind, push through them. Go on. Westwards, as the driver directed.

桥上路程走了一半，他一直如此这般大呼小叫；直到最后这施施而行的马车后面排起了一溜货车，于是车夫嚷嚷着他必须继续赶路了。这时，这男子才缩回去，重重放下窗户；那马车便走远了。我松了一口气。先前我就已全身颤抖不已。我非常想停下来，休息片刻；此刻我还不敢停下。我走下了桥：脚下是另一条路了，比南岸的街道更为热闹，不过我觉得也更惹人讨厌。虽然人潮熙攘，却令我颇感沮丧——人潮实在令人讨厌。别放在心上，别放在心上，径直穿过人群便可。继续走，朝西面走，按那车夫指示的路线走。

Now the street changes again. It is lined with houses with bulging windows — shops, I understand them to be, at last: for there are goods on show, marked up with prices on cards. There are breads, there are medicines. There are gloves. There are shoes and hats. — Oh, for a little money!

这时我走到另一条街道上。街边是一排带凸窗的房屋——店铺，我终于明白了，这是店铺：因为展示着挂了卡片的商品，卡片上标着价格。有面包，有药品。还有手套、鞋帽。——噢，只要一丁点钱！

No matter. Go on. Here is a church, parting the road like the column of a bridge parts water. Which side ought I to take? A woman passes, bare-headed like me: I catch her arm, ask her the way. She points it out and then, like everyone else, stands staring as I take it.

不要紧。继续走。那儿有一座教堂，将马路分成两岔，就好似桥墩将水流分成两股。我该走哪边？一个妇人经过，跟我一样光着头：我拽住她的胳膊，问她路。她给我指了路，然后象其他人那样，立在原地，呆望着我上了路。

I think of the coin the gentleman offered, from the window of the coach: should I have seized it, and run? Too late to wonder it now.

我想起那位绅士从车窗里探出的那枚硬币：我是否应该抢夺过来，然后撒腿就跑？现在为之惊叹，已为时晚矣。

But here is Holywell Street at last! — Only, now I hesitate. How have I imagined it?

然而这里就是霍尼威尔街！——只是，我此刻颇为犹豫。我先前是如何想象这条街的？

Not like this, perhaps — not so narrow, so crooked, so dark. The London day is still hot, still bright; in turning into Holywell Street, however, I seem to step into twilight. But the twilight is good, after all: it hides my face, and robs my gown of its colours. I walk further. The way grows narrower. The ground is dusty, broken, unpaved. There are shops, lit up, on either side of me: some with lines of tattered clothes hung before them, some with broken chairs and empty picture-frames and coloured glasses spilling from them, in heaps; the most, however, selling books.

也并不如眼前所见——没有如此狭窄，如此曲折，如此幽暗。伦敦的日光依旧灼热，依旧明亮；然而，步步深入霍尼威尔街，我仿佛走入了黄昏。不过黄昏终究也是好的：它可藏匿起我的面孔，隐没我衣裳的艳色。我又深入一些，道路愈发狭窄。路面未铺砾石，坑洼不平。我两边的店铺都点着灯：有些店铺前挂着一串串破衣烂衫，有些店铺前挂着坏椅子和空相框，以及相框上掉落下来彩色玻璃，一堆堆的；然而，大部分铺子是卖书的。

Then the man lifts his head and finds me watching; and I walk on. More shops, more books, more men; and finally a window, a little brighter than the rest. The display is of prints, hung up on strings.

这时，那男子抬起头，发现我在观望；于是我便继续走。前面店铺更多，书本更多，人也更多；街道尽头是一扇橱窗，比先前的店铺明亮些。招牌以印刷体写就，挂在一根绳上。

Inside, the shop is small and cramped. I have not expected that. The walls are all given over to books and prints, and there are cabinets, besides.

进到店里，店内狭小仄逼。我不曾料到此番光景。几面墙壁上都书籍和印刷物，旁边还摆着橱柜。

I hesitate again, when I see that. I have not handled a book since I left Briar; and now, to come so suddenly upon them, in such numbers; to see them laid, face-up, like loaves in trays, or piled, haphazardly, in baskets; to see them torn, and foxed, and bleached — marked up 2d., 3d., THIS BOX IS. — quite unnerves me.

见了这等光景，我再次犹疑不定。自我离开布莱尔，至今还没碰过一本书呢；而如今，忽然间便来到这许多书本面前，置身其中；眼见这些书本摆在橱窗里，仿佛托盘中的面包片，要么随意地堆在篮筐里；眼见这些书破损了，又修补好，还漂白过——标着“此箱书籍2折，3折”——着实令我烦躁异常。

I stop, and watch as a man picks idly through a box of coverless volumes and takes one up. The Mousetrap of Love. — I know it, I have read that title so many times to my uncle I know it almost by heart!

我停下脚步，正望见一个男子悠闲地走过一个书箱，箱中俱是无封面的厚重书籍，他随手抽出一本来。《爱情的陷阱》。——我知道这本书，曾有多少次，我为我舅舅读出这个标题，这书名于我，堪称铭刻于心！

The glass has Mr Hawtrey’s name upon it, in letters of flaking gold. I see it, and shake so hard I almost stumble.

窗玻璃上有霍粹先生的大名，由金箔字母拼成。我见了这名字，身子不由得剧烈颤抖起来，险些跌倒。

Three or four men stand at them, each leafing rapidly and intently through some album or book: they don’t look up when the door is opened; but when I take a step and my skirts give a rustle, they all turn their heads, see me, and openly stare. But I am used to stares, by now. At the rear of the shop is a little writing-table, with a youth sitting at it, dressed in a waistcoat and sleeves. He stares, as they do — then, when he sees me advancing, gets up.

有三四个男子站在橱柜旁，各人卷宗或是书籍。开门时他们皆未抬眼看过来；不过当我举步向前，我的裙子发出悉嗦声响，他们都转过头来，看着我，毫无掩饰地瞪着我。然而，如今我已习惯了惊奇的目光。店铺里面有一张小写字桌，桌边坐着一位青年，身穿马甲，手戴袖套。他如那几位男子一般，也目瞪口呆——然后，当他见我又进了几步，便站起身来。

“What are you looking for?” he says.

“你在找什么？”他说道。

He hears my voice, and blinks; the customers shift a little, and look me over again.

他听了我的声音，眨着眼；主顾们动了动，又再次审视着我。

I swallow. My mouth is dry. I say, quietly, “I’m looking for Mr Hawtrey. I wish to speak with Mr Hawtrey.”

我咽了一口唾沫。我已干舌口燥。我轻轻说道，“我找霍粹先生。我想同霍粹先生说句话。”

“Mr Hawtrey,” he says, his tone a little changed. “Mr Hawtrey doesn’t work in the shop. You oughtn’t to have come to the shop. Have you got an appointment?”

“霍粹先生，”他说道。他的语调稍有变化。“霍粹先生不在这间店里做事。你不该来这间店。你有预约吗？”

He glances at the customers. He says, “What’s your business with him?”

他瞄一眼主顾们。他说道，“你找他有何贵干？”

“I’m not sure, after all, if he’s in,” he says. “Really, you oughtn’t to have come to the shop. The shop is for selling books and prints — do you know what kind? Mr Hawtrey’s rooms are upstairs.”

“我也不清楚，其实，他是不是在，”他说到。“真的，你实在不该来这家店。这间铺子是卖书籍和印刷品的——你知道是哪种书吗？霍粹先生的店在楼上。”

“Mr Hawtrey knows me,” I say. “I don’t need an appointment.”

“霍粹先生知道我，”我说道，“我不需要预约。”

“It’s private,” I say. “Will you take me to him? Will you bring him to me?”

“这是私事，”我说道。“你能带我去见他吗？你能让他来见我吗？”

There must be something to my look, however, or my voice. He grows more guarded, steps back.

然而，定然是我神情或声音中有某种东西。他警觉起来，后退几步。

There’s a door, at his back. “Will you let me go to him?” I say. He shakes his head. “You may send up a card, something like that.”

在他背后，有一扇门。“你能让我去见他吗？”我说道。他摇摇头。“你可以留张名片，要么类似的东西。”

“Then I think,” I answer, “you must have an office, some room like that; and I will wait there.”

“那我想，”我答道，“你肯定有间办公室，或者别的房间，我可以在那儿等。”

“Then I’ll wait, if I must,” I say.

“那我就等，如果我必须等。”我说道。

He makes a face. Then he finds me a slip of paper and a pen. “But you shan’t,” he says, “be able to wait, if it turns out he’s not in.”

他做了个鬼脸。然后为我找来纸笔。“不过，如果结果是他不在，那你也不能等他。”

“I don’t have a card,” I say, “But give me a paper, and I’ll write him out my name. He’ll come, when he reads it. Will you give me a paper?”

“我没有名片，”我说道。“不过给我一张纸，我会给他把我的名字写下来。他见了我的名字，就会来的。能给我一张纸吗？”

I nod.

我点点头。

He does not move. He says again, “I don’t believe he’s in the house.”

他一动不动。他又说道，“我不认为他在这幢房子里。”

“If you will?” I say.

“你是否愿意？”我说道。

“Put your name on there,” he says, pointing.

“把你的名字写在这儿。”他手指点点，说道。

“You cannot wait here!”

“你不能在这儿等！”

I fold it, and hand it to him. He opens the door, whistles into the passage beyond. He listens, then whistles again. There come footsteps. He leans and murmurs, gestures to me.

我折起那张纸，交到他手中。他开了门，对门里的通道呼哨一声。他听听动静，又呼哨一声。里面传来脚步声。他身子探过去，窃窃私语，手指点着我。

I begin to write. Then I remember what Richard told me once — how the booksellers speak of me, in the shops of London, I am afraid to write, Maud Lilly. I am afraid the youth will see. At last — remembering something else — I put this: Galatea.

我开始写，这时我记起理查德曾给我说过——书商们在伦敦的书店里是如何谈论我的。我生怕写出，李莫德。我生怕那青年会看到。最后——记起了另一桩事——我写下：葛莱缇娅。

He looks again at the customers; picks up a pencil and puts it down.

他又望一眼主顾们；拿起一支铅笔，又将其丢下。

“We’re seeing,” he says, “if he’s in.”

“我们要看看，”他说道，“他在不在。”

I wait.

我等待着。

“Don’t mind him,” he says softly, meaning the youth. “He supposes you gay, that’s all. Anyone can see though, that you’re a lady…” He looks me over, then nods to the shelves of books. “You like them, hmm?” he says, in a different tone. “Of course you do. Why shouldn’t you?”

“别怪他，”他柔声说道，意指那位青年。“他以为你有古怪，仅此而已。不过，人人都看见了，你是一位良家妇女…”他打量着我，然后朝书架偏了一下头。“你喜欢这些书，嗯？”他以一种全然不同的腔调说道。“你当然喜欢喽。为何你不喜欢呢？”

I say nothing, do nothing. The youth steps back.

我一言不发，一动不动。那青年走回来了。

There are pictures behind his head, pinned to the wall in wax-paper wrappers: a girl on a swing, showing her legs; a girl in a boat, about to slip; a girl falling, falling from the breaking branch of a tree… I close my eyes. He calls to one of the men: “Do you wish to buy that book, sir –?”

他脑袋后方有些画，包着蜡纸，钉在墙上：一个姑娘坐在秋千上，露着她的腿；一个姑娘在小舟上，失足欲跌；一个姑娘坠落下来，自断裂的树枝上坠落下来…我闭上双眼。他对其中一人叫道：“你想买那本书吗，先生——？”

Presently, however, there come more footsteps, and the door is opened again. It is Mr Hawtrey.

然而，此时又有脚步声传来，门又开了。来者正是霍粹先生。

And, as I do, one of the customers closes his album and catches my eye.

一位主顾合上手中的书籍，望着我的眼睛。

He looks shorter, and slighter, than I remember him. His coat and trousers are creased. He stands in the passage in some agitation, does not come into the shop — meets my gaze, but does not smile — looks about me, as if to be sure I am alone; then beckons me to him. The youth steps back to let me pass.

他的样貌比我记忆中更矮更瘦小。他的外套和裤子都起了皱，人并未进得店来，站在通道里，颇有些焦躁不安——遇到我的目光，却并不笑——看看我身边，仿佛在确定我是独自一人；随后招手唤我过去。那青年退后几步，容我通过。

“Mr Hawtrey — ” I say. He shakes his head, however; waits until the door is closed behind me before he will speak. What he says then — in a whisper so fierce it is almost a hiss — is: “Good God! Is it you? Have you really come here, to me?”

“霍粹先生——”我说道。然而他摇摇头。直待门在我身后关上，他才开口说话。这时他说——压低了声量，语气却如此粗暴急促，堪称咬牙切齿——“万能的上帝！真是你？你真的来了，来找我？”

I say nothing, only stand with my eyes on his. He puts his hand, in distraction, to his head. Then he takes my arm. “This way,” he says, leading me to a set of stairs. The steps have boxes upon them. “Be careful. Be careful,” he says, as we climb them. And then, at the top: “In here.”

我未置一辞，只立在原地，定定地望着他。他烦躁地挠了挠头。然后抓住我的胳膊。“这边，”他说着，带我走上一段楼梯。楼梯踏步上放着一些箱子。我们跨过箱子时，他说道，“当心。当心，”随后，到了楼梯顶部：“里面。”

There are three rooms, set up for the printing and binding of books. In one, two men work, loading type; another, I think, is Mr Hawtrey’s own office. The third is small, and smells strongly of glue. It’s in there that he shows me. The tables are piled with papers — loose papers, ragged at the edges: the leaves of unfinished books. The floor is bare and dusty. One wall — the wall to the typesetters’ room — has frosted glass panels in it. The men are just visible, bending over their work.

楼上有三个房间，专为印刷及装订书籍所设。其中一间里，两个男子正在排版（loading type）；另一间，我想，那是霍粹先生自己的办公室。第三个房间较小，内有浓烈的胶水气味。他便是在这个房间接待我。房中桌上堆着纸张——散乱的纸张，纸张边缘都不齐整：那是尚未装订的书页。地上未铺木板。一面墙上镶着毛玻璃，隔壁便是排版师的房间。此处正好可见那两位男子，正弯腰忙于工作。

“My husband?” I swallow. “Do you know, then, of that?”

“我丈夫？”我咽了一口唾沫。“那么，你知道那些事吗？”

He shrugs, colours, looks away.

他耸耸肩，脸上变了颜色，眼睛望着别处。

I say, “You think me wrong. You do not know what I have been made to suffer! Don’t worry” — for he has lifted his eyes to glance, again, at the panels of glass — “don’t worry, I shan’t grow wild. You may think what you like of me, I don’t care. But you must help me. Will you?”

我说道，“你觉得我错了。你不明白，以前我被逼迫着遭受何等苦痛！别担心”——他又瞥一眼毛玻璃——“别担心，我不会发狂的。你喜欢怎么想我，就怎么想我，我不介意。但是你必须帮助我。可以吗？”

“I’m sorry,” I say. My voice is not steady. “I’m afraid I will weep. I have not come to you to weep.”

我听了，不由侧过身子。“我很抱歉，”我说道。我的声音并不平稳。“我怕我会哭出来。我来见你并不是要哭的。”

“From my uncle, yes.”

“是的，从我舅舅家。”

“Don’t ask me.”

“别问我。”

“My dear,” he says gently at last. “What have you done?”

“我亲爱的，”最后他温言说道。“你做了什么？”

But I will not weep. He watches me struggling against my tears for a moment, then shakes his head.

然而我才不会哭泣。他见我泪珠儿在眼眶内挣扎打转，便摇了摇头。

“You have run away.”

“你出走了。”

“Good God,” he says again. And then: “Forgive me. Forgive me. It’s only the surprise of the thing.” He says it, more kindly; and I hear him and half turn away.

“万能的上帝，”他又说道。随后：“宽恕我，宽恕我。只是此事有些出其不意而已。”他说出这番话，语气较先前略微亲切些。

“From your husband, I think.”

“我想，是从你丈夫家吧。”

There is a single chair, but he does not ask me to sit. He closes the door and stands before it. He takes out a handkerchief and wipes his face. His face is yellowish-white.

房中仅有一张椅子，而他却并不招呼我坐下。他关了门，站在门前，掏出手帕，擦擦面孔。他的面孔黄里泛白。

“You may weep, if you like!” he says, with a glance at the frosted glass.

“你可以哭，如果你喜欢的话！”他瞥一眼毛玻璃说道。

“My dear –“

“我亲爱的——”

I shake my head. “My uncle is nothing to me, now.”

我摇摇头。“如今，我舅舅对我而言，毫无意义了。”

“Be calmer,” he says — lifting his hands as if to soothe me; but not moving from his place at the door. “Be calmer. You know how queer this will look? Do you? What are my staff to think? A girl comes asking for me urgently, sending up a riddling name…” He laughs, not happily. “What would my daughters say, my wife?”

“冷静点。”他抬起双手，仿佛为了安抚我；人却站在门前，未挪半步。“冷静点。你知道这看起来会有多古怪吗？你知道吗？我的伙计们会怎么想？一个姑娘急吼吼跑来找我，递上来一个谜语一般的名字…”他笑了，却并非出于开心。“我女儿会怎么说呢？我妻子会怎么说呢？”

“You will. You must. I have nothing. I need money, a house to stay in. You used to like to say you would make me welcome –” Despite myself, my voice is rising.

“你会的。你必须帮助我。我一无所有。我需要钱，我需要一个容身之处。你过去常说你会欢迎我——”尽管明知不该，我声音还是高亢起来。

Again he wipes his face. He lets out his breath. “I wish you would tell me,” he says, “why you have come, to me. You mustn’t think I will take your part against your uncle. I never liked to see him keep you so meanly, but he mustn’t know you’ve come here. Nor must you think — is it what you are hoping? — that I’ll help you back into his favours. He has quite cast you off, you know. Besides that, he is ill — seriously ill — over this business. Did you know that?”

他又擦擦脸，舒了一口气。“我希望你能告诉我，”他说道，“你为何来找我。你可千万别想我会站在你这边，对抗你舅舅。我从来不喜欢见到他待你如此刻薄，可也决不能让他知道你来了这儿。你也千万别以为——你是这么想的吗？——我会去帮你重获他的欢心。你知道，他已将你彻底放弃。除此之外，他病了——病得很重——你不知道吗？”

“I am sorry.”

“我很抱歉。”

“I should hardly have known you,” he says, still frowning, “you seem so changed. Where is your coat, and your hat?”

“我几乎认不出你了，”他依旧紧皱眉头，“你变化太大了。你的外套呢？还有你的帽子呢？”

“But he is something to me, you understand. If he should hear of your coming –“

“可他对你是有感情的，你明白的。假使他听说你回去了——”

“If I might only,” I say, “make you know –“

“假使我可以，”我说道。“让你明白——”

“Rivers keeps you without shoes?” He does not believe it.

“理查德不给你穿鞋吗？”他并不相信。

“I must. I have nothing!”

“我必须这样。我一无所有！”

“Not shoes?”

“连双鞋也没有？”

He looks appalled. “Did you come, like this?” He squints at the hem of my skirt; then he sees my feet, and starts. “Why, look at your slippers! Your feet are bleeding! Did you leave, without shoes?”

他惊恐万状。“那你，就是这么来的？”他斜着眼看看我裙摆的褶子；然后看到我的脚，忽然跳将起来。“啊呀呀，快看看你的绣鞋！你的脚流血了！你走的时候就没穿鞋吗？”

“No. Not so much as that.”

“没有。除了这个再没别的了。”

“He will not.”

“他才不会。”

“There was not time –“

“当时没时间——”

But he is not listening. He is looking about him, as if seeing for the first time the tables, the piles of paper. He takes up a few blank sheets, begins hurriedly to cover up the naked print.

然而他没有听我讲话。他在环顾四周，仿佛才看到桌子和纸堆。他拿起几张白纸，忙不迭地盖住桌上的印刷物。

“Well.” He sighs. Then his face grows troubled again. “But to come to me! To come here!” And he looks me over, takes in my gaudy dress and gloves — which are filthy; my hair — which I think is tangled; my face — which must be dusty, lustreless, white.

“算了，”他叹息道。这时他神色又变得烦恼不堪。“可是你来找我！跑到这儿来！”他仔细打量着我，一一看过我艳俗的衣裳和手套——均肮脏不堪；我的头发——我想早已乱成一团；我的脸——定是尘土满面，苍白无神。

“Do you try and hide it,” I say, “from me? I have seen worse at Briar. Have you forgotten?”

“你是要把这些藏起来，”我说道，“不给我见到吗？我在布莱尔看到过更过分的。你忘记了？”

“You don’t know,” I say. “You don’t know how he’s used me!”

“你不明白，”我说道，“你不知道他是如何利用我的！”

“You oughtn’t to have come here,” he says, as he does it. “Look at this! Look at this!”

“你不该来这儿，”他边盖边说道。“瞧瞧这儿，瞧瞧这儿！”

I catch sight of a line of print. ” — you shall have enough, I warrant you, and I shall whip, whip –“

我看到一行字。“——我跟你保证，你会得到满足，我会一鞭，一鞭地抽——”

I gaze down at my skirt, my slippers. “There was a man,” I say, “upon the bridge, I thought he meant to help me. But he meant only — ” My voice begins to shake.

我视线落到裙子上，又落到绣鞋上。“刚才有个男人，”我说道，“在桥上。我本以为他要帮助我。谁知他只是想——”我的声音不由颤抖起来。

“This is not Briar. You don’t understand. How could you? You were among gentlemen, there. It is Rivers I blame for this. He ought — having taken you — at least to have kept you closer. He saw what you were.”

“这里不是布莱尔。你不明白。你怎能明白？在布莱尔，你身边都是绅士。这个我得怪理查德。他应该——既然他已经得到了你——至少管住你。他见过你以前的样子。”

“I don’t want to know! It is not my place to know! Don’t tell me. — Oh, only look at yourself! Do you know how you will have seemed, upon the streets? You can’t have come unnoticed, surely?”

“我不想知道！那不是我的本分该知道的！不要告诉我！——噢，先看看你自己吧！你知道你在街头会有，怎样的遭遇吗？你真的不能够不打招呼就跑来，知道吗？”

“You see?” he says then. “You see? Suppose a policeman should have seen you, and followed you here? Do you know what would happen to me — to my staff, to my stock — if the police were to come down heavily upon us? They might, for such a matter as this. — Oh, God, only look at your feet! Are they bleeding, truly?”

“你瞧？”于是他说道。“你瞧？试想一下，要是有个警察看到你，跟着你来了这儿可怎么好？你知道会有什么好事落在我头上吗？还有我的伙计，我的存货？——假使警察大队人马过来兴师问罪，他们会这么干的，就为了这么样的小事。——噢，上帝，先看看你的脚！真的在流血吗？”

The room has no window of its own, and no chimney, and the smell of glue seems stronger. I have come close to one of the tables: I lean upon it, and gaze across it — at the piles of pages, untrimmed, unsewn, some of them disturbed or concealed by Mr Hawtrey.” — and I shall whip, whip, whip, your backside till the blood runs down your heels — ” The print is new, and black; but the paper is poor, the ink has feathered.

这个房间本身既无窗户，亦无烟囱，胶水味似乎更显浓烈。我来到一张桌旁：躬身定睛一看——看那满桌纸堆，未经修整，未经线装，其中有些给霍粹先生搅乱了，或藏起来了。“我要一鞭，一鞭，一鞭地抽到你背上，一直抽到你血流到脚踝上。”墨迹是新的，十分黑；然而那纸张却颇为粗劣，墨水都渗润开了。

He helps me into the chair, then gazes about him. “There’s a sink,” he says, “next door. Wait here, will you?” He goes off, to the room with the typesetters in it. I see them lift their heads, hear his voice. — I don’t know what he must tell them. I don’t care. In sitting, I have grown tired; and the soles of my feet, which until now have been almost numb, have begun to smart.

他扶我坐进椅子，随后看看周围。“有个水槽，”他说道，“在隔壁。你在这儿等着，好吗？”他走了，去了排版师工作的房间。我看到他们抬起了头，聆听他的挑剔——我不知道他得跟他们交代什么。我才不关心。坐定之后，我便感到疲惫不堪，以及脚底的洞，先前我的脚几乎完全麻木了，到此时方才开始阵阵疼痛。

What is the fount? I know it, but — it troubles me — I cannot name it. “– so, so, so, so, so, you like the birch, do you?”

这是什么字体？我认识的，不过——这令我颇为烦恼——我说不出字体名称。“好，好，好，好，好，你喜欢鞭笞，是吗？”

Mr Hawtrey returns. He has a cloth, and a bowl, half-filled with water; also a glass, with water for me to drink.

霍粹先生回转来，拿来一块布和半盆水，还有一杯水，带来给我喝。

“Can you do it? Just enough to take the blood away, for now…” The water is cold.

“你能行吗？只够先把血擦掉。”水是凉的。

Mr Hawtrey checks his watch. Then he puts his hand to his mouth and bites at the skin of his thumb, and frowns.

霍粹先生看下怀表，随后将手伸到嘴边，轻咬着大拇指，蹙起了眉头。

“No money at all?”

“一毛钱也没有？”

“You’re not ill?” — “I am only warm,” I say. He nods, and comes and takes the bowl.

“我只是有点热，”我说道。他点点头，上前来端走了水盆。

“I have none.”

“分文没有。”

I say, “You are good, to help me. I think other men would blame me.”

我说道，“你救了我，你真好。我想换了别人会责怪我的。”

Then he gives me the glass, and I drink a little of it. “Very good,” he says.

然后他给我水杯，我喝了一小口。“很好。”他说道。

I look again at the leaves of print upon the table; but the name of the fount escapes me, still.

我又望着桌上的书页；却仍想不起那字体的名称。

“Here you are,” he says, putting the bowl before me, wetting the cloth and handing it to me; then glancing nervously away.

“给你，”他将盆放在我面前，将那块布打湿了递给我；然后眼睛紧张地望着别处。

“No, no. Haven’t I said? It is Rivers I blame. Never mind. Tell me, now. Be honest with me. What money have you, upon you now?”

“不，不。我不是说了吗？我要责怪的是瑞富斯。别在意了。现在告诉我。诚实地跟我说，你现在身上，有多少钱？”

When I have wiped my feet I wet the cloth again and, for a second, sit and hold it to my face. Mr Hawtrey looks round and sees me do it. “You’re not feverish?” he says.

待我擦过双足，我又将那块布打湿了，停了一息，坐下来用湿布捂住脸。霍粹先生闲望中，见我如此，便说道，“你没发烧？没生病吧？”

“I have only this gown. But we might sell it, I think? I should sooner take a plainer one, anyway.”

“我只有这身衣裳。不过我想，我们可以卖了它？反正，我马上又能买一件普通点的衣裳。”

“Again, so odd! What ought I to call you, if not that?”

“又说傻话！我不这么称呼你，那该称呼你什么？”

To him?” I look at him in amazement. “I cannot go back to him! It has taken me two months to escape him!”

“找他？”我惊异地望着他。“我才不回去找他！我花了两个月的时间才从他身边逃出来！”

But how can I be that?

然而我如何能够理智？

“Call me Maud. You asked me, just now, what I have that is mine. I have that name; that, and nothing else.”

“叫我莫德。你刚才问我，我还有什么是属于我自己的。我还拥有这个名字；这个名字，再无其他了。”

“A quarrel,” I say. “You think it a quarrel. You think I have run on bleeding feet, half-way across London, for that? You know nothing. You cannot guess what danger I am in, what coils –! But, I can’t tell you. It’s too great a thing.”

“拌嘴，”我说道。“你以为只是拌了一回嘴。你以为我脚流着血还要跑过来，跑过半个伦敦，就因为拌了一回嘴？你什么都不知道，你根本想不出我身处何种险境，身陷何种麻烦——！不过，我不能告诉你。此事非同小可。”

He shakes his head. “Mrs Rivers — ” he says. I shudder.

他摇摇头。“瑞富斯太太——”他说道。我身子一震。

“Go back? To Briar?”

“回去？回布莱尔？”

“Don’t call me that,” I say, “I beg you.”

“别这么称呼我，”我说道，“我求你了。”

He makes some movement with his hand. “Don’t be foolish,” he says. “Listen to me, now. I am sorry for you. You have had some quarrel, haven’t you –?”

“别傻了，”他说道。“现在听我说。对于你，我很抱歉。你们也就是拌了几句嘴，不是吗——？”

I laugh — so sharply, he starts; and the two typesetters look up. He sees them do it, then turns back to me.

我哈哈大笑起来——笑声如此突兀，他惊得一跳；两位排版师也抬头张望。他见他二人如此，便转身背对着我。

“Will you be reasonable?” he says quietly, warningly.

“你能理智一些吗？”他轻轻说道，言语中颇含警示意味。

“Sell your gown?” His frown grows deeper. “Don’t speak so oddly, will you? When you go back –“

“卖了你的衣裳？”他眉头拧得更紧了。“别说这种傻话了，好不好？等你回去的时候——”

“To Briar? I mean, to your husband.”

“回布莱尔？我是说，回去找你丈夫。”

“Stay here?” he says. “Stay here, in my shop? Are you mad?”

“呆在这儿？”他说道。“呆在这儿，在我店里？你疯了吗？”

“What is this type?” I say. “Will you tell me?”

“这是什么字体？”我说道，“你能告诉我吗？”

“This fount.”

“就这个字体。”

“What is?”

“究竟是何事？”

I say again, more steadily, “I am only tired.” But he does not answer. He puts his hand to his mouth and begins to bite, again, at the skin of his thumb; and he watches me, carefully, cautiously, from the side of his eye.

我又说道，“我只是累了。”语气更为平稳。他却并不回应。他将手放在嘴边，又开始咬大拇指；他用眼角的余光，小心谨慎地注视着我。

For a second he does not answer. Then: “Clarendon,” he says, quietly.

停了片刻，他未作答。然后：“黑长体，”他轻轻说道。

He swallows. “This type?” he says, his voice quite changed.

他咽了一口唾沫。“这个字体？”他声音全变了。

“A secret thing. A scheme. I cannot say. I cannot — Oh!” I have lowered my gaze, and it has fallen again upon the pages of print. ” — you like the birch, do you?”

“一个秘密。一条计策。我也说不清。我说不——噢！”我视线低落，又落到那几页印刷品上。“你喜欢鞭笞，是吗？”

Clarendon. Clarendon. I knew it, after all. I continue to gaze at the paper — I think I put my fingers to the print — until Mr Hawtrey comes and places a blank sheet upon it, as he did with the others.

黑长体，黑长体。我早就认识的。我还盯着那页纸——我想我的手指触到了那些文字——直到霍粹先生过来，拿张白纸盖住书页，正如他先前所为。

“Don’t look there,” he says. “Don’t stare so! What is the matter with you? I think you must be ill.”

“别看这个，”他说道。“别这样瞪眼睛！你怎么了？我想你肯定是生病了。”

“I am not ill,” I answer. “I am only tired.” I close my eyes. “I wish I might stay here, and sleep.”

“我没生病，”我答道。“我只是累了。”我闭上双眼。“我希望我可以呆在这儿，睡一觉。”

At sound of that word I open my eyes, and meet his gaze; he colours, looks quickly away.

听到那个字，我便睁开双眼，直视他的眼睛；他脸色一变，连忙移开视线。

“Will you do that?”

“你要这么干？”

“You have somewhere to go, to sleep? To eat?”

“你有何处可去？可容你歇息？供你饮食？”

“My house? With my wife and daughters? No, no.” He has begun to pace.

“我家？跟我太太和女儿一起？不，不。”他开始度步。

“To find. To find. And, having found her, then I may need help again. Only a little help. I have been cheated, Mr Hawtrey. I have been wronged. I think, with a lawyer — if we might find an honest man — You know I am rich? — or, ought to be.”

“寻找，寻找。然后，等找到这位女子，我可能还需要一些帮助。举手之劳而已。我先前被人骗了，霍粹先生。我先前被人搞错了。我想，找一位律师来——假使我们能够找到一位诚实的君子——你知道我很有钱吗？——或者说，会变得有钱。”

“Keep you! Do you know what you are saying? Keep you, where?”

“收留你！你知道你在说什么吗？收留你，安置于何处呢？”

“I wish,” he says suddenly then, “I just wish you would tell me what it is you mean to do. How am I even to get you from the shop? I must bring a cab, I suppose, to the back of the building.”

“我希望，”这时他忽然说道，“我就是希望你会告诉我你意欲何为。我如何才能将你带出这间铺子？我觉得我必须搞一架马车，等在屋后边。”

“My house?”

“我家？”

“To save?”

“搭救？”

“I cannot do that. I have no home! I need only a little money, a little time. There is a person I mean to find, to save –“

“我决不能回家。我没有家！我只需要一点钱，一点时间。我还打算寻找一个人，打算搭救——”

“You must go home, then.”

“那你一定得回家。”

Again, he watches but does not speak. I say, “You know I am rich. If you’ll only help me, now. If you’ll only keep me –“

再一次，他注视着我，却一言不发。我说道，“你知道我很有钱，假使你现在能够助我一臂之力。假使你可以收留我——”

“Not in your own house?”

“不能在你府上吗？”

“I have nowhere!”

“我无处可去！”

“I thought –“

“我本想——”

“Mr Hawtrey — ” I say.

“霍粹先生——”我说道。

He has kept still, all this time; but his look has changed, is odd.

他人始终一动不动；然而他的神情变了，变得颇为古怪。

“Haven’t I told you? This is not Briar. The world is not like Briar. You must find that out. How old are you? You are a child. You cannot leave a husband, as you may leave an uncle. You cannot live, in London, on nothing. How do you think you will live?”

“我没告诉你吗？这儿不是布莱尔。这个世界可不像布莱尔。你必须明白这一点。你几岁了？你还是个孩子。你不能像抛弃舅舅一样，抛弃丈夫。你一无所有，在伦敦活不下去的。你想如何讨生活？”

“But at Briar you said, many times –“

“可是在布莱尔你说过，说了好多回——”

He stands still. “For me?”

他一动不动地立着。“为我？”

“Might I not work here? In the putting together of books? — the writing, even? I know that work. You know how well I know it! You may pay me a wage. I shall take a room — I need only one room, one quiet room! — I shall take it secretly, Richard shall never know, you shall keep my secret for me. I shall work, and earn a little money — enough to find out my friend, to find out an honest lawyer; and then — What is it?”

“我可否在此工作？归置书籍？——原稿也可以？我知道怎么做。你知道我多熟悉那些活儿！你可以付我一点儿薪水。我就在房里做活——我只需要一个房间，一个安静的房间！——我会呆在房中，神不知鬼不觉，理查德永远也不会知道，你会为我保守秘密。我会做事，赚一点钱——够我寻找到我的朋友，再找一位诚实的律师；然后——怎么了？”

“I do not know. I supposed — ” I supposed you would give me money, I want to say. I look about me. Then I am struck with an idea. “Might I not,” I say, “work for you?”

“我也不知道。我原以为——”我想说：我原以为你会给我一点钱。我环顾身边。这时我灵光一闪，想起一个主意。“我可否，”我说道，“为你工作呢？”

“Nothing,” he says, moving. “I — Nothing. Drink your water.”

“没什么。”他说道。“我——没什么。再喝点水吧。”

He waves the paper, to dry it; then folds it. “Tomorrow,” he says. “If I can.”

他抖抖那纸条，以便风干墨迹；然后折起纸条。“明天吧，”他说道。“假使我得便。”

I suppose I am flushed. I have spoken rapidly, and grown warm: I swallow, and feel the chill descent of the water inside my breast, like a sword. He moves to the table and leans upon it, not looking at me, but thinking, thinking. When I set down the glass he turns back. He does not catch my eye.

我想我脸红了。我刚才说话太急，人也燥热起来：我喝了一口水，随即感觉那冰冷的水流滑过我的胸腔，好似一把尖刀。他走到桌边，背朝我微躬着身子。他并未看我，却在沉思，沉思。待我放下水杯，他转过身来。他并不看我的眼睛。

“Listen to me,” he says. He speaks quietly. “You cannot stay here, you know that. I must send for a cab, to take you. I — I must send for some woman, also. I will pay for a woman to go with you.”

“听我说，”他静静地说道。“你不能呆在这儿，你明白的。我肯定会叫辆马车来，送你走。我——我也肯定会找个妇人来。我会付钱给她，请她陪着你走。”

“To some — hotel.” Now he has turned again, has taken up a pen — looks in a book, begins to set down a direction upon a slip of paper. “Some house,” he says, as he does it, “where you may rest and take a supper.”

“去某个——旅馆。”这时他再次转过身去，拿起一支笔——查阅过一本书，便开始在一张纸条上写下指示。“某个地方，”他边写边说道。“到那儿你可以歇息一下，吃顿晚餐。”

“Where I may rest?” I say. “I don’t think I shall rest, ever again! But a room! A room! — And will you come to me there? Tonight?” He does not answer. “Mr Hawtrey?”

“我可以去何处歇息？”我说道。“我不觉得我又需要歇息！只要一个房间！一个房间！——你会过来看望我吗？今晚？”他并不回答。“霍粹先生？”

“Go with me, where?”

“陪我走，去何处？”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“那就明晚。”

“Not tonight,” he says, still writing. “Tonight I cannot.”

“今晚不成，”他仍在书写指示。“今晚我不得便。”

Then I sit in silence. He waits, takes out his watch, goes now and then to the top of the stairs, to stand and listen. At last he goes and comes quickly back.

于是我默默地坐着。他在等待，拿出怀表，不时走到门外楼梯平台上，站立片刻，倾听外面的动静。最后他出去，又很快回房来。

He takes me down. He takes me through a set of rooms, piled high with crates and boxes, and then through a sort of scullery, to a door. The door leads to a little grey area: there are steps from this, to an alley. A cab waits there with, beside it, a woman. She sees us and nods.

他带我下楼，带我经过一排房屋，房中高高地码着些板条箱和箱子，然后又经过一个水槽，走到一个门口。那道门外有片小小的灰色空地：几级台阶过去，便有一条小巷。一辆马车等在小巷中，马车旁边有位妇人。她望见了我们，点了点头。

“Thank God!”

“感谢上帝！”

“You are kind, Mr Hawtrey,” I say, as I lean to tug on my broken slippers. “God knows, no-one has been so kind to me, since — ” My voice is lost.

“你真好，霍粹先生。”我说道，弯腰拽我的破烂绣鞋时，我又说道，“上帝知道，再没谁对我这么好过，自从——”我声音哽咽住了。

“They are here,” he says. “Now, have you everything? Come this way, carefully.”

“他们到了，”他说道。“好了，你准备好了？来，走这边，小心点。”

“You must!”

“你一定要来！”

“Put your shoes on, now,” he says, turning away. “We must be ready.”

“现在穿上你的鞋子，”他说道

I put my hand before my eyes. “Stay here,” he says. “Will you? Don’t go from here.”

我手捂住双眼。“呆在这儿，”他说道。“好吗？别走开。”

“Hush. Yes, I’ll consider it. Yes.”

“别作声。是的，我会答应你的。是的。”

“And the work — my working for you. You’ll consider that? Say you will!”

“还有工作的事——我为你工作的事。你会答应我？快说你会答应我！”

“Yes, yes.”

“是的，是的。”

“There, there,” he says, distractedly. “Don’t think of it, now…”

“行了，行了，”他心不在焉地说道。“别再想这些了，现在…”

I hear him step, then, to the room next door; and when I look, I see him speaking quietly to one of the typesetters — see the man draw on his jacket, then go. Mr Hawtrey comes back. He nods to my feet.

然后，我听得他的脚步声进了隔壁房间；等我定睛再看，我见他对其中一位排版师轻轻嘱咐几句——又见那男子穿上夹克，出门而去。霍粹先生回来，朝我的双脚点点头。

“You will come,” I say, “tomorrow?”

“明天，”我说道，“你会过来吗？”

“You know what to do?” Mr Hawtrey says to her. She nods again. He gives her money, wrapped in the paper ton which he has written. “Here is the lady, look. Her name is Mrs Rivers. You are to be kind to her. Have you some shawl?”

“你知道要干什么？”霍粹先生对她说道。她又点点头。他给了她钱，钱包裹在先前他书写的那张纸条里。“就是这位夫人，瞧。她是瑞富斯太太。你要善待她。你有披肩围巾之类的东西吗？”

He nods. “Go on,” he says quietly. “This woman will care for you now, better than I.”

他点点头。“走吧，”他轻轻说道。“现在由这位女子照顾你，比我更合适。”

She has a plaid wool wrap, which she puts about me, to cover up my head. The wool is hot against my cheek. The day is still warm, though it is almost twilight. The sun has gone from the sky. I have been three hours from Lant Street.

这妇人有条花格羊毛披肩。她给我披上披肩，包住我的头。羊毛将我的面孔捂得发烫。虽已近傍晚时分，天气依旧很热。日薄西山，我离开蓝特街已有三个小时了。

“Of course.”

“当然了。”

At the door to the cab, I turn. I take Mr Hawtrey’s hand.

在车门旁，我转过身来，抓住霍粹先生的手。

He hands me into the cab — hesitates, before lifting my fingers to his mouth. The woman comes next. He closes the door at her back, then moves off, out of the path of the turning wheel. I lean to the glass and see him take out his handkerchief, wipe his face and neck; then we turn, pull out of the alley, and he is gone. We drive away from Holywell Street — northwards, so far as I can tell; for I know — I am almost certain — that we do not cross the river.

他扶我坐进马车——将我的手拿到嘴边行礼时，他稍事犹豫。那妇人也上了车，他在她身后关了车门，便退到一旁，为转动的车轮让开去路。我侧身扑到车窗边，见他掏出手帕，擦擦面孔和颈项；这时马车转弯，驶出小巷，再看不到他的身影了。马车驶离霍尼威尔街——就我所知，是往北边去了；因为我知道——我几乎可以确定——我们没有过泰晤士河。

“You won’t talk of this, to anyone? You’ll remember the danger I spoke of?”

“你不会跟任何人，谈及此事？你会时刻记得我说过的危险？”

“Thank you, Mr Hawtrey!”

“万分感谢你，霍粹先生！”

We go very fitfully, however. The traffic is thick. I keep with my face at the window at first, watching the crowds upon the streets, the shops. Then I think, Suppose I see Richard? — and I fall back against the leather seat and study the streets from there.

然而我们走得很慢，时停时走。路上车辆繁多，交通不畅。开始时，我还将脸凑在车窗前，望着街上的人群和店铺。随后我心想，看到理查德可如何是好？——我落回皮质座位，端坐着仔细张望窗外街景。

Do I begin, then, to feel wary? I am not sure. I think, After all, Mr Hawtrey had not the time to be careful, in his finding of a woman. What matter if she’s not kind, so long as she’s honest? I look more closely at her. Her skirt is a rusty black. Her shoes are the colour and texture of roasted meat. She sits placidly, not speaking, while the cab shudders and jolts.

我便是自此时开始，感觉警醒的吗？我也不知道。我心想，毕竟，霍粹先生没时间太过仔细地挑拣人选。只要她诚实，不友善又有何干？我更仔细地打量着她。她身穿黑色衣裳，衣料颇为僵硬。她的鞋子有着烤肉般的颜色和纹理。马车颠簸摇晃，她则稳稳当当地坐着，一言不发。

Only after some time of this do I look again at the woman. She has her hands in her lap: they are gloveless, and coarse. She catches my eye. “All right, dearie?” she says, not smiling. Her voice is rough as her fingers.

之后不久，我再次打量那妇人。她双手放在腿上：未戴手套，颇为粗糙。她见我望着她，便笑也不笑地说道，“怎么了？宝贝儿？”她的声音如她的手一般粗糙不堪。

“Must we go far?” I ask her at last.

“我们必须走这么远的路吗？”最后我问她。

“Not too far, dearie.” Her voice is still rough, her face without expression.

“也不是太远嘛，宝贝儿。”她面无表情，声音依旧沙哑粗砺。

I say, fretfully, “Do you call me that? I wish you wouldn’t.”

我沮丧地说道。“你叫我宝贝儿？我希望你不要这么称呼我。”

She shrugs. The gesture is so bold and yet so careless, I think I do then grow uneasy. I put my face again to the window, to try to draw in air. The air will not come. Where is Holywell Street, I think, from here?

她耸耸肩。这动作如此粗鲁，又如此满不在乎。我觉得，我正是从这一刻开始不自在的。我又凑到车窗边，想透一口气，却未如愿。从这儿看，霍尼威尔街在何方呢？我心想。

And again, she shrugs. We drive on, more smoothly. We drive for, perhaps, half an hour, up a rising road. The day is darker now. I am tenser. We have left the lights and shops, and are in some street — some street of plain buildings. We turn a corner, and the buildings grow plainer still.

她又耸耸肩。我们继续前行，路途顺畅了许多。马车走了约有半个小时，走到一条上坡的路。此时天色愈发暗了，我也愈发紧张。路边灯火店铺渐稀，我们身处某条街道中——街边都是普通建筑。马车转过一个街口，街边的建筑愈发普通了。

“I don’t like this,” I say, turning back to the woman. “May we not walk?”

“我不喜欢这样走，”我转过身对那妇人说道。“我们不能步行吗？”

“Will you talk to me, so?” I say again. “I am not a child.”

“你这样同我说话？”我又说道。“我可不是小孩子。”

“Walk, in them slippers?” She snorts. She looks out. “Here’s Camden Town,” she says. “We’ve a fair way, yet. Sit back and be good.”

“步行，就穿这绣鞋？”她嗤之以鼻。她看看外面。“到康登镇了，”她说道。“我们还有一大段路要走呢。坐好，别乱动。”

Presently we draw up before a great, grey house. There is a lamp, at the foot of its steps. A girl in a ragged apron is reaching with a taper to light it. The glass of its shade is cracked. The street is perfectly silent.

不久，马车停在一幢灰色的大宅门前。门前阶梯脚下有盏灯。一个围着破烂围裙的姑娘手拿一支细蜡烛，正欲点燃那盏灯。灯笼上的玻璃已有了裂纹。街道上静谧无声。

“What’s this?” I say to the woman, when the coach has stopped and I understand it will not go on.

当马车停住，我才明白车再不向前了，我对那妇人说道，“这是什么地方？”

“Paid me to bring you here, and then to leave you. Most particular. If you don’t like it — ” She reaches into her pocket. “Why, here’s his very hand.”

“给我钱叫我把你带到这儿，然后丢下你。真稀奇。假使你不喜欢——”她手伸进口袋。“哎呀，这里有他的亲笔指示。”

“Like me?”

“像我这种？”

“The hotel?”

“是旅馆吗？”

“Here’s your house,” she says.

“这是你的家，”她说道。

She tries to pull her hand away, but I will not let her. Finally, she sucks her teeth.

她试图抽回手，然而我就是不放开，最后，她嘬了下牙齿。

“Not until you tell me where I am.”

“你先告诉我我在哪儿。”

“House for ladies,” she says, “like you.”

“收留女士的地方，”她说道，“就像你这种女士。”

“Why, to here!”

“哎呀，就这儿！”

“And what is here?”

“这是什么地方？”

“Wait,” I say — feeling real fear now, at last. “What do you mean? Where has Mr Hawtrey directed you to?”

“等等，”我说道——此时，我终于感觉到了真正的恐惧。“你什么意思？霍粹先生先前指示你去何处？”

“Like you. Poor ladies, widow ladies — wicked ladies, I shouldn’t wonder. — There!”

“像你这种。穷人家的女子，寡妇——坏女人，我一点也不觉得奇怪。——就这儿！”

I have thrust her wrist aside. “I don’t believe you,” I say. “I am meant to come to an hotel. Mr Hawtrey paid you for that –“

我将她手腕推到一边。“我才不信你的鬼话，”我说道。“我本来是要去一家旅馆的。为此霍粹先生还给了你钱——”

“It’s a house, ain’t it? What is it to you, what sort? You shall get your supper all the same. — You might leave off gripping me, mind!”

“这是一座房子，不是吗？对你来说是什么呢，你以为是什么地方？你总归吃得上饭呀。——你得松手，放开我，听到没有！”

She has brought out a piece of paper. It is the paper that Mr Hawtrey put about the coin. It has the name of the house upon it — A home, he calls it, for destitute gentlewomen.

她拿出一张纸。正是霍粹先生包硬币的那张纸。纸上写着这所房子的名称——他美其名曰“弃妇之家”。

“Hotel?” She smiles. “You may call it that.” She reaches for the latch on the door. I put my hand on her wrist.

“旅馆？”她笑道。“你可以这么称呼它。”她伸手去抓车门把手，我一把抓住她的手腕。

For a moment I gaze at the words in a sort of disbelief: as if my gazing at them will change them, change their meaning or shape. Then I look at the woman. “This is a mistake,” I say. “He didn’t mean this. He has misunderstood, or you have. You must take me back –“

我望着那词句，心中满是怀疑，呆望了半晌：仿佛我的目光可以改变那些字句，改变其含义或形状。然后我望着那妇人。“这是个误会，”我说道。“他本意不是这样的。他误会了，要么是你误会了。你必须带我回去——”

She nods again to the house. I do not answer. I am remembering Mr Hawtrey’s look — his words, the odd tone of his voice. I think, I must go back! I must go back to Holywell Street! — and yet, even as I think it, I know, with a dreadful chill contraction of my heart, what I will find there if I do: the shop, the men, the youth; and Mr Hawtrey gone, to his own home — his home, which might be anywhere in the city, anywhere at all… And after that, the street — the street in darkness. — How shall I manage it? How shall I live a night, in London, on my own?

她又冲那房子点点头。我没答话。我在回想霍粹先生的神情——他的言辞，他那古怪语调。我心想，我必须回去！我必须回霍尼威尔街去！然而，正当我想到这里，我的心于绝望的寒意中猛地收缩一下，我明白，假使我如此行事，那我在霍尼威尔街找到的只会是：那间店铺，那些男子，年轻人；霍粹先生走了，回他自己家了——他的家，可能在这座城市的任何地方，任何地方…除此之外，那条街道——黑暗中的街道。——我该如何是好？我如何才能仅凭一己之力，在伦敦熬过这一晚？

I begin to shake. “What am I to do?” I say.

我不由浑身颤抖。“我该怎么办？”我说道。

“I’m to bring you, and leave you, most particular,” she says stubbornly again. “‘Poor lady, weak in her head, needs taking to a charity place.’ There’s charity, ain’t it?”

“我只管带你来，再把你留在这儿，真稀奇。”她又固执地说道。“‘可怜的女士，心智不全，需人将之引至慈善之所。’这儿就是慈善所，不是吗？”

“Pay you? I have nothing to pay you with!”

“给钱？我一无所有，没钱给你！”

“I cannot,” I say again. I grab at her sleeve. “You must take me, somewhere else.”

“我不去，”我又说道。我扯住她的袖子。“你必须带着我，不管去哪儿。”

Again the woman sucks her teeth. “Better that than the road — ain’t it? It’s one or the other. I am paid to bring you here and leave you, that’s all. Go on out, now, and let me get home.”

那妇人又嘬了一下牙齿。“总比睡在街上强——不是吗？救济所都一样。我收了钱，带你来这儿，把你留在这儿，就不管了。下车吧，快，容我早点回家吧。”

“Well, I will,” she says; “if you’ll pay me.”

“好吧，我带你走，”她说道，“只要你给钱。”

“Must I?” She laughs — does not shake me off, however. Instead, her look changes.

“我必须？”她哈哈大笑——却并未甩开我的手。不过，她神色一变。

“I cannot,” I say. “I cannot!”

“我不去，”我说道，“我不去。”

“Would you?”

“你舍得？”

“Oh, God,” I say, plucking at it in desperation. “I would give you the gown, if I might!”

“噢，上帝，”我绝望地死死拽住裙子。“如果好给你，我肯定就给你了！”

“What, but go over,” says the woman, nodding again to the house. The girl with the taper is gone, and the lamp burns feebly. The windows are shuttered, the glass above them black, as if the rooms are filled with darkness. The door is high — divided in two, like the great front door at Briar. I see it, and am gripped by panic.

“怎么办，先看看呀。”那妇人朝那所房子点点头说道。执蜡烛的姑娘已经不在了，灯火微弱无力。那宅子的窗户紧闭，窗玻璃涂成了黑色，仿佛房间里盛满了黑暗。房子大门很高——两扇对开，就像布莱尔的大门。我望着大门，一阵恐惧袭上心头。

She looks at my skirt.

她望着我的裙子。

She laughs again. “No money?” she says. “And a dress like that?”

她又哈哈大笑。“没钱？”她说道，“还穿成这样？”

“Take the shawl!”

“拿走披肩！”

“They’ll do. Silk, are they? They’ll do.”

“这两件还成。丝的，是吧？两件就成了。”

I shudder. Then slowly, shrinkingly, I draw up my hem, show her my petticoats — two petticoats there are, one white and one crimson. She sees them, and nods.

我身子一震。而后缓缓缩成一团。我拎起裙边，给她看我的衬裙——两件衬裙，一件白的，一件深红色。她见了，点点头。

“What, both?” I say. “Will you take both?”

“什么？两件？”我说道。“两件你都要？”

I hesitate — but what can I do? I lift my skirt higher, find out the strings at my waist and pull them loose; then, modestly as I can, draw the petticoats down. She does not look away. She takes them from me and tucks them swiftly under her coat.

我犹豫了——可我又能如何？我将裙子提高，摸出腰间的带子，解开来；然后，尽我所能地保持体面，脱下衬裙。她眼睛一瞬不瞬地盯着。从我手中接过衬裙，她便迅速将之塞进自己的衣裳里。

“The shawl’s my own!” She snorts. She still looks at my skirt. Then she tilts her head. “What you got,” she says more quietly, “underneath?”

“披肩本来就是我的！”她嗤之以鼻。她眼睛还盯着我的裙子。然后她歪着头。“你里边穿的，”她声音更轻了，“什么内衣？”

“What the gentleman don’t know, eh?” she says, with a chuckle; as if we are close conspirators now. She rubs her hands. “Where to, then? Eh? Where must I tell the driver?”

“有什么事是绅士也不知道的，嗯？”她窃笑道，仿佛此时此刻，我们成了一对儿共谋的阴谋家。她搓搓手。“那，去哪儿？嗯？我得跟司机说去哪儿啊？”

“There’s the driver needs his fare, ain’t there?” she answers. “You must pay me, once for myself; and once for him.”

“司机也要拿车费呀，对不对？”她答道。“你得付钱给我，一份给我，一份给他。”

She has opened the window, to call. I sit with my arms about myself, feeling the prickle of the fabric of my gown against my bare thighs. I think I would colour, I think I would weep, if I had life enough.

她已打开车窗，正欲呼喝。我双臂交抱在身前，感受着衣裳纤维磨擦我赤裸腿部的蛰人痛楚。我想，假使我还有足够的气力，我会面红耳赤，我想我会哭出来。

I bow my head. With this last, awful bafflement of my hopes, I have only one place to go. I tell her, she calls it, and the coach starts up. She settles herself more comfortably in her seat, rearranges her coat. She looks at me.

我垂下头。我只有一个去处了。我告诉了她，她喊将出来，马车随即启动。她将自己舒舒服服地摆在座位里，重新归置好衣裳，又望着我。

“All right, dearie?” she says. I do not answer, and she laughs. She turns away.

“还好吗，宝贝儿？”她说道。我没作答，她笑出了声，身子转了过去。

“Don’t mind it now, does she?” she says, as if to herself. “Don’t mind it, now.”

“她不生气了，对吧？”她仿佛在自言自语。“再别计较了。”

“Where to?” she asks again. Beyond her head, the street is filled with shadow. A moon has risen — a crescent, slender, filthy-brown.

“去哪儿啊？”她又问道。在她脑袋后方，街道上暗影幢幢。一轮新月升起——月牙细细弯弯，带着些龌龊的暗色印子。

They are all there, apart from Richard. He is out in search of me. Dainty is weeping: her cheek is bruised, worse than before, her lip split and bleeding. Mr Ibbs paces in his shirt-sleeves, making the floorboards jump and creak. Mrs Sucksby stands, her eyes on nothing, her face white as powder, like John’s. She stands still. But when she sees me come she folds and winces — puts her hand to her heart as if struck.

他们都在，只少了理查德一人。他出去找我了。达蒂在抽泣：她面带血印，比先前更骇人，嘴唇裂了，唇上沾着血。艾伯斯先生戴着袖套，度着步子，将地板上的木条踏得纷纷翘起，咯吱作响。萨克丝贝太太立在屋当中，双目无神，脸色惨白似面粉，好似约翰的脸。她一动不动地站着。而当她见我进了门，便身子一缩，惊愕地退了一步——双手扶住心口，仿佛受到重击一般。

Lant Street is dark when we reach it. I know the house to stop at, from the house which faces it — the one with the ointment-coloured shutters, that I have gazed at so hard from Mrs Sucksby’s window. John answers my knock. His face is white. He sees me, and stares. ” Fuck,” he says. I go past him. The door leads into what I suppose is Mr Ibbs’s shop, and a passage from that takes me directly into the kitchen.

我们到兰特街时，街上一片漆黑。我从一幢房子的窗户上，辨出应于何处停步。我曾在萨克丝贝太太的窗户上苦苦张望过这房子的窗户。约翰来应门。他面色苍白，一见是我，便瞪圆了眼睛，“操，”他说道。我走过他身边。门里面是艾伯斯先生的店铺，店里的一个通道将我径直引入厨房。

“Oh, my girl,” she says.

“噢！我的孩子，”她说道。

I don’t know what they do after that. Dainty screams, I think. I go by them, not looking. I go up the stairs to Mrs Sucksby’s room — my room, our room, I suppose I must call it now — and I sit upon the bed, my face to the window. I sit with my hands in my lap, my head bowed. My fingers are marked with dirt. My feet have begun, again, to bleed.

后来他们做了何事，我一概不知。我想达蒂尖叫了。我从他们身边走过，目不斜视。我上了楼，来到萨克丝贝太太的房间——我想我现在得称之为我的房间，我们的房间——我坐到床上，面朝着窗户，手摆在腿上，头垂下来。我手上有污迹，脚又开始流血。

She gives me a minute, before she comes. She comes quietly. She closes the door and locks it at her back — turning the key gently in the lock, as if she thinks me sleeping and fears to wake me. Then she stands at my side. She does not try to touch me. I know, however, that she is trembling.

她等了片刻，容我坐定，才进得屋来。她悄无声息地进了门，身后关门落锁——轻轻转动锁上的钥匙，仿佛是以为我睡了，生怕吵醒我。然后她站在我身边。她没碰我。不过我知道，她在哆嗦。

“Dear girl,” she says. “We supposed you lost. We supposed you drowned, or murdered –“

“好姑娘，”她说道。“我们以为你跑了。我们以为你掉河里淹死了，要么就是给人杀掉了——”

I do. She takes the gown from me, and the stays. She does not ask what has become of my petticoats. She does not exclaim over my slippers and feet — though she shudders, as she draws off my stockings. She puts me, naked, into the bed; draws up the blanket to my jaw; then sits beside me. She strokes my hair — teases out the pins and tangles with her hands. My head is loose, and jerks as she tugs.

我站起身。她脱下我的衣裙和胸衣。她并未问我衬裙何在。见了我的鞋和脚，她也未大惊失色——虽然为我脱袜时，她浑身不住颤抖。她扶我上了床；将毯子拉到到我下巴上；然后在我身边坐下。她抚摸着我的头发——摘下发卡，理顺发结。我脑袋无力地任她摆布。

Her voice catches, but does not break. She waits and, when I do nothing, “Stand up, sweetheart,” she says.

她语声停住，却并未中断。她停了片刻，见我毫无反应，“起来吧，小乖乖，”她说道。

“There, now,” she says.

“行了，好了。”她说道。

“Here are your friends!”

“这里人都是你的朋友！”

Her voice is Sue’s, but her face — The room is dark, however, she has not brought a candle. She sits with her back to the window. But I feel her gaze, and her breath. I close my eyes.

她的声音是苏的，她的脸却——然而，屋子里很黑，她没带蜡烛来。她背朝窗户坐着。而我能感受到她的注视和她的呼吸。我闭上眼睛。

“We thought you lost,” she murmurs again. “But you came back. Dear girl, I knew you should!”

“我们以为你跑了，”她又喃喃道。“可你还是回来了。好姑娘，我就知道你会回来的！”

I begin to weep — in frustration, exhaustion. “Why will you say it?” I cry, through my tears. “Why will you? Isn’t it enough, to have got me here? Why must you also love me? Why must you smother and torment me, with your grasping after my heart?”

我满心沮丧，精疲力竭，我开始啜泣。“你为什么还要讲这些话？”我哭道。“为什么还要讲？难道把我关在这里还不够？凭什么你得疼爱我？”

The house is silent. I think Mr Ibbs and John are talking, but talking in whispers. Her fingers move more slowly. “There, now,” she says again; and I shiver, for her voice is Sue’s.

屋子里一片寂静。我觉得艾伯斯先生和约翰在窃窃私语，却听不真切。她的手缓缓移动着。“行了，好了。”她又说道；我身子一震，因为将她的声音听成了苏的。

“Here is your home!” she says.

“这儿就是你的家！”她说道。

“I have nowhere else,” I answer, slowly and hopelessly. “I have nowhere and no-one. I thought I knew it; I never knew it till now. I have nothing. No home –“

“我走投无路了，”我缓慢又无望地答道。“我无处可去，举目无亲，我原本以为我明白；其实到现在我才明白。我一无所有。没有家——”

She draws in her breath; then speaks, in a whisper.

她深吸一口气；而后开口，低声说道，

“No love –“

“无人疼爱——”

“Dear girl, don’t you know? Ain’t I said, a hundred times –?”

“好姑娘，你不明白吗？我不是说了多少遍——？”

“No friends –“

“没有朋友——”

I have raised myself up; but the cry takes the last of my strength and soon, I fall back.

我霍地站起身来；然而哭泣已耗尽我最后一丝力气，我又颓然落座。

She does not speak. She watches. She waits, until I have grown still. Then she turns her head and tilts it. I think, from the curve of her cheek, that she is smiling.

她没作声。她看着，候着，直到我平静下来。这时她脑袋转到一旁，歪着头。从她脸颊的线条上看，我觉得她在笑。

She turns back to me. I hear her swallow. “Did I tell you, dear girl,” she says softly, “that I once bore an infant of my own, that died? Round about the time that that lady, Sue’s mother, came?” She nods. “So I said. So you’ll hear it told, round here, if you ask. Babies do die. Who’d think that queer…?”

她转回头望着我。我听得她咽下唾沫。“我跟你说过吧，好姑娘，”她柔声说道。“我自己养过一个孩子，后来死了？就在那位小姐，苏的妈妈，来的时候？”她点点头。“我是这么说的。要是你在这儿问起来，你也会听他们跟你这么说。孩子死了。谁会想到其中的蹊跷…？”

She smiles again. “Funny thing,” she says, in a different tone, “about your hair. Your eye I did suppose brown, and your colour white, and your waist and hands I knew would be slender. Only your hair come out rather fairer than I had it pictured…”

她又微笑。“你的头发，真有意思。”她语气变了，“你的眼睛，我想应该是褐色的，还有白皮肤，手腕和手，我知道都是纤细的。只有你的头发，长得比我原先头脑里想得更漂亮…”她的话戛然而止。

“How quiet the house is,” she says, “now so many infants are gone! Ain’t it?”

“这屋子里多安静啊，”她说道，“孩子们都没了，不是吗？”

There is something to her voice. I begin to shake. She feels it, and reaches again to stroke my tangled head. “There, now. Hush, now. You are quite safe, now…” Then the stroking stops. She has caught up a lock of hair.

“那个，好了。嘘，好了。现在你非常安全…”这时她的手停住，她挑出一束头发。她声音里有某种东西。我不由颤抖起来。她发觉了，又伸出手来抚摸我乱蓬蓬的头。

The words drop away. In reaching, she has moved her head: the light from the street-lamp, and from the sliver of tarnished moon, falls full upon her, and all at once I see her face — the brown of her own eye, and her own pale cheek — and her lip, that is plump and must, I understand suddenly, must once have been plumper… She wets her mouth. “Dear girl,” she says. “My own, my own dear girl –” She hesitates another moment; then speaks, at last.

火花电光之间，我看清了她的脸——她褐色的眼珠，苍白的面颊——那丰盈的嘴唇，过去定然更为丰盈，我忽然明白了…她说道，“好姑娘，”她犹豫片刻，最后终于开口。“我的孩子，我的亲骨肉…”