第十章 |《荆棘之城》双语小说免费在线阅读

The letter works upon me like the snap of a mesmerist’s fingers: I blink, look giddily about me, as if emerging from a trance.

这封信如同催眠师的响指，将我惊醒：我眨眨眼睛，有些晕眩，我环顾四周，犹如迷梦初醒。

I look at Sue: at her hand, at the mark of my mouth upon it. I look at the pillows upon my bed, with the dints of our two heads. I look at the flowers in their vase on the table-top, at the fire in my grate. The room is too warm. The room is too warm and yet I am still trembling, as if cold. She sees it. She catches my eye, and nods to the paper in my hand. “Good news, miss?” she asks; and it is as if the letter has worked some trick upon her, too: for her voice seems light to me — dreadfully light — and her face seems sharp. She puts away the thimble; but watches, watches. I cannot meet her gaze.

我望着苏：望着她的手，望着我的唇留在上面的印记。我望着床上的枕头，那上面还有我俩的头留下的窝窝。我望着桌上花瓶中的花，望着壁炉中的火苗。屋里太暖和了。房间里太暖和，而我仍象受了寒似的颤抖起来。她都看在眼里。她望着我的眼睛，朝我手中的信纸点点头。“好消息？小姐？”她问道；看来这封信似乎也令她颇为困惑：在我听来，她声音好象飘飘忽忽的——心怀恐惧的飘忽——她神情似乎也警醒起来。她摘下顶针；却仍旧注视着我，仔细注视着我。我避开她的目光。

Richard is coming. Does she feel it, as I do? She gives no sign. She walks, she sits, as easily as before. She eats her lunch. She takes out my mother’s playingcards, begins the patient dealing-out of solitary games. I stand at the glass and, in reflection, see her reach to take a card and place it, turn it, set it upon another, raise up the kings, pull out the aces…

理查德要来了。她是否与我一样，也觉察到此事？她不动声色。她如往常一般，轻松自如地坐立行走。她不动声色地吃午饭。她拿出我母亲的纸牌，独自一人，开始饶有耐心玩纸牌。我站在镜子前，从镜中看她抽出一张牌，放在桌上，翻开，再放到另一张牌上，老K举起来，A都挑出来。

“These show your past,” she says, “and these your present.” Her eyes grow wide. She seems suddenly young to me: for a moment we bend our heads and whisper as I think other, ordinary girls, in ordinary parlours or schools or sculleries, might whisper: Here is a young man, look, on horseback. Here is a journey. Here is the Queen of Diamonds, for wealth — I have a brooch that is set with brilliants. I think of it now. I think — as I have, before, though not in many days — of Sue, breathing proprietorially over the stones, gauging their worth…

“这些表示你的过去。”她说道，“这些是你的现在。”她睁大眼睛。她好象忽然间青春焕发了：有一小会儿，我们俩头凑在一起窃窃私语，正如我想象中，那些平常人家的姑娘们，在平常的屋子里，在学校里，在洗碗间里，叽叽咕咕：这个是小伙子，瞧，骑在马上。这是J。这个是方片Q，代表财富——我有一枚镶钻胸针，当时我就想到了它。我想象着——正如以前我曾经想到过的，尽管时日不多——想象着苏，财宝到手后，面对宝石喘着粗气，估量着宝石价值几何…

I look at my face and think what makes it mine: the certain curve of cheek, the lip too full, too plump, too pink.

我望着镜中自己的脸，思量着，究竟是何人何物，令镜中这副面孔成为我的面孔：那面颊的曲线分明，嘴唇太过丰满，太过鲜艳。

After all, we are not ordinary girls, in an ordinary parlour; and she is interested in my fortune only as she supposes it hers. Her eye grows narrow again. Her voice lifts out of its whisper and is only pert. I move away from her while she sits gathering the deck, turning the cards in her hands and frowning. She has let one fall, and has not seen it: the two of hearts. I place my heel upon it, imagining one of the painted red hearts my own; and I grind it into the carpet.

毕竟，我们都不是平常人家的姑娘，坐在平常人家的客厅中；她仅仅对我的财富感兴趣，因为她觉得那笔财富都是她的。她眼睛又眯起来，声音由轻言细语中忽然拔高，颇粗鲁无礼。她将牌归拢起来拿在手中，翻转着纸牌，蹙着眉头，我从她身边走开。她掉了一张牌，却未察觉：那是红桃二。我将那牌踩在脚跟下，将其中一颗红心当作我自己的心脏，用力将牌碾进地毯里。

At last she gathers the pack together and says that if I will shuffle and hold it, and wish, she will study the fall of the cards and tell me my future. She says it, apparently quite without irony; and despite myself I am drawn to her side, and sit, and clumsily mix the cards, and she takes them and lays them down.

最后，她将牌收做一处，问我是否愿意洗牌，洗过再许愿，她会根据牌面前后，算出我的未来。我见她此番言语并无讥讽之意，于是在她身边坐下，笨手笨脚地洗了牌，她接过去，将牌摊在桌上。

She finds it, when I have risen, and tries to smooth the crease from it; then plays on at Patience, as doggedly as before.

我起身后，她找到那张红桃二，并试图抚平牌上的折痕；然后玩起了打通关，象以前一样乐此不疲。

I look, again, at her hands. They have grown whiter, and are healed about the nails. They are small, and in gloves will seem smaller; and then will resemble my own.

我又望着她的双手。她的双手变白皙了，手指上的小伤都已痊愈。她双手纤细，戴上手套会更显纤细；那就跟我的手一样了。

This must be done. This should have been done, before. Richard is coming, and I am overtaken by a sense of duties unmet: a panicking sense that hours, days — dark, devious fish of time — have slithered by, uncaptured. I pass a fretful night. Then, when we rise and she comes to dress me, I pluck at the frill on the sleeve of her gown.

这事儿必须照此办理，这事儿早就该做妥帖了。理查德即将到来，我的心被某种前所未有的负重感攫住：分秒，日夜，时光——那漆黑幽暗的时光之鱼——已一晃而过，去不留痕，由此而生一种惊慌失措的情绪。我度过了一个焦躁不安的夜晚。次日，我们起床，她来为我更衣时，我扯扯她衣袖的褶边。

She says she has not. I take, from my press, a velvet gown, and have her try it. She bares her arms unwillingly, steps out of her skirt and turns, in a kind of modesty, away from my eyes. The gown is narrow. I tug at the hooks. I settle the folds of cloth about her hips, then go to my box for a brooch — that brooch of brilliants — and pin it carefully over her heart.

她说她没有。我从衣柜里拿出一件天鹅绒裙子，给她试穿。她颇不情愿地脱了旧衣裳，从落地的裙中走出来，转过身，出于腼腆，避开了我的眼睛。那裙子有些瘦。我拽过裙带系好，将她腰线下的裙摆放熨帖，又到珠宝盒里拿了枚胸针——那枚镶钻胸针——小心地别在她心口前。

“Have you no other gown,” I say, “than this plain brown thing you always wear?”

“你总穿这件不起眼的褐色衣裳，除了这件，你就没有别的裙子吗？”我说。

Margaret comes, and takes her for me.

玛格丽特进来了，她把苏当成了我。

I have grown used to her, to the life, the warmth, the particularity of her; she has become, not the gullible girl of a villainous plot — not Suky Tawdry — but a girl with a history, with hates and likings.

我已渐渐习惯了她，习惯了她的存在，她的温暖，她的个性；她已变成一个有过往、有爱、有恨的姑娘，而不再是阴谋诡计中那个容易轻信的姑娘——那个粗俗不堪的茶壶苏。

Then I stand her before the glass.

然后我让她站在镜子前面。

Now all at once I see how near to me in face and figure she’ll come, and I understand, as if for the first time, what it is that Richard and I mean to do. I place my face against the post of my bed and watch her, gazing at herself in a rising satisfaction, turning a little to the left, a little to the right, brushing the creases from her skirt, settling her flesh more comfortably into the seams of the gown. “If my aunty could see me!” she says, growing pink; and I think, then, of who might be waiting for her, in that dark thieves’ den in London: the aunt, the mother or grandmother. I think how restless she must be, as she counts off the lengthening days that keep her little fingersmith on perilous business, far from home. I imagine her, as she waits, taking out some small thing of Sue’s — some sash, some necklace, some bracelet of gaudy charms — and turning it, over and over, in her hands… She will turn it for ever, though she does not know it yet.

此时此刻，我看出她的相貌身形，将与我多么相近，仿佛是第一次，我意识到，我和理查德图谋欲为的究竟是何事。我脸靠在床柱上，望着她，看她愈发地心满意足，身子转过来，转过去，抚平裙上的褶皱，挺胸收腹，以适应裙子的腰身。“要是我姨妈能看到就好了！”她说道，脸上绯红一片。这时我想到，有谁会在伦敦阴暗的贼穴里等待着她：姨妈，母亲，或是祖母。我想，当她的小贼娃远离家园，赶赴危险的营生，她在家度日如年，得多么忐忑。我想象着，她等待苏时，拿出苏的一些小玩意——腰带呀，项链呀，华而不实的手镯呀——翻来覆去，一遍遍地，在手中把玩…虽然她还不知道，但她会一直把它翻来覆去。

Nor does Sue suppose that the last time she kissed her aunt’s hard cheek was the last of all her life.

苏也不认为是她一生中的最后一次吻她姑妈坚结实的面颊。

I think of that; and I am gripped with what I take to be pity. It is hard, painful, surprising: I feel it, and am afraid. Afraid of what my future may cost me. Afraid of that future itself, and of the unfamiliar, ungovernable emotions with which it might be filled.

我想到了这一点，我被我认为是怜悯的东西所困扰。这是艰难的，痛苦的，令人惊讶的：我感觉到了，而且害怕。害怕我的未来会让我付出什么代价。害怕未来本身，害怕它可能充满的陌生、情绪难以控制。

She does not know it. He must not know it, either. He comes that afternoon — comes, as he used to come, in the days of Agnes: takes my hand, holds my gaze with his, bends to kiss my knuckles. “Miss Lilly,” he says, in a tone of caress. He is dressed darkly, neatly; yet carries his daring, his confidence, close and gaudy about him, like swirls of colour or perfume. I feel the heat of his mouth, even through my gloves. Then he turns to Sue, and she makes a curtsey. The stiffbodiced dress is not made for curtseying in, however: the dip is a jagged one, the fringes upon her skirt tumble together and seem to shake. Her colour rises. I see him smile as he notes it. But I see, too, that he marks the gown, and perhaps also the whiteness of her fingers.

她并不了解我的感受。他也不了解。他中午到达——做派一如既往，如同阿格尼丝还在的日子：拉起我的手，直视我的眼睛，躬身亲吻我的手。“李小姐，”他以一种欢喜的语调说道。他身着深色衣裳，整洁优雅；浑身上下仍然带着他的狂妄自信，他的亲密态度和浮华艳俗，就好象旋涡中心那一团暗色或香气。尽管戴着手套，我还是感受到他嘴里的热气。然后他转向苏，她行了个屈膝礼。然而，那上装僵硬的衣裳并非为行屈膝礼而缝制：身子一点，几乎是踉跄的，她衣裙上的流苏都颤巍巍的，似乎要摇动。她脸红了。我见他注意到这一点，他笑了。而我也看见，他注意到那裙子，也许还注意到她手指的白皙。

She gazes at the floor. “I hope I am, too, sir.”

她眼睛望着地板。“我也希望如此，先生。”

I take a step. “She is a very good girl,” I say. “A very good girl, indeed.”

我上前一步。“她是一位非常好的姑娘，”我说道。“确实是一位非常好的姑娘。”

But the words are hasty, imperfect. He catches my eye, draws back his thumb. “Of course,” he says smoothly, “she could not help but be good. No girl could help it, Miss Lilly, with you for her example.”

然而这些话语不够圆满，太过仓促。他盯着我的眼睛，收回他的手。“当然。”他圆滑地说道，“她一心向善，全无杂念。有你为其楷模，姑娘们都不由自主地一心向善。”

“You are too kind,” I say.

“你真好，”我说道。

“No gentleman could but be, I think, with you to be kind to.”

“我想，绅士门见到你，除了对你好，再无他求。”

He keeps his gaze on mine. He has picked me out, found sympathies in me, means to pluck me from the heart of Briar, unscratched; and I would not be myself, niece to my uncle, if I could meet the look he shows me now without feeling the stir of some excitement, dark and awful, in my own breast.

他眼睛一直盯着我。他已看透我，觉察出我内心的同情，他打算将我从布莱尔的中心毫发无损地勾出去。假使此时我迎合着他的目光，却丝毫感受不到我胸中翻腾着的隐约又可怕的激动，那我就不成其为我，不成其为我舅舅的外甥女。

“I should have supposed her a lady, I’m sure,” he says, to me. He moves to her side. There, he seems tall, and darker than ever, like a bear; and she seems slight. He takes her hand, his fingers moving about hers: they seem large, also — his thumb extends almost to the bone of her wrist. He says, “I hope you are proving a good girl for your mistress, Sue.”

“我还以为她是谁家的小姐，我真这么想来着。”他对我说道。他走到她身旁。他往那儿一站，似乎比以往高大，也比以往黝黑，象一只熊；而她有些娇小。他抓起她的手，在手中摩挲着：他的手似乎也很大——大拇指伸开，就几乎盖满她的手腕。他说道，“苏，我希望你向你家小姐证明了你是个好姑娘。”

But I feel it too hard, and grow almost queasy. I smile; but the smile stretches tight. Sue tilts her head. Does she suppose me smiling at my own love? The thought makes the smile tighter still, I begin to feel it as an ache about my throat. I avoid her eye, and his. He goes, but makes her step to him and they stand a moment, murmuring at the door. He gives her a coin — I see the yellow gleam of it — he puts it into her hand, closes her fingers about it with his own. His nail shows brown against the fresh pink of her palm. She falls in another awkward curtsey.

可是我觉得这太难了，我几乎有些动摇。我笑了；而这微笑展开得十分勉强。苏歪着头。她是否以为我在为自己的爱情微笑？这念头令我的笑容更勉强了，我甚至开始感觉到那是一阵喉间的痛楚。我避开她的眼睛，也避开他。他要走，却命她走过去，他们在门口立了片刻，窃窃私语。他给她一枚硬币——我看到那硬币黄色的闪光——他将硬币放在她手上，帮她合上手。他指甲被她粉嫩的手掌衬得发褐。她放低身段，又行了个笨拙的屈膝礼。

Now my smile is fixed like the grimace on the face of a corpse. When she turns back, I cannot look at her. I go to my dressing-room and close the door, lie face down upon my bed, and am seized and shaken by laughter — a terrible laughter, it courses silently through me, like filthy water — I shudder, and shudder, and finally am still.

这时，我的笑容凝固住，象是僵尸的鬼脸。待她转过身，我不敢看她。我走进卧室，关上房门，扑到床上，脸埋起来。我被笑声控制着，摇撼着——一阵骇人的笑声，这笑声无声息地追逐着我，好似污秽的水——我战栗着，战栗着，最后我镇定下来。

“How do you find your new girl, Miss Lilly?” he asks me at dinner, his eyes upon his plate. He is carefully parting meat from the spine of a fish — the bone so pale and so fine it is almost translucent, the meat in a thickening coating of butter and sauce. Our food comes cold to the table in winter. In summer it comes too warm.

“李小姐，你觉得你的新女仆如何？”晚餐时他问我，他眼睛望着自己的盘子。他正小心地从鱼骨上剔下鱼肉——鱼骨那么苍白，那么纤细，几乎是透明的，鱼肉上覆着一层厚厚的黄油和调料。冬天里，我们的饭菜上桌时已经凉了；到夏季，饭菜上桌时又太烫。

“You won’t have cause to complain, of my recommendation?”

“对我的大力举荐，你会有什么事由抱怨吗？”

“Sir?”

“什么？先生？”

I say, “Very — biddable, Mr Rivers.”

我说道，“非常——听话，瑞富斯先生。”

“Heard her, more like, kicking the soles of her boots against my library door. What of her?”

“倒是常常听到她靴子在我书房地板上踢踏，她怎么了？”

“The papist! Ha!” He returns excitedly to his own meat. “Now, Rivers,” he says as he does it.

“天主教徒！哈！”他高兴地回头对付面前的肉。“好！瑞富斯！”他边吃边说。

My uncle is watching. “What’s this?” he says now.

我舅舅注意着。“说什么呢？”此时他说道。

“You think she will suit?”

“你觉得她会称职吗？”

“She came to me on Mr Rivers’s word. He found her in London, in need of a place; and was so kind as to remember me.”

“她凭瑞富斯先生的举荐而来。瑞富斯先生在伦敦遇见她，她急需一个容身之所；瑞富斯先生好心，就想到了我。”

I wipe my mouth. “My new maid, Uncle,” I answer. “Miss Smith, who replaces Miss Fee. You’ve seen her, often.”

我擦擦嘴唇。“我的新女仆，舅舅。”我答道。“史密斯小姐，她接费小姐的班。你经常见到她的。”

“No.”

“不会。”

He will always say too much, for the sport of the thing.

他总是说得太多，为了好玩。

“Well, I am relieved to hear it.”

“那就好，听到这话我就放心了。”

I think so, yes.”

“我觉得她会，是的。”

“Miss Smith,” I repeat steadily, “who replaces Miss Fee.” I neaten my knife and fork. “Miss Fee, the papist.”

“史密斯小姐，”我重复道，“她接替费小姐。”我放好刀叉。“费小姐，是天主教徒。”

My uncle moves his tongue. “Was he?” he says slowly. He looks from me to Richard, from Richard back to me, his chin a little raised, as if sensing dark currents. “Miss Smith, you say?”

我舅舅动动舌头。“是吗？”他慢条斯理地说道。他目光从我移到理查德身上，又从理查德移到我身上，他下巴翘起，仿佛在感受暗流。“史密斯小姐，你是说？”

“I defy you — positively defy you, sir! — to name me any institution so nurturing of the atrocious acts of lechery as the Catholic Church of Rome…”

“我反对你——坚决反对你，先生！——将我这里说成是如罗马天主教堂般培植淫荡的暴行的机构。”

He does not look at me again until supper is ended. Then has me read for an hour from an antique text, The Nunns’ Complaint Against the Fryars.

直到晚餐结束，他都没再看我一眼。接着他命我读一篇古文，《南恩斯致法莱俄斯的哀怨之语》，读了一个小时。

“Shall I come, as usual, tomorrow?” He waits again. He has his hand upon the door and has drawn it back — not far enough, though, to let me step about it; nor does he pull it further when he sees me wishing to pass. Instead, his look grows puzzled. “You mustn’t be modest,” he says. He means, You mustn’t be weak. “You are not, are you?”

“明天，老时间，我可以过来吗？”他又等我答复。他手放在门上，将门拉开——却没敞开到可容我通过；他见我意欲出门，也没有将门开大一些。他神情颇疑惑。“你不必太客气。”他说道。他是说，你可不能示弱。“你不会跟我客气的，对吗？”

Richard checks to see that his gaze is turned, then looks at me frankly. His tone he keeps polite, however. “I must ask you,” he says, “if you wish to continue with your drawing-lessons, now that I’m returned? I hope you do.” He waits. I do not answer.

理查德小心地瞄一眼我舅舅，然后眼神不加掩饰地望着我。不过，他仍保持着礼貌的语调。“我必须征求你的意见，”他说道，“现在，我回来了，你是否想继续你的绘画课程？我希望你这么想。”他等我答复。我没有作答。

Richard sits and hears me, perfectly still. But when I have finished and rise to leave, he rises also: “Let me,” he says. We walk together the little way to the door. My uncle does not lift his head, but keeps his gaze on his own smudged hands. He has a little pearl-handled knife, its ancient blade sharpened almost to a crescent, with which he is paring the skin from an apple — one of the small, dry, bitter apples that grow in the Briar orchard.

理查德坐在一旁，一动不动地听我诵读。而当我读完古文，起身要走时，他也站起来：“让我来，”他说道。我们一同走向门口。我舅舅没有抬头，却盯着自己沾了墨水印的双手。他有一柄匕首，匕首把上镶着珍珠，古老的刀刃几乎如月牙般尖峭，他用那把匕首削苹果皮——那种布莱尔果园里生长出来的，小小的干涩的苹果。

I shake my head.

我点点头。

How easy it should be! How I have longed for it!

这事该多么简单！我是多么渴望此事！

“Good, then. I shall come, at the usual time. You must show me the work you’ve done while I’ve been away. I should say a little more labour and — well, who knows? We might be ready to surprise your uncle with the fruits of your instruction. What do you think? Shall we give it another two weeks? Two weeks or, at the most, three?”

“太好了。老时间，我过来。你要给我看看我不在的这段时间，你做的功课。哦，谁知道呢？说不定到时候我们的教学成果，能—给你舅舅一个惊喜呢。你说呢？我们是不是再学两周？要不，最多，三周？”

How hard I have gazed at the walls of my uncle’s estate, wishing they might part and release me! But now that the day of our escape is close, I hesitate; and am afraid to say why. I gaze again at my uncle’s hands, the pearl, the apple giving up its skin to the knife.

曾几何时，我瞪着舅舅宅子的墙壁，望眼欲穿，期望那墙壁豁然分裂，好将我释放！而现如今，我们逃脱的日子迫近了，我却犹豫了；我还为犹豫的缘由而深感恐惧。我再次注视着我舅舅的双手，匕首柄上的珍珠，被匕首卸去了皮的苹果。

Again, I feel the nerve and daring of him, feel my own blood rise to meet it. But there comes, beneath or beyond it, a sinking, a fluttering — a vague and nameless movement — a sort of panic. He waits for my reply, and the fluttering grows wilder. We have plotted so carefully. We have committed, already, one dreadful deed, and set in train another. I know all that must be done now. I know I must seem to love him, let him appear to win me, then confess his winning to Sue.

再一次地，我领略到他的胆量和狂妄，我感觉自己血气上涌，以应合他的胆大妄为。而随之而来的，在我血气之下，或者之外，是一种沉没（sinking）的，悸动的——隐约又莫名的悸动——恐慌。他在等我答复，而这种悸动更加茫然不知所以。我们已谋划得如此谨慎周详。我们已犯下一桩令人发指的恶行，又开始调教另一位参与者。我明白，所有这些都是当前必须做到的。我明白，我必须表现得好似爱上他，让他赢取了我的芳心，再让他向苏坦承他的成功。

“Let us say, three weeks — perhaps longer,” I say finally. “Perhaps longer, should I feel I need it.”

“说起来，三周——也许再多点时间，”末了我说道。“也许再多一点时间，我觉得我需要这么多时间。”

A look of irritation or anger disturbs the surface of his face; but when he speaks, he makes his voice soft. “You are modest. Your talent is better than that. Three weeks will do it, I assure you.”

愤怒或者说恼怒的表情令他面目扭曲；可待他开口讲话，他设法令自己的声音轻柔温和。“你过谦了。以你的天分，不需要那么长时间，三周足够了，我跟你保证。”

He draws back the door at last and bows me out. And though I do not turn, I know he lingers to watch me mount the stairs — as solicitous for my safety, as any of my uncle’s gentlemen friends.

他终于打开门，躬身送我出去。尽管我没回头，我知道他拖延了一下，好看着我上楼梯——如我舅舅那些绅士朋友一样，热心牵挂着我的平安。

And Sue is not like Agnes. She knows more. She knows her own worth and purpose. She knows she must listen and watch, to see that Mr Rivers does not come too close, or speak too confidentially, to her mistress; but she also knows that when he does come near she is to turn her head aside and be deaf to his whispers. She does turn her head, I see her do it; but I see her, too, steal glances at us from the edge of her eye — study our reflections in the chimney-glass and windows — watch our very shadows!

苏不象阿格尼丝。她更明白事理。她知道自己的价值和目的。她知道她必须听着，监视着，看瑞富斯先生没跟她家小姐走得太近，或者没说些悄悄话；可她也知道，如果他凑得近了，她得将头别过去，对他的轻言细语装聋做哑。她真的别过头去，我看到她这么做来着；而我也看到，从眼角里偷眼看我们俩——从壁炉上的镜子和窗玻璃的反射中观察我俩——我们的一举一动都不放过！

The days fall back in their pattern — except that, where before they had Agnes in them, now they have Sue.

生活落回原状——除了一样，原先是阿格尼丝，现在是苏。

He will grow more solicitous, soon; but for now at least, the days fall back into something like a familiar pattern. He passes his mornings at work on the prints, then comes to my rooms, to teach me drawing — to keep close to me, that is to say; to look and to murmur, while I daub paint on card; to be grave and ostentatiously gallant.

马上，他就会愈发地牵挂了；而当前，至少，日子又落回到某种惯常的状态中。他的晨光都在画作中度过，然后来到我的房间，教我绘画——其实是为了接近我，我在纸上涂鸦时，他在一旁看着，轻言细语地指导；他故作姿态，大献殷勤。

For of course, though she knows much, what she has is a counterfeit knowledge, and worthless; and her satisfaction in the keeping of it — in the nursing of what she supposes her secret — is awful to me. She does not know she is the hinge of all our scheme, the point about which our plot turns; she thinks I am that point. She does not suspect that, in seeming to mock me, Richard mocks her: that after he has turned to her in private, perhaps to smile, perhaps to grimace, he turns to me, and smiles and grimaces in earnest. And where his torturing of Agnes pricked me on to little cruelties of my own, now I am only unnerved. My consciousness of Sue makes me too conscious of myself — makes me, now reckless, as Richard is sometimes reckless, in the gross performance of our sham passion; now guarded and watchful, hesitating. I will be bold for an hour — or meek, or coy — and then, in the final minute of his stay, I will tremble. I will be betrayed by the movement of my own limbs, my blood, my breath.– I suppose she reads that as love.

原因不言自明，尽管她了解不少内情，但她所知的尽是虚假信息，毫无价值；她因保有这些信息而自得——保守着她自以为是的秘密——她的自得对我来说，太可怕了。她不知道，她才是我们这个阴谋的枢纽所在，她才是我们计划运转的要点所在；而她以为我是要点。表面上，她将我玩弄于股掌中，而理查德作弄于她，她却毫不起疑：他私底下面对她，也许是笑脸，也许是苦相，之后，待他转过来面对我，笑脸抑或苦相都颇真挚动人。他对阿格尼丝犯下的恶行，将我钉在我自己的残忍上，此时更令我心力交瘁。我对苏的顾念，令我羞惭异常——令我，在这场我们以虚情假意演出的下流对手戏中，时而不顾一切，象理查德有时候肆无忌惮那样；时而又充满戒备，警醒，犹疑不定。我能壮起胆子配合他一个小时——说驯顺也好，说含情脉脉也好——接着，到他停留的最后一刻，我就耐不住地浑身发抖。我的肢体动作，我的血流，我的呼吸纷纷将我出卖——我想她将此解读为爱恋。

The room, in which I have passed so many captive hours I know it as a prisoner knows his cell — the room seems changed to me now. It seems filled with shining surfaces, each one an eye of hers. When those eyes meet mine, they are veiled and blameless. But when they meet Richard’s, I see the leap of knowledge or understanding that passes between them; and I cannot look at her.

这个房间，我于其中度过了许多禁锢的时光，我熟悉它，犹如囚犯熟悉监房——此时，这房间于我，似乎有所改变。这房里似乎处处都是闪烁的亮片，每一片都是她的眼睛。当这些眼睛遇到我的目光，它们就隐藏到面纱里，眼神清白无辜。而当它们遇到理查德的目光，我看到会意或理解的眼神在他们二人之间传递；我无法直视她。

She nods. I look into her face — into her eye, with its single fleck of darker brown. Then I look at the shapeless daubs of colour I have put upon the card.

她点头称是。我凝视着她的脸——从她那只稍显暗色的眼睛瞳仁里，看进她内心深处。然后，我望着我留在画稿上那不成形状的涂鸦之作。

Richard, at least, knows it for weakness. The days creep by: the first week passes, and we begin the second. I sense his bafflement, feel the weight of his expectation: feel it gather, turn, grow sour. He looks at my work, and begins to shake his head.

终于，理查德明白了，这是我的弱点。时光无声流逝：第一周就这么过去，第二周开始了。我觉察出他的困惑，感觉到他期望的分量：感觉到他的期望在聚集，翻滚，发酵变酸。他望着我的习作，开始大摇其头。

I will not answer. He leaves, and I keep at my place. Sue comes to my side.

我没回答。他走了，我坐在原地。苏来到我身边。

“You think so, Sue?”

“你这么想吗？苏？”

“I am afraid, Miss Lilly,” he says, more than once, “that you want discipline, yet. I thought your touch firmer than this. I am sure it was firmer, a month ago. Don’t say you’ve forgotten your lessons, in my short absence. After all our labour! There is one thing an artist must always avoid, in the execution of his work: that is, hesitation. For that leads to weakness; and through weak-ness, greater designs than this one have foundered. You understand? You do understand me?”

“李小姐，我恐怕，”他不止一次如是说道，“你还得多练练，我原以为你的感觉是比较稳定的。一个月之前，我还认定你的感觉很稳定。可别说我们花了那么多力气之后，我只离开一小会儿，你就将功课全抛到脑后。有一件事，是艺术家在创作中必须避免的：这就是，犹豫不决。因为犹豫带来软弱，就因为犹豫不决，比这好得多的作品，都折戢沉沙了。你明白吗？你真明白我的意思？”

“Never mind it, miss,” she says gently, “if Mr Rivers seems to say hard things about your picture. Why, you got those pears, quite to the life.”

“如果，瑞富斯先生对你的画说了什么不中听的话，”她柔声说道，“别放在心上，小姐。何必，你画的这些梨，跟真的一样呢。”

She puts her hand upon mine. “Well,” she says, “but ain’t you learning?”

她将手放在我手上。“好啦，”她说道，“你不是在学吗？”

“We must work from nature now,” he says.

“现在，我们得为将来做打算啊，”他说道。

“It’s a wretched painting, Sue,” I say.

“这是一副很蹩脚的画，苏。”我说道。

I have my paths, that I like to walk with Sue beside me. I think that to walk them with him will spoil them. “I should rather not,” I say again.

有些小径是我喜欢和苏一起走的。我觉得跟他一起走，实在辱没了那些小径。“我宁愿不这么着。”我又说了一遍。

I am, but not quickly enough. He suggests, in time, that we go walking in the park.

我是在学，可是学得不够快。不久，我们在花园散步时，他提及此事。

He frowns, then smiles. “As your instructor,” he says, “I must insist.”

他眉头皱起，随即笑了，“身为你的指导老师，”他说道，“我必须坚持己见。”

“I should rather not,” I tell him.

我告诉他，“我宁愿不这么着。”

Fancy yourself a lady, do you? he said to me, the day he carried me, kicking, to the ice-house. Well, we’ll see.

你满以为自己是个大家闺秀，是吧？那天他踢打着将我捉到冰室，曾如是说道。好，我们走着瞧。

“Thank you, Mr Way,” says Richard, bending his arm for me to take. He wears a low black hat, a dark Wool coat, and lavender gloves. Mr Way observes the gloves, then looks at me in a kind of satisfaction, a kind of scorn.

“谢谢，魏先生，”理查德说道，他将胳膊弯起，供我攀扶。他戴一顶黑色短帽，身穿深色羊毛外套，手上一双浅紫色手套。魏先生注意到他的手套，然后以一种洞悉内情，又轻蔑不屑的目光看着我。

I hope it will rain. But though the sky above Briar has been grey all that winter long — has been grey, it seems to me, for seven years! — it lightens now, ror him. There is only a quick, soft wind, that comes gusting about my un-skirted ankles as Mr Way tugs open the door.

我希望老天落一场雨。然而，尽管一整个冬天里，布莱尔的天空都是灰蒙蒙的——于我而言，那片天空已经灰暗了整整七个年头！——此时，那片天空却因他而显得有些光亮。当魏先生拖开大门，一阵轻快的微风拂过我未着袜的脚踝。

He smiles. “We must seem convincing.”

他微笑。“我们必须有说服力。”

He gazes quickly over his shoulder. “She would think it queer,” he says, “were I to let slip these chances to be near you. Anyone would think that queer.”

他回头飞快地瞥了一眼，“如果我让这些接近你的机会白白溜走，她会觉得这不正常。任谁都会觉得那不正常。”他说道。

I will not walk to the ice-house today, with Richard, but choose another path — a longer, blander path, that circles my uncle’s estate, rises and overlooks the rear of the house, the stables, woods, and chapel, I know the view too well to want to gaze at it, and walk with my eyes upon the ground. He keeps my arm in his, and Sue follows behind us — first close, then falling back when he makes our pace grow brisk. We do not speak, but as we walk he slowly draws me to him. My skirt rises, awkwardly.

今天有理查德在，我不会去冰室，而是选了另一条路——更长更乏味的小路，环绕着我舅舅的宅子，蜿蜒上坡，沿路可以俯瞰到这宅子的背面，马厩，树林和礼拜堂。这些景象我烂熟于胸，再不想多看一眼，一路走来，我眼睛始终盯着地面。他挽着我的胳膊，苏跟在我们后面——刚开始跟得很近，后来他加快脚步，她就落在后边了。我们都没说话，不过他一边走着，一边将我拽紧了。我裙子也提起来了，异常尴尬。

When I try to pull away, however, he will not let me. I say at last: “You need not hold me so close.”

当我试着要挣脱他的钳制时，他却不允许。最后我说道，“你不必如此亦步亦趋。如蛆附骨。”

“You needn’t grip me so. Have you anything to whisper, that I don’t already know?”

“你不必这样抓着我。搞得好象你有什么我不知道的事，得跟我悄悄地说？”

“Shouldn’t a gentleman dote, in the springtime, when he has the chance?” He puts back his head. “Look at this sky, Maud. See how sickeningly blue it shows. So blue” — he has lifted his hand — “it jars with my gloves. That’s nature for you. No sense of fashion. London skies, at least, are better-mannered: they’re like tailors’ walls, an eternal drab.”

“在春情萌动的季节里，如果一位绅士得了这么一个机会，他怎能不被爱情冲昏了头脑？”他仰起头。“莫德，瞧瞧这天空。看这天空蓝得叫人抓狂。太蓝了”——他抬起手——“跟我的手套不搭调儿。那就是你的大自然。全无时尚的味道。伦敦的天空，至少，还算得中规中矩，就象裁缝铺子的墙，永远是一成不变的土褐色。”

“She knows you do not love me. You have no need to dote.”

“她知道你不爱我。你没必要装得被爱情冲昏了头脑。”

He smiles again, and draws me closer. “But of course, you will know this, soon.”

他又笑了，将我拉得更紧了。“不过当然，很快你就知道了。”

I try to imagine myself in a tailor’s shop. I recall scenes from The Whipping Milliners.

我试图想象自己身处裁缝铺子，我回忆起《挥舞鞭子的货郎》中的情景。

Again I attempt to pull from him, and again he keeps me close. I say, “Will you let me go?” And, when he does nothing: “I must suppose, then, since you know I don’t care to be smothered, that you take a delight in tormenting me.”

我再次试图挣脱开他，结果他拽我拽得更紧。我说道，“既然你清楚，我不喜欢被箍死，所以我不得不以为，你以折磨我为乐事。”

I turn and, like him, quickly glance at Sue. She is watching, with a frown of what I take to be satisfaction, the bulging of my skirt about his leg.

我回过头去，象他一样飞快地瞥了一眼苏。她观察着我们，同时为了我给她的那件裙子鼓出来的裙摆而皱着眉头。

He catches my eye. “I am like any man,” he says, “preoccupied with what I may not have. Hasten the day of our union. I think you’ll find my attention will cool pretty rapidly, after that.”

他盯住我的眼睛。“我跟所有男人一样，”他说道，“心思全被我得不到的东西占满了。咱俩合伙的事儿赶紧办了吧。那之后，我想你会发现，我的热情会迅速冷下来。”

Then I say nothing. We walk on, and in time he lets me go, in order to cup his hands about a cigarette and light it. I look again at Sue. The ground has risen, the breeze is stronger, and two or three lengths of brown hair have come loose from beneath her bonnet and whip about her face. She carries our bags and baskets, and has no hand free to secure them. Behind her, her cloak billows like a sail.

于是我没说话。我们继续走着，很快他放开了我，空出手来点了根香烟。我又望望苏，我们已到了坡上，清风渐起，几绺褐发从她帽中散落下来，轻拂着她的面颊。她提溜着我们的包裹和篮子，无暇顾及腮边的头发。斗篷在身后被风撑起，犹如风帆。

“Is she all right?” asks Richard, drawing on his cigarette.

“她一切正常吗？”理查德吸着烟，问道。

I turn and look ahead. “Quite all right.”

我头转过来，直视前方。“非常正常。”

“She is stouter than Agnes, anyway. Poor Agnes! I wonder how she does, hey?” He takes my arm again, and laughs. I do not answer, and his laughter fades.

“不过，她心眼比阿格尼丝多。可怜的阿格尼丝！她怎么样了？我很关心啊，”他又执起我的胳膊，笑起来。我没答话，他笑声渐落。

“And yet, you still delay. Why is that?” I do not answer. “Maud, I ask you again. Something has happened, since I saw you last. What is it?”

“可你还在拖延时间。为什么？”我没回答。“莫德，我再问你一遍。从我上回走了之后，好象发生了一些事。是什么事？”

I walk on, in silence, aware of his gaze. He pulls me close again. “You have not, I suppose,” he says, “had a change of heart? Have you?”

我继续走着，一言不发，感受着他的目光。他又拽紧我。“我估计，”他说道，“你还没变心？是不是？”

“Do it then, will you? Act like a lover. Smile, blush, grow foolish.”

“你会照办吗？举止要表现得象一个恋人。微笑，脸红，越来越傻气。”

“Nothing?”

“没有？”

He studies my profile. “Then, why do you make us wait? Everything is in place. Everything is ready. I have taken a house for us, in London. London houses do not come cheaply, Maud…”

他端详着我的侧面。“那你为什么要我们空等？一切就位，万事具备。我已经在伦敦为我们物色了一座宅子。莫德，伦敦的房子可不是那么便宜弄来的。”

“No.”

“没有。”

“You are sure?”

“真的？”

“Quite sure.”

“千真万确。”

“Come, Maud,” he says, in a cooler tone, “don’t be so spinsterish. What has happened to you?”

“行了，莫德，”他冷酷地说道，“别象个老处女似的。你这是怎么了？”

“Nothing has happened to me.”

“我没怎么。”

And you know what must be done now?”

“那你现在清楚必须做些什么吧？”

“Nothing, but what we planned for.”

“没有，除了我们计划好的。”

“Of course.”

“当然。”

“Nothing has happened,” I say.

“什么事也没有。”我说道。

“Let go of my arm,” I say.

“放开我的胳膊。”我说道。

You do — then spoil them, with a grimace or a flinch. Look at you now. Lean into my arm, damn you. Will it kill you, to feel my hand upon yours?– am sorry.” I have grown stiff at his words. “I am sorry, Maud.”

“你是照办了——然后你又耍个花枪，要么一脸苦相，要么畏手畏脚，把这些都搞砸了。现在瞧瞧你自己吧。靠到我胳膊上，真可恨。难道我手放在你身上，这种感觉会要你寻死吗？——我很抱歉。”他此番言语令我愈发拘谨。“我很抱歉，莫德。”

“Do I not do those things?”

“我没有照办吗？”

We go further, side by side but in silence. Sue plods behind — I hear her breaths, like sighs. Richard throws down the butt of his cigarette, tears up a switch of grass and begins to lash at his boots.

我们肩并肩，于沉默中走得更远。苏脚步吃力地跟在后边——我听见她的喘息，好似叹息。理查德扔掉烟头，揪了一根草杆，抽打着自己的靴子。

“How filthy red this earth is!” he says. “But what a treat for little Charles…” He smiles to himself. Then his foot turns up a flint and he almost stumbles. That makes him curse. He rights himself, and looks me over. “I see you walk more nimbly. You like it, hmm? You may walk in London like this, you know. On the parks and heaths. Did you know? Or else, you may choose not to walk, ever again — you may rent carriages, chairs, men to drive and carry you about –“

“这红土地是多么地肮脏！”他说道，“不过，对小查理来说，可真是桩享受…”他自顾自地地笑了。然后他脚绊到一块石头，人险些摔倒。这令他口吐咒骂。他站稳当，仔细端详着我。“我看到你脚步更轻快了。你喜欢见我摔个跟斗，嗯？你心里清楚，在伦敦，你可以这样散步。在公园里和花丛中。你明白吗？你也可以不用走路，——你可以租到马车或者轿子，让别人驾着马车，抬着轿子，带着你——”

“Do you? Truly?” He puts the stem of grass to his mouth and grows thoughtful. “I wonder. You are afraid, I think. Of what? Being alone? Is it that? You need never fear solitude, Maud, while you are rich.”

“真的吗？你真的知道？”他将草杆放入口中，变得若有所思。“我感到奇怪。我觉得你心里有所恐惧。因何事而恐惧呢？为了孤单？是吗？等你成了有钱人，你就再也不会害怕孤单了，莫德。”

“I know what I may do.”

“我知道我能做什么。”

“You think I fear solitude?” I say. We are close to the wall of my uncle’s park. It is high, grey, dry as powder. “You think I fear that? I fear nothing, nothing.”

“你觉得我是害怕孤单？”我说道。我们快走到我舅舅花园的围墙边了。那围墙是灰色的，很高，墙体干燥到要掉渣儿。“你以为我害怕那个？我无所畏惧，无所畏惧。”

“You spoke, a moment ago, of torment. The truth is, I think you like to torment yourself, by prolonging this time.”

“刚才，你提到了折磨。事实是，我想你是喜欢在拖延时间中，折磨你自己。”

“I am not, however,” he replies. “Nor do I wish to take instruction in the art, from you or anyone. I have lost too much, in the past, through waiting. I am cleverer now, at manipulating events to match my needs. That is what I have learned, while you have learned patience. Do you understand me, Maud?”

“可我不习惯。”他回答。“我也不想给你或者给其他任何人当什么艺术指导。从前的岁月里，我因为等待已失去太多东西。现在我学乖了，我知道耍什么样的手段才能到达自己的目的。你学到的是耐心，我学到的就是这个。你明白我的意思吗？莫德？”

He casts the grass aside, takes up my arm. “Why, then,” he says, “do you keep us here, in such dreadful suspense?”

他将草杆丢到一旁，拽起我的胳膊。“那又是为了什么，”他说道，“你要让我们不进不退，就他妈的停在这儿？”

I shrug, as if in carelessness; though I do not feel careless. “My uncle said something similar to me once,” I say. “That was before I became like him. It is hardly a torment to me now, to wait. I am used to it.”

我耸耸肩，仿佛毫不在乎；尽管我并非真的无动于衷。“我舅舅也对我说过类似的话，”我说道。“在我变得象他那样之前。现在，很难说等待于我而言是一种折磨。我习以为常。”

I do not answer. We have slowed our step. Now we hear Sue, still breathing hard behind us, and walk on more quickly. When he speaks again, his tone has changed.

我没作答。先前我们放慢了步伐。此时我们听到苏的声音，她还是气喘吁吁跟在后边，脚步更急促了。待他再次开口，他语气变了。

“I will speak, until you hear.”

“我会一直说下去，直到你听进去。”

I turn my head, half-close my eyes. “I don’t want to understand you,” I say tiredly. “I wish you would not speak at all.”

我将头转过去，垂下眼帘。“我才不想明白你的意思。”我疲惫不堪地说道。“我希望你什么都没说过。”

“Hear what?”

“听进去什么？”

“Hear this.” He brings his mouth close to my face. His beard, his lips, his breath, are tainted with smoke, like a devil’s. He says: ” Remember our contract. Remember how we made it. Remember that when I came to you first I came, not quite as a gentleman, and with little to lose — unlike you, Miss Lilly, who saw me alone, at midnight, in your own room…” He draws back. “I suppose your reputation must count for something, even here; I’m afraid that ladies’ always do. — But naturally you knew that, when you received me.”

他嘴凑到我脸颊旁。他的胡须，他的嘴唇，他的呼吸，都带着股烟火气，好象恶魔一般。他说道，“牢记我们的约定，牢记我们是如何达成共识的。牢记我第一次来布莱尔，我接近你，我不成体统，我一文不名，我没什么可舍弃的——不象你，李小姐，深更半夜里，在自己的闺房里，单独留我…”他退回去。“我估计，即便在布莱尔，你的名声也非同小可；我恐怕大家闺秀们都是这样的。——而你接纳我的时候，心里自然清楚这些事。”

His tone has some new edge to it, some quality I have not heard before. But we have changed our course: when I gaze at his face the light is all behind him, making his expression hard to read.

他言语中暗含机锋，那是此前我没听到过的。我们路线已变：当我望着他的面孔，他逆着光，表情令人难以琢磨。

I say carefully, “You call me a lady; but I am hardly that.”

我斟酌着字眼说道，“你称我为大家闺秀，可我难当此任。”

“And yet, I think your uncle must consider you one. Will he like to think you corrupted?”

“我想你舅舅肯定觉得你是。他会乐意见你误入歧途吗？”

“Then, will he like to think the work taken over by another man’s hand? I am speaking only, of course, of what he will suppose to be the case.”

“那好，他会乐于见到另一个男人的手取代了他的位置吗？——当然了，我只是在说，假使这种情况发生，他将做何感想。”

“Why, by sending it home…”

“哎呀，把它送回原处…”

“He has corrupted me himself!”

“他已亲手将我引入歧途！”

I move away. “You misunderstand him, entirely. He considers me a sort of engine, for the reading and copying of texts.”

我走到一旁。“你完全误解了他。他把我当成一架机器，用来读写文章。”

“You are no use to me now, while you delay! Be careful I don’t grow tired of this scheme. I shan’t be kind to you, then.”

“你这么拖延，如今对我也没什么利用价值！你当心，我不会对这个计划心生厌倦。到那时候，我是不会对你发善心的。”

“All the worse. He shan’t like it, when the engine bucks. What say he disposes of it and makes himself another?”

“那可真是雪上加霜。如果这架机器反抗起来，他是不会答应的。不妨试想一下，他处置了这架机器，然后给自己另找一台？”

Now I can feel the beat of the blood in my brow. I put my fingers to my eyes. “Don’t be tiresome, Richard. Disposes of it, how?”

此时我能感觉到额上青筋在突突跳动。我将手覆在眼上。“别无聊了，理查德。处置了它，如何处置？”

The beat seems to stumble, then quickens. I draw back my fingers, but again the light is behind him and I cannot quite make out his face. I say, very quietly, “I shall be no use to you, in a madhouse.”

我额上的跳动似乎踌躇了一下，然后又加速跳动起来。我放下手，可这时他再次身处逆光之中，我无法看分明他的面孔。我声音非常轻地说道，“我进了疯人院，对你就没什么利用价值了。”

“And is this kindness?” I say.

“这叫发善心？”我说道。

We have moved, at last, into shadow, and I see his look: it is honest, amused, amazed. He says: This is dreadful villainy, Maud. When did I ever call it anything else?”

最后我们走到树阴里，我看清他的表情：他一脸正气，神情愉快又惊讶。他说道：“莫德，这是一件极端邪恶的事。以前在什么时候我对此事有过别的说法？”

“That work is done,” he says complacently; “and she, at least, sticks better. — What?” I have shuddered, or my look has changed. “You don’t suspect her of qualms? Maud? You don’t suppose her weakening, or playing us false? Is that why you hesitate?” I shake my head. “Well,” he goes on, “all the more reason for me to see her, to find out how she thinks we do. Have her come to me, today or tomorrow. Find out some way, will you? Be sly.”

“气已经打好了，”他颇有点沾沾自喜地说道；“而她，至少，更起劲了——怎么？”我要么是身子一震，要么是脸色变了。“你不是怀疑她起了疑心吧？莫德？你不会是觉得她在动摇，或者在耍我们吧？你是为这事儿犹豫吗？”我摇摇头。“好，”他继续说道，“那就是天经地义了，我去了解一下，看看她以为我们在做什么。让她来找我，今天或者明天都成。想想法子，成吗？机灵点。”

We stop, close as sweethearts. His tone has grown light again, but his eye is hard — quite hard. I feel, for the first time, what it would be to be afraid of him. He turns and calls to Sue. “Not far now, Suky! We are almost there, I think.” To me he murmurs: “I shall need some minutes with her, alone.”

我们停步，紧紧依偎如同情侣。他的语调再次变轻缓，但他的眼神凌厉依旧——异常凌厉。我第一次感觉到，对他心生畏惧是何滋味。他转身招呼苏。“不远了，苏！我想我们快到了。”又对我耳语：“等下我需要跟她单独待几分钟。”

He puts his smoke-stained finger to his mouth. Presently Sue comes, and rests at my side. She is flushed from the weight of the bags. Her cloak still billows, her hair still whips, and I want more than anything to draw her to me, to touch and tidy her. I think I begin to, I think I half-reach for her; then I become conscious of Richard and his shrewd, considering gaze. I cross my arms before me and turn away.

他将香烟熏黄的手指放在嘴边。片刻后，苏来了，立在我身旁。她因提了重物而面色通红。斗篷仍旧鼓着，头发仍旧轻拂着面颊，而我心中别无他念，只想将她揽过来，触摸到她，帮她整理仪容。我想我向她伸出了双手，我的手伸到半路；这时，我猛然意识到理查德的存在，以及他锐利而疑虑重重的目光。我双臂交叠置于身前，转过身去。

“To secure her,” I say. “As you have me.”

“去给她打气，”我说道，“就象你对我那样。”

Next morning I have her take him a coal from the fire, to light his cigarette from; and I stand with my brow against my dressing-room window and watch them whisper. She keeps her head turned from me, but when she leaves him he raises his eyes to me and holds my gaze, as he held it once before, in darkness.

次日清晨，我让她从壁炉中拣块煤捎给他，带个火儿去帮他点烟；我站在卧室窗前，额头抵着窗户，眼看他们秘谈。她脑袋一直背朝着我，不过待她离去，他就抬起眼朝我看过来，定定望着我的眼睛，正如从前他曾于黑暗中凝视我的眼。

After that, I feel the mounting pressure of our plot as I think men must feel the straining of checked machinery, tethered beasts, the gathering of tropical storms.

之后，我感觉到阴谋的重压逐步迫近，就好似我想象中的，人们感觉到机器疲劳形变，被套住的野兽，聚集形成中的热带风暴。

Remember our contract, he seems again to say. Then he drops his cigarette and stands heavily upon it; then shakes free the clinging red soil from his shoes.

牢记我们的约定，他仿佛又在说。然后他丢掉香烟，脚重重踩上去；接着抖抖脚，甩掉沾在鞋上的红土。

I wake each day and think: Today I will do it! Today I will draw free the bolt and let the engine race, unleash the beast, puncture the lowering clouds! Today, I will let him claim me –!

我每天醒来就想：今天我就动手！今天我要卸掉螺丝钉，让机器空转，我要解救困兽，我要驱散压城的黑云！今天，我要让他知道我的厉害——！

But, I do not. I look at Sue, and there comes, always, that shadow, that darkness — a panic, I suppose it, a simple fear — a quaking, a caving — a dropping, as into the sour mouth of madness — Madness, my mother’s malady, perhaps beginning its slow ascent in me! That thought makes me more frightened yet. I take, for a day or two, more of my drops: they calm me, but change me. My uncle marks it.

然而，我什么也没做。我望着苏，随即涌上心头的，是阴影，是黑暗，屡试不爽——一阵恐慌，我觉得，那是纯粹的恐惧——是地震，是崩塌——是坠落，好似落入疯病病魔冒着酸腐气的大嘴中——疯病，我母亲的疯病，也许它正开始在我体内的缓慢浮现！这想法令我倍感恐惧。我加大了药物的剂量，好支撑那么一到两天：药物帮我安神，却也改变了我。我舅舅注意到这变化。

“Yes, sir,” I say.

“是，先生，”我说道。

“Seventeen. A troublesome age, if we are to believe our own books.”

“十七岁。如果我们信了书里的东西，那这真是个棘手的年纪。”

“I am seventeen, Uncle.”

“十七岁，舅舅。”

“No, sir.”

“没有，先生。”

He wets and purses his mouth, and studies me harder. When he speaks again, his tone is strange to me.

他舔舔嘴唇，嘴巴努起来，目光紧紧盯着我。待他再次开口，我觉得他的语气很奇怪。

“What age are you?” he says. I am surprised, and hesitate. He sees it. “Don’t strike coy attitudes with me, miss! What age are you? Sixteen? Seventeen? — You may show astonishment. You think me insensible to the passage of years, because I am a scholar? Hmm?”

“你多大年纪？”他说道。我颇吃惊，倒犹疑起来。他看在眼里。“小姐！别跟我矫情了！你多大年纪？十六岁？还是十七岁？——你可以一脸惊讶。你是不是以为，我是个学究，对年月流逝毫无知觉？嗯？”

“You grow clumsy,” he says, one morning. I have mishandled a book. “You think I have you come, day after day, to my library, to abuse it?”

一天清晨，他说道，“你变得笨了，”我拿错了一本书。“你以为我天天容你来我书房，是为了糟蹋我的书房？”

“What? Do you mumble?”

“什么？你嘟囔什么？”

“Yes, sir.”

“是的，先生。”

“No, Uncle.”

“没有，舅舅。”

It seems to me now, however, that I must remember too much. My face, my joints, are set aching with the effort of striking looks and poses.

然而，于我而言，需要牢记的事物似乎太多了。我的面孔，我的肌肉，皆因致力摆出刻意的形容姿态而疼痛不已。

“Yes, Maud. Only remember: your business is not with belief, but with study. Remember this, also: you are not too great a girl — nor am I too aged a scholar — for me to have Mrs Stiles come and hold you still while I take a whip to you. Hmm? You’ll remember these things? Will you?”

“是的，莫德。就记住一点：你的无须信仰，仅须研究。也要记住这个：你对我来说远没那么重要，我随时能招斯黛尔太太来按住你，由我亲手鞭笞你。我也不是个老学究，你会牢记住这些？是不是？”

Perhaps, as he and my uncle believe, I draw a pleasure from torment. It is certainly a torment to me now, to sit at a lesson with him, to sit at a dinner-table with him, to read to him, at night, from my uncle’s books. It begins to be a torment, too, to pass time with Sue.

也许，正如他和我舅舅二人坚信的，我以苦痛折磨为乐事。此时，坐下来跟他上课，坐在餐桌旁与他共进晚餐，晚间为他诵读我舅舅的藏书，诸如此类，确确实实令我苦恼不堪。跟苏一起消磨时光，也开始令我苦恼不堪。

Then she will make me neat — always neat, handsome and neat — she will take down my hair and dress it, straighten seams, lift lint from the fabric of my gowns. I think she does it as much to calm herself, as to calm me. “There,” she will say, when she has finished. “Now you are better.” — Now she is better, she means. “Now your brow is smooth. How creased it was, before! It mustn’t be creased –“

于是她将我收拾得大方得体——总是很得体，漂亮又得体——她将我头发放下来，梳理整齐，将我衣裙抻平顺了，将我裙子上的线头都拽干净。我想她如此经心地拾掇我，既是为了让我镇定，也是让她自己镇定。“瞧，”待她收拾停当，她会说如是说。“现在你好多了。”——她的意思是，现在她好多了。“现在你眉头是舒展的，以前你眉毛皱得多紧啊！可不能皱眉毛——”

Perhaps I am weak, after all.

也许我完全就是个扶不起的阿斗。

I can no longer say with certainty which of my actions — which of my feelings, even — are true ones, which are sham. Richard still keeps his gaze close upon me. I will not meet it. He is reckless, teasing, threatening: I choose not to understand.

我已经不能言之凿凿地说出我的一举一动——甚至我的感觉——那些是真，那些是假。理查德的目光仍旧紧密地跟随着我，我故意不看他。他不计后果，阴阳怪气，连威带吓：我选择并不会意。

Our routines are spoiled. I am too conscious that she waits, as he does: I feel her watching, gauging, willing me on. Worse, she begins to speak in his be-half — to tell me, bluntly, how clever he is, how kind and interesting.

我们的日常生活全乱了套。我心里明镜似的知道，她跟他一样，也在等待：我感觉到她在观望，在揣摩，在怂恿我。更糟糕的是，她开始谈论他的好处——赤裸裸地告诉我，他有多么聪明，多么善良，多么有趣。

“You think so, Sue?” I ask her, my eyes upon her face; and her gaze might flutter uneasily away, but she will always answer: “Yes, miss. Oh, yes, miss. Anyone would say it, wouldn’t they?”

“你这么以为？苏？”我问她，我眼睛望着她的面孔；她目光会不自在地闪动，视线移开，但她总会如是答道：“是的，小姐。噢，是的，小姐。任谁都会这么讲的，不是吗？”

It mustn’t be creased, for Mr Rivers’s sake: I hear the unspoken words, my blood surges again; I take her arm in mine and pinch it.

决不能皱眉毛，为了瑞富斯先生：我的血流再次汹涌澎湃；我抓住她的胳膊狠狠掐了一下。

“Oh!”

“噢！”

I do not know who cries it, she or I; I reel away, unnerved. But in the second I have her skin between my fingers, my own flesh leaps in a kind of relief. I shake, horribly, for almost an hour.

我不知道是谁在叫喊，是她还是我：我头脑恍惚，心力交瘁。不过，我手指掐住她皮肤的一瞬间，我自己身上跳过某种开释的感觉。我浑身颤抖着，不可抑制地，几乎颤抖了一个钟头。

She puts me into my bed and lies with her arm against mine; but soon she sleeps, and then draws away. I think of the house in which I lie. I think of the room beyond the bed — its edges, its surfaces. I think I shall not sleep, unless I touch them. I rise, it is cold, but I go quietly from thing to thing — chimneypiece, dressing-table, carpet, press. Then I come to Sue. I would like to touch her, to be sure that she is there. I dare not. But I cannot leave her. I lift my hands and move and hold them an inch, just an inch, above her — her hip, her breast, her curling hand, her hair on the pillow, her face, as she sleeps.

她服侍我上床，又躺在我身边，胳膊贴着我的胳膊；可是她很快就睡着了，随即翻身到了另一边。我想到我身处的这所房子，我想到床那边的房间——它的边缘，它的表面。我觉得如果我不去摸摸那些事物，那我肯定睡不着。我起身，夜好冷，可我静悄悄地在诸般事物间游移——壁炉烟囱，梳妆台，地毯，衣柜。然后我来到苏身边。我想摸摸她，好肯定她确实在那儿。我不敢。可我又离不开她。我伸出双手，摸索着，手在她身体上方一寸的距离，就一寸——她的臀，她的胸脯，她蜷缩着的手，她铺在枕头上的头发，她的脸，正值她熟睡中。

“Oh, God!” I say, hiding my face. “I’m afraid, for my own mind! Do you think me mad? Do you think me wicked, Sue?”

“噢！上帝啊！”我别过脸，说道。“我好怕！怕我自己发神经！你觉不觉得我疯了？你觉不觉得我恶毒？苏？”

“Wicked?” she answers, wringing her hands. And I can see her thinking: A simple girl like you?

“恶毒？”她答道，绞着双手。我能看出她在想什么：象你这样单纯的姑娘？

I do that, perhaps three nights in a row. Then this happens.

也许我连着三个晚上都是这样。接着，发生了这么一件事。

Richard begins to make us go to the river. He has Sue sit far from me, against the upturned boat; and he, as always, keeps close at my side, pretending to watch as I paint. I paint the same spot so many times, the card starts to rise and crumble beneath my brush; but I paint on, stubbornly, and he will now and then lean close to whisper, idly but fiercely:

理查德开始领我们去河边。他命苏坐在远离我的地方，靠在倒扣着的小船旁；而他，一如既往，不离我左右，我作画时，他装模作样地看着。我反复多次地涂在同一点上，画纸在我的画笔鼓起来，都快碎了；我却还是顽固地画着，他时不时探过身子对我耳语几句，貌似悠闲实则暴躁地说道：

“God damn you, Maud, how can you sit so calm and steady? Hey? Do you hear that bell?” The Briar clock sounds clearly there, beside the water. “There’s another hour gone, that we might have passed in freedom. Instead, you keep us here –“

“该死的，莫德，你怎么能如此冷静如此稳当地坐着？嘿？你听到那个钟声吗？布莱尔的钟声在河边听得特别清楚。又过了一个小时，可是，你让我们待在这儿——”

“Will you move?” I say. “You are standing in my light.”

“挪开一点好吗？”我说道，“你挡到我的光线了。”

“You are standing in mine, Maud. See how easy it is, to remove that shadow? One little step is all that must be made. Do you see? Will you look? She won’t. She prefers her painting. That piece of — Oh! Let me find a match, I shall burn it!”

“莫德，你挡到我的计划了。看看，要驱散那阴影有多简单？只要一小步，走一小步就够了。你看到吗？你有看吗？她看不到。她喜欢画画。那幅——噢！让我找根火柴，我要烧了它！”

I glance at Sue. “Be quiet, Richard.”

我望着苏。“安静，理查德。”

But the days grow warm, and at last comes a day, so close and airless, the heat overpowers him. He spreads his coat upon the ground and sprawls upon it, tilts his hat to shadow his eyes. For a time, then, the afternoon is still and almost pleasant: there is only the calling of frogs in the rushes, the slapping of water, the cries of birds, the occasional passing of boats. I draw the paint across the card in ever finer, ever slower strokes, and almost fall into slumber.

那些日子天气越来越暖和，最后这天非常闷，空气都凝滞了，气温令他心气勃发。他将衣裳铺在地上，人躺在上面。帽子斜靠在头上，遮住了眼睛。于是，午间有了片刻宁静时光，甚至是令人愉快的：周围只有芦苇丛中的蛙鸣，河水拍岸声，鸟叫，几艘偶然经过的小船。我以从未有过的优美而缓慢的笔触，在画纸上描绘着，整个人儿几乎要沉入梦乡。

Then Richard laughs, and my hand gives a jump. I turn to look at him. He puts his finger to his lip. “See there,” he says softly. And he gestures to Sue. She still sits before the upturned boat, but her head has fallen back against the rotten wood and her limbs are spread and loose. A blade of hair, dark at the tip where she has been biting at it, curves to the corner of her mouth. Her eyes are closed, her breaths come evenly. She is quite asleep. The sun slants against her face and shows the point of her chin, her lashes, her darkening freckles. Between the edges of her gloves and the cuffs of her coat are two narrow strips of pinking flesh.

这时理查德笑起来，我手一震。我扭过头望着他。他手指放在嘴唇上。“瞧那儿。”他轻轻地说道。说着他朝苏使了个眼色。她仍旧坐在那只倒扣的小船旁，而她的头则耷拉在腐烂的木头上，四肢松散地舒展开来。一绺青丝弯到她嘴角，那发梢儿曾被她咬嚼过，颜色略显深沉。她双目紧闭，呼吸均匀。她在熟睡。阳光斜斜地落在她脸上，印出她下巴的弯儿，睫毛的尖儿，还有她脸上暗色的雀斑点。在她的手套和衣袖之间，露出两道窄窄的粉红肌肤。

Shall I?” He sniffs. “They are not much used to sunlight, where she comes from.” He speaks almost fondly, but laughs against the words; then adds in a murmur: “Nor where she’s going, I think. Poor bitch — she might sleep. She has been asleep since I first got her and brought her here, and has not known it.”

“叫醒她？”他嗤之以鼻。“在她出身的地方，人们都不大习惯晒到太阳，”他言语颇含怜爱，笑容却与那言语并不相称；接着他又轻轻加了一句：“我觉得，在她要去的那个地方也一样。可怜的小娼妇——她还睡得着。从我第一次骗她得手，把她带到这儿，她一直没睡醒过，还蒙在鼓里呢。”

I look again at Richard — meet his eye — then turn back to my painting. I say quietly, “Her cheek will burn. Won’t you wake her?”

我又转头看看理查德——正碰上他的目光——立即又转向我的画作。我平静地说道，“她脸会晒坏的，你不叫醒她？”

Sue does not wake, but frowns and turns her head. Her lower lip slightly falls. The blade of hair swings from her cheek, but keeps its curve and point. I have lifted my brush and touched it once to my crumbling painting; now I hold it, an inch from the card; and I watch, as she sleeps. Only that. Richard sniffs again, softly curses the heat, the season. Then, as before, I suppose he grows still. I suppose he studies me. I suppose the brush in my fingers drops paint — for I find it later, black paint upon my blue gown. I do not mark it as it falls, however; and perhaps it is my not marking it, that betrays me. That, or my look.

苏还没醒来，只是皱皱眉，脑袋动了一下。她嘴唇微微开启，那一绺头发在她面颊旁飘荡着，仍是那个曲线和那一撮发梢尖儿。我本已举起画笔，触到我那蹩脚的画稿；此时，我却在离画稿一寸处定住；我凝视着，她正熟睡。仅此而已。理查德又吸吸鼻子，轻声诅咒着这热气，这季节。而后，如同以往，我以为他会安静下来。我以为他在研究我。我以为我手中的画笔有颜料滴落——因为后来我发觉裙子上有一滴黑色。然而，那颜料滴落时，我并未留意；也许正是我未曾留意，反泄露了我的心事。要不，就是我的表情。

He says it, not with relish, but as if with interest at the idea. Then he stretches and yawns and gets to his feet, and sneezes. The fine weather troubles him. He puts his knuckles to his nose and violently sniffs. “I beg your pardon,” he says, drawing out his handkerchief.

他此番言语，不象有意为之，倒好似对这个想法充满兴趣。他伸伸懒腰，哈欠连连，然后站了起来，打了几个喷嚏。好天气令他不适。他用手堵住鼻孔，用力吸吸鼻子。“请原谅，”他掏出手帕说道。

“Oh, Maud,” he says.

“噢，莫德，”他说道。

Sue frowns again. I watch, a little longer. Then I turn, and find Richard’s eyes upon me.

苏又在皱眉。我又望了一会。然后我回过头，看到理查德的眼睛盯着我。

For a moment we do nothing. Then he steps to me and takes my wrist. The paintbrush falls.

有一会，我们什么都没做。然后他走过来，攥住我手腕。画笔掉落在地。

When we stop, he puts his hands to my shoulders and holds me fast.

待我们停步，他双手按住我肩膀，牢牢抓住我。

“Come quickly,” he says. “Come quickly, before she wakes.”

“快过来，”他说道。“趁她还没醒，快点过来。”

He takes me, stumbling, along the line of rushes. We walk as the water flows, about the bend of the river and the wall.

他拉着我，我脚步踉跄，沿着芦苇走过去。我们顺着水流，走在河流和围墙弯转处。

“Oh, Maud,” he says again. “Here I have been, supposing you gripped by a conscience, or some other weakness like that. But this –!”

“噢，莫德，”他又说道。“我来到这里，我以为你能秉持公道心，或者别的什么嗜好，可是这个——！”

“Laugh? You might be glad I don’t do worse. You’ll know — you’ll know, if anyone will! — the sports to which gentlemen’s appetites are said to be pricked, by matters like this. Thank heavens I’m not a gentleman so much as a rogue: we go by different codes. You may love and be damned, for all I care. — Don’t wriggle, Maud!” I have tried to twist from his hands. He holds me tighter, then lets me lean from him a little, but grips my waist.

“嘲笑？你应该感到高兴，我没有更失态。你会明白——如果人人都明白，你也会明白！——人们都说绅士的好胜心会被这种事儿激起来！感谢上帝，我还不是这种泼皮绅士：我们的喜好不同。你可以喜欢，也可以他妈的厌恶我喜欢的东西。——别乱动，莫德！”我试图挣脱他的手。他手上愈加用力，还揽住了我的腰，让我离他更近了一步。

I have turned my face from him, but feel him laugh. “Don’t smile,” I say, shuddering. “Don’t laugh.”

我将脸别过去不看他，却感觉到他在笑。“不要笑，”我颤抖着说道。“不要嘲笑。”

That is all he says. But in his face I see, at last, how much I want her.

他就说了这一句。可从他脸上，我终于看出，我有多么渴望她。

“You may love and be damned,” he says again. “But keep me from my money — keep us languishing here: put back our plot, our hopes, your own bright future — you shall not, no. Not now I know what trifling thing you have made us stay for. Now, let her wake up. — I promise you, it is as tiresome to me as to you, when you twist so! — Let her wake up and seek us out. Let her see us like this. You won’t come to me? Very good. I shall hold you here, and let her suppose us lovers at last; and so have done with it. Stand steady, now.”

“你可以喜欢或者厌恶，”他又说。“但是让我摸不着我的财宝——让我们在这儿：推迟我们的计划，我们的期望，你自己的光明前程——你不会的，不会的。我可不是现在才知道你是为了什么芝麻小事儿，而一直让我们原地踏步。现在，叫醒她。——我向你保证，你这样挣扎，对你对我其实同样腻味！——叫醒她，让她来找我们。让她看看我们这个样子。你不肯再靠近点？非常好，我会这么抓住你，最后让她以为我们是情侣；这样计划就好进行下去了。现在，站稳当点。”

“That will bring her,” he says.

“这会引她过来。”他说道。

He leans from me and gives a wordless shout. The sound beats against the thick air and makes it billow, then fades to a silence.

他上身后仰，长啸一声。这声音划破沉滞的空气，令空气也起了波浪，而后归于沉寂。

I move my arms. “You are hurting me.”

我扭动着双臂。“你弄疼我了。”

He holds me harder, keeping his hands upon me but pinning down my arms with his own. He is tall, he is strong. His fingers meet about my waist — as young men’s fingers are meant to do, I believe, on the waists of their sweethearts. For a time I strain against the pressure: we stand braced and sweating as a pair of wrestlers in a ring. But I suppose that, from a distance, we might seem swaying in a kind of love.

他更用力了，双手一直抓着我，更将我手臂扭到身后。他很高。他很壮。他几根手指就可将我手腕全部攥住——正如那些年轻的小伙子们，我相信，要攥他们心上人的手腕一样。我奋力挣扎了片刻：我俩僵持地站着，都出汗了，好似角斗场上的一对角斗士。但是我觉得，隔开一定距离看，我们俩倒象是在恋爱中卿卿我我似的。

“Stand like a lover then, and I shall grow gentle as anything.” He smiles again.

“规规矩矩地站好，象个情人的样儿，那我就会温柔如水。”他又微笑。

“Suppose me her. — Ah!” Now I have tried to strike him. “Do you mean to make me bruise you?”

“把我当成她。——啊！”我试图掌掴他。“你是想让我跟你动粗吗？”

But I think this dully; and soon I feel myself begin to tire. The sun is still hot upon us. The frogs still chant, the water still laps among the reeds. But the day has been punctured or ripped: I can feel it begin to droop and settle, close about me, in suffocating folds.

而我朦胧地想到这些；很快，我就感觉自己开始疲倦。艳阳依旧高照。雾气依旧萦绕不散，河水依旧轻拍着芦苇荡。可是时光（the day）已被击穿，被生生撕裂：我能感觉到时光开始凋零，沉淀，紧紧地包围着我，层层叠叠令我窒息。

“It is only –“

“我只是——”

“I am sorry,” I say weakly.

“我很抱歉。”我有气无力地说道。

But, only what? How might I say it? Only that she held my head against her breast, when I woke bewildered. That she warmed my foot with her breath, once. That she ground my pointed tooth with a silver thimble. That she brought me soup — clear soup — instead of an egg, and smiled to see me drink it. That her eye has a darker fleck of brown. That she thinks me good…

然而，只是什么呢？我该从何说起？当我于昏昏然中苏醒，只有她将我拥在胸前。只有她曾呵气为我双足取暖。只有她用一枚银顶针为我磨牙。只有她为我端来了汤——清汤——而不是鸡蛋，还微笑着看我喝汤。只有她的眼睛是有一只带着深色瞳仁的。只有她以为我是好…

“You needn’t be sorry, now.”

“现在，你不必抱歉。”

“It is only –“

“我只是——”

Richard is watching my face. “Listen to me, Maud,” he says now. He pulls me tight. I am sagging in his arms. “Listen! If it were any girl but her. If it were Agnes! Hey? But this is the girl that must be cheated, and robbed of her liberty, for us to be free. This is the girl the doctors will take, while we look on without a murmur. You remember our plan?”

理查德凝视着我的面孔。“听我说，莫德，”此刻他说道。他将我拥得更紧。我吊在他臂膀上。“听着！如果这是别的姑娘而不是她。如果这是阿格尼丝！嘿？但这正是那个为了成全我们的自由，而必须被欺骗、被剥夺了自由的姑娘！”

“You must be strong. I have seen you be strong, before.”

“你得坚强。我以前见过你坚强。”

I nod. “But –“

我点头。“可是——”

“You’ve a heart, instead, for little fingersmiths? Oh, Maud.” Now his voice is rich with scorn. “Have you forgotten what she has come to you for? Do you think she has forgotten? Do you suppose yourself anything to her, but that? You have been too long among your uncle’s books. Girls love easily, there. That is the point of them. If they loved so in life, the books would not have to be written.”

“不忍心？那你对小蟊贼发了善心？哦，莫德。”此时他的声音中充满不屑。“难道你忘了她来到你身边所图何事吗？你以为她忘了吗？你以为你对于她，除了她追求的那些，还有什么别的价值吗？你在你舅舅的书里浸淫太久，在书里，姑娘之爱稀松平常。那就是书的卖点。如果生活中姑娘们也那么相爱，那些书就不会被写出来了。”

“I begin to fear that, after all, I haven’t the heart for it…”

“反正，我开始怕了，我不忍心…”

He looks me over. “She would laugh in your face, if she knew.” His tone grows sly. “She would laugh in mine, were I to tell her…”

他目光深邃地望着我。“假使给她知道了，她会当面嘲笑你的。”他腔调诡异起来。“她会当着我的面嘲笑你，假使我告诉她…”

“What?”

“什么？”

“You shall not tell her!” I say, lifting my head and stiffening. The thought is awful to me. “Tell her once, and I keep at Briar for good. My uncle shall know how you’ve used me — I shan’t care how he treats me for it.”

“你不能告诉她！”我抬起头，全身僵硬。这念头太可怕了。“你要是告诉她，那我就永远待在布莱尔。我舅舅就会知道你是如何利用了我——我才不在乎他为此事如何处置我。”

“I shall not tell her,” he answers slowly, “if you will only do as you must, with no further delay. I shall not tell her, if you will let her think you love me and have agreed to be my wife; and so make good our escape, as you promised.”

“我不会告诉她。”他一字一句答道。“如果你能恰如其分地做你应做的，再无拖延。我不会告诉她，如果你能让她以为你爱上了我，并已答应做我的妻子；如此一来，可令我们顺利逃脱，正如你曾承诺的。”

He kisses my head. The bulk and heat and pressure of him, the warmth and thickness of the day, my own confusion, make me stand and let him, limply. He takes one hand from about my waist and lifts my arm. He kisses the cloth of my sleeve. When I feel his mouth upon my wrist, I flinch. “Now, now, he says. “Be good, for a moment. Excuse my whiskers. Imagine my mouth hers.” The words come wetly upon my flesh. He pushes my glove a little way along my hand, he parts his lips, he touches my palm with the point of his tongue; and I shudder, with weakness, with fear and distaste — with dismay, to know Sue stands and watches, in satisfaction, thinking me his.

他亲吻了我的头。他的块头，热度，还有他的压力，空气里（the day）的暖意和厚重，我自己的昏沉，让我立在那里，虚弱无力地由他去了。他一支手放开我的手腕，抬起我的胳膊。他亲吻了我的衣袖。待我感觉到他嘴唇覆上我的手腕，我惊得一缩。“好，好，”他说道。“乖一点，就一会儿。原谅我的胡须，就把我的嘴唇想象成她的吧。”他将我手套褪到手心，张开嘴，舌尖轻触我手心；我颤抖不已，因为软弱，因为害怕和厌恶——因为沮丧，明知苏站在近旁观望，她心满意足了，以为我归了他。

I turn my face from his. Again there is a silence. Then I murmur — what else should I murmur? — “I will.” He nods, and sighs. He still holds me tightly, and after another moment he puts his mouth against my ear.

我将脸别到一旁。又是一阵静默。这时我喃喃自语起来——还有什么是我应当喃喃自语的呢？——“我会的。”他点头，叹息。他仍旧牢牢抓着我，又过了片刻，他将嘴贴到我耳朵上。

“Here she comes!” he whispers. “She is creeping about the wall. She means to watch and not disturb us. Now, let her know I have you…”

“她来了！”他耳语道。“她在墙边摸索。她要观望一下，不想打搅我们。现在，让她明白我拥有你…”

For, he has shown me to myself. He leads me to her, we walk to the house, she takes my cloak, takes my shoes; her cheek is pink, after all: she stands frowning at the glass, moves a hand, lightly, across her face… That is all she does; but I see it, and my heart gives a plunge — that caving, or dropping, that has so much panic in it, so much darkness, I supposed it fear, or madness. I watch her turn and stretch, walk her random way about the room — see her make all the careless unstudied gestures I have marked so covetously, so long. Is this desire? How queer that I, of all people, should not know! But I thought desire smaller, neater; I supposed it bound to its own organs as taste is bound to the mouth, vision to the eye. This feeling haunts and inhabits me, like a sickness. It covers me, like skin.

他已令我认清自己。他带我与她会合，我们一起向宅子走去，她拿着我的斗篷，提着我的鞋；她仍旧双颊绯红。她皱着眉站在镜子前，抬起一支手，轻轻地，抚过自己的脸…她就做了这些；但是我看在眼里，我的心一沉——那个崩塌，坠落，如此黑暗，我觉得那是恐惧，要么是疯狂。我看着她转身，舒展身体，以她随意的步履走在房间里——看到她摆出的所有不经意的姿态，毫不做作，那都是我曾如此痴心妄想地，又是如此长时间地念念不忘。这就是所谓的欲望吗？多么离奇呀，在所有人当中，就是我该不明所以！不过我原以为欲望更渺小，更纯净。我以为欲望是以其器官为限的，正如同味觉以嘴为限，视觉以眼为限。这种感觉纠缠着我，深植我体内，象疾病一样。这感觉包裹着我，如同皮肤。

But after all, if she senses the change in me, she thinks I am changed because of Richard. If she feels me tremble, if she feels my heart beat hard, she thinks I tremble for him. She is waiting, still waiting. Next day I take her walking to my mother’s grave. I sit and gaze at the stone, that I have kept so neat and free from blemish. I should like to smash it with a hammer. I wish — as I have wished many times — that my mother were alive, so that I might kill her again. I say to Sue: “Do you know, how it was she died? It was my birth that did it!” — and it is an effort, to keep the note of triumph from my voice.

然而毕竟，假使她感受到我内里的变化，她也会以为我是因理查德而改变。假使她感觉到我颤抖，假使她感觉到我心跳剧烈，她会以为我是为他而颤抖。她在等待时机，还在等待时机。次日，我带她散步，我们去了我母亲的墓地。我坐下来，盯着墓碑，那墓碑经我维护，如此整洁干净，毫无瑕疵。我真想用铁锤砸碎这墓碑。我许下心愿——正如我曾许多次的那个心愿——希望我母亲还活着，这样我就可以再一次杀死她。我对苏说道：“你知不知道，她是怎么死的？是我的出生所致！”——可真不容易，没让我声音露出胜利的音符。

I think she must see it. Now he has named it, I think it must colour or mark me — I think it must mark me crimson, like paint marks the hot red points, the lips and gashes and bare whipped limbs, of my uncle’s pictures. I am afraid, that night, to undress before her. I am afraid to lie at her side. I am afraid to sleep. I am afraid I will dream of her. I am afraid that, in dreaming, I will turn and touch her…

我想她可能也将这欲望看在眼里。如今他已直言不讳，我觉得这欲望还令我变了颜色，在我身上留下印记——我觉得这欲望给我打上了深红色的标记，如同我舅舅藏书中，用颜料标记出的血脉贲张的红色端点，嘴唇或睫毛，赤裸裸的被鞭打过的肢体。那天夜里，我害怕起来，我怕在她面前更衣。我怕躺在她身边。我怕我睡着了。我怕我会梦到她。我怕我在睡梦中会翻过身来，触摸到她…

She does not catch it. She watches me, and I begin to weep; and where she might say anything to comfort me — anything at all — what she says is: “Mr Rivers.”

她没注意到这个。她望着我，我开始哭泣；她可以说点什么安慰我——什么都可以——她说出口的是：“瑞富斯先生。”

I look from her in contempt, then. She comes and leads me to the chapel door — perhaps, to turn my thoughts to marriage. The door is locked and can’t be passed. She waits for me to speak. At last I tell her, dutifully: “Mr Rivers has asked me to marry him, Sue.”

于是我心怀不屑从她身上移开视线。她过来带我到了礼拜堂门口——也许，为了让我改变心意，答应婚事。礼拜堂大门紧锁，进不去。她等我先开口讲话。最后我老老实实告诉她：“瑞富斯先生向我求婚了，苏。”

“You think he does?”

“你觉得他爱吗？”

She says she is glad. And, when I weep again — false tears, this time, that wash away the true ones — and when I choke and wring my hands and cry out, “Oh! What shall I do?”, she touches me and holds my gaze, and says: “He loves you.”

她说她很高兴。并且，当我再次哭泣——这回是虚假的泪珠儿，将真实的泪珠儿都冲走了——当我哽咽住，绞着双手，哭喊出来，“噢！我当如何是好？”她轻抚着我，直视我的眼睛，说道，“他爱你。”

She says she knows it. She does not flinch. She says, “You must follow your heart.”

她说她知道。她眼睛瞬也不瞬。她说道，“你必须听从你的心声。”

I grow too conscious of the closeness of her gaze, and look away. She talks to me of beating blood, of thrilling voices, of dreams. I feel his kiss, like a burn upon my palm; and all at once she sees, not that I love him, but how much I have come to fear and hate him.

我发现她时而紧闭双眼，时而目光闪躲。她跟我说起什么奔流的血液，颤抖的声音，还有梦境。我想起他的吻，在我手心上好似一块烧伤；她立即领会其意，我不爱他，我是多么怕他，恨他。

“But to love,” she says, “and then to lose him!”

“要是不爱他，”她说道，“就会失去他！”

“I am not sure,” I say. “If I might only be sure!”

“我不知道，”我说道。“要是我知道就好了！”

She does not answer. She only turns from me, to gaze for a moment at the barred chapel door. I look at the pale of her cheek, at her jaw, at the mark of the needle in the lobe of her ear. When she turns back, her face has changed.

她语塞。她在我面前转过身，盯着了片刻那紧闭的礼拜堂大门。我望着她面颊上那片苍白，望着她的下巴，她耳垂上的针眼儿。等她转回过来，她神色全变了。

She grows white. “What will you do?” she says, in a whisper.

她脸色变白。“你要如何？”她低声说道。

“What can I do?” I say. “What choice have I?”

“我能如何？”我说道。“我何尝有选择的余地？”

She has come to Briar to ruin me, to cheat me and do me harm. Look at her, I tell myself. See how slight she is, how brown and trifling! A thief, a little fingersmith! — I think I will swallow down my desire, as I have swallowed down grief, and rage. Shall I be thwarted, shall I be checked — held to my past, kept from my future — by her? I think, I shan’t. The day of our flight draws near. I shan’t. The month grows warmer, the nights grow close. I shan’t, I shan’t —

她来到布莱尔，来毁灭我，来蒙骗我，来伤害我。我望着她，这样告诉自己。瞧瞧，她是多么渺小，多么黝黑，多么微不足道！一个小偷，一个小蟊贼——我想我会咽下我的欲望，正如我曾咽下悲伤和怒火。难道，我就该被她挫败？我就该被她选中，牢牢栓在我的过往里，而触不到我的未来？我想，不应该。我们计划付诸实施之日渐渐近了。不应该。白昼日益温暖，黑夜日益闷气。不应该，不应该是我——

“Marry him,” she tells me. “He loves you. Marry him, and do everything he says.”

“嫁给他，”她告诉我。“他爱你，嫁给他，照他说的去做。”

“You are cruel,” Richard says. “I don’t think you love me as you ought. I think –” and he glances, slyly, at Sue — “I think there must be someone else you care for…”

“你真叫人抓狂，”理查德说道。“我觉得你不象你应当表现出的那么爱我，我觉得——”他狡猾地望了一眼苏——“我觉得你中意的另有其人…”

Like certain ladies love their maids, perhaps. Hasn’t she found little ways to keep you close about her? — Have I done that? Hasn’t she feigned troublesome dreams? — Is that what I have done? Has she had you kiss her? Careful, Suky, she doesn’t try to kiss you back…

也许是象某些小姐爱上她们的女仆。她未曾使出些小花样让你不离她左右吗？——我有吗？她未曾装作为噩梦所困扰？——这就是我所做的？她曾让你亲吻她吗？小心点，苏，她不会回应你的吻…

Sometimes I see him look at her, and think he has told her. Sometimes she looks at me, so strangely — or else her hands, in touching me, seem so stiff, so nervous and unpractised — I think she knows. Now and then I am obliged to leave them alone together, in my own room; he might tell her, then. What do you say, Suky, to this? She loves you!

有时候，我看到他望着苏，我就觉得他已经告诉了她。有时候，她望着我，眼神奇特——还有她的手，触摸到我，好象特别僵硬，特别紧张，特别不熟练——我就觉得她都知道了。时不时，我不得不让他们俩在我房间单独待着；他可能就趁机跟她说了。你以为如何？苏？这个事儿？她爱上你了！

Loves me? Like a lady loves her maid?

爱上我了？象小姐爱女仆那样的吗？

Would she laugh, as he said she would? Would she shiver? It seems to me she lies more cautiously beside me now, her legs and arms tucked close. It seems to me she is often wary, watchful. But the more I think it, the more I want her, the more my desire rises and swells. I have come to terrible life — or else, the things about me have come to life, their colours grown too vivid, their surfaces too harsh. I flinch, from falling shadows. I seem to see figures start out from the fading patterns in the dusty carpets and drapes, or creep, with the milky blooms of damp, across the ceilings and walls.

她会象他说的那般，笑话我吗？她会笑的花枝乱颤吗？在我看来，她躺在我身边，似乎更小心了，她的胳膊和腿儿缩成一团。在我看来，她似乎总是很惊醒，总在窥探。而我愈是想到这些，就愈加渴望她，我的欲望也愈发地高涨。我已在生活中醒来——同时，我周围的事物也苏醒了，它们色彩逼真，表面粗砺。我为日益笼罩的黑影而畏缩不前。我仿佛看见有人影从布满灰尘的地毯和窗帘的渐渐褪色的图案中，袅袅升起，又蹑手蹑脚地，在一团团乳白色的潮气中，穿越了天花和墙壁。

Even my uncle’s books are changed to me; and this is worse, this is worst of all. I have supposed them dead. Now the words — like the figures in the walls — start up, are filled with meaning.

就连我舅舅的书，在我眼中也有所改变。这才是糟糕之处，这是最糟糕的地方。我曾以为那些字句曾是无生命的。如今那些字句——正如墙壁中的人影——忽然发动起来，意味无穷。

“You like this, Rivers?” asks my uncle.

“你喜欢这个？瑞富斯？”我舅舅问道。

“I confess, sir, I do.”

“我得承认，先生，我喜欢这个。”

“And she pressed her lips and tongue to it, and into it –“

“她将唇覆上，舔舐着，舌头探入——”

I grow muddled, stammer. I lose my place. My uncle shrieks — seizes, from his desk, a paperweight of brass, and throws it at me. That steadies me, for a time. But then he has me read, one night, from a certain work…

我变得稀里糊涂，结结巴巴。我进退失据。我舅舅大叫着——从他书桌上抓起一个黄铜书镇，砸到我身上。这使我有了片刻的清醒。然而随后，一天夜里，他命我诵读某部作品…

I do. And despite myself — and in spite of Richard’s dark, tormenting gaze — I feel the stale words rouse me. I colour, and am ashamed. I am ashamed to think that what I have supposed the secret book of my heart may be stamped, after all, with no more miserable matter than this — have its place in my uncle’s collection. I leave the drawing-room each night and go upstairs — go slowly, tapping the toes of my slippered feet against each step. If I strike them equally, I shall be safe. Then I stand in darkness. When Sue comes to undress me I will myself to suffer her touch, coolly, as I think a mannequin of wax might suffer the quick, indifferent touches of a tailor.

我继续读下去。而就连我本人也感到——虽然理查德在暗处注视我的目光令我烦恼不已——我感到那陈腐酸臭的字句唤醒了我。我脸红了，我感到羞耻。那些我曾以为是心中秘密的事，竟会被盖上藏书章，收在我舅舅的藏书中——再没什么比这更令人痛苦了。每念及此，我就羞耻难当。每个夜晚，我离开客厅，走上楼去——走得很慢，一步步将脚轻轻踏在台阶上。如果我力道平均地踩到每级台阶，那我就会平安无事。然后我立在黑暗中。当苏来给我更衣，我亲身体会她的触摸，我不动声色，好似我想象中，一个蜡人儿忍受裁缝飞快、无心的触摸。

Richard watches, his hand across his mouth, a look of amusement dawning on his face. For the work tells of all the means a woman may employ to pleasure another, when in want of a man.

理查德观察着，手放在嘴上，脸上慢慢浮起饶有兴味的表情。因为，那部作品讲述的是在一位男性的要求下，一个女人取悦另一个女人时所使出的浑身解数。

“Well, so do many men; though I fear it is hardly to my taste. Still, I am glad to note your interest. I address the subject fully, of course, in my Index. Read on, Maud. Read on.”

“是啊，很多男性都喜欢；尽管我恐怕这不对我的胃口。不过，我还是很高兴能引起你的注意。当然，在我的索引大全里，这个条目已经完全收录好了。继续读，莫德，继续读。”

And yet, even wax limbs must yield at last, to the heat of the hands that lift and place them. There comes a night when, finally, I yield to hers.

不过，即便是蜡做的身体，最终也会为搬运、摆弄它们的那双手的热力所融化。而我，终于，在接下来的一个夜里，融化在她手中。

I have begun, in sleeping, to dream unspeakable dreams; and to wake, each time, in a confusion of longing and fear.

我早就开始在睡梦中，梦到一些令人难以启齿的梦境；每一次都会醒来，陷入渴望与恐惧交织的混乱中。

Sometimes she stirs. Sometimes she does not. “Go back to sleep,” she will say, if she does.

有时她也被惊动。有时她酣然无察。如果她被惊动了，她会说“去睡觉。”

Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I rise and go about the room; sometimes, take drops. I take drops, this night; then return to her side; but sink, not into lethargy, but only into more confusion.

有时我会睡着。有时我睡不着。有时我起身，在房间里走来走去。有时候，要服药。这天夜里，我服了药；服过药我回到她身边；我没有沉入毫无生气的梦乡，却沉入更纷繁的混乱中。

I think of the books I have lately read, to Richard and to my uncle: they come back to me, now, in phrases, fragments — pressed her lips and tongue — takes hold of my hand — hip, lip and tongue — forced it half- strivingly — took hold of my breasts — opened wide the lips of my little — the lips of her little cunt — I cannot silence them. I can almost see them, rising darkly from their own pale pages, to gather, to swarm and combine. I put my hands before my face. I do not know how long I lie for, then. But I must make some sound, or movement; for when I draw my hands away, she is awake, and watching. I know that she is watching, though the bed is so dark.

我想到近来我为理查德和我舅舅诵读的那些书：此刻，它们又浮现出来，字句零碎，片片段段——覆上了她的唇舌——抓住我的手——臀部，唇舌——半推半就地——握住我的胸脯——她私处的小花瓣——我无法令它们安静下来。我几乎能看到这些字句，于黑暗中，自苍白的书页中升起，汇聚，浮游，组合起来。我将手放在面前。我也不知道自己躺了多久。但我肯定是搞出了点声响，或者动静；因为当我放回双手，她就醒了，睁开了眼。我知道她在察看，尽管这床上非常黑。

“Tell you what, miss?”

“告诉你什么？小姐？”

I say, “I’m afraid…”

我说道，“我怕——”

Tell me. Tell me a way to save you. A way to save myself. The room is perfectly black. Hip, lip-Girls love easily, there.

告诉我，告诉我解救你的办法。也是解救我的办法。房间里一片漆黑，伸手不见五指。臀部，唇舌——在书中，姑娘之爱稀松平常。

Hip, lip and tongue —

臀部，唇舌——

And at first, it is easy. After all, this is how it is done, in my uncle’s books: two girls, one wise and one unknowing…”He will want,” she says, “to kiss you. He will want to embrace you.” It is easy. I say my part, and she — with a little prompting — says hers. The words sink back upon their pages. It is easy, it is easy…

开始时很简单。毕竟，在我舅舅的书里是如此的：两个姑娘，一个博学，一个没知识…“他会想，”她说道，“亲吻你。他会想拥抱你。”这很简单。我说我该说的，至于她——得了少许激励——说了她该说的。那些字句重新沉入书页中。这很简单，这很简单…

“Good, miss?”

“好的，怎么？”

I feel my legs, very bare inside my gown. I feel the point at which they join. I feel the words, still swarming. The warmth of her limbs comes inching, inching through the fibres of the bed.

我感觉到我睡衣中的双腿，一丝不挂。我感觉到双腿交会的那一点。我感觉到那些字句，仍在汇聚。她四肢的温度，从床铺织物中一点一点慢慢传过来。

“Do you think me good?” I say.

“你觉得我好吗？”我说道。

Then her breathing changes. Her voice grows clearer, kinder. She yawns.

这时她的呼吸变了。她声音变的更清晰，更动听。她打了个哈欠。

She does. It felt like safety, once. Now it feels like a trap. I say, “I wish — I wish you would tell me –“

她觉得我好。曾经，这令我倍感安全。此刻，这仿佛是个陷阱。我说道，“我希望——我希望你能告诉我——”

Girls love easily, there. That is their point.

在书里，姑娘之爱稀松平常。那就是那些书的卖点。

“What is it?” she says. She rubs her eye. She pushes the hair back from her brow. If she were any girl but Sue! If she were Agnes! If she were a girl in a book –!

“什么？”她说道。她揉揉眼睛。她拨开额前头发。她若不是苏，是随便什么姑娘就好了！她若是阿格尼丝！她若是书中的某位姑娘——！

“I wish,” I say, “I wish you would tell me what it is a wife must do, on her wedding-night…”

“我希望，”我说道，“我希望你能告诉我，一位妻子在她的新婚之夜里，该如何行事？”

“Go to sleep,” she says. Her voice is thick.

“乖乖睡觉。”她说道，声音有些发闷。

I have felt, before, the pressure of a gentleman’s still, dry lips against my gloved hand, my cheek. I have suffered Richard’s wet, insinuating kisses upon my palm. Her lips are cool, smooth, damp: they fit themselves imperfectly to mine, but then grow warmer, damper. Her hair falls against my face. I cannot see her, I can only feel her, and taste her. She tastes of sleep, slightly sour. Too sour. I part my lips — to breathe, or to swallow, or perhaps to move away; but in breathing or swallowing or moving I only seem to draw her into my mouth. Her lips part, also. Her tongue comes between them and touches mine. And at that, I shudder, or quiver. For it is like the finding out of something raw, the troubling of a wound, a nerve. She feels me jolt, and draws away — but slowly, slowly and unwillingly, so that our damp mouths seem to cling together and, as they part, to tear. She holds herself above me. I feel the rapid beating of a heart, and suppose it my own. But it is hers. Her breath comes, fast. She has begun, very lightly, to tremble. Then I catch the excitement of her, the amazement of her.

以前，我曾领略过绅士们平静干燥的嘴印在我戴了手套的手上，我的面颊上。我曾忍受过理查德在我手心留下湿乎乎，曲意逢迎的吻。她嘴唇有些凉，光滑而湿润：印在我唇上，并不完全贴和，却随即变得更温暖更湿润。她头发落在我脸上。我看不分清她的面容，我只能感觉她，感觉她的味道。她气息略有些酸味，那是被窝味。味道太重。我张开嘴——想喘口气，想咽下唾沫，也许还想移开嘴唇；不过喘口气也好，咽下唾沫也好，移开嘴唇也好，我好象只是将她抱得更紧。她嘴唇也张开了。她舌头在唇间流连，与我的纠缠在一起。这吻令我战栗不止。这好似引发了某种刺痛，好似剥开了痂的伤口，好似触动了一根新的神经。她感觉到我的战栗，她缓缓地，缓缓地，并不情愿地退开，我们湿润的嘴唇仿佛粘在一起，当我们嘴唇分开，就如同撕裂开一样。她伏在我身上，我感觉到一阵急速的心跳，我以为那是我的心跳。然而那却是她的。她呼吸也急促起来。她也开始非常细微地颤抖。于是我察觉到她的兴奋，她的激动。

Then she rises above me and puts her mouth to mine.

这时，她坐起，俯身过来将她的嘴唇放在我嘴上。

“Do you feel it?” she says. Her voice sounds strangely in the absolute darkness. “Do you feel it?”

“你感觉到了吗？”她说道。在漆黑一片中，她的声音听起来有些奇怪。“你感觉到了吗？”

I do. I feel it as a falling, a dropping, a trickling, like sand from a bulb of glass. Then I move; and I am not dry, like sand. I am wet. I am running, like water, like ink.

我感觉到了。我觉得就好象是一阵坠落，自高处落下，如同沙漏中的沙砾。这时我动了动；我不象沙砾那样干燥，我湿润如丝，我流淌起来了，如同水流，如同墨水。

I begin, like her, to shake.

我也开始，象她一样颤抖着。

“Don’t be frightened,” she says. Her voice has a catch. I move again, but she moves, too, she comes nearer to me, and my flesh gives a leap, to hers. She is trembling, worse than before. She is trembling, from the closeness of me! She says, “Think more of Mr Rivers.” — I think of Richard, watching. She says again, “Don’t be frightened.” — But it is she who seems frightened. Her voice still has its catch. She kisses me again. Then she raises her hand and I feel the tips of her fingers flutter against my face.

“别害怕，”她说道。她声音有种诱惑力（catch）。我身子又动了动，而她也动了动，她更贴近我了，我一把揽住她（and my flesh gives a leap， to hers。）。她比先前抖得更厉害。她是因靠近我而战栗！她说道，“多想想瑞富斯先生吧。”我想起理查德，留意着她的反应。她又说道，“别害怕。”——然而，似乎害怕的人是她。她声音仍旧带着一种诱惑力。她又亲吻了我。然后她抬起手，我感觉到她指尖颤抖着抚过我的脸。

“Do you see?” she says. “It is easy, it is easy. Think more of him. He will want — He will want to touch you.”

“看到吗？”她说道，“这很简单，这很简单。多想想他。他会想——他会想抚摸你。”

“To touch me?”

“抚摸我？”

“Only touch you,” she says. The fluttering hand moves lower. “Only touch you. Like this. Like this.”

“就是抚摸你，”她说道，那支颤抖的手滑到下面。“就是抚摸你。象这样，象这样。”

Yet her hand moves slowly, still. She whispers. “How soft you are! How warm! I want –” The hand moves even slower. She begins to press. I catch my breath. That makes her hesitate, and then press harder. At last she presses so hard I feel the giving of my flesh, I feel her inside me. I think I cry out. She does not hesitate now, however, but comes nearer to me and puts her hips about my thigh; then presses again. So slight she is! — but her hip is sharp, her hand is blunt, she leans, she pushes, she moves her hips and hand as if to a rhythm, a time, a quickening beat. She reaches. She reaches so far, she catches the life, the shuddering heart of me: soon I seem to be nowhere but at the points at which my flesh is gripped by hers. And then, “Oh, there!” she says. “Just there! Oh, there!” — I am breaking, shattering, bursting out of her hand. She begins to weep. Her tears come upon my face. She puts her mouth to them. You pearl, she says, as she does it. Her voice is broken. You pearl.

她手上动作仍旧轻缓，她在我耳边轻语。“你多么柔软，多温暖！我要——”那支手动作更慢了。她开始用力。我屏住了呼吸。这令她稍事犹豫，随后更加用力。终于，她手中力道令我体会到上天赐予我身体的礼物，我感觉到她在我身体里。我想我叫出声了。这时她没有犹豫，而是靠过来紧贴着我，身体全部压在我身上，手里又开始用力。她是多么轻盈！——而她的#臀#部#浑#圆，她的手#结#实#有#力（blunt），她斜倚着，她推进着，她移动着#臀#部和手，仿佛在应和一种节奏，一个拍子，一阵愈来愈快的鼓点。她触到了。她真的触到了。她抓住了我的生命，我悸动的心：很快，我的。身。体似乎只剩下由她掌握着的那么一点儿。随即，“噢，是这儿！”她说道。“就是这儿！哦！这儿！”我从她手中迸裂爆发，四散开来。她开始抽泣。她的泪珠儿落到我脸上。她吻掉那些泪珠儿。你是珍珠，她边#吻#边#说#道。她声音嘶哑。你是珍珠。

When her hand moves again, her fingers no longer flutter: they have grown wet, and slide, and in sliding seem, like her lips as they rub upon mine, to quicken and draw me, to gather me, out of the darkness, out of my natural shape. I thought I longed for her, before. Now I begin to feel a longing so great, so sharp, I fear it will never be assuaged. I think it will mount, and mount, and make me mad, or kill me.

当她的手又开始摸索，她的手指不再颤抖：她手指湿润了，滑入我的身体，游走着，正如她嘴唇在我的唇上摩擦，鼓舞着我，引领着我，将我的心魂汇聚，从这黑暗中游离出来，从我的原始形态中游离出来。从前我以为我渴望她，此刻我领略到一种如此强烈又如此汹涌的欲望，我怕这欲望是再得不到满足了。我觉得这欲望将会膨胀，再膨胀，膨胀到令我疯狂，令我一命呜呼。

When she puts up my nightgown and reaches between my legs, we both grow still.

当她掀起我的睡衣，手摸索到我两腿之间，我们二人都停住不动了。

I don’t know how long we lie, then. She sinks beside me, with her face against my hair. She slowly draws back her fingers. My thigh is wet from where she has leaned and moved upon me. The feathers of the mattress have yielded beneath us, the bed is close and high and hot. She puts back the blanket. The night is still deep, the room still black. Our breaths still come fast, our hearts beat loud — faster, and louder, they seem to me, in the thickening silence; and the bed, the room — the house! — seem filled with echoes of our voices, our whispers and cries.

也不知我们躺了多久。她身子落回到我身边，脸枕着我的头发。她慢慢抽回手指。我#大#腿#上她紧贴过的地方还#湿#漉#漉#的。羽绒床垫在身下包围着我们，床上又闷，又高，又热。她拽过毯子。夜仍旧深沉，房里依旧漆黑一片。我们的喘息依旧急促，我们的心跳好大声，尤其在这愈来愈沉寂的静默中，在我听来，更显急促大声；这床，这房间——甚至这所宅子！——仿佛都装满了我们耳语和叫喊的回响。

Everything, I say to myself, is changed. I think I was dead, before. Now she has touched the life of me, the quick of me; she has put back my flesh and opened me up.

一切的一切，我对自己说，都改变了。以前我以为自己是行尸走肉。现在她已触到了我的生命，我的本质；她令我起死回生，她开启了我的世界。

cannot see her. But after a moment she finds my hand and presses it, hard, then takes it to her mouth, kisses my fingers, lies with my palm beneath her cheek. I feel the weight and shape of the bones of her face. I feel her blink. She does not speak. She closes her eyes. Her face grows heavy. She shivers, once. The heat is rising from her, like a scent. I reach and draw the blanket up again, and lay it gently about her.

我看不到她。但是过了片刻，她摸到我的手，紧紧攥住，将我手拿到她嘴边，亲#吻#着#我的手指，将我手心覆在她面颊上。我感觉到她面颊的分量和形状。我感觉她眨着眼。她没说话。她闭上双眼，面孔在我手中更有分量了。她抖了一下。热气从她身上飘散开来，如同某种香水气息。我又伸手拽起毯子，小心仔细地替她将毯子掖好。

Everything is changed. I still feel her, inside me. I still feel her, moving upon my thigh. I imagine her waking, meeting my gaze. I think, “I will tell her, then. I will say, “I meant to cheat you. I cannot cheat you now. This was Richard’s plot. We can make it ours.” — We can make it ours, I think; or else, we can give it up entirely. I need only escape from Briar: she can help me do that — she’s a thief, and clever. We can make our own secret way to London, find money for ourselves…

一切的一切都改变了。我仍然感觉她，在我身体里。我仍然感觉到她，身子压在我大腿上。我想象着她醒来，遇到我的目光。我想，那时我就会告诉她。我会说，“我本打算欺骗你。现在我再不能骗你了。这都是理查德的阴谋。我们可以让它按我们的意志进行。”——我们可以主导这个计划，我觉得；要不然，我们也可以完全放弃这个计划。我只需从布莱尔逃出来：她能帮我逃脱——她是个小偷，她聪明得很。我们可以神不知鬼不觉地去伦敦，去拿到我们自己的钱…

So I calculate and plan, while she lies slumbering with her face upon my hand. My heart beats hard again. I am filled, as with colour or light, with a sense of the life we will have, together. Then I also sleep. And in sleeping I suppose I must move away from her — or she must move, from me — and then she must wake, with the day, and rise: for when I open my eyes she has gone, the bed is cool. I hear her in her own room, splashing water. I rise up from my pillow, and my nightgown gapes at my breast: she has undone the ribbons, in the dark. I move my legs. I am wet, still wet, from the sliding and the pressing of her hand.

我如此算计着，她头枕着我的手，仍在沉睡中。我心跳再次加剧。我心中满满当当的，好象充满了色彩和光线，充满了对我们未来共同生活的憧憬。然后我又睡着了。估计是在睡梦中，我肯定是翻身离开了她——要么是她翻身离开了我——然后她醒了，被日光刺醒，她就起来了：因为我睁开眼睛时，她已经不在了，床也凉了。我听见她在自己的房间里，还有水流的哗哗声。我从枕头上坐起来，胸口的睡衣敞开着：是她在黑暗中解开了睡衣带子。我腿动了动，我仍旧是潮湿的，出于她的手的游走和按压。

I think her only awkward, at first. I think her shy and self-conscious. She goes silently about the room, taking out my petticoats and gown. I stand, so she may wash and dress me. Now she will speak, I think. But, she does not. And when she sees the blush upon my breast, the marks left by her mouth, the dampness between my legs, it seems to me that she shudders. Only then do I begin to grow afraid. She calls me to the glass. I watch her face. It seems queer in reflection, crooked and wrong. She puts the pins to my hair, but keeps her eyes all the time on her own uncertain hands. I think, She is ashamed. So then, I speak.

开始，我以为她只是笨。我以为她害羞，她静静地在房间里忙碌，拿出我的衬裙和裙子。我站着，好让她给我梳洗更衣。我想，现在她要开口了。可是，她没有。当她看到我胸前的淤青，那是她嘴唇留下的痕迹，还有我两腿间的潮湿，我好象看到她身子一震。到这时我才开始感到恐慌。她叫我到镜子跟前来。我望着她的脸。她的脸在镜子的反射中似乎有点怪异，带着些不老实和忐忑的神色。她将别针别到我头发上，眼睛却始终落在她自己那双忙乱的手上。我想，她一定是害羞。于是，我开口了。

“What a thick sleep I had,” I say, very softly. “Didn’t I?”

“我睡得多沉啊，”我说道，我声音非常轻。“不是吗？”

You pearl, she said.

你是珍珠。她曾如是说。

Then she comes, and meets my gaze. My heart leaps within me. She looks away.

这时她过来了，遇到我的目光。我的心要蹦出来了。她视线转开了。

“No dreams, save one,” I say. “But that was a — a sweet one. I think you were in it, Sue…”

“没做梦，有一个，”我说道。“不过那是个——美梦呢。我觉得你在那个梦里，苏…”

She colours; and I watch her rising blush and feel, again, the pressure of her mouth against mine, the drawing of our fierce, imperfect kisses, the pushing of her hand. I meant to cheat her. I cannot cheat her, now. “I am not what you think,” I will say. “You think me good. I am not good. But I might, with you, begin to try to be. This was his plot. We can make it ours –“

她闻言色变；我看到她脸渐渐红了，再一次，我感觉到她亲吻我时的压迫感，我们那些卤莽的，不完美的亲吻的撕扯纠缠，她手上的急切探索。我原打算蒙骗她。现在我不能再骗她。“我不是你想的那样，”我要说，“你以为我是好姑娘。我不是好姑娘。但是有了你，我可以开始学着做个好姑娘。那都是他的阴谋。我们可以主导这个计划——”

Her eyelids flutter. “You did,” she answers. “No dreams.”

她眼睑扇动。“你是睡得很沉，”她答道。“没做梦。”

“In your dream?” she says at last, moving from me. “I don’t think so, miss. Not me. I should say, Mr Rivers. Look! There he is. His cigarette almost smoked. You will miss him — ” She falters once; but then goes on, “You will miss him, if you wait.”

“在你的梦里？”最后她说道，她从我身边走开。“我可不这么想，小姐。不是我，我应该说，瑞富斯先生。瞧！他在那儿。他香烟快抽完了。你要错过他了——”她磕巴了一下；但还是继续说下去，“你要还是等着，那就要错过他了。”

I sit dazed for a moment, as if struck by her hand; then I rise, go lifelessly to the window, watch Richard walk, smoke his cigarette, put back the tumbling hair from his brow. But I keep at the glass, long after he has left the lawn and gone in to my uncle. I would see my face, if the day were dark enough; I see it anyway, though: my hollowing cheek, my lips, too plump, too pink — plumper and pinker than ever now, from the pressing of Sue’s mouth. I remember my uncle –” I have touched your lip with poison, Maud” — and Barbara, starting away. I remember Mrs Stiles, grinding lavender soap against my tongue, then wiping and wiping her hands upon her apron.

我头昏目眩地坐了片刻，仿佛被她甩了一记耳光；然后我起身，失魂落魄地走到窗前，望着理查德，看他度步，抽烟，撩开额上的头发。我一直站在窗前，他离开草坪，进了屋，去找我舅舅，我还站在窗前。如果天色够暗，我就能看到自己的面孔；不过我还是看到了：我深陷的面颊，我的嘴唇，太丰满，太鲜艳——为苏的嘴唇亲吻过，此时比以往更加丰满鲜艳。我想起最初我舅舅的话——“我已将毒药点在你嘴唇上了，莫德。”——还有芭芭拉。我想起斯黛尔太太，她将熏衣草香皂抹在我舌头上，然后手在围裙上擦了又擦。

Everything has changed. Nothing has changed, at all. She has put back my flesh; but flesh will close, will seal, will scar and harden. I hear her go to my drawing-room; I watch her sit, cover up her face. I wait, but she does not look — I think she will never look honestly at me, again. I meant to save her. Now I see very clearly what will happen, if I do — if I draw back from Richard’s plot. He will go from Briar, with her at his side. Why should she stay? She will go, and I shall be left — to my uncle, to the books, to Mrs Stiles, to some new meek and bruisable girl… I think of my life — of the hours, the minutes, the days that have made it up; of the hours, the minutes and days that stretch before me, still to be lived. I think of how they will be — without Richard, without money, without London, without liberty. Without Sue.

一切的一切都已改变。什么都没改变，压根儿没变。她曾将我的肉体复归原位；然而肉体会封闭，会密封，会结痂会变硬。我听到她走进我的客厅；我看到她坐下，两手捂着脸。我等待着，可她看也没看一眼——我想她再也不会以诚实无欺的目光望着我了。我本想搭救她。此时，我清晰地看到，假使我搭救了她——假使我从理查德的阴谋中抽身而退，将有何事发生。他会从布莱尔走掉，身边伴着她。她凭什么留下呢？她也会走，我会留下来——留给我舅舅，留给书籍，留给斯黛尔太太，留给某些新来的恭顺姑娘，她们可以任我欺负…我想到我的生活——想到构成我生活的分分秒秒，日日夜夜；还有那些在我面前伸展开去，仍需度过的分分秒秒，日日夜夜。我想到那些时光会是怎样的——没有理查德，没有钱，没有伦敦，没有自由。没有苏。

And so you see it is love — not scorn, not malice; only love — that makes me harm her, in the end.

于是你看到了，到最后令我伤害到她的——并非蔑视，并非恶意——是爱，只是爱。