“Make yourself neat tonight, Maud,” he says to me, as I stand in his library buttoning up my gloves. “We shall have guests. Hawtrey, Huss, and another fellow, a stranger. I hope to employ him with the mounting of our pictures,”
“今晚装扮的妥帖点，莫德。”他对我说道，其时我正立在他书房中，将手套纽儿逐个扣起。“我们要招待几位客人，霍粹，哈斯，还有个年轻人，他是新客人。我想请他整理装订我们的藏画。”
Our pictures. There are cabinets, in a separate study, filled with drawers of lewd engravings, that my uncle has collected in a desultory sort of manner, along with his books. He has often spoken of taking on some man to trim and mount them, but has never found a man to match the task. One needs a quite particular character, for work of that sort.
我们的藏画。我舅舅另辟一间书房，其中满是淫秽版画，都是我舅舅伴着书籍零零散散收集而来的。他总说要请人来整理装订这些画，却一直没找到称职的人物。那须是个性情独特的人，方可胜任此事。
He catches my eye, thrusts out his lips. “Hawtrey claims to have a gift for us, besides. An edition of a text we have not catalogued.”
他盯着我的眼睛，努了一下嘴唇。“另外，霍粹说要给我们带件礼物来。是一本我们尚未收录的书。”
I have said it was my uncle’s custom, occasionally to invite interested gentlemen to the house, to take a supper with us and, later, hear me read. He does so now.
如前所述，我舅舅的一个习惯，是时常请些有同好的绅士朋友来布莱尔，与我们共进晚餐，餐后请众人聆听我的诵读。这天他就安排了一次餐会。
“That is great news, sir.”
“这真是个好消息，先生。”
Perhaps I speak drily; but my uncle, though a dry man himself, does not mark it. He only puts his hand to the slips of paper before him and divides the heap into two uneven piles. “So, so. Let me see…”
也许我的话有些干巴巴的；不过我舅舅自己就是个干巴巴的人，他根本没留意。他着手整理面前的稿纸，将纸堆分成一高一低两垛。“那么，那么。让我想想…”
He looks up. “Has the hour struck?”
他抬起眼。“敲过钟了？”
“It has, I believe.”
“敲过了，我确信敲过了。”
“May I leave you, Uncle?”
“我可以走了吗？舅舅？”
Now and then I wonder how he supposes I spend my hours, when not engaged by him. I think he is too used to the particular world of his books, where time passes strangely, or not at all, and imagines me an ageless child. Sometimes that is how I imagine myself — as if my short, tight gowns and velvet sashes keep me bound, like a Chinese slipper, to a form I should otherwise outleap. My uncle himself — who is at this time, I suppose, not quite above fifty — I have always considered to have been perfectly and permanently aged; as flies remain aged, yet fixed and unchanging, in cloudy chips of amber.
有时我会好奇，他以为我会如何消遣掉他用不到我的那些时光呢？我觉得他太沉浸于书本构成的特殊世界了，在那个世界里，时光以奇异的方式流逝着，或者根本就停滞不动了，而我则是个长不大的孩子——有时候我自己也这么想——那短而紧的袍子和天鹅绒腰带，仿佛是中国女人的三寸金莲鞋，将我束缚起来，无法挣脱。至于我舅舅——我估计，他此时年不过五十——我总认为他的年纪是亘古不变的，就好象苍蝇掉进浑浊的松脂中，形态凝固下来，永恒不变了。
He draws out from his pocket his chiming watch and holds it to his ear. The key to his library door — sewn about, at the stem, with faded velvet — swings noiselessly beside it. He says, “Go on then, go on. Leave an old man to his books. Go and play, but — gently, Maud.”
他从口袋里取出怀表，拿近耳朵。他书房的钥匙——钥匙把上包着褪色的绒布——在怀表后面无声地晃荡着。他说道，“那就去吧，去吧，把老头子丢到他的书里去吧，去吧，耍吧，不过——轻一点，莫德。”
I leave him squinting at a page of text. I walk very quietly, in soft-soled shoes. I go to my rooms, where Agnes is. I find her at work at a piece of sewing. She sees me come, and flinches. Do you know how provoking such a flinch will seem, to a temperament like mine? I stand and watch her sew. She feels my gaze, and begins to shake. Her stitches grow long and crooked. At last I take the needle from her hand and gently put the point of it against her flesh; then draw it off; then put it back; then do this, six or seven times more, until her knuckles are marked between the freckles with a rash of needle-pricks.
我离开时，他正眯缝着眼看文献。我脚穿软底鞋，悄无声息地走开了。我回到我的房间里，阿格尼斯在那儿。我看到她在做一件针线活儿。她见我回来，随即面露惧色。你知道这样的畏缩神色性情如我者？我站在一旁，看她做针线。她感受到我的注视，开始发抖。她手里针脚变的又粗又歪。最后，我从她夺过手中的针，将针慢慢地扎进她的肉里，再拔出来，再扎进去，如此这般六七回之多，直扎得她手上的雀斑之间冒出许多疹子般的针眼。
“Yes, Uncle.”
“是的，舅舅。”
“Should you like it if he was?”
“如果他是那样的，你高兴吗？”
“Is it? Here, turn your hand.” She does, and I jab the needle harder. “Now, say you don’t like it, having a prick upon your palm!”
“是吗？好，把手翻过来。”她照办，我扎的更狠了。“现在，敢说一句不高兴，我就在你大拇指上扎一下！”
“Like it, Agnes. It seems to me now, that you would. Shall I tell him the way to your room? I shan’t listen at the door. I shall turn the key, you will be quite private.”
“高兴，阿格尼斯。看起来似乎你会高兴的。我应该告诉他怎么去你房间吗？我不会趴在门上偷听。我会锁好门，你会有充分的自由。”
I say it — idly enough — as a way of teasing. It is nothing to me. But she hears me, and colours.
我以调侃的口吻，若无其事地说出这番话。我根本不在乎她。而可她听了这话，脸上变了颜色。
I study her harder, struck with a new idea.
我仔细端详着她，心里闪出个新念头。
“There are to be gentlemen here tonight,” I say, as I do it. “One a stranger. Do you suppose he will be young, and handsome?”
“晚上有几位绅士拜访，”我边扎她边说道。“有一位是新客，你觉得他会是个年轻人吗？他会是个英俊潇洒的人吗？”
“Who knows? He might be.”
“谁知道呢？也许他正是那个样子。”
“Like it, miss?”
“高兴，怎么？小姐？”
“I can’t say, miss,” she answers, blinking and turning her head; not drawing her hand away, however. “Perhaps.”
“我也说不出，小姐。”她答道，目光闪烁，别过头去；她还是没把手抽回去。“可能是吧。”
“Oh miss, what nonsense!”
“噢，小姐，无稽之谈。”
“You think so?”
“你这么想？”
She takes her hand away and sucks it, and begins to cry. The sight of her tears — and of her mouth, working on the bit of tender flesh that I have stabbed — first stirs, then troubles me; then makes me weary. I leave her weeping, and stand at my rattling window, my eyes upon the lawn that dips to the wall, the rushes, the Thames.
她手缩回去放进嘴里吮吸着，她开始哭了。看到她的泪珠儿——她轻咬着被我扎过的地方——我心中先是涌出一阵快意，随后是烦乱，紧接着我心生厌倦。我站到喀哒作响的窗边，留她独自哭泣；我凝视着窗外延伸到围墙边的草坪，远处的芦苇丛和泰晤士河。
But of course, he is both.
可是，当然，他既年轻又英俊。
“Will you be quiet?” I say, when her breath still catches. “Look at you! Tears, for a gentleman! Don’t you know that he won’t be handsome, or even young? Don’t you know, they never are?”
她还是抽抽达达的，我说道，“你能安静点吗？看看你吧，为个男人哭哭啼啼！难道你不知道他既不英俊也不年轻吗？难道你不知道，那些绅士从来都不英俊年轻吗？”
“Mr Richard Rivers,” my uncle says. The name seems auspicious to me. Later I will discover it to be false — as false as his rings, his smile, his manner; but now, as I stand in the drawing-room and he rises to make me his bow, why should I think to doubt him? He has fine features, even teeth, and is taller than my uncle by almost a foot. His hair is brushed and has oil upon it, but is long: a curl springs from its place and tumbles across his brow. He puts a hand to it, repeatedly. His hands are slender, smooth and — but for a single finger, stained yellow by smoke — quite white.
“理查德·瑞富斯先生，”我舅舅说道。这个名字对我似乎是个吉兆。稍后我就会发觉，这是个假名字——跟他的戒指，他的微笑，他的做派一样，都是假的。不过这会儿，我在绘画室里，他起身向我鞠躬行礼，我为何要对他心存怀疑？他外表光鲜，牙齿整齐洁白，人比我舅舅高出几乎一尺。他头发梳理过，上面还抹了发油，头发挺长：有一绺卷头从一侧翻过额头，他老是伸手去捋那绺头发。他的手细长光滑——只有一根手指被香烟熏黄了——非常白皙。
“Miss Lilly,” he says, as he bends towards me. The lock of hair falls forward, the stained hand lifts to brush it back. His voice is very low, I suppose for my uncle’s sake. He must have been cautioned in advance, by Mr Hawtrey.
弯腰行礼时，他口里念道，“李小姐，”那绺额发滑落下来，他伸出那根被烟熏黄的手指把头发拢回去。他音量很低，我猜是考虑到我舅舅的缘故。霍粹先生肯定事先叮嘱过他。
Mr Hawtrey is a London bookseller and publisher, and has been many times to Briar. He takes my hand and kisses it. Behind him comes Mr Huss. He is a gentleman collector, a friend from my uncle’s youth. He also takes my hand, but takes it to draw me closer to him, then kisses my cheek. “Dear child,” he says. I have been several times surprised by Mr Huss upon the stairs. He likes to stand and watch me climb them.
霍粹先生是伦敦的书商和出版商，他曾多次拜访布莱尔。他执起我的手，亲了一下。他后面进来的是哈斯先生。他是位彬彬有礼的收藏家，也是我舅舅年轻时就相识的朋友。他也执起我的手，却是把我拉近他身边，亲了下我的面颊。“亲爱的孩子。”他说道。我曾有几次在楼梯上被哈斯先生吓到。他喜欢站在那儿，望着我拾级而上。
But it is Mr Rivers I watch. And once or twice, when I turn my face his way, I find his own eyes fixed on me, his gaze a thoughtful one. He is weighing me up. Perhaps he has not supposed I would be so handsome. Perhaps I am not so handsome as rumour has had him think. I cannot tell. But, when the dinner-bell sounds and I move to my uncle’s side to be walked to the table, I see him hesitate; then he chooses the place next to mine. I wish he had not. I think he will continue to watch me, and I don’t like to be watched, while eating. Mr Way and Charles move softly about us, filling our glasses — mine, that crystal cup, cut with an M. The food is set upon our plates, then the servants leave: they never stay when we have company, but return between courses.
而我一直暗中留意着瑞富斯先生。有那么一两回，我脸转到他所在的方向，就发现他眼睛盯着我，他的目光若有所思。他在掂量我。也许他没料到我会如此俊俏。也许我并不如他听闻的传言中那般俊俏。我也说不出。不过，当正餐的铃声响起，我走到我舅舅身旁，准备走到餐桌边时，我见他犹豫了一下；然后他挑了我旁边的位子坐下。我希望他没这么做。我想他要继续留意观察我，而我吃饭的时候，并不想被人注意到。魏先生和查尔斯在我们身边无声地穿梭来去，为我们的杯子加满酒——我那只刻着M的水晶酒杯。食物已在盘中摆置妥帖，仆人们随即退下：我们聚会时，他们从不在旁伺候，只是用餐结束要转朗诵会的间隙，他们才会回来。
“How do you do, Mr Huss?” I say now, making him a curtsey.
“你好，哈斯先生。”我向他行了个屈膝礼。
We are served hare soup, this night; then goose, crisp at the skin, pink at the bones, and with its innards devilled and passed about the table. Mr Hawtrey takes a dainty kidney, Mr Rivers has the heart. I shake my head at the plate he offers.
这天晚餐我们吃的是野兔汤；还有鹅肉，皮脆肉嫩，鹅内脏上裹了芥末，在饭桌上传了一圈。霍粹先生拣了一块肾，瑞富斯先生拣的是鹅心。他将盘子递到我面前时，我摇摇头。
At Briar we eat, as we do everything, by the chiming of the clock. A supper of gentlemen lasts one hour and a half.
在布莱尔，我们用餐，跟我们做其他事一样，都依钟点行事。绅士们用晚餐，要吃一个半钟头之久。
“Don’t you care for goose, Miss Lilly?” asks Mr Hawtrey. “Nor does my eldest daughter. She thinks of goslings, and grows tearful.”
“不喜欢吃鹅肉吗？李小姐？”霍粹先生说道。“我大女儿也不喜欢。她老是想起小鹅仔，然后就眼泪汪汪。”
“I’m afraid you’re not hungry,” he says quietly, watching my face.
“我想你还不饿，”他注视着我的脸，轻轻说道。
“An ink? Don’t mention it to my daughters, I beg you. That I must hear their complaints, is one thing. Should they once catch the idea of impressing them also upon paper, and making me read them, I assure you, my life would not be worth the living.”
“墨水？我求求你，千万别跟我家姑娘们提起这个。那我就得听她们抱怨啦，真够受的。要是让她们知道这个主意，她们的泪珠儿能做成墨水写到纸上，还让我见到，那我敢跟你打保票，我的生活就永无宁日了。”
“I hope you catch her tears and keep them,” says Mr Huss. “I often think I should like to see the tears of a girl made into an ink.”
“我希望你把她的泪珠儿收集保存起来，”哈斯先生说道。“我时常想，我能见到一种用姑娘的泪珠儿做成的墨水。”
“Tears, for ink?” says my uncle, a beat behind the others. “What rubbish is this?”
“泪珠儿？做墨水？”我舅舅说道，有点没跟不别人。“什么烂玩意儿？”
“Girls’ tears,” says Mr Huss.
“姑娘的泪珠儿，”哈斯先生说道。
“Quite colourless.”
“完全是无色的。”
“I think not. Truly, sir, I think not. I fancy them delicately tinged — perhaps pink, perhaps violet.”
“我不这么觉得。真的，先生，我不这么觉得。我想象那些泪珠儿都有种淡淡的精妙绝伦的颜色——也许是粉色，也许是紫色。”
“Now,” says Mr Hawtrey, “I really wonder that that has never been attempted. Mr Lilly? One hears barbarous stories of course, of hides and bindings…”
“现在，”霍粹先生说道，“我真觉得奇怪，至今尚无人进行如此尝试。李先生，你听说过许多文印届匪夷所思的故事…”
“Perhaps,” says Mr Hawtrey, “as depending on the emotion that has provoked them?”
“也许，”霍粹先生说道，“那颜色由激发出泪珠儿的情感决定。”
“Exactly. You have hit it, Hawtrey, there. Violet tears, for a melancholy book; pink, for a gay. It might be sewn up, too, with hair from a girl’s head…” He glances at me and his look changes. He puts his napkin to his mouth.
“正是。你说到点子上了，霍粹。紫色的泪珠儿，可以写一本忧郁的书；粉色的，写欢乐的书。也可以用姑娘的头发，来绣…”他看我一眼，随即神情变了。他拿起餐巾擦嘴。
They discuss this for a time. Mr Rivers listens but says nothing. Of course, his attention is all with me. Perhaps he will speak, I think, under cover of their talk. I hope he will. I hope he won’t. I sip my wine and am suddenly weary. I have sat at suppers like this, hearing my uncle’s friends chase tedious points in small, tight circles, too many times. Unexpectedly, I think of Agnes. I think of Agnes’s mouth teasing a bead of blood from her pricked palm.
他们就此话题聊了一会。瑞富斯先生一言不发地听着。当然，他的心思都在我身上。也许他会开口说话，我想，趁着他们闲聊的工夫。我希望他说话。我希望他不要说话。我轻啜着杯中酒，忽然感到厌倦。如此餐会我经历得太多了，以前我也这么坐着，听我舅舅的朋友们为一些闷煞人的细枝末节而追根究底，喋喋不休。让我自己意外的是，我竟想到了阿格尼斯。
“Poor stuff indeed,” answers Mr Rivers; “or I should not attempt it. It is hardly my line. One learns, in Paris, the necessary terms; but it was as a student of the fine arts that I was lately there. I hope to find a better application for my talents, sir, than the conjuring of bad English from worse French.”
“确实是些平庸货色，”瑞富斯先生答道；“不然我也不会尝试，这不是我兴趣所在。在下在巴黎学到些个必需词语；不过我在巴黎主要学到的是美术。我期望能为我的才能寻觅到更适合的施展之地，先生，而不是玩三流法文变二流英文的戏法。”
“Well, well. We shall see.” My uncle smiles. “You would like to view my pictures.”
“好的，好的，我们会看到的。”我舅舅微笑道。“你会喜欢欣赏我的藏画。”
My uncle clears his throat, and I blink.
我舅舅清清了喉咙，而我视若无物。
“So, Rivers,” he says, “Hawtrey tells me he has you translating, French matter into English. Poor stuff, I suppose, if his press is involved in it.”
“那么，瑞富斯先生，”他说道，“霍粹先生告诉我，他让你翻译过东西，法文的东西翻成英文。我估计都是些平庸货色，如果跟他的出版社有关联。”
“Well, another day will do for that. They are handsome enough, I think you’ll find. I care less for them than for my books, however. You’ve heard, perhaps’ — he pauses — “of my Index?”
“好的，改天我们赏画。我认为你会发现，那些画美不胜收。不过我更看重我的书。也许你听说过”——他停了一下——“我的索引？”
I know my own cheek is cool; and his is pale as candle-wax. Mr Rivers turns, searches my face with his thoughtful gaze.
我知道此刻我两颊冰冷，而他苍白如蜡。瑞富斯先生转头，若有所思地打量着我的脸。
“Very much indeed.”
“确实非常乐意。”
“Pretty marvellous — eh, Maud? But, are we modest? Do we blush?”
“非常了不起——嗯，莫德？不过，我们是不是太过谦了？我们为什么要脸红？”
Mr Rivers inclines his head. “It sounds a marvellous thing.”
瑞富斯先生侧着头。“听起来是件了不起的事。”
“Two hundred more then,” he says, as he does it, “since I spoke to you last.”
“那又多了二百页，”他说道，“比我上回见着你的时候。”
“And the length?”
“有多厚？”
“Then you have raised it to life. A fantastic achievement.”
“而你令此起死回生，成就非凡啊！”
“Astonishing, sir.”
“惊世骇俗，先生。”
“How goes the great work?” asks Mr Hawtrey lightly.
“这项宏伟工程进展如何？”霍粹先生轻快地问道。
“We are close,” answers my uncle. “We are very close. I am in consultation with finishers.”
“即将大功告成，”我舅舅答道。“胜利在望，我正与完稿员商洽。”
Mr Hawtrey raises his brow. If my uncle’s temper would permit it, he might whistle. He reaches for another slice of goose.
霍粹先生扬起眉毛。如果我舅舅脾气允许，他还要吹一声口哨呢。他又取了一片鹅肉。
“For the first volume, of course. The second shall be greater. What think you of that, Rivers?”
“当然，这是第一卷。第二卷将更是宏篇钜制。你怎么想，瑞富斯先生？”
“Has there ever been its like? An universal bibliography, and on such a theme? They say the science is a dead one amongst Englishmen.”
“在如此领域中，出现过能与之相提并论的书目大全吗？他们说这门学问在英国已失传了。”
“Fantastic, indeed — more so, when one knows the degrees of obscurity in which my subject is shrouded. Consider this: that the authors of the texts I collect must cloak their identity in deception and anonymity. That the texts themselves are stamped with every kind of false and misleading detail as to place and date of publication and impress. Hmm? That they are burdened with obscure titles. That they must pass darkly, via secret channels, or on the wings of rumour and supposition. Consider those checks to the bibliographer’s progress. Then speak to me, sir, of fantastic labour!” He trembles in a mirthless laughter.
“成就非凡，确实如此——而且，如果人们了解到，我是如何遮遮掩掩，想方设法不引人注意地开展收集工作。要知道：我藏品的那些作者必须隐姓埋名，况且，这些文本自身，就其刊行地、刊行时间，存在着种种谬误，和令人曲解的细节描写，这些书被冠以隐晦虚妄的书名，须经秘密渠道，或者假借谣传和假想的掩护，在暗中流通。先想想编纂者面临的这些难题，再跟我讲什么叫非凡成就！”他冷笑道。
“A thousand pages.”
“一千页。”
“Servants and young ladies,” says Mr Huss, “are different sorts of creatures. Have I not said so, many times? Girls’ eyes should not be worn out with reading, nor their small hands made hard through the gripping of pens.”
“仆役之人与年轻的大家闺秀，”哈斯先生说道，“那可是完全不同的人啊。我不是说过很多次吗？姑娘的眼睛不应为阅读劳累，姑娘的小手也不应为握笔而变得粗糙。”
I shrug. “I was bred to the task,” I say, “as servants are.”
我耸耸肩。“我为此项事业而生，”我说道，“如同仆役一般。”
“Indeed,” says Mr Hawtrey, turning again to me. “I am afraid, Miss Lilly, your uncle continues to work you very mercilessly.”
“确实如此。”霍粹先生说道，他又转过来看着我。“李小姐，只怕你舅舅要一直这样毫不留情地使唤你啦。”
“By title, by name, by date when we have it; and, mark this, sir: by species of pleasure. We have them tabled, most precisely.”
“依照书名，依照作者姓氏，依照收藏日期，以及，请注意这个，先生：依照乐趣的种类。我们将此分门别类，做了最精确的分类。”
“I cannot conceive it,” says Mr Rivers. “And the Index is organised…?”
“我无法想象，”瑞富斯先生说道。“那么这本索引的编排是依照…？”
“A great ambition,” he says now.
“伟大的理想。”此刻瑞富斯先生说道。
My uncle nods. “So, so,” he says. “Do you see, Rivers, the assistance our bibliography will provide, to the student of the field? It will be a veritable Bible.”
我舅舅点头。“是的，是的，”他说道。“你看到了吗？瑞富斯先生，我们这本书将为此领域学子提供的便利？此书将成为一本真正的《圣经》。”
The gentlemen turn to me. I sip my wine. “At the Lust,” I say, “of Men for Beasts.”
绅士们都转头过来看着我，我啜了一口酒，说道，“到恋兽之欲望了。”
“The books?”
“书籍的分类？”
“The pleasures! Where are we presently, Maud?”
“乐趣的分类！现在我们进行到哪儿了？莫德？”
“The flesh made word,” says Mr Hawtrey, smiling, enjoying the phrase. He catches my eye, and winks. Mr Rivers, however, is still looking earnestly at my uncle.
“肉体书写的文字。”霍粹先生说道，他面露微笑，玩味着这句话。他与我对视一下，朝我使了个眼色。而瑞富斯先生依旧满脸诚挚地望着我舅舅。
“A great labour,” says Mr Huss.
“伟大的工程。”哈斯先生说道。
“And what,” he says now, “if she labour five hours a day? I labour ten! What should we work for, if not books? Hmm? Think of Smart, and de Bury. Or think of Tinius, so dedicated a collector he killed two men for the sake of his library.”
“那里，”我舅舅说道，“若说她一天做五个钟头？那我一天得做足十个钟头！”我舅舅说道。“如果不编书，那我们还能做什么？嗯？想想斯麦特，巴瑞，要么想想笛宁斯，多么痴迷的藏书家，为藏书事业不惜杀人越货。”
“Think of Frere Vincente, who, for the sake of his, killed twelve!” Mr Hawtrey shakes his head. “No, no, Mr Lilly. Work your niece if you must. But drive her to violence for literature’s sake, and we shall never forgive you.”
“想想法瑞尔·文森特，他为收藏书籍杀了十二个人！”霍粹先生连连摇头。“不成，不成，李先生。如果你非得外甥女帮忙，那么你可以使唤她。可如果为藏书的缘故而将她引入暴力的歧途，那我们永远都不会原谅你。”
The gentlemen laugh.
在座的绅士们笑起来。
“So my uncle believes,” I say, showing my gloves; though it is his books he is anxious to save, of course, not my fingers.
“我舅舅也这么想。”我说道，抬手亮了亮我的手套。当然，这其实出于他保护书籍的热望，而绝不是为了我的手。
I study my hand, saying nothing. My fingers show red as ruby through the glass of dark wine, my mother’s initial quite invisible until I turn the crystal; then the cuts leap out.
我盯着自己的手，没说话。透过杯中深色的酒，我的手指红如宝石，我母亲的“M”字消于无形，我转过杯子，它忽然显现出来。
“Well, well,” says my uncle.
“好了，好了。”我舅舅说道。
There are two more courses before I might be excused, and then two more soundings of the clock to be sat through, alone, before the gentlemen join me in the drawing-room. I hear the murmur of their voices and wonder what, in roy absence, they discuss. When they come at last they are all a little pinker in the face, and their breaths are soured with smoke. Mr Hawtrey produces a package, bound in paper and string. He hands it to my uncle, who fumbles with the wrappings.
还有两道菜，我方可退席，然后我得一直独自坐着，等敲过两回钟，客厅里的绅士们才会邀我加入。我听到他们谈话的嗡嗡语声，心下颇好奇，我不在场时他们会讨论些什么。等终于见到他们时，他们都满面红光，口喷烟气。霍粹先生带来个用纸包起来的包裹，包裹外面系着绳子。他将包裹交给我舅舅，我舅舅摸索着那包装纸。
“I don’t believe we have considered the possibility of such a thing. I am sure we have not. We must go back. And we thought that entry complete? We shall return to it, tomorrow.” He stretches his neck. He likes the anticipation of pleasure. “For now — well, take your gloves off, girl. Do you suppose Hawtrey brings us books to have you press gravy into the binding? That’s better. Let’s hear a little of it. Do you sit, and read to us. Huss, you must sit also. Rivers, mark my niece’s voice, how soft and clear she reads. I coached her myself. Well, well. — You crease the spine, Maud!”
“我没想到还有这么一本书。我们都没料到，我们得重来，我们不是以为那个条目完成了吗？明天我们得重新修订一下。”他仰首舒颈，沉浸在期许的快意之中。“那么现在——好了，姑娘，把手套掉。你以为霍粹先生给我们带书来，是为了让你手上的油腻玷污书页吗？这样才好。让我们来听一小段。你坐这儿，读给我们听。哈斯，你也得坐着。瑞富斯先生，请留意我外甥女的声音，她诵读的声音温和而清晰。我亲自调教出来的。好了，好了。——莫德，你把书脊弄皱了！”
“So, so,” he says; and then, with the book uncovered and held close to his eyes: “Aha!” He works his lips. “Look here, Maud, look, at what the little grubbian has brought us.” He shows me the volume. “Now, what do you say?”
“好的，好的，”他说道；他眼睛凑到未开封的书上：“啊哈！”他动动嘴。“看这儿，莫德，看，看这个小淘换给我们带什么来了。”他给我看那卷书。“瞧，你想说什么？”
It is a common novel in a tawdry binding, but with an unfamiliar frontispiece that renders it rare. I look and, despite myself, feel the stirrings of a dry excitement. The sensation makes me queasy. I say, “A very fine thing for us, Uncle, without a doubt.”
那是本平常小说，装祯华丽，是扉页上一幅不常见的插画令此书成为珍品。看到此书，我也不由得感到口干舌燥，心中一阵激动。这感觉令我昏昏欲呕。我说道，“毋庸置疑，这礼物太美妙了！”
“See here, the fleuron? You see it?”
“看这儿，这个纹饰，看到吗？”
“I see it.”
“看到了。”
I place the book upon a stand and carefully weight its pages. I turn a lamp so that its light falls bright upon the print. “How long shall I read for, Uncle?”
我将书放在一个台子上，小心翼翼掂量着。我调整灯光，让灯光正好照在书页上。“我该读多长一段？舅舅？”
When I have finished, Mr Hawtrey claps, and Mr Huss’s pink face is pinker, his look rather troubled. My uncle sits with his spectacles removed, his head at an angle, his eyes screwed tight.
等我读完，霍粹先生劈啪拍手，哈斯先生的面孔红上加红，他表情颇为痛苦。我舅舅摘了眼镜坐在那儿，仰着脑袋，眉头紧锁。
He puts his watch against his ear. He says, “Until the next o’clock. Now, note this, Rivers, and tell me if you suppose its like may be encountered in any other English drawing-room!”
他将怀表对到耳边。他说道，“读到正点钟响。现在，请注意，瑞富斯，然后告诉我，在英国，你还能在谁家的客厅里见识到如此妙事！”
“Indeed, Mr Lilly, she does not,” says Mr Huss, gazing at my uncovered hands.
“没有啊，李先生，她没把书弄皱。”哈斯先生盯着我没戴手套的手说道。
“Poor words enough,” he says. “But I have a home for you, upon my shelves. A home, and brothers, too. Tomorrow we shall see you placed there. The fleuron: I am certain we have not thought of that. — Maud, the covers are closed, and quite unbent?”
“文笔够糟糕，”他说道，“不过在我书架上，尚可获一席之地。一席之地，以及众多同类之辈，明天我们就能见到此书适得其所。这个纹饰，我看我们都没料到有这个——莫德，书合上了吗？书页没折着吧？”
The book is filled, as I have said, with common enough obscenities; but my uncle is right, I have been trained too well, my voice is clear and true and makes the words seem almost sweet.
如前所述，那书里满是寻常无奇的淫词秽语；然而我舅舅非常高明，我已经被他训练至圆滑熟练，我的声音清晰真挚，几乎令那些文字变得美好起来。
He draws on his eye-glasses, working the wires about his ears. Mr Huss pours brandy. I button up my gloves, smooth creases from my skirt. I turn the lamp, and dim it. But I am conscious of myself. I am conscious of Mr Rivers. He has heard me read, apparently without excitement, his eyes upon the floor; but his hands are clasped and one thumb beats a little nervously upon the other. Presently he rises. He says the fire is hot and scorches him. He walks a minute about the room, leaning rigidly to gaze into my uncle’s book-presses — now his hands are behind his back; his thumb still twitches, however. I think he knows I watch. In time he comes close, catches my eye, makes a careful bow. He says, “It is rather chill, so far from the fire. Shouldn’t you like, Miss Lilly, to sit closer to the flames?”
他架上眼镜，将铁丝腿儿绕到耳后。哈斯先生倒了杯白兰地。我扣起手套，抚平裙子上的折痕，将灯复归原处，并关了灯。可我感到不自在，我感觉到瑞富斯先生的关注。他刚才听我的诵读，明显地并未投入其中，眼睛只是望着地板；而且他双手合握，大拇指神经质地彼此轻触着。这时他站起来，他说壁炉太热，烤到他了。他在屋子里转了一圈，直直地探着身子，研究我舅舅的书柜——此时他双手背在身后，而一双拇指仍在互相轻触。我觉得他知道我在看他。很快，他就过来了，与我对视着，认真仔细地行了个礼。他说道，“这儿很冷，离壁炉太远，李小姐，你不喜欢离壁炉近一点吗？”
I answer: “Thank you, Mr Rivers, I prefer this spot.”
我答道，“谢谢，瑞富斯先生，我更愿意坐在这儿。”
“Yes, sir.”
“是的，先生。”
“I like the shadows.”
“我喜欢坐在暗处。”
“You like to be cool,” he says.
“你喜欢冷静点。”他说道。
When I smile again he takes it as a kind of invitation, lifts his coat, twitches at his trousers and sits beside me, not too close, still with his eyes upon my uncle’s shelves, as if distracted by the books. But when he speaks, he speaks in a murmur. He says, “You see, I also like the shadows.”
我再次面露微笑，他将之视为一种邀请，于是撩起衣襟，提了下裤管，在我身边坐下，没有坐的很近，眼睛仍旧盯着我舅舅的书柜，仿佛被书籍搅得心烦意乱。而当他开口说话时，他将声量压得很低。他说道，“你瞧，我也喜欢坐在暗处。”
Mr Huss glances once our way. Mr Hawtrey stands at the fire and lifts a glass. My uncle has settled into his chair and its wings obscure his eyes; I see only his dry mouth, puckered at the lip. The greatest phase of eros?” he is saying. “We have missed it, sir, by seventy years! The cynical, improbable fictions which pass for voluptuous literature nowadays I should be ashamed to show to the man that shoes my horse…”
哈斯先生朝这边看了一眼，霍粹先生手拿酒杯站在壁炉边。我舅舅坐在椅子上，椅子侧翼挡住了他的眼睛。我只能看到他干巴巴的嘴，嘴唇上的皱纹。“艳情文学的最伟大时代？”他说道，“我们都没赶上，先生们，错过了七十年了！如今那些偾世嫉俗，神乎其神的小说，还被称为艳情文学，我都羞于展示给我家钉马掌的人看…”
I stifle a yawn, and Mr Rivers turns to me. I say, “Forgive me, Mr Rivers.”
我暗地打了个哈欠，瑞富斯先生转过来对着我。我说道，“请原谅我，瑞富斯先生。”
He still speaks in a murmur; and I am obliged to make my own voice rather low, by way of answer. “I am my uncle’s secretary,” I say. “The appeal of the subject is nothing to me.”
他仍以耳语的声量讲话。我答话时也刻意压低了声音。“我是我舅舅的秘书，”我说道，“他谈论什么话题我都无所谓。”
He bows his head. “Perhaps, you don’t care for your uncle’s subject.”
他点了下头。“或许，你并不喜欢你的舅舅的话题。”
Again he bows. “Well, perhaps,” he says, while my uncle talks on. “It is only curious, to see a lady left cool and unmoved, by that which is designed to provoke heat, and motion.”
他又点了一下头。此时我舅舅还在絮叨。瑞富斯先生说道，“那么，或许吧，我只是有点好奇，见识到一位女士，在本意令人激情勃发的事物面前，冷静持重，无动于衷。”
“But there are many ladies, I think, unmoved by that you speak of; and aren’t those who know the matter best, moved least?” I catch his eye. “I speak not from experience of the world, of course, but from my reading merely. But I should have said that — oh, even a priest would note a palling in his passion for the mysteries of his church, if put too often to the scrutiny of wafer and wine.”
“我觉得，其实有不少女性对你所说的事物无动于衷；难道这些事情不是愈多了解，愈少感怀吗？”我迎着他的目光。“当然，我所说的这些，并非源自先验的世界，仅仅是阅读心得。而且我得说——哦，即便是牧师，假使整日钻研圣物，也会发觉他对宗教神秘感的热情会变成腻味。”
“You are very uncommon, Miss Lilly.”
“你非常与众不同，李小姐。”
He puts his white hand to his breast. “Then I should be daunted indeed,” he says, “did I want only to compliment you.”
他抬起白皙的手，捂在胸前。“那我倒真是有些失望。”他说道，“刚才我就是想恭维你。”
I look away. “So I understand.”
我眼睛看向别处。“我明白。”
He does not blink. At last he almost laughs.
他一瞬不瞬地看着我。最后，他面带笑意。
“Ah. Now your tone is a bitter one. Perhaps you think your education a sort of misfortune.”
“啊。现在你口气略带酸涩。也许你会觉得，你所受的教育是一场不幸。”
“I was not aware that gentlemen had any other wants, than that one.”
“我不知道绅士们除此之外，还有什么别的欲求。”
“Perhaps not in the books that you are used to. But in life — a great many; and one that is chief.”
“也许，在你时常接触的书籍里是这样的，不过在生活中——他们有很多欲求；归根结底，也只有一个。”
“On the contrary. How could it be a misfortune, to be wise? I can never be deceived, for instance, in the matter of a gentleman’s attentions. I am a connoisseur of all the varieties of methods by which a gentleman might seek to compliment a lady.”
“恰恰相反。明智一点吧，这怎会是不幸呢？我再不会被蒙蔽，比方说，被绅士的关怀所蒙蔽。我对绅士们追求女性时，花样百出的种种手段，了如指掌。”
“I supposed,” I say, “that that was the one the books were written for.”
“我猜，”我说道，“那就是书里写的那个。”
“Oh no.” He smiles. His voice dips even lower. “They are read for that, but written for something keener. I mean, of course, the want of — money. Every gentleman minds that. And those of us who are not quite so gentlemanly as we would like, mind it most of all. — I am sorry to embarrass you.”
“噢，不是。”他微笑。他声量压得更低。“人们读书确是为寻求此事，写书倒是为了满足更热切的欲求。当然，我是说，对金钱的欲求。但凡绅士，皆人同此心，心同此理。象我们这样，并不具有十足绅士派头的人，更是对此孜孜以求。——非常抱歉，令你尴尬了。”
He speaks so insinuatingly, my cheek grows warmer still.
他如此婉转谄媚，我的脸颊不禁微微发热。
“Of what, sir?”
“什么事，先生？”
“Record!” says my uncle, peevishly. “Documentary! The curses of the age!”
“记录！”我舅舅颇为恼怒。“文献！时代的灾难！”
“Photography?”
“摄影术？”
Now his voice and his face are grown bland again. I see Mr Huss tilt his head and observe him. Then he calls, pointedly: “What do you think, Rivers, of this?”
这时，他的声音和神情又变的柔和起来。我瞧见哈斯先生歪着头在端详他，然后他叫道，“你怎么看这事儿？瑞富斯？”
Then I must take a satisfaction from the knowledge that I have surprised you.” He lifts his hand to his beard. “It is something to me,” he goes on, “to have made a small impression upon the evenness and regularity of your days.”
“能令你吃惊，那我也可心满意足了。”他将手放下。“这对我很重要，”他继续说道，“能为你平稳而规律的生活，留下一个小小的印记。”
“– of the amatory act, than a photograph? Mr Lilly will have it that the science of photography runs counter to the spirit of the Paphian life. I say it is an image of life, and has this advantage over it: that it endures, where life — the Paphian life, the Paphian moment, in especial — must finish and fade.”
“——能比摄影术更完美？李先生认为摄影技术与帕福斯式生活的精神背道而驰。我说它是浮世绘，还有高于生活的优势：当生命终止，为时代大潮所遗忘——尤其是帕福斯式的生活，那放荡的瞬间——而浮世绘会流传下去。”
“Why, only what I surmise, from my observation of the house…”
“没什么，仅仅是个人猜度，来自在下对贵府的观察…”
“Of Hawtrey’s championing, now, of photography.”
“霍粹对摄影术津津乐道呢。”
“Rivers,” says Mr Hawtrey. “You are a young man. I appeal to you. Can there be any more perfect record of the amatory act –“
“瑞富斯，”霍粹先生说道。“你是个年轻人，我得跟你说说。世上还有哪种情爱之举的记录——”
“What do you know,” I say, “of those?”
“你对我的生活，”我说道，“又了解些什么？”
I have coloured, or flinched. Now, recovering, I say, “You forget, I have been bred to be quite beyond embarrassment. I am only surprised.”
初时我闻言变色，颇为畏缩，此刻又恢复常态。我说道，“你忘记了，我被教养得早已超越尴尬。我就是有些吃惊。”
“Doth not a book endure?” asks my uncle, plucking at the arm of his chair.
“书籍就不能流传下去吗？”我舅舅揪着椅子扶手问道。
“It is gripped by history!” answers my uncle. “It is corrupted by it! Its history hangs about it like so much smoke! — you may see it, in the fitting of a slipper, a gown, the dressing of a head. Give photographs to your grandson: he will study them and think them quaint. He will laugh at the wax tips of your moustaches! But words, Hawtrey, words — hmm? They seduce us in darkness, and the mind clothes and fleshes them to fashions of its own. Don’t you think so, Rivers?”
“它摆脱不了历史！”我舅舅答道。“它将因历史发展而腐烂变质！相片所表达的历史不过是过眼云烟！——你看看相片里的人，身穿合身适时的鞋子、袍子，头戴饰品。把相片给你孙子看：他要研究一番那套衣着装饰，然后觉得那些玩意滑稽有趣。他要嘲笑你胡子尖上抹的蜡！然而文字，霍粹，文字——嗯？文字在黑暗之中指引我们，以其自身时尚，为我们勾勒出衣着和肉体。你不这么想吗？瑞富斯？”
“You know I won’t allow daguerreotypes and nonsense like that into my collection?”
“你知道我不会将相片或类似的无稽之谈纳入我的收藏。”
“It endureth, so long as words do. But, in a photograph you have a thing beyond words, and beyond the mouths that speak them. A photograph will provoke heat in an Englishman, a Frenchman, a savage. It will outlast us all, and provoke heat in our grandsons. It is a thing apart from history.”
“书籍可以传世，与文字一起传世。不过，从相片里，你能获得超出文字和语言描述的东西。一张相片，可以唤起英国人的热望，法国人的热望，野蛮人的热望。照片会活的比我们都长久，我将唤起子孙们的情感。它将游离于历史而存在。”
“I do, sir.”
“我也这么想，先生。”
Mr Hawtrey shakes his head. He says, to my uncle: “You still believe photography a fashion, that will pass? You must come to Holy well Street, and spend an hour in my shop. We have albums made up, now, for men to choose from. It is all our buyers come for.”
霍粹先生摇摇头。他对我舅舅说道，“你还是认为，摄影术是一种时髦玩意，流行一时就过去了？你得到霍尼韦尔街来，在我店里待一个小时。现在我们有整理成集的相册，供人挑选，我的主顾们都是专为此事而来。”
“I think you are right not to, sir.”
“我觉得你这么做是对的，先生。”
The debate will go on, he cannot escape. He answers, then catches my eye as if in apology, rises, goes to my uncle’s side. They talk until the striking of ten o’clock — which is when I leave them.
辩论还要进行下去，他无可回避。他应了一声，然后看着我眼睛，仿佛表达歉意，就起身走到我舅舅那边去了。他们一直聊到十点——是我离开的钟点。
“Your buyers are brutes. What business have I with them? Rivers, you have seen them. What is your opinion as to the quality of Hawtrey’s trade…?”
“你的主顾都是粗鄙之人。我跟他们有什么关联？瑞富斯，你见过他们。你对霍粹生意的档次有什么看法…？”
That is the Thursday night. Mr Rivers is due to remain at Briar until Sunday. Next day I am kept from the library while the men look over the books; at supper he watches me, and afterwards hears me read, but then is obliged to sit again with my uncle and cannot come to my side. Saturday I walk in the park with Agnes, and do not see him; Saturday night, however, my uncle has me read from an antique book, one of his finest — and then, when I have finished, Mr Rivers comes and sits beside me, to study its singular covers.
那天是周四。瑞富斯先生要在布莱尔待到周日。第二天，他们在书房查看那些书，我没去书房；晚餐时，他留意着我，之后又聆听我诵读，不过那会儿，他又被叫到我舅舅那边，没法到我身边来。周六那天，我和阿格尼斯在花园散步，没见到他，不过周六晚上，我舅舅叫我读一本古书，他藏品中最精美的一本书——然后，等我读完，瑞富斯先生走过来，坐在我身边，研究起那本古书的精美封面。
“You like it, Rivers?” asks my uncle as he does so. “You know it is very rare?”
“你喜欢这个吗？瑞富斯？”我舅舅见状问道。“你知道这本书异常珍贵。”
“I should say it must be, sir.”
“我想一定是的，先生”
“And you think I mean by that, that there are few other copies?”
“你是否认为，我意指此书印本寥寥？”
“So you might. But we collectors, we gauge rarity by other means. You think a unique item rare, if no-one wants it? We call that a dead book. But, say a score of identical copies are sought by a thousand men: each of those single books is rarer than the unique one. You understand me?”
“我料到你会这么想。其实，对于我们收藏家而言，衡量藏品珍稀与否，我们另有一套标准。如果是无人问津的孤本，那你会觉得这孤本珍贵吗？这种书，我们称之为废书。不过，二十本一模一样的印本，若有千名藏书家争厢收藏，那每套印本都比孤本珍贵。你明白我的意思吗？”
Mr Rivers nods. “I do. The rareness of the article is relative to the desire of the heart which seeks it.” He glances at me. “That is very quaint. And how many men seek this book, that we have just heard?”
瑞富斯先生点点头，“我明白。文本珍贵与否，与它被渴求的程度休戚相关，”他望着我。“这很有意思。有多少人想要我们刚才听到那本书？”
“I had supposed that, yes.”
“是的，我正是此意。”
My uncle grows coy. “How many indeed, sir? I’ll answer you like this: put it up for auction, and see! Ha?”
我舅舅扭捏卖弄起来。“究竟有多少人？先生？我将这样回答你：拿这书去拍卖，然后在一边看着！哈？”
“And what of a pair of books, Mr Lilly,” he says, “sought by a single buyer? How are they to be valued?”
他又开口。“如果有两本书，李先生，”他说道，“被同一位收藏家找寻着，那这书应该如何估价？”
But beyond the film of his politeness, he looks thoughtful. He bites his lip — his teeth showing yellow, wolfish, against the dark of his beard, but his mouth a soft and surprising pink. He says nothing while my uncle sips at his drink and Mr Hawtrey fusses with the fire. Then he speaks again.
然而在他的礼仪之外，他的神情若有所思。他轻咬着嘴唇——他牙齿被深色胡须衬得有些黄，狼牙似的，而他嘴唇柔软，有种令人惊奇的粉红色。他一言不发，我舅舅饮着酒，霍粹先生大惊小怪地抱怨着炉火。
Mr Rivers laughs. “To be sure, yes…”
瑞富斯先生笑起来。“那是当然，是的…”
“Of course, sir!”
“当然了，先生！”
“A pair of complementary titles. A man has one, and seeks to secure the other. The second will greatly add to the value of the first?”
“互为补充的两卷本。藏书家得其一，寻找另一本，以求周全。后一本的价值比前一本，应该会大大增加吧？”
“A pair?” My uncle puts down his glass. “A set, of two volumes?”
“两本书？”我舅舅摘下眼镜。“一套，两卷本？”
“I thought it.”
“我就知道。”
“Men pay absurdly for such things,” says Mr Huss.
“人们为此类事物付出荒唐离谱的金钱。”哈斯先生说道。
“The Index,” says Mr Rivers softly; and the others talk on. We sit and listen — or pretend to — and soon he turns and studies my face. “May I ask you something, Miss Lilly?” he says. And then, when I nod: “What do you see, for yourself, after the completion of your uncle’s work? — Now, why do you do that?”
“那个索引，”瑞富斯先生轻声说道；其他人还在谈论着。我们俩坐在那儿听着——或者装模作样地听着——过了一会儿，他转过头来，望着我的脸。“我可以问你些事情吗？李小姐？”他说道。见我点头，他又说道：“你舅舅的工作完成后，你要做什么呢？——嗯，你为什么这样？”
I have given him what I suppose must be a bitter sort of smile. I say, “Your question means nothing, I can hardly answer it. My uncle’s work will never be finished. There are too many new books written that must be added to the old; too many lost books to be rediscovered; too much uncertainty. He and Mr Hawtrey will debate it for ever. Look at them now. Should he publish the Index as he intends, he will only at once begin its supplements.”
我猜我肯定是给了他一个苦涩的笑脸。我说道，“你的问题毫无意义，我回答不了。我舅舅的工作永远也结束不了。那么多新书写出来，需要添加到原有目录中；那么多旧书被重新发掘出来；那么多未知因素。他和霍粹先生要永远争论下去。看看他们。如果他如愿以偿，出版了那个索引，他也只会立刻开始编纂增补本。”
“They do,” says my uncle. They do. You will find a reference to such matters, of course, in my Index…”
“是的，”我舅舅说道。“是的，当然，你可以从我的索引里发现这类事的参考事例…”
“You mean to keep beside him, then, for all that time?” — I will not answer. — “You are as dedicated as he?”
“那么，你会一直守在他身边，”——我不会回答这个问题——“你要象他一样献身于此？”
“You are a lady,” he says softly, “and young, and handsome. — I don’t speak from gallantry now, you know that. I say only what is true. You might do anything.”
“你是一位女性，”他轻声说道，“年轻，漂亮。——我说此话，并非为了献殷勤，你明白的。我只是陈述事实。你能做一切事。”
“I have no choice,” I say at last. “My skills are few and, as you have already noted, quite uncommon.”
“我别无选择，”最后我说道。“我的谋生之技，为数有限，况且，正如你曾说到，我的谋生之技非比寻常。”
“You are a man,” I answer. “Men’s truths are different from ladies’. I may do nothing, I assure you.”
“你是一位男性，”我答道。“男性的道理跟女性不同，我什么也做不了，我肯定。”
He hesitates — perhaps, catches his breath. Then: “You might — marry,” he says. “That is something.”
他犹豫一下——也许，是在调整呼吸。接着：“你可以——结婚。”他说道。“那是终身大事。”
He says it, with his eyes upon the book that I have read from; and I hear him, and laugh aloud. My uncle supposing I have laughed at some parched joke of his, looks over and nods. “You think so, Maud? You see, Huss, even my niece believes it so…”
他说出这句话，眼睛还看着我刚才念过的那本书；我听闻此言，放声大笑。我舅舅以为我是为他讲黄段子发笑，他看过来，点头说道，“你也这么想？莫德？你看，哈斯，连我外甥女也觉得这个太…”
I wait until his face is turned from me again, his attention captured. Then I reach for the book on its stand and gently lift its cover. “Look here, Mr Rivers,” I say. “This is my uncle’s plate, that is attached to all his books. Do you see the device of it?”
等我舅舅又把脸转过去，不再注意这边，我伸出手，轻轻翻开台子上那本书的封面。“看看这儿，瑞富斯先生。”我说道。“这是我舅舅的藏书章，他每本藏书上都有，你见过这种印章吗？”
“Sometimes,” I say, not looking up, “I suppose such a plate must be pasted upon my own flesh — that I have been ticketed, and noted and shelved — so nearly do I resemble one of my uncle’s books.” I raise my eyes to his. My face is warm, but I am speaking coolly, still. “You said, two nights ago, that you have studied the ways of this house. Surely, then, you have understood. We are not meant for common usage, my fellow books and I. My uncle keeps us separate from the world. He will call us poisons; he says we will hurt unguarded eyes. Then again, he names us his children, his foundlings, that have come to him, from every corner of the world — some rich and handsomely provided for, some shabby, some injured, some broken about the spine, some gaudy, some gross. For all that he speaks against them, I believe he likes the gross ones best; for they are the ones that other parents — other bookmen and collectors, I mean — cast out. I was like them, and had a home, and lost it –“
“有时候，”我眼睛仍看着书，说道，“我觉得，我身上必定也盖了这么一枚藏书章——我也被打了标签，记录在案，上架保存——就跟我舅舅的书差不多。”我抬起眼，望着他的眼睛。我的脸有些热，然而我的声音冷静依旧。“两天前，你说过，你研究过这所宅子里的规矩，那么，真的，你已心知肚明。我和那些可怜的书籍，都不是拿来做寻常用途的。我舅舅让我们与世隔绝，他称我们为毒药；他说我们会伤害到未及设防的眼睛。还有，他称我们是他的孩子，他拣来的弃儿，从世间各个角落流落至此——有的出身富贵，美丽英俊，有的破旧残败，有的伤痕累累，有的拦腰折断，有的华而不实，有的粗俗下流。虽然他百般挑剔，我相信他最偏爱的，正是那些粗俗下流的；因为那是别的收藏家和读书人抛弃的。我曾象那些书一样，有过一个家，然后又失去了它——”
The plate bears his emblem, a clever thing of his own design — a lily, drawn strangely, to resemble a phallus; and wound about with a stem of briar at the root. Mr Rivers tilts his head to study it, and nods. I let the cover close.
那藏书章里有我舅舅的徽记，他自己设计的玩意，颇为巧妙——一支百合，怪里怪气地被绘成阳物模样；根部有石南茎缠绕其上。瑞富斯先生歪着头研究这个藏书章，他点点头。我合上封面。
He has spoken very swiftly; and has startled me, horribly. I don’t like to be startled. I don’t like to lose my place. But now, as he rises and returns, with the book, to the fire, a second or two passes that I cannot account for. I discover at last that I have put my hand to my breast. That I am breathing quickly. That the shadows in which I sit are all at once denser than before — so dense, my skirt seems bleeding into the fabric of the sofa and my hand, rising and falling above my heart, is pale as a leaf upon a swelling pool of darkness. I will not swoon. Only girls in books do that, for the convenience of gentlemen. But I suppose I whiten and look strange, for when Mr Hawtrey gazes my way, smiling, his smile quite falls. “Miss Lilly!” he says. He comes and takes my hand.
他说得飞快；他的话令我极度震惊。我不喜欢震惊，我不喜欢失去冷静。然而此刻，当他站起身，拿着那本书，回到壁炉边，有那么一两秒钟，我也说不清过了多久。最后，我发现自己的手捂在胸口，呼吸急促。我置身其中的那片阴影，深沉浓重更甚于前——如此地深沉，我的裙子似乎融进沙发的布面纤维里，我的手在心口上起起落落，惨白得象一片落叶漂浮在暗夜的池塘中。我不会昏厥。只有书中的姑娘，为了绅士能行方便，才会那样。可我猜我的表情惨白古怪，因为当霍粹先生含笑望着我时，他的笑容忽然消失了。“李小姐！”他说道，他走过来抓住我的手。
“Your home,” he murmurs, as his face comes close to mine. “The madhouse. Do you think very often of your time there? Do you think of your mother, and feel her madness in you? — Mr Lilly, your book.” My uncle has looked over. “Do you mind my handling it? Won’t you show me, sir, the features that mark it as rare…?”
“你的家，”他喃喃低语，同时他的脸凑近了。“那座疯人院。你经常回忆起在那儿的时光吗？你想起你母亲了吗？感觉到她根植于你的疯狂吗？——李先生，你的书。”我舅舅看过来，“你不介意我这样拿着吧？先生，你是否指点一二，这本书的珍贵之处在于…？”
Now I do not speak coolly. I have been overtaken by my own words. Mr Rivers watches, then leans to take my uncle’s book very gently from its stand.
此刻，我的语气不再冷静。我的理智已被自己的话语压倒。瑞富斯先生望着这一切，随后探身，非常小心地从台子上取过我舅舅的书。
Mr Huss comes also. “Dear child, what is it?” He holds me close, about the armpit.
哈斯先生也过来了。“亲爱的孩子，怎么了？”他抱紧我，手放在我腋下。
“Sorry? Pooh!” says Mr Hawtrey. “It is we who should be sorry. Mr Lilly, you are a tyrant, and overtask your niece most miserably. I always said it, and here is the proof. Agnes, take your mistress’s arm. Go steadily, now.”
“抱歉？噢！”霍粹先生说道。“应该说抱歉的是我们。李先生，你是个暴君，你让你外甥女劳累过度，没有一点怜惜之情，我一直跟你说，现在这就是证据。阿格尼丝，扶着你家小姐的胳膊。走得稳当点。”
Mr Rivers hangs back. My uncle looks peevish. “Well, well,” he says. “What now?” He shuts his book, but keeps his finger, carefully, between the pages. They ring for Agnes. She comes, blinking at the gentlemen, curtseying at my uncle, a look of terror on her face. It is not yet ten o’clock. “I am perfectly well,” I say. “You must not trouble. I am only tired, suddenly. I am sorry.”
瑞富斯先生犹豫着没过来，我舅舅看上去颇恼怒。“好了，好了，”他说道。“怎么了？”他合上书，同时小心翼翼地把指头夹在书页中间。他们摇铃唤来阿格尼丝。她来了，惊愕地望着绅士们，朝我舅舅行了个屈膝礼，一脸惊恐。这会儿还不到十点。“我很好，”我说道。“各位不必忙乱。我就是忽然间有点累。我很抱歉。”
When the drawing-room door is closed I push Agnes away, and in my own room I look about me for some cool thing to put upon my face. I finally go to the mantel, and lean my cheek against the looking-glass.
等客厅门关上，我就推开阿格尼丝。到了房间里，我环顾四周，想找点凉东西，把脸放上去。最后我走到壁炉架旁，把脸靠在镜子上。
“Shall you manage the stairs?” Mr Huss asks anxiously. He stands in the hall as we prepare to mount them. Behind him I see Mr Rivers; but I do not catch his eye.
“你好上楼梯吗？”哈斯先生关切地问道。我们走过大厅时，他站在大厅里。在他身后，我看见瑞富斯先生，不过我没接触他的眼神。
When it sounds, I will feel better. I will not think of Mr Rivers — of what he must know of me, how he might know it, what he means by seeking me out. Agnes stands awkwardly, half-crouched, my skirts still gathered in her hands.
当钟声响起时，我感觉好起来。我不会再去想瑞富斯先生——他究竟了解我多少，他如何得知，他找我究竟做何打算。阿格尼丝笨手笨脚地半蹲半站着，我的裙子还在她手里拽着。
“Your skirts, miss!” says Agnes. She draws them from the fire. I feel queer, dislocated. The house clock has not chimed.
“你的裙子！小姐！”阿格尼丝说道。她把我的裙子从火上拽开。我感觉奇异，混混沌沌，梦离神游。此时钟声尚未敲响。
The clock strikes. I step back, then let her undress me. My heart beats a little smoother. She puts me in my bed, unlooses the curtains — now the night might be any night, any at all. I hear her in her own room, unfastening her gown: if I lift my head and look through the gap in my curtains I will see her upon her knees with her eyes hard shut, her hands pressed together like a child’s, her lips moving. She prays every night to be taken home; and for safety as she slumbers. While she does it, I unlock my little wooden box and whisper cruel words to my mother’s portrait. I close my eyes. I think, I shall not study your face! — but, once having thought it, I know I must do it or lie sleepless and grow ill. I look hard into her pale eyes. Do you think of your mother, he said, and feel her madness in you?
钟敲响了。我回过神儿来，让阿格尼丝帮我更衣。我心跳平缓下来。她服侍我上床，放下床帷——此时此夜，与往昔那些夜晚并无二致。我听到她在自己房里，解开袍子：假使我抬起头，从床帷间隙看过去，我就能看到她双膝跪地，双目紧闭，象孩子似的双手紧握，口中念念有词。她每天晚上都为回家而祈祷；同时也为睡得安稳。她祈祷时，我打开我的小木头盒子，对着我母亲的小画像喃喃自语，说了些绝情话。我闭上眼睛，我寻思着，才不要看你的脸！——然而，一想到这，我就知道，我定是要看看她的脸，不然就睡不着，非常难受。我死死盯着她苍白的眼睛。你想起你母亲了吗，他说道，感觉到她根植于你的疯狂吗？
Do I?
我想起她了吗？我感觉到那疯狂了吗？
I feel the drops at last, sour in my stomach.
终于，我感到药物在我胃里发酵泛酸。
I hear her climb into her bed, draw up her blankets. There is a silence. After a little time there comes a creak, a whisper, the faint groan of machinery: my uncle’s clock, shifting its gears. I lie and wait for sleep. It does not come. Instead, my limbs grow restless and begin to twitch. I feel, too hard, my blood — I feel the bafflement of it, at the dead points of my fingers and my toes. I raise my head, call softly: “Agnes!” She does not hear; or hears, but fears to answer.
我听到她跳上床，拉起毯子。然后就是一派静默。过了一会儿，传来一阵咯吱声和低语声，还有隐约的机械摩擦声：那是我舅舅的大钟的指针在转动。我躺在床上，等着会周公。周公偏不肯光临。倒是我的四肢开始不安分，开始抽搐起来。我感觉到我的血流，非常有力——我手指和脚趾都感觉到血中的迷乱。我抬起头，轻轻唤道：“阿格尼丝！”她没听见，或者听见了，却不敢应声。
I put the portrait away, and call for Agnes to bring me a tumbler of water. I take a drop of my old medicine — then, unsure that that will calm me, I take another. Then I lie still, my hair put back. My hands, inside their gloves, begin to tingle. Agnes stands and waits. Her own hair is let down — coarse hair, red hair, coarser and redder than ever against the fine white stuff of her nightdress. One slender collar-bone is marked a delicate blue with what is perhaps only a shadow, but might — I cannot remember — be a bruise.
我把小画像丢到一旁，喊阿格尼丝给我倒杯水。我服了一剂以前医生开给我的药——然后，觉得一剂还不够使我平静，我又服了一剂。之后，我一动不动地躺着，头发铺在后面。手套中的手指隐隐有了麻痛的感觉。阿格尼丝站在一旁候着，她头发放下来了——乱糟糟的红头发，被她漂亮的白睡衣衬托的愈发乱，愈发红。她纤细的琵琶骨上有一道细微的蓝色，也许只是道影子，不过也可能——我记不起了——是块淤伤。
“That’s all,” I say. “Go on.”
“好了，”我说道。“你去吧。”
“Agnes!” — At last, the sound of my own voice unnerves me. I give it up, lie still. The clock groans again, then strikes. Then come other sounds, far-off. My uncle keeps early hours. Closing doors, lowered voices, shoes upon the stairs: the gentlemen are leaving the drawing-room and going each to their separate chambers.
“阿格尼丝！”——终于，我被自己的声量搅得心烦意乱。我不再叫她了，静静地躺着。大钟又发出摩擦声，接着是钟声。远处传来别的声响。我舅舅一贯早起早睡。关门声，压低声量的说话声，上楼梯的声音：客厅里的绅士们散场了，各自回房歇息。
The house has opened its mouth, and is breathing.
这宅子张开了它的大嘴，缓缓呼吸着。
Perhaps I sleep, then — but if I do, it is only for a moment. For suddenly I give a start, and am wide awake; and I know that what has roused me is not sound, but movement. Movement, and light. Beyond the bed-curtain the rush-lamp’s wick has flared suddenly bright, and the doors and the window-glasses are straining against their frames.
当时，我或许是睡着了——不过假使睡着了，那也只有一小会儿。因为我忽然间醒过来，立即清醒无比；我明白，唤醒我的并非声响，而是动作。是动作，和灯光。床帷之外，汽灯灯芯忽然散开了，灯火陡然明亮起来，跳跃的火光把门窗的影子照变了形。
Then I know that, after all, this night is not like any other. As if summoned to it by a calling voice, I rise. I stand at the doorway to Agnes’s room until I am sure, from the evenness of her breaths, that she is sleeping; then I take up my lamp and go, on naked feet, to my drawing-room. I go to the window and stand at the glass, cup my hands against their own feeble reflection, peer through the darkness at the sweep of gravel, the edge of lawn, that I know lie below. For a time I see nothing. Then I hear the soft fall of a shoe, and then another, still softer. Then comes the single noiseless flaring of a match between slender fingers; and a face, made hollow-eyed and garish as it tilts towards the flame.
此时，我终于明白，是夜非同往昔。仿佛被一个声音召唤着，我起身下床。我先站到通往阿格尼丝房间的门边，从她均匀的呼吸中，断定她正熟睡；我提起灯，光着脚走进我的客厅里。我走到窗边，依窗而立，将手蜷起按在窗玻璃上，借手拢起的微弱反光窥视着窗外，望向我所知的绵延的沙地，草坪边缘。有那么一刻，我眼前一片漆黑，接着，我听见一个轻微的脚步声，然后又是一声，更轻微了。这时，我看到一根火柴无声无息地划着了，执火柴的手细长消瘦；又出现了一张面孔，当他凑近火苗，我看见深凹的眼窝和艳俗的面目。
Cold weather for walking. About the tip of his cigarette, his breath shows whiter than the smoke of his tobacco. He gathers his collar about his throat. Then he looks up. He seems to know what he will see. He does not nod, or make any gesture; only holds my gaze. The cigarette fades, glows bright, fades again. His stance grows more deliberate. He moves his head; and all at once I understand what he is doing, He is surveying the face of the house. He is counting the windows. He is calculating his way to my room! — and when he is certain of his route he lets his cigarette fall and crushes the glowing point of it beneath his heel. He comes back across the gravel-walk and someone — Mr Way, I suppose — admits him. I cannot see that. I only hear the front door open, feel the movement of the air. Again my lamp flares, and the window-glass bulges. This time, however, the house seems holding its breath.
正是天寒地冻时候，不宜外出散步。他呼出的白雾和烟气萦绕在香烟周围，那白雾倒比烟气更浓。他将衣领竖起，抬眼望上来。他似乎知道该往哪儿看。没有点头示意，也没有使眼色，他只凝视着我。香烟一明一灭。他举止更小心了，脑袋慢慢转过去，电光火花之间，我明白他在做什么了。他在估测宅子外墙，他在数窗户，他在算计来我房间的路线！——等算好路线，他丢掉香烟，用脚跟碾灭烟头。他从石子路走回来，有人——我猜是魏先生——给他开了门。我看不到了，只听前门打开了，随即感觉到屋里空气流动。灯芯又散了，印在窗玻璃的上光晕忽地变大，不过这一回，这宅子好象屏住了呼吸。
Richard Rivers keeps restless as I; and walks upon the lawns of Briar, perhaps hoping for sleep.
理查德·瑞富斯跟我一样，夜不能寐；他在布莱尔的草坪上度步，或许也在期待睡意降临。
I step back with my hands before my mouth, my eyes on my own soft face: it has started back into the darkness beyond the glass, and seems to swim, or hang, in space. I think, He won’t do it! He dare not do it! Then I think: He will. I go to the door and put my ear against the wood. I hear a voice, and then a tread. The tread grows soft, another door closes — of course, he will wait for Mr Way to go to his bed. He will wait for that.
我手捂着嘴，后退两步，我看到自己在窗户上的影子：这影子退进玻璃的黑暗中，仿佛在空中飘着，悬着。我想，他不会乱来！他不敢乱来！随即我又想：他会乱来的。我走到门边，将耳朵贴在门上仔细倾听。我听到一个声音，接着是楼梯上的脚步声。这脚步声变轻了，又传来关门声——当然，他要等魏先生上了床。他要等待时机。
Do I suppose he will try to kiss me? He does not do that. He only comes very stealthily into the room and gazes about him in the same cool, thoughtful way in which I saw him take his measure of the house. He says, “Let us keep from the window, the light shows plainly from the lawn.” Then, nodding to the inner door: “Is that where she lies? She won’t hear us? You are sure?”
我不是以为他要吻我吗？他没那么做。他只是蹑手蹑脚走进房里，冷静且若有所思地环顾四周，正如我刚才见他观察这所宅子。他说道，“我们不要靠着窗，灯光在楼下草坪上一目了然。”然后，朝里边那扇门点了一下头：“她就睡那儿吗？她听不到我们说话吧？你肯定吗？”
I take up my lamp and go quickly, quickly: the shade throws crescents of light upon the walls. I have not time to dress — cannot dress, without Agnes to help me — but know I must not see him in my nightgown. I find stockings, garters, slippers, a cloak. My hair, that is loose, I try to fasten; but I am clumsy with the pins, and my gloves — and the medicine I have swallowed — make me clumsier. I grow afraid. My heart beats quick again, but now it beats against the drops, it is like a vessel beating hard against the pull of a sluggish river. I put my hand to it, and feel the yielding of my breast — unlaced, it feels; unguarded, unsafe. But the tug of the drops is greater than the resistance of my fear. That is the point of them, after all. For restlessness. When at length he comes, tapping at my door with his fingernail, I think I seem calm to him. I say at once, “You know my maid is very close — asleep, but close. One cry will wake her.” He bows and says nothing.
我拎起灯，急得团团转，团团转：灯光在墙上投下新月形的影子。我来不及换衣裳了——阿格尼丝不帮我，我也不会换——不过我知道，我绝不能穿着睡衣见他。我找出袜子、吊袜带、鞋和一件斗篷。头发还披散着，我想扎起来；可我别不好别针，我的手套——还有刚才服的药——让我更加不灵活了。我渐渐惶恐起来，心跳再次加剧，而这回心跳加剧是为抵挡药力发作，就好象一艘船，在流速缓慢的河水中艰难地逆流而上。我将手放在心口上，感觉心意摇摆不定——我的心少了胸衣带子的束缚；此刻它未加设防，惶惑已极。不过，药力比恐惧激发出的抗力稍胜一筹。总之，镇惊安神，正是这药物的用处所在。等他终于过来，以指尖轻叩房门，我觉得我待他的态度尚算沉着冷静。我立即说道，“你知道我的女仆就在隔壁——虽然睡了，但是就在隔壁。喊一声她就醒。”他鞠躬行礼，一言不发。
I say, “I understand that you have found out something you think perhaps a secret: that my mother was a lunatic; that my uncle had me from a ward of the place she died in. But that is no secret, anyone might know it; the very servants here know it. I am forbidden to forget it. I am sorry for you, if you meant to profit by it.”
我说道，“我明白，你发现了一些事，你认为这或许是个秘密：我母亲是个疯子；我舅舅在我母亲咽气儿的病房里找到我。可这不是秘密，也许已经尽人皆知了。这儿每个仆人都知道。我舅舅不准我忘记这些事儿。如果你打算从中牟利，那我只好说遗憾。”
Do I think he will embrace me? He never once steps close. But I feel the cool of the night, still clinging to his coat. I smell the tobacco on his hair, his whiskers, his mouth. I do not remember him so tall. I move to one side of the sofa and stand tensely, gripping the back of it. He keeps at the other, leans into the space between us, and speaks in whispers. He says, “Forgive me, Miss Lilly. This is not how I would have met you. But I have come to Briar, after so much careful labour; and tomorrow I may be obliged to leave without seeing you. You understand me. I make no judgement on your receiving me like this. If your girl stirs, you are to say that you were wakeful; that I found out your room and came, without invitation. I’ve been guilty of as much, in other men’s houses. — It’s as well you know at once, what manner of fellow I am. But here, Miss Lilly, tonight, I mean you no sort of harm. I think you do understand me? I think you did wish me to come?”
我不是以为他要拥抱我吗？他却始终与我保持距离。而我仍感觉到他外套散发出的寒气。还有从他头发、胡须和嘴里散发出的烟气。我印象中他没这么高。我走到沙发旁，紧紧抓住沙发背，浑身戒备地立着。他站在沙发另一边，探身过来，低声说道，“李小姐，请原谅我。我本不该这样与你会面，可我费尽心血，才来到布莱尔；明天，无法跟你道别，我就不得不离开布莱尔。你明白的。你如此待我，其中是非，我不会妄加评判。如果你的女仆醒了，跑来瞎搅和，你就说你睡不着，而我是不速之客，摸到你的房间就进来了。在其他人的府上，这种罪名我已经背得很多了。——我一说这话，你马上就明白了，我是什么样儿的人。不过在这儿，李小姐，今晚，我无意给你带来任何伤害。我想你明白我在说什么？我觉得，你内心深处盼望着我的到来，是吗？”
He gestures and, after a second — as if we might be awaiting the maid and the tea-tray — we take our places on the sofa. My dark cloak gapes and shows my nightgown. He turns his eyes while I draw close the folds.
他做了个手势，等了一秒钟——我们仿佛在等女仆端来茶盘——我们在沙发上各自落座。我的深色斗篷散开一道缝，露出里面的睡衣。他眼睛别过去，由我将斗篷又裹得严严实实。
“Now, to tell you what I know,” he says.
“好，现在我要给你说说，我都知道些什么，”他说道。
“I am sorry,” he says, “to have been obliged to remind you of it again. It means nothing to me, except as it has led to your coming to Briar and being kept by your uncle in such a curious way. It is he, I think, who has profited from your mother’s misfortune. — You’ll forgive my speaking plainly. I am a sort of villain, and know other villains best. Your uncle is the worst kind, for he keeps to his own house, where his villainy passes as an old man’s quirk. Don’t tell me you love him,” he adds quickly, seeing my face, “for manners’ sake. I know you are above them. That is why I have come like this. We make our own manners, you and I; or take the ones that suit us. But for now, will you sit and let me speak with you, as a gentleman to a lady?”
“十分抱歉，”他说道，“我不得不再次让你回想起你的身世。正是你的身世，令你来到布莱尔，并受制于你那位性情古怪舅舅，不得脱身，若非如此，你的身世对我毫无意义。我认为，从你母亲的遭遇中得了好处的人，正是你舅舅。——你会原谅我的言辞直白。我是个坏人，最了解其他坏人。你舅舅是最恶毒的那种坏人，他守在自己家中，他的恶毒被当成老人的怪癖，肆意妄为却无人追究。千万别为了体面，”他看着我的脸，迅速加了一句。“跟我说什么你爱他。我知道你心性高洁，出污泥而不染。这正是我潜来此处的原因。你我之间，可以用我们的方式相处，也可以选取适合我们的方式相处。不过，此时此刻，你能坐下来，容我象绅士对待女士那样，好好跟你聊聊吗？”
“I know you gain nothing unless you marry. I first had it from Hawtrey. They speak about you — perhaps you know — in the shady bookshops and publishers’ houses of London and Paris. They speak about you, as of some fabulous creature: the handsome girl at Briar, whom Lilly has trained, like a chattering monkey, to recite voluptuous texts for gentlemen — perhaps to do worse. I needn’t tell you all they say, I suppose you can guess it. That’s nothing to me.”
“我知道，除非你结婚，否则你就一无所得。最初我从霍粹那儿听说此事。在伦敦、巴黎那些阴暗的书店和出版社里——或许你也知道——众人对你议论纷纷。他们说起你，就好象说起传说中的人儿：布莱尔的小美人，让老李栽培出来，仿佛一只能言善道的猴子，专为所谓的正人君子们，诵读那些诲淫诲盗的文本——也许还有更令人难堪的事，无需尽述其详，想必你也能猜到一二。”
He holds my gaze, then looks away. “Hawtrey, at least, is a little kinder; and thinks me honest, which is more to our point. He told me, in a pitying sort of way, a little of your life — your unfortunate mother — your expectations, the conditions attached. Well, one hears of such girls, when one is a bachelor; perhaps not one in a hundred is worth the pursuit… But Hawtrey was right. I have made enquiries into your mother’s fortune, and you are worth — well, do you know what you are worth, Miss Lilly?”
他与我对视一下，又看向别处。“霍粹，说到底，在这些人里边，还算有点良心；他以为我诚实可靠，这对我们也很重要。他满怀同情，跟我说了些你的事——你不幸的母亲，你心中的期望，还有那些附加条款。好，如果某单身汉，听说有如此命运多舛的姑娘；或许一百个这样的姑娘里，也未必挑得出一位值得追求。不过霍粹说的没错。我已打听清楚你母亲的财产，你的身价——对了，你知道自己身价几何吗？李小姐？”
I hesitate, then shake my head. He names the figure. It is several hundred times the value of the costliest book upon my uncle’s shelves; and many thousand times the price of the cheapest. This is the only measure of value I know.
我稍事犹豫，然后摇摇头。他报出个数目。这数目是我舅舅最贵的书价的几百倍，最便宜的书价的好几千倍。我只会这样算钱。
I nod.
我点点头。
It is a great sum,” says Mr Rivers, watching my face.
“这是一笔巨额财富，”瑞富斯先生凝视着我的面庞说道。
It shall be ours,” he says, “if we marry.”
“如果我们结婚，”他说道，“这些财富就是我们的了。”
I say nothing.
我没言语。
“Let me be honest,” he goes on. “I came to Briar, meaning to get you in the ordinary way — I mean, seduce you from your uncle’s house, secure your fortune, perhaps dispose of you after. I saw in ten minutes what your life has made of you, and knew I should never achieve it. More, I understood that to seduce you would be to insult you — to make you only a different kind of captive. I don’t wish to do that. I wish rather to free you.”
“我跟你说实话吧，”他继续说道。“我来布莱尔，本打算用寻常路数把你搞到手——我是说，从你舅舅家把你拐走，谋夺了你的财产，或许，接下来就想办法把你打发掉。只消十分钟，我就看出，你的生活已将你造就成了什么样儿，我也清楚，我永远也达不到目的。另外，我深知，对你施加拐骗之计，仅仅把你当作另一种猎物，那实在是辱没了你。我可不想那么做。我更想给你自由。”
“Yes, yes,” he says, in impatience. “You have said as much to me already. I think perhaps you say it often. But, what can such a phrase mean? You are seventeen. I am twenty-eight, and believed for many years I should be rich now, and idle. Instead I am what you see me: a scoundrel, not too poor in pocket, but nor too easy in it that I shan’t be scrambling to line it for a little time to come. Do you think yourself weary? Think how weary am I! I have done many gross deeds, and thought each one the last. Believe me: I have some knowledge of the time that may be misspent, clinging to fictions and supposing them truths.”
“是的是的，”他不耐烦地说道，“这些你都跟我说过。我想你也许经常念叨这些话。不过，这些话有什么意义呢？你才是十七岁的年纪。我已二十八岁，多年来我一直坚信我将成为有钱人，富贵悠闲。可现在我也就这么一副模样，你看到的：一个无赖，口袋里有两个子儿，眼下将就糊口，未来难以为继。你觉得自己的生活令人厌倦吗？那就想想我，想想我的生活有多令人厌倦！我做了不少坏事，每次都想这是最后一票。相信我，我对执着于幻想，将幻想当作现实，由此虚度时光，颇有了解。”
Then I turn my face — afraid that the beating of blood, across my cheek, will betray me to him. My voice I make steady. I say, “You forget, my longings count for nothing here. As well might my uncle’s books long to leap from their presses. He has made me like them –“
这时，我别过脸去——生怕忽然涌到脸上的血色，向他出卖我的心事。我尽量使声音平稳不惊，我说道，“你忘了吗？我的渴望在这所宅子里一文不值。就象我舅舅的藏书渴望跳出书架一样。他已令我变的如同那些书——”
He answers simply: “I think you long for it.”
他的回答简短有力，“你求之不得。”
“You are very gallant,” I say. “Suppose I don’t care to be freed?”
“你说得真是冠冕堂皇，”我说道，“假使我不喜欢自由呢？”
He has lifted his hand to his head, and now puts back his hair from his brow; and his pallor, and the dark about his eye, seem suddenly to age him. His collar is soft, and creased from the grip of his neck-tie. His beard has a single strand of grey. His throat bulges queerly, as men’s throats do: as if inviting the blow that will crush it.
他抬手将额发捋到后面；这时，他苍白的面色和眼眶上的黑晕，令他看起来忽然间好象苍老了许多。他衬衫是软领的，领子让领带箍得起了皱。他胡须中搀杂着一丝灰白，喉结古怪地鼓出来，男人的喉咙都这样：仿佛在邀请别人将拳头招呼上去，将那个鼓出来的玩意打平坦了。
“You wish to make a villain of me, too?”
“你想把我也变成个坏人？”
“You seek a distraction from those? Why not give them up, for ever? So you shall — like that, in a moment! gone! — when you marry me.”
“你想从目前的生活里找点乐子出来？那为何不放弃这儿的生活？永远放弃？等你嫁给我了，你就可以——自由自在，乐趣无穷，一瞬间！什么都有了！”
“You intrigue me. You have seen for yourself, the evenness of my days here.”
“你激起了我的好奇，你自己也看到了，我在这儿的生活平淡无波。”
“And yet you have received me. You receive me still. You have not called for your maid.”
“可你已经相信我了。你还是相信我的，没喊你的女仆来。”
I shake my head. “I think you cannot be serious.”
我摇摇头。“我觉得你肯定不是认真的。”
I say, “This is madness. I think you are mad — to come here, to confess yourself a villain, to suppose me willing to receive you.”
我说道，“真是疯了。我想你疯了——跑到这儿来，表白自己是个坏人，妄想我会相信你。”
He shrugs, speaks lightly. “We shall resort, of course, to devious methods.”
他耸耸肩，轻轻说道，“我们应当采取一些，当然，曲径通幽的办法。”
“I am, however.”
“可我是认真的。”
“You know my age. You know my uncle would never permit you to take me.”
“你知道我的年纪。你清楚我舅舅永远不会准许你娶我。”
He nods. “I do. But then, I think you are half a villain already. — Don’t look like that. Don’t suppose I am joking. You don’t know all.” He has grown serious. “I am offering you something very great and strange. Not the commonplace subjection of a wife to her husband — that servitude, to lawful ravishment and theft, that the world terms wedlock. I shan’t ask you for that, that is not what I mean. I am speaking, rather, of liberty. A liberty of a kind not often granted to the members of your sex.”
他点头。“我正有此意。不过此时，我想你已算得上半个坏人了。请不要有这种表情。别以为我在开玩笑。你还没了解事情的全部。”他神色变的严峻。“我要给你一个事关重大、前所未有的提议。并非那种平常普通的姑娘钟情于小伙儿，二人永结同心——那是个枷锁，是为了合法地掠夺和偷窃，世人称之为婚姻。我不会向你要求这些，我志不在此。我所说的，请注意，是自由。一种身为女性不常拥有的自由。”
“To be achieved by a ceremony of marriage, performed under certain unusual conditions.” Again he smooths his hair, and swallows; and I see at last that he is nervous — more nervous than I. He leans closer. He says, “I suppose you’re not squeamish, or soft about the heart, as another girl might be? I suppose your maid is really sleeping, and not listening at the door?”
“通过在某种不寻常状态下举行的结婚仪式而达成，”他又捋头发，咽了下唾沫；最后，我见他神情紧张——比我还紧张。他斜着身子凑近我，说道，“我觉得你不象别的姑娘那样神经质，或者满心慈悲？我觉得你的女仆真睡熟了，没有扒在门上偷听吧？”
“Yet to be achieved” — I almost laugh — “by a marriage?”
“可是由婚姻”——我差点笑出来——“而达成自由？”
This is his plan. He means to bring a girl to Briar, from London, and install her as my maid. He means to use her, then cheat her. He says he has a girl in mind, a girl of my years and colouring. A sort of thief — not overscrupulous, not too clever in her ways, he says; he thinks he will secure her with the promise of some slight share in the fortune — “Say, two or three thousand. I don’t believe she’ll have the ambition to ask for more. Her set are a small set, as crooks go; though, like crooks everywhere, think themselves grander.” He shrugs. The sum means nothing, after all: for he will agree to whatever she asks for; and she will not see a shilling of it. She will suppose me an innocent, and believe herself assisting in my seduction. She will persuade me, first, into marriage with him, then into a — he hesitates, before admitting the word — a madhouse. But, there she will take my place. She will protest — he hopes she will! — for the more she does, the more the madhouse keepers will read it as a form of lunacy; and so keep her the closer.
他说了他的计划。他打算从伦敦带个女孩来布莱尔，让她做我的女仆。他打算利用她，欺骗她。他说他头脑里已经物色好了一个女孩，一个与我年纪样貌相仿的女孩。她是个小蟊贼——他说在她那一行里，她不算谨慎小心，也不太聪明。他觉得，只要从那笔财富里分点零头出来，对她诱之以利，就能引她上钩——“嗯，两千，或者三千镑钱。我不信她会有要高价的胆量。她没什么背景，也没见过世面，跟那些小骗子一样；同时，她也跟那些跑江湖的骗子们一样，很是自以为是。”他耸耸肩。反正出多少钱都无所谓：因为无论她要什么，他都会一口答应；而她一先令也摸不着。她会以为我是个不谙世事的人，相信她自己在帮忙制造一场拐骗我的骗局。一开始，她会劝说我同他走入婚姻殿堂，然后，再劝说我走入——允许自己说出那个词之前，他犹豫了一下——一座疯人院。不过，到了那儿，将由她来取代我。她会反抗——他真心希望她能反抗！——因为她越反抗，疯人院的人就越会将她的反抗视为精神失常的一种表现；于是也就会看她看得更严。
I think of Agnes, of Agnes’s bruises; but say nothing, only watch him. He passes his hand across his mouth. “God help me, Miss Lilly, if I have misjudged you!” he says. “Now, listen.”
我想到阿格尼丝，还有她身上的淤青；不过我没说话，只是望着他。他用手遮着嘴，“上帝助我一臂之力吧，李小姐，保佑我没错看了你，”他说道。“现在，你听好。”
This is the liberty — the rare and sinister liberty — he has come to Briar to offer. For payment he wants my trust, my promise, my future silence; and one half of my fortune.
这就是自由——珍贵而充满凶险的自由——他来布莱尔即是为了此事。作为回报，他要我的信任，我承诺，我未来的沉默；还要我一半的财富。
When he has finished I sit not speaking, my face turned from his, for almost a minute. What I say at last is: “We should never achieve it.”
等他说完，我坐着没说话，我的脸转过来对着他，过了差不多一分钟，最后我说道，“我们永远干不成这事。”
He answers at once: “I think we will.”
他立即答道：“我想我们干得成。”
“The girl would suspect us.”
“那女孩会怀疑我们的。”
“And with her, Miss Lilly,” he says finally, “they keep close your name, your history as your mother’s daughter, your uncle’s niece — in short, all that marks you as yourself. Think of it! They will pluck from your shoulders the weight of your life, as a servant would lift free your cloak; and you shall make your naked, invisible way to any part of the world you choose — to any new life — and there re-clothe yourself to suit your fancy.”
“有了她，李小姐，”最终他说道，“他们会把你的名字，你的过去，你的身份——作为你母亲的女儿，你舅舅的外甥女——一句话，所有能表征你是你的东西，统统收藏起来。他们会帮你卸下命运加注在你肩上的重负，就如同仆人解下你的斗篷；你可以金蝉脱壳，神不知鬼不觉地，想去哪儿，就去哪里——开始全新的生活——到时候，你可以随心所欲地改换身份。”
“She will be distracted by the plot into which I shall draw her. She will be like everyone, putting on the things she sees the constructions she expects to find there. She will look at you, here, knowing nothing of your uncle — who wouldn’t, in her place, believe you innocent?”
“她会被我描绘给她的计划搅的头晕脑涨。她会象其他人那样，接受她在这儿看到的一切，接受她希望在这儿找到的一切解释。她在这儿看到你，而以她的地位，她将对你舅舅的事一无所知，她怎会不相信你是纯洁无暇的？”
“They shall look — as a thousand thieves look every day for the friends who have cheated and robbed them; and, finding nothing, they’ll suppose her flown, and curse her for a while, and then forget her.”
“他们会找——因为数以千计的蟊贼们整日都在寻寻觅觅，想找出那些曾经欺骗坑害过他们的同伙；如果遍寻而不获，他们会以为她远走高飞了，嘴上咒她一段时间，然后就将她忘得干干净净。”
“And her people, the thieves: shan’t they look for her?”
“那她的同伙，那些蟊贼，他们不会找她吗？”
He shrugs. “A sort of mother. A guardian, an aunt. She loses children all the time. I don’t think she will trouble very hard over one child more. Especially if she supposes — as I mean that she will — that the child has turned out swindler. Do you see? Her own reputation will help to bury her. Crooked girls can’t expect to be cared for, like honest ones.” He pauses. “They will watch her more closely, however, in the place we’ll put her.”
他耸耸肩。“也算是有母亲吧，是个监护人，一个大婶。她总是有孩子走失。我不觉得多走失一个孩子，会令她痛心疾首。尤其是，如果她知道——我是说她会知道的——这孩子已经变成了骗子。你明白吗？她自己的坏名声也会埋没了她。骗过人的姑娘，可甭指望人家会象喜欢诚实厚道的人一样喜欢她们了。”他稍作停顿。“而在我们送她去的那个地方，那边人会对她严加看管。”
I gaze away from him. “A madhouse…”
我视线从他脸上移开。“疯人院…”
“I am sorry for that,” he says quickly. “But your own reputation — your own mother’s reputation — will work for us there, just as our crooked girl’s will. You must see how it will. You have been held in thrall to it, all these years. Here is your chance to profit by it, once; then be free of it, for ever.”
“对此我十分抱歉。”他飞快地说道。可是你自身的名誉——你母亲的名誉——到时候会对我们有所益助，正如我们的骗子姑娘的坏名声对我们大有帮助一样。你得看看这一切如何发生。你被束缚你的名誉奴役了这么多年。现在有个从中获益的好机会，那么就抓住机会，永远地摆脱它吧。
“Forget her? Are you sure? Has she no — no mother?”
“忘记她？你肯定？她就没有——没有母亲？”
“I’ve admitted as much, have I not? But then, your freedom and my money are the same. That will be your safeguard, your insurance, until our fortune is secure. You may trust yourself, till then, not to my honour — for I have none — but, say, to my cupidity; which is anyway a greater thing than honour, in the world outside these walls. You will find that out. I might teach you how to profit from it. We can take some house, in London, as man and wife. — Live separately, of course,” he adds, with a smile, “when the door of the house is closed… Once our money is got, however, your future will be your own; you must only be silent, then, as to the manner in which you got it. You understand me? Being once committed to this thing, we must be true to each other, or founder. I don’t speak lightly. I don’t wish to mislead you as to the nature of the business I’m proposing. Perhaps your uncle’s care has kept you from a knowledge of the law…”
“我早已坦白过我的动机，我否认过吗？不过，你的自由和我的金钱是一回事。财富到手之前，我的动机将成为你的守护神，你的保障。你可以将自己托付于我的动机，或者说，我的贪欲，而非托付于我的信誉——因为我也无毫信誉可言；在这些墙壁之外的世界里，贪欲是比信誉更为强烈的驱动力。你会明白这一点的。我也将教会你如何从中获利。我们可以象夫妻一样，在伦敦找座房子。——当然了，关起门来就分开过，”他面带微笑地加了一句。“不过，等我们拿到钱，你的未来就是你自己的了，你必须对前因后果守口如瓶，你明白吗？因为一旦投身此事，我们就必须对彼此坦诚相见，否则一切将以失败收场。我可不是说着玩的。就我这个提议的本质，我不希望你有任何误解。或许，你舅舅的周全照料令你对法律认知甚少…”
I still look away. Again, I am afraid he will see how deeply his words have stirred me. I am almost afraid of how deeply they stir me, myself. I say, “You speak as though my freedom were something to you. It’s the money you care for.”
我仍然看着别处。再一次地，我害怕被他看出他这番话在我内心深处激起的惊涛骇浪。我自己也被这惊涛骇浪吓住了。我说道，“你说起来仿佛我的自由对你有多重要似的，其实你在意的是金钱。”
He waits and, when I add nothing, says, “Well, I don’t expect to hear you give me your decision now. It’s my aim that your uncle will keep me here, to work on his pictures — I am to view them tomorrow. If he does not, then we shall anyway be obliged to reconsider. But there are ways about that, as about everything.”
他等我说下去，见我没了下文，他说道，“其实，我并不期望你现在就告诉我你的决定。我的目标是让你舅舅把我留在这儿，帮他整理藏画——明天我就见到那些画了。如果他不留我，那我们就不得不另作打算。不过车到山前必有路，好事多磨。”他抬手捂住眼睛，又显出一脸沧桑疲态。
“My uncle’s care,” I say, “has made me ready to consider any strategy that will relieve me of the burden of it. But –“
“我舅舅的周全照料，”我说道，“早已令我枕戈待旦，寻找一切机会好飞出樊笼。可是——”
He passes his hand again before his eyes, and again looks older. The clock has struck the twelve, the fire has died an hour before, and the room is terribly chill. I feel it, all at once. He sees me shiver. I think he reads it as fear, or doubt. He leans, and at last takes my hand in his. He says, “Miss Lilly, you say your freedom is nothing to me; but how could I see the life that is yours — how could any honest man see you kept down, made a slave to lewdness, leered at and insulted by fellows like Huss — and not wish to free you of it? Think of what I have proposed. Then think of your choices. You may wait for another suitor: shall you find one, among the gentlemen your uncle’s work brings here? And, if you do, shall he be as scrupulous as I, in the handling of your fortune? — of your person? Or, say you wait for your uncle to die, and find a liberty that way; meantime, his eyes have faded, his limbs have a tremor, he has worked you the harder as he has felt his powers fail. By then you are — what age? Say thirty-five, or forty. You have given your youth to the curating of books, of a kind that Hawtrey sells, for a shilling, to drapers’ boys and clerks. Your fortune sits untouched in the vault of a bank. Your consolation is to be mistress of Briar — where the clock strikes off the hollow half-hours of all the life that is left to you, one by one.”
十二点的钟声敲响，壁炉里的火一个小时前就熄了，房间里异常寒冷。忽然间我感觉到这寒冷。他见我在颤抖。我想他将此解读为恐惧，或者怀疑。他探身凑过来，最后握住了我的手。他说道，“李小姐，你说你的自由对我而言无所谓；可我又怎能眼见你过着这样的生活——任何一个诚实厚道的人，都怎能眼睁睁地看着你为人欺侮，被逼为奴，整日侍弄淫词秽语，让哈斯那种色迷迷的下三滥觊觎凌辱——而不想将你解救出来？仔细考虑一下我的提议吧，考虑一下你该何去何从。你也可坐等另一位求婚者上门：从你舅舅的书招来的正人君子里，你找得到这么一位吗？即便你找到这么一位，他会象我这么细心谨慎地帮你谋划你的财富？——还有你的人吗？要么，静候你舅舅驾鹤西去，再享受自由生活；这其中，他眼睛老花，手脚不稳，他感到力不从心了，就会变本加厉地奴役你。到那会儿，你得是——什么岁数？三十五？还是四十？你将青春都奉献给书籍整理工作，而且还是霍粹卖的那种书，一先令一本，卖给贩夫走卒引车卖浆之流。你的财富分文未动地躺在银行金库里。你引以为安慰的，就是成为布莱尔的女主人——在布莱尔，听着半小时一次的空洞钟声，一下又一下，了尽余生。”
As he speaks, I look not at his face; but at my own foot in its slipper. I think again of the vision I have sometimes had — of myself, as a limb bound tight to a form it longs to outgrow. With the drops in me the vision is fiercer, I see the limb made crooked, the flesh sour and grow dense. I sit quite still, then raise my eyes to his. He is watching me, waiting to know if he has won me. He has. Not by what he has told me, about my future at Briar — for he has said nothing that I have not, long ago, already concluded for myself; but by the fact that he is here, telling it at all — that he has plotted, and travelled, forty miles — that he has stolen his way to the heart of the sleeping house, to my dark room, to me.
他说话时，我没看他的脸；而是望着自己穿了拖鞋的脚。我脑海中又浮现出以前经常幻想的景象——我就象中国女人的小脚，被三寸金莲鞋紧紧束缚着，满心期望突破桎梏。在药力的催化下，这副景象更加残酷逼真了，我看到那小脚扭曲变形，酸腐僵化。我一动不动地呆坐着，然后抬起眼望向他。他凝视着我，静候答复，看是否已说服了我。他说服了我。并非凭借着他所说的，我在布莱尔的未来云云——因为他的说辞没有任何新鲜之处，都是很早以前我就为自己算计过的；而是凭借眼前的现实，他现身此地，面陈其详——他早有预谋，从四十里地之外赶来——他混入这座沉睡宅邸的心脏里，摸进我的房间，来到我面前。
Of the girl in London — who, in less than a month, he will persuade to her doom by a similar method; and to whom, a little later, with tears on my cheek, I will repeat his own arguments — I think nothing, nothing at all.
那个伦敦的女孩——不到一个月的时间里，他就会以类似手法，说服她自寻死路；正是那个女孩，在稍后一些时候，我将含泪对她复述他那套说辞——我没想到她，一点也没想到她。
I say, “Tomorrow, when you are shown my uncle’s pictures: praise the Romano, though the Caracci is more rare. Praise Morland over Rowlandson. He thinks Rowlandson a hack.”
我说道，“明天，等你看到我舅舅的藏画：要夸夸罗曼诺，虽然卡拉斯的画更珍贵。要说莫兰德比罗兰森好。他认为罗兰森是个惟利是图的匠人。”
“You are sure?”
“你要我走？”
I shake my head. But I am afraid to rise from the sofa, in case I tremble upon my legs and seem to him weak. I say, “Will you go?”
我摇摇头。可是我不敢从沙发上站起来，万一我两腿发软，搞得仿佛在向他示弱。我说道，“你还不走？”
He watches. Perhaps he is gauging my strength and beginning to grow doubtful. I shiver harder. He says, “You won’t be troubled — too troubled — by all I’ve said?”
他望着我。也许他在估量我的决心，也许他开始心存顾虑了。我抖的更厉害了。他说道，“听了我刚才所说的一切，你不会感到困扰——太过困扰吧？”
That is all I say. It is enough, I suppose. He holds my gaze, nods, does not smile — I think he knows I should not like to see him smile, at such a moment. He looses his grip about my fingers and then he stands, straightening his coat. That breaks the spell of our conspiracy: now he is large, dark, out of place. I hope he will leave. Again I shiver and, seeing that, he says, “I’m afraid I’ve kept you very late. You must be cold, and tired.”
我就说了这些。这些也足够了，我觉得。他望着我的眼睛，点头记下，没有笑——我想他知道，此时此刻我不愿看到他的笑容。他放开我的手，站了起来，整整衣裳。这举动打破了我们密谋的神秘氛围：此时的他高大，模糊，与周围环境格格不入。我希望他回房去。我又颤抖起来，他见了，说道，“恐怕我已将你耽搁得太晚。你肯定又冷又饿。”
“Of course.”
“当然。”
He would like to say more. I turn my face and will not let him, and in time hear his careful tread upon the carpet, the gentle opening and closing of the door. I sit a moment, then lift my feet, tuck the skirts of my cloak about my legs, raise my hood, lie with my head upon the hard and dusty sofa cushion. This is not my bed, and the hour for bed has sounded and passed, and there are none of the things — my mother’s portrait, my box, my maid — about me, that I like to have close while I lie sleeping. But tonight, all things are out of their order, all my patterns have been disturbed. My liberty beckons: gauge-less, fearful, inevitable as death.
他好象还想说点什么。我将脸庞别过去，不要听他再讲，很快，就听到他小心翼翼的走过去，开门，关门。我坐了片刻，然后蜷起腿，用斗篷把腿包好，拉起斗篷上的帽子，枕着硬邦邦满是灰尘的沙发垫，在沙发上躺下来。这不是我的床。上床时间也过了，我身边什么也没有——我母亲的小画像，我的盒子，我的女仆，那些我喜欢在入睡时放在身边的东西。然而今夜，一切都乱了套，我的生活完全被打乱了。自由在召唤我：吉凶莫测，令人惶恐，又不可回避，如同死神一般。
I sleep, and dream I am moving, swiftly, in a high-prowed boat, upon a dark and silent water.
我睡着了，梦见自己坐着一艘船上，船头高高翘起，在昏暗静谧的水流中疾速向前，乘风破浪。
“Quite sure. I shall do better if you leave me.”
“是的，你走了我感觉会好点。”
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