 | 小说简介 Maurice是一部写于1913年的英国小说，作者是E. M. Forster。这部小说一直到1971年才得以出版。这部小说描述了20世纪初，在英国发生的同性恋的爱情传记。莫瑞斯和克莱夫是剑桥大学的同学，他们背负社会歧视的压力相爱三年，克莱夫突然提出中止这段感情，遂与安妮结婚。这一变故使莫瑞斯几乎精神崩溃，走上自杀的道路。他寻求心理医生的治疗，谴责自己有罪，直到遇见深爱他的猎场看守者阿列克为止…… 作者简介 福斯特，生于英国伦敦，毕业于剑桥大学，被誉为与D·H·劳伦斯齐名的20世纪的伟大小说家。著有六部长篇小说《天使不敢涉足的地方》、《最长的旅行》、《看得见风景的房间》、《霍华德别业》、《印度之行》、《莫瑞斯》，还著有两部短篇小说集，两部散文集，一部演讲集《小说面面观》，一部游记，两部人物传记。 《莫瑞斯》完稿于1914年，因内容涉及同性恋情，迫于当时的社会环境，福斯特生前始终没有发表，直到他去世后，于次年1971年才得以出版。作者在书中肯定同性恋，走在时代之前。 |
Chapter 28 His change, then, cannot be described as a conver-sion. There was nothing edifying about it. When he came home and examined the pistol he would never use, he was seized with disgust; when he greeted his mother no unfathom-able love for her welled up. He lived on, miserable and mis-understood, as before, and increasingly lonely. One cannot write those words too often: Maurice's loneliness: it increased. But a change there had been. He set himself to acquire new habits, and in particular those minor arts of life that he had neglected when with Clive. Punctuality, courtesy, patriotism, chivalry even—here were a few. He practised a severe self-discipline. It was necessary not only to acquire the art, but to know when to apply it, and gently to modify his behaviour. At first he could do little. He had taken up a line to which his fam-ily and the world were accustomed, and any deviation worried them. This came out very strongly in a conversation with Ada. Ada had become engaged to his old chum Chapman, and his hideous rivalry with her could end. Even after his grandfather's death he had feared she might marry Clive, and gone hot with jealousy. Clive would marry someone. But the thought of him with Ada remained maddening, and he could scarcely have be-haved properly unless it had been removed. The match was excellent, and having approved of it publicly he took her aside, and said, "Ada, I behaved so badly to you, i dear, after Clive's visit. I want to say so now and ask you to for-give me. It's given a lot of pain since. I'm very sorry." She looked surprised and not quite pleased; he saw that she still disliked him. She muttered, "That's all over—I love Arthur now." "I wish I had not gone mad that evening, but I happened to be very much worried about something. Clive never said what I let you think he said either. He never blamed you." "I don't care whether he did. It doesn't signify." Her brother's apologies were so rare that she seized the op-portunity to trample on him. "When did you last see him?"— Kitty had suggested they had quarrelled. "Not for some time." "Those weekends and Wednesdays seem to have quite stopped." "I wish you happiness. Old Chappie's a good fellow. For two people who are in love to marry strikes me as very jolly." "It's very kind of you to wish me happiness, Maurice, I'm sure. I hope I shall have it whether I am wished it or not." (This was described to Chapman afterwards as a "repartee.") "I'm sure I wish you the same sort of thing you've been wishing me all along equally." Her face reddened. She had suffered a good deal, and was by no means indifferent to Clive, whose withdrawal had hurt her. Maurice guessed as much and looked gloomily at her. Then he changed the subject, and, being without memory, she recov-ered her temper. But she could not forgive her brother: indeed it was not right that one of her temperament should, since he had insulted her centrally, and marred the dawning of a love. Similar difficulties arose with Kitty. She also was on his con-science, but was displeased when he made amends. He offered to pay her fees at the Domestic Institute whereon her soul had been so long set, and, though she accepted, it was ungraciously, and with the remark, "I expect I'm too old now to properly learn anything." She and Ada incited each other to thwart him in little things. Mrs Hall was shocked at first and rebuked them, but finding her son too indifferent to protect himself, she grew indifferent too. She was fond of him, but would not fight for him any more than she would fight against him when he was rude to the Dean. And so it happened that he was considered less in the house, and during the winter rather lost the position he had won at Cambridge. It began to be "Oh, Maurice won't mind—he can walk—sleep on the camp bed—smoke without a fire." He raised no objection—this was the sort of thing he now lived for—but he noted the subtle change and how it coin-cided with the coming of loneliness. The world was likewise puzzled. He joined the Territorials— hitherto he had held off on the ground that the country can only be saved by conscription. He supported the social work even of the Church. He gave up Saturday golf in order to play foot-ball with the youths of the College Setdement in South London, and his Wednesday evenings in order to teach arithmetic and boxing to them. The railway carriage felt a little suspicious. Hall had turned serious, what! He cut down his expenses that he might subscribe more largely to charities—to preventive chari-ties: he would not give a halfpenny to rescue work. What with all this and what with his stockbroking, he managed to keep on the go. Yet he was doing a fine thing—proving on how little the soul can exist. Fed neither by Heaven nor by Earth he was going forward, a lamp that would have blown out, were materialism true. He hadn't a God, he hadn't a lover—the two usual incen-tives to virtue. But on he struggled with his back to ease, be-cause dignity demanded it. There was no one to watch him, nor did he watch himself, but struggles like his are the su-preme achievements of humanity, and surpass any legends about Heaven. No reward awaited him. This work, like much that had gone before, was to fall ruining. But he did not fall with it, and the muscles it had developed remained for another use. 因此，莫瑞斯所起的变化说不上是皈依，其间丝毫没有启迪性的东西。当他回到家，检查那永远也不会使用的手熗时，突然感到憎恶。当他向母亲致意的时候，心里并没有涌出对她的无比深情的爱。他像以前那样活得凄凄惨惨，受到误解，越来越寂寞。人是不可能把心中的寂寥说尽的。莫瑞斯的孤寂与日俱增。 然而，他确实变了。他决心努力养成新习惯，尤其是与克莱夫在一起时曾忽视的生活小技巧。诸如严守时间、爱国心，甚至骑士精神等，他自律甚严。掌握技巧固然重要，还得领会什么时候运用，而且委婉地改变自己的举止。起初他所能做的不多。他从不至于引起自己的家族与世人的好奇心这方面着手，任何越轨行为都会使他们焦虑。他与艾达的一次谈话，产出了强烈的不谐和音。 艾达跟他多年的密友查普曼订婚了，他与她作为情敌的丑恶的对抗情绪就可以了结了。在外祖父逝世之后，他仍旧惧怕她会嫁给克莱夫，忌妒得心里火辣辣的。克莱夫会跟某一个人结婚，但是一想到他竟和艾达结婚，依然使他发狂。除非妒火熄灭了，他简直不可能正当地行事。 她和查普曼般配极了。莫瑞斯当众十分赞许，然后把她叫到一边去说：“艾达，亲爱的，克莱夫到咱们家来过之后，我对你很不好。现在我向你道歉，请你宽恕我。从那个时候起，这事造成了很大的痛苦。我感到非常对不起。” 她看上去吃了一惊，神情并不愉快。他明白她至今讨厌他。她悄声说：“这一切都过去了——现在我爱亚瑟。” “那天晚上我不该发脾气。我刚好为一件事非常不安。克莱夫从来也没说过那些话，是我让你觉得他说了的。他从来也没责备过你。” “我不在乎他是否说过，这根本不重要。” 她哥哥是轻易不道歉的，因而她抓住机会让他下不了台。“你是什么时候最后一次见到他的？”——吉蒂曾暗示，哥哥与克莱夫吵架了。 “有一段时间了。” “你们那些周末和星期三，好像完全断绝了。” “我祝愿你幸福，老查皮（译注：查皮是查普曼的昵称。）是个好人。我突然想到，两个相爱的人结婚，是件令人非常愉快的事。” “莫瑞斯，我真的感谢你祝愿我幸福。不论你祝愿与否，我希望自己会获得幸福。”（事后，艾达把自己对哥哥的这番“巧妙的回答”叙述给查普曼听了。）“我真的祝愿你获得同样的幸福，就像你始终祝愿我那样。”她的面颊泛红了。她吃够了苦头，她对克莱夫不是漠不关心，他的退出伤了她的感情。 莫瑞斯对此有所揣测，忧郁地瞧着她，换了一个话题。她是个没有记性的人，心情又好起来了。但是她不能饶恕哥哥，既然他深深地侮辱了她，并且破坏了刚刚萌芽的爱情，像她这种性格的女人确实不该饶恕他。 他跟吉蒂之间也同样困难重重。他对她也感到内疚，但是当他赔不是的时候，她却怫然不悦。他表示愿意为她交向往已久的家政学校的学费。她尽管接受了，态度却并不亲切，还说了这么一句：“我认为现在自己的岁数已经太大了，不可能正正经经地学什么东西了。”她和艾达竞相在一些小事情上与哥哥作对。起初霍尔太太感到吃惊，责备了她们。不过，她发现自己的儿子对于自卫太不关心了，于是她也变得漠不关心。她喜欢儿子，然而正如他对学监粗鲁的那次她不曾跟他对抗，现在她也无意为了他的缘故而跟旁人对抗。这样一来他在家里就威信扫地了。进入冬季，他将自己在剑桥时代所赢得的地位丧失殆尽。是这样开始的：“哦，莫瑞斯才不介意呢——他可以走着去——睡在帆布床上——在没有生火的屋子里抽烟。”他不曾表示异议——如今，这就是他的人生——然而他注意到了那微妙的变化，以及寂寞怎样伴随而来。 世人也同样感到莫名其妙。他参加了国防义勇军（译注：英国国防义勇军的简称，是防卫本土的地方性组织），迄今他借口只有征兵制度才能拯救祖国，拖延着没去人队。他甚至支持起教会的社会事业来了。他放弃了星期六的高尔夫球，以便跟伦敦南区学院社区的青少年玩足球。每逢星期三晚上，还教他们算术和拳击。乘火车去卜．班的同事们有点儿怀疑：什么，霍尔变得一本正经了？他节省开销，这样能多捐些钱给慈善事业。他资助那些能够自救者，却连半个便士也不肯用来济贫。由于参加这些活动，并从事证券经济业务，他总算使自己忙碌不堪。 不过，他做的是一件好事——他正在证实灵魂可以存在于微小的东西上面。既无上帝的保佑，也没有来自大地的帮助，他向前迈进。倘若唯物论有道理的话，他好比是一吹就灭的油灯。他没有神，他没有情人——这二者通常能诱使人们培育美德。然而他背对着安逸，挣扎下去，因为尊严要求他这么做。没有一个人留心观察他，就连他自己也不曾观察自己。但是他所做的这一切苦斗，是人类最高的成就，超过了有关天国的任何传说。 他拿不到任何报酬，犹如过去消逝了的许许多多工作一样，这项工作也注定前途尽毁。然而他没有随着倒下，通过苦斗，练就了体力，可以派上其他用处。 |
Chapter 27 Maurice's grandfather was an example of the growth that may come with old age. Throughout life he had been the ordinary business man—hard and touchy—but he re-tired not too late, and with surprising results. He took to "read-ing", and though the direct effects were grotesque, a softness was generated that transformed his character. The opinions of others—once to be contradicted or ignored—appeared worthy of note, and their desires worth humouring. Ida, his unmarried daughter, who kept house for him, had dreaded the time "when my father will have nothing to do", and herself impervious, did not realize that he had changed until he was about to leave her. The old gentleman employed his leisure in evolving a new religion—or rather a new cosmogony, for it did not contradict chapel. The chief point was that God lives inside the sun, whose bright envelope consists of the spirits of the blessed. Sunspots reveal God to men, so that when they occurred Mr Grace spent hours at his telescope, noting the interior darkness. The incarna-tion was a sort of sunspot. He was glad to discuss his discovery with anyone, but did not proselytize, remarking that each must settle for himself: Clive Durham, with whom he had once had a long talk, knew as much about his opinions as anyone. They were those of the practical man who tries to think spiritually—absurd and materialistic, but first hand. Mr Grace had rejected the tasteful accounts of the unseen that are handed out by the churches, and for that reason the hellenist had got on with him. Now he was dying. A past of questionable honesty had faded, and he looked forward to joining those he loved and to be joined in due season by those whom he left behind. He summoned his late employees—men without illusions, but they "humoured the old hypocrite". He summoned his family, whom he had always treated well. His last days were very beautiful. To inquire into the causes of beauty were to inquire too closely, and only a cynic would dispel the blended Sorrow and Peace that perfumed Al-friston Gardens while a dear old man lay dying. The relations came separately, in parties of two and three. All, except Maurice, were impressed. There was no intrigue, as Mr Grace had been open about his will, and each knew what to ex-pect. Ada, as the favourite grandchild, shared the fortune with her aunt. The rest had legacies. Maurice did not propose to re-ceive his. He did nothing to force Death on, but it waited to meet him at the right moment, probably when he returned. But the sight of a fellow-traveller disconcerted him. His grandfather was getting ready for a journey to the sun, and, garrulous with illness, poured out to him one December after-noon. "Maurice, you read the papers. You've seen the new theory —" It was that a meteor swarm impinged on the rings of Saturn, and chipped pieces off them that fell into the sun. Now Mr Grace located the wicked in the outer planets of our system, and since he disbelieved in eternal damnation had been troubled how to extricate them. The new theory explained this. They were chipped off and reabsorbed into the good! Courteous and grave, the young man listened until a fear seized him that this tosh might be true. The fear was momentary, yet started one of those rearrangements that affect the whole character. It left him with the conviction that his grandfather was convinced. One more human being had come alive. He had accomplished an act of creation, and as he did so Death turned her head away. "It's a great thing to believe as you do," he said very sadly. "Since Cambridge I believe in nothing—except in a sort of darkness." "Ah, when I was your age—and now I see a bright light—no electric light can compare to it." "When you were my age, grandfather, what?" But Mr Grace did not answer questions. He said, "Brighter than magnesium wire—the light within," then drew a stupid parallel between God, dark inside the glowing sun, and the soul, invisible inside the visible body. "The power within—the soul: let it out, but not yet, not till the evening." He paused. "Maurice, be good to your mother; to your sisters; to your wife and chil-dren; to your clerks, as I have." He paused again and Maurice grunted, but not disrespectfully. He was caught by the phrase "not till the evening, do not let it out till the evening." The old man rambled ahead. One ought to be good—kind—brave: all the old advice. Yet it was sincere. It came from a living heart. "Why?" he interrupted. "Grandpapa, why?" "The light witiiin—" "Ihaven't one." He laughed lest emotion should master him. "Such light as I had went out six weeks ago. I don't want to be good or kind or brave. If I go on living I shall be—not those things: the reverse of them. I don't want that either; I don't want anything." "The light within—" Maurice had neared confidences, but they would not have been listened to. His grandfather didn't, couldn't understand. He was only to get "the light within—be kind", yet the phrase continued the rearrangement that had begun inside him. Whyshould one be kind and good? For someone's sake—for the sake of Clive or God or the sun? But he had no one. No one except his mother mattered and she only a little. He was practically alone, and why should he go on living? There was really no reason, yet he had a dreary feeling he should, because he had not got Death either; she, like Love, had glanced at him for a minute, then turned away, and left him to "play the game". And he might have to play as long as his grandfather, and retire as absurdly. 莫瑞斯的外祖父是老有所成的典范。他做了一辈子平凡的实业家——精明强干，动辄发火——但是他退休不是太晚，而且结果出人意料。他养成了“读书”的嗜好，宽厚仁慈改变了他的性格，这一直接效果的产生是怪诞的。旁人的看法——以前认为应该予以反驳或无视的——如今看来值得注意了，对旁人的心愿也尽量满足。他那个未婚的女儿艾达替他管家，她担心有一天“我父亲没事可做了”，那可怎么办。她是个感觉迟钝的人，直到他即将离开她的时候，都没发觉他变了。 老绅士把闲暇用在发展新兴宗教，或者不如说是新的宇宙演化论上，因为它并不对抗教会。主要的论点是：神存在于太阳当中，其光轮是由受祝福者的灵魂构成的，黑子向人启示神的存在。因此，每逢出现黑子，格雷斯先生在望远镜前一坐就是几个钟头，注视着黑子的暗核（译注：太阳黑子只是相对于周围温度高达数千度的明亮光球才显得黑。黑子的暗核称为“本影”，较亮的外环称为“半影”。）。“道成肉身”（译注：“道”指耶稣。“道成肉身”是基督教的中心教义。谓上帝之道即上帝的儿子、三位一体真神中的第二位成为肉身，就是耶稣基督，耶稣基督是神，也是人，基督是“上帝所生，非上帝所造”，因此耶稣不是被造物，而是造物主）是一种黑子。 他对任何人都津津乐道自己的这个发现。不过他说，各人有各人的志向，所以无意让别人皈依自己这个信仰。曾经跟他长谈过的克莱夫·德拉姆对他的见解了如指掌。这是试图从精神方面来进行思考的一个讲求实际者的见解—一可笑而实利主义的，然而是第一手的。正因为如此，克莱夫这个古希腊文明崇拜者才跟他合得来。 现在他快要死了。不一定完全正直的过去已消逝，他一心盼望与自己所爱的人们相聚，到了一定的时候，他所撇下的人们也将去与他相聚。他把以前的雇员们召集到床前。这些人对他不抱幻想，却“逢迎这个年迈的伪善者”。他把家族的人召集来，他一向待他们很好。他的最后那段日子非常美。去探讨何以会如此美，未免有追根问底之嫌。当一位亲爱的老人奄奄一息地躺着的时候，艾尔弗里斯顿花园弥漫着悲哀与平静相融的馨香，惟有愤世嫉俗者才会想去驱散它。 亲戚们纷纷到来。除了莫瑞斯，人人都印象深刻。格雷斯先生早就把遗嘱的内容公开了，大家都知道自己能得到什么，因此没有引起任何人的好奇心，他所宠爱的外孙女艾达与姨妈一起继承房产和宅地。其他人也各有一份遗赠物，莫瑞斯没提出要领他那一份。他没有逼迫死神及早降临，然而死神会等到恰当的时刻来迎接他，很可能就在他返回伦敦之际。 但是，旅伴这副样子使他疑虑不安。他的外祖父准备启程奔赴太阳，疾病让他变得饶舌了，十二月里的一个下午，他对外孙滔滔不绝地说：“莫瑞斯，你在报纸上读到了吧。你注意到新学说了吧……”据报道，流星群撞在土星环上，被撞下来的碎片落到太阳里面。格雷斯先生认为，恶人死后灵魂被赶到太阳系外侧的行星里。他不相信永远下地狱的学说，所以一直忧心忡忡，不知该怎样拯救恶人的灵魂。新学说对这一点做了解释，这些灵魂成了碎片，重新并入善里面！年轻人彬彬有礼、严肃认真地聆听着，突然被一种恐惧感笼罩住，觉得这番胡话也许是真的。这恐惧转瞬即逝，却使他开始洗心革面，整个性格发生了变化。他深信外祖父的信仰是令人信服的。一个活生生的人又出现了，他完成了一个创造性的行为，这样死神就把头转过去了。“能有您这样的信仰，可真了不起。”莫瑞斯非常伤心地说。“剑桥以来，我什么都不相信了——只是处在一种黑暗中。” “啊，我在你这个年龄的时候嘛——如今我看到了光明——电灯可远远比不上它。” “外公，您在我这个年龄的时候怎么样呢？” 然而，格雷斯先生不予回答。他说：“内在的光——比镁光灯还亮。”接着，他把灿烂的太阳黑子的暗核、灵魂，以及可见的肉体内部那不可见的力量与上帝之间做了个愚蠢的对比。“把内部的力量——灵魂释放出来，但是现在不行，等到了晚上再说。”他歇了口气。“莫瑞斯，待你的母亲，你的妹妹们，你的妻子和儿女们，以及你的下属要善良，就像我那样。”他又歇了口气。莫瑞斯咕哝了一声，但是并没有不尊重的意思。“到了傍晚再说，到了傍晚再把灵魂放出来”这句话把他吸引住了。老人漫无边际地闲扯下去。为人要善良、仁慈，要有勇气。统统是老生常谈。然而却是真诚的，发自一颗生气勃勃的心。 “为什么呢？”莫瑞斯插嘴道，“外公，为什么呢？” “内在的光——” “我没有这样的光。”他生怕自己会耽于感伤，就笑了。“我曾经拥有的光，已经在六个星期以前熄灭了。我不愿意变得善良、仁慈或勇敢。倘若我继续活下去，我不会这样活，而是刚好相反。我也不愿意过那样的生活，我什么都不愿意。” “内在的光——” 莫瑞斯几乎要倾吐衷情了。不过，即使倾吐了，也会被置若罔闻。他的外祖父听不进去，也理解不了。莫瑞斯所得到的仅仅是“内在的光——为人要善良”这句话。然而这句话却促使他继续洗心革面。为什么为人要善良、仁慈呢？为了某人——究竟是为了克莱夫还是为了神，抑或是为了太阳呢？但是他什么人都没有。除了他母亲，任何人都无关紧要，就连他母亲，也没有多大关系。他差不多是孑然一身，为什么还要继续活下去呢？确实没有活下去的理由，然而他又有个阴郁的预感：自己只好活下去。因为就连死神也不属于他。死神犹如爱神，朝他瞥视了一会儿，就转身而去，撇下他，让他“度过光明磊落的一生”。他完全可能像外祖父那样延年益寿，跟外祖父一样可笑地退休。 |
Chapter 26 For three years Maurice had been so fit and happy that he went on automatically for a day longer. He woke with the feeling that it must be all right soon. Clive would come back, apologizing or not as he chose, and he would apol-ogize to Clive. Clive must love him, because his whole life was dependent on love and here it was going on as usual. How could he sleep and rest if he had no friend? When he returned from town to find no news, he remained for a little calm, and allowed his family to speculate on Clive's departure. But he began to watch Ada. She looked sad—even their mother noticed it. Shad-ing his eyes, he watched her. Save for her, he would have dis-missed the scene as "one of Clive's long speeches", but she came into that speech as an example. He wondered why she was sad. "I say—" he called when they were alone; he had no idea what he was going to say, though a sudden blackness should have warned him. She replied, but he could not hear her voice. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, trembling. "Nothing." "There is—I can see it. You can't take me in." "Oh no—really, Maurice, nothing." "Why did—what did he say?" "Nothing." "Who said nothing?" he yelled, crashing both fists on the table. He had caught her. "Nothing—only Clive." The name on her lips opened Hell. He suffered hideously and before he could stop himself had spoken words that neither ever forgot. He accused his sister of corrupting his friend. He let her suppose that Clive had complained of her conduct and gone back to town on that account. Her gentle nature was so outraged that she could not defend herself, but sobbed and sobbed, and implored him not to speak to her mother, just as if she were guilty. He assented: jealousy had maddened him. "But when you see him—Mr Durham—tell him I didn't mean —say there's no one whom I'd rather—" "—go wrong with," he supplied: not till later did he under-stand his own blackguardism. Hiding her face, Ada collapsed. "Ishall not tell him. I shall never see Durham again to tell. You've the satisfaction of breaking up that friendship." She sobbed, "I don't mind that—you've always been so un-kind to us, always." He drew up at last. Kitty had said that sort of thing to him, but never Ada. He saw that beneath their ob-sequious surface his sisters disliked him: he had not even suc-ceeded at home. Muttering "It's not my fault," he left her. A refined nature would have behaved better and perhaps have suffered less. Maurice was not intellectual, nor religious, nor had he that strange solace of self-pity that is granted to some. Except on one point his temperament was normal, and he behaved as would the average man who after two years of happiness had been betrayed by his wife. It was nothing to him that Nature had caught up this dropped stitch in order to continue her pat-tern. While he had love he had kept reason. Now he saw Clive's change as treachery and Ada as its cause, and returned in a few hours to the abyss where he had wandered as a boy. After this explosion his career went forward. He caught the usual train to town, to earn and spend money in the old man-ner; he read the old papers and discussed strikes and the divorce laws with his friends. At first he was proud of his self-control: did not he hold Clive's reputation in the hollow of his hand? But he grew more bitter, he wished that he had shouted while he had the strength and smashed down this front of lies. What if he too were involved? His family, his position in society—they had been nothing to him for years. He was an outlaw in disguise. Perhaps among those who took to the greenwood in old time there had been two men like himself—two. At times he enter-tained the dream. Two men can defy the world. Yes: the heart of his agony would be loneliness. He took time to realize this, being slow. The incestuous jealousy, the morti-fication, the rage at his past obtuseness—these might pass, and having done much harm they did pass. Memories of Clive might pass. But the loneliness remained. He would wake and gasp "I've no one!" or "Oh Christ, what a world!" Clive took to visiting him in dreams. He knew there was no one, but Clive, smiling in his sweet way, said "I'm genuine this time," to torture him. Once he had a dream about the dream of the face and the voice, a dream about it, no nearer. Also old dreams of the other sort, that tried to disintegrate him. Days followed nights. An immense silence, as of death, encircled the young man, and as he was go-ing up to town one morning it struck him that he really was dead. What was the use of money-grubbing, eating, and playing games? That was all he did or had ever done. "Life's a damn poor show," he exclaimed, crumpling up theDaily Telegraph. The other occupants of the carriage who liked him began to laugh. "I'd jump out of the window for twopence." Having spoken, he began to contemplate suicide. There was nothing to deter him. He had no initial fear of death, and no sense of a world beyond it, nor did he mind disgracing his fam-ily. He knew that loneliness was poisoning him, so that he grew viler as well as more unhappy. Under these circumstances might he not cease? He began to compare ways and means, and would have shot himself but for an unexpected event. This event was the illness and death of his grandfather, which induced a new state of mind. Meanwhile, he had received letters from Clive, but they al-ways contained the sentence, "We had better not meet just yet." He grasped the situation now—his friend would do anything for him except be with him; it had been thus ever since the first illness, and on these lines he was offered friendship in the future. Maurice did not cease to love, but his heart had been broken; he never had wild thoughts of winning Clive back. What he grasped he grasped with a firmness that the refined might envy, and suffered up to the hilt. He answered these letters, oddly sincere. He still wrote what was true, and confided that he was unbearably lonely and should blow out his brains before the year ended. But he wrote without emotion. It was more a tribute to their heroic past, and accepted by Durham as such. His replies were unemotional also, and it was plain that, however much help he was given and however hard he tried, he could no longer penetrate into Mau-rice's mind. 三年以来，莫瑞斯生活得无比健康幸福，第二天也习惯成自然地度过了。一觉醒来，他感到一切都会很快好起来。克莱夫将会回来，道歉与否，由他自己决定。至于他呢，是要向克莱夫道歉的。克莱夫非爱他不可，因为他的整个人生是仰仗爱情的。今天，他不是也在正常地生活着吗？倘若没有朋友，他怎么能睡觉、休息呢？他从伦敦回到家里后，得悉没有克莱夫的音讯。他暂时保持冷静，听任家里人推测克莱夫为什么突然告辞。但是他开始留心观察艾达。她的神情忧伤，就连他们的母亲都注意到了。他垂下眼皮，审视着她。若不是克莱夫提到了她，莫瑞斯会认为昨天晚上那一场是“克莱夫又一次发表冗长的讲话”。然而在那篇讲话中，艾达作为一个例子被提到了。奇怪的是，她为什么感到忧伤。 “喂．”只剩下他们二人在一起时，他开口说话了。可足他不知道自己打算说什么，黑暗警告了他。她回答了，但是他听不见她的声音。“你怎么啦？”他浑身发颤，问道。 “没怎么。” “就是有事——我看得出来，你骗不了我。” “哦，不——真的，莫瑞斯，没事。” “为什么——他说什么来着？” “什么都没说。” “什么都没说，你指的是谁？”他攥起双拳砸桌子，大喊大叫。这下可让他逮了个正着。 “什么都没说——克莱夫呀。” 她吐出的这个名字使地狱之门敞开了。他体验到巨大的痛苦，来不及抑制自己，说出了双方都永远忘不掉的话。他指责妹妹腐蚀了他的朋友，他让她以为，克莱夫曾抱怨过她的行为，由于这个缘故才回伦敦去的。性格温和的她受到伤害后甚至不懂得替自己辩护，只是一味地呜咽，哀求他别跟妈妈说，就好像她本人有什么过错似的。他答应不给她告状。忌妒使他变得疯狂了。 “可你见到他——德拉姆先生——的时候，告诉他我没有那个意思——我跟任何人都没有……” “……犯错误的打算。”他补充说。后来他才明白此言何等粗鄙。 艾达把脸藏起来，她支持不住了。 “我不告诉他。我永远不会跟德拉姆见面了，什么也告诉不了他。你破坏了我们之间的友谊，这下子称心了吧。” 她抽噎着说：“破坏了我也不在乎。你对我们从来都是冷酷的，从来都是。”他终于变得冷酷了。他看出，妹妹们表面上顺从，骨子里是厌恶他的。甚至在家中，他也没有成功可言。他悄声说：“这不是我的过错。”随后离开了她。 有教养的人，举止更文雅一些，也许少受些折磨。莫瑞斯没有才智，不信仰宗教，也缺乏某些人所拥有的自我怜悯这一奇妙的慰藉方法。除了这一点，他的性情是正常的，他采取的是度过两年幸福生活后被妻子背叛了的任何一个普通男人那样的行动。大自然补上遗漏了的这一针，以便继续编织它的图案，对他来说是无所谓的。拥有爱的时候，他保持了理智。现在他把克莱夫的变心看成背叛，艾达就是起因。不出几个钟头，他就返回到曾在少年时代徘徊过的那个深渊。 这次爆发后，他的人生延续下去。他照例乘那趟火车赴伦敦，像原先那样挣钱并花钱。他依旧读以前那几份报纸，跟同事们谈论罢工啦，离婚法啦。起初他对拥有自制力感到得意。他不是已经把克莱夫的名声攥在手心里了吗？然而他更加充满怨恨，他希望趁着自己还有那股气力，大声喊出来，把这骗人的幌子扔到一旁。即使连他本人也牵涉进去了，那又怎么样？他的家族，他的社会地位——对他而言，多年来都已经无所谓了。他是个乔装打扮的不法分子，也许从前逃进绿林（译注：绿林是英国一系列民谣中的传奇英雄罗宾汉隐居的地方。有些民谣可以追溯到14世纪以前，罗宾汉是反叛者，是结伙抢劫官府的代表人物，所获钱财却分给穷人。）的人中有两个像他这样的——两个。两个人就可以向整个世界挑战，有时他怀有这样的梦想，并自得其乐。 苦恼的核心是寂寞。他是个迟钝的人，过了一个时期才认识到这一点。乱伦的妒忌、屈辱，由于往日的愚钝而引起的愤怒一这一切都会过去的，对他造成的那么多伤害也会过去。对克莱夫的回忆可能会过去，寂寞却挥之不去。他醒过来，气喘吁吁地说：“我什么人也没有！”“啊，天哪，这是什么世道呀！”克莱夫开始出现在梦里了。他知道什么人都没有，然而克莱夫甜蜜地微笑着说：“这次我可是真的。”使他受尽折磨。有一次他梦见了原先做过的那个有关脸和声音的梦。梦中梦，更朦胧。另外一些旧梦也频频进入梦境，企图让他崩溃。日以继夜，死亡般的无止境的静寂笼罩着这个青年。一天早晨，在开往伦敦的火车中，他觉得自己实际上已经死了。赚钱、吃饭、规规矩矩地活着，有什么用呢？他所做的或他曾经做过的，无非是这些。 “生活是一出蹩脚透顶的戏，”他一边把《每日电讯报》揉成一团，一边呼喊。 其他乘客并不讨厌他，都笑起来了。 “我会满不在乎地从窗子跳出去。” 说罢，他开始仔细考虑自杀的事，什么也制止不了他。他对死亡本来就没有畏惧，也不相信来世，更不在乎使家族丢脸。他知道孤独正在伤害自己，于是变得更加可憎，越来越愁闷。在这样的境遇下，是否不如死了算了呢？他开始比较该采取什么办法与手段，若不是发生了一件意想不到的事，他会开熗自杀的。外祖父患病并且去世了，使他进入新的精神状态。 其间，克莱夫寄来了好几封信，然而信中总是这么写着：“咱们还是别见面为好。”现在他领会了自己的处境——他这个朋友什么都愿r劳，惟独拒绝跟他待在一起。克莱夫自从头一次生病就是这样，今后他所提供的也是这样的友情。莫瑞斯一往情深，然而他的心被弄碎了。他从来没有异想天开地认为能把克莱夫争取回来，他以高尚的人所羡慕的那种坚定来领悟自己所该领悟的东西。他把苦酒饮到最后一滴。 莫瑞斯一封封地写了回信，写得出奇地诚恳。他写的依然是真实的，吐露说自己寂寞难耐，年内将击穿头颅而死。但他写得没有感情，不如说是对他们那英勇的往昔的颂辞，德拉姆就是这样来接受的，他的回信也缺乏感情。有一点是明显的：不论借助什么，不论下多大工夫，他再也不可能看透莫瑞斯的心了。 |
Chapter 25 Clive did not wire, nor start at once. Though desir-ous to be kind and training himself to think reason-ably of Maurice, he refused to obey orders as of old. He returned to England at his leisure. He did wire from Folkestone to Mau-rice's office, and expected to be met at Charing Cross, and when he was not he took a train on to the suburbs, in order to explain as quickly as possible. His attitude was sympathetic and calm. It was an October evening; the falling leaves, the mist, the hoot of an owl, filled him with pleasing melancholy. Greece had been clear but dead. He liked the atmosphere of the North, whose gospel is not truth, but compromise. He and his friend would arrange something that should include women. Sadder and older, but without a crisis, they would slip into a relation, as evening into night. He liked the night also. It had gracious-ness and repose. It was not absolutely dark. Just as he was about to lose his way up from the station, he saw another street lamp, and then past that another. There were chains in every direction, one of which he followed to his goal. Kitty heard his voice, and came from the drawing-room to welcome him. He had always cared for Kitty least of the family —she was not a true woman, as he called it now—and she brought the news that Maurice was away for the night on busi-ness. "Mother and Ada are in church," she added. "They have had to walk because Maurice would take the car." "Where has he gone?" "Don't ask me. He leaves his address with the servants. We know even less about Maurice than when you were last here, if you think that possible. He has become a most mysterious per-son." She gave him tea, humming a tune. Her lack of sense and of charm produced a not unwelcome reaction in her brother's favour. She continued to complain of him in the cowed fashion that she had inherited from Mrs Hall. "It's only five minutes to church," remarked Clive. "Yes, they would have been in to receive you if he had let us know. He keeps everything so secret, and then laughs at girls." "It was I who did not let him know." "What's Greece like?" He told her. She was as bored as her brother would have been, and had not his gift of listening beneath words. Clive remem-bered how often he had held forth to Maurice and felt at the end an access of intimacy. There was a good deal to be saved out of the wreck of that passion. Maurice was big, and so sensible when once he understood. Kitty proceeded, sketching her own affairs in a slightly clever way. She had asked to go to an Institute to acquire Domestic Economy, and her mother would have allowed her, but Mau-rice had put his foot down when he heard that the fees were three guineas a week. Kitty's grievances were mainly financial: she wanted an allowance. Ada had one. Ada, as heiress-apparent, had to "learn the value of money. But I am not to learn any-thing." Clive decided that he would tell his friend to treat the girl better; once before he had interfered, and Maurice, charm-ing to the core, had made him feel he could say anything. A deep voice interrupted them; the churchgoers were back. Ada came in, dressed in a jersey, tam o'shanter, and gray skirt; the autumn mist had left a delicate bloom upon her hair. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright; she greeted him with obvious pleasure, and though her exclamations were the same as Kitty's they produced a different effect. "Why didn't you let us know?" she cried. "There will be nothing but the pie. We would have given you a real English dinner." He said he must return to town in a few minutes but Mrs Hall insisted he should sleep. He was glad to do this. The house now filled with tender memories, especially when Ada spoke. He had forgotten she was so different from Kitty. "I thought you were Maurice," he said to her. "Your voices are wonderfully alike." "It's because I have a cold," she said, laughing. "No, they are alike," said Mrs Hall. "Ada has Maurice's voice, his nose, by which of course I mean the mouth too, and his good spirits and good health. Three things, I often think of it. Kitty on the other hand has his brain." All laughed. The three women were evidently fond of one another. Clive saw relations that he had not guessed, for they were expanding in the absence of their man. Plants live by the sun, yet a few of them flower at night-fall, and the Halls re-minded him of the evening primroses that starred a deserted alley at Penge. When talking to her mother and sister, even Kitty had beauty, and he determined to rebuke Maurice about her; not unkindly, for Maurice was beautiful too, and bulked largely in this new vision. The girls had been incited by Dr Barry to join an ambulance class, and after dinner Clive submitted his body to be bound. Ada tied up his scalp, Kitty his ankle, while Mrs Hall, happy and careless, repeated "Well, Mr Durham, this is a better illness than the last anyhow." "Mrs Hall, I wish you would call me by my Christian name." "Indeed I will. But Ada and Kitty—not you." "I wish Ada and Kitty would too." "Clive, then!" said Kitty. "Kitty, then!" "Clive." "Ada—that's better." But he was blushing. "I hate formalities." "So do I," came the chorus. "I care nothing for anyone's opin-ion—never did," and fixed him with candid eyes. "Maurice on the other hand," from Mrs Hall, "is very partic-ular." "Maurice is a rip really—Waow, you're hurting my head." "Waow, waow," Ada imitated. There was a ring at the telephone. "He has had your wire from the office," announced Kitty. "He wants to know whether you're here." "Say I am." "He's coming back tonight, then. Now he wants to talk to you." Clive took the receiver, but only a burr arrived. They had been disconnected. They could not ring Maurice up as they did not know where he was, and Clive felt relieved, for the approach of reality alarmed him. He was so happy being bandaged: his friend would arrive soon enough. Now Ada bent over him. He saw features that he knew, with a light behind that glorified them. He turned from the dark hair and eyes to the unshadowed mouth or to the curves of the body, and found in her the exact need of his transition. He had seen more seductive women, but none that promised such peace. She was the compromise be-tween memory and desire, she was the quiet evening that Greece had never known. No argument touched her, because she was tenderness, who reconciles present with past. He had not sup-posed there was such a creature except in Heaven, and he did not believe in Heaven. Now much had become possible sud-denly. He lay looking into her eyes, where some of his hope lay reflected. He knew that he might make her love him, and the knowledge lit him with temperate fire. It was charming—he desired no more yet, and his only anxiety was lest Maurice should arrive, for a memory should remain a memory. Whenever the others ran out of the room to see whether that noise was the car, he kept her with him, and soon she understood that he wished this, and stopped without his command. "If you knew what it is to be in England!" he said suddenly. "Is Greece not nice?" "Horrible." She was distressed and Clive also sighed. Their eyes met. "I'm so sorry, Clive." "Oh, it's all over." "What exactly was it—" "Ada, it was this. While in Greece I had to reconstruct my life from the bottom. Not an easy task, but I think I've done it." "We often talked of you. Maurice said you would like Greece." "Maurice doesn't know—no one knows as much as you! I've told you more than anyone. Can you keep a secret?" "Of course." Clive was nonplussed. The conversation had become impos-sible. But Ada never expected continuity. To be alone with Clive, whom she innocently admired, was enough. She told him how thankful she was he had returned. He agreed, with vehe-mence. "Especially to return here." "The car!" Kitty shrieked. "Don't go!" he repeated, catching her hand. "I must—Maurice—" "Bother Maurice." He held her. There was a tumult in the hall. "Where's he gone?" his friend was roaring. "Where've you put him?" "Ada, take me a walk tomorrow. See more of me. . . . That's settled." Her brother burst in. Seeing the bandages, he thought there i had been an accident, then laughed at his mistake. "Come out of that, Clive. Why did you let them? I say, he looks well. You look well. Good man. Come and have a drink. I'll unpick you. No, girls, not you." Clive followed him, but, turning, had an im-perceptible nod from Ada. Maurice looked like an immense animal in his fur coat. He slipped it off as soon as they were alone, and came up smiling. "So you don't love me?" he challenged. "All that must be tomorrow," said Clive, averting his eyes. "Quite so. Have a drink." "Maurice, I don't want a row." "I do." He waved the glass aside. The storm must burst. "But you mustn't talk to me like this," he continued. "It increases my dif-ficulties." "I want a row and I'll have it." He came in his oldest manner and thrust a hand into Clive's hair. "Sit down. Now why did you write me that letter?" Clive did not reply. He was looking with growing dismay into the face he had once loved. The horror of masculinity had re-turned, and he wondered what would happen if Maurice tried to embrace him. "Why? Eh? Now you're fit again, tell me." "Go off my chair, and I will." Then he began one of the speeches he had prepared. It was scientific and impersonal, as this would wound Maurice least. "I have become normal—like other men, I don't know how, any more than I know how I was born. It is outside reason, it is against my wish. Ask any ques-tions you like. I have come down here to answer them, for I couldn't go into details in my letter. But I wrote the letter be-cause it was true." "True, you say?" "Was and is the truth." "You say that you care for women only, not men?" "I care for men, in the real sense, Maurice, and always shall." "All that presently." He too was impersonal, but he had not got off the chair. His fingers remained on Clive's head, touching the bandages, his mood had changed from gaiety to quiet concern. He was neither angry nor afraid, he only wanted to heal, and Clive, in the midst of repulsion, realized what a triumph of love was ruining, and how feeble or how ironical must be the power that governs Man. "Who made you change?" He disliked the form of the question. "No one. It was a change in me merely physical." He began to relate his experiences. "Evidently the nurse," said Maurice thoughtfully. "I wish you had told me before.... I knew something had gone wrong and thought of several things, but not this. One oughtn't to keep secrets, or they get worse. One ought to talk, talk, talk—pro-vided one has someone to talk to, as you and I have. If you'd have told me, you would have been right by now." "Why?" "Because I should have made you right." "How?" "You'll see," he said smiling. "It's not the least good—I've changed." "Can the leopard change his spots? Clive, you're in a muddle. It's part of your general health. I'm not anxious now, because you're well otherwise, you even look happy, and the rest must follow. I see you were afraid to tell me, lest it gave me pain, but we've got past sparing each other. You ought to have told me. What else am I here for? You can't trust anyone else. You and I are outlaws. All this"—he pointed to the middle-class comfort of the room—"would be taken from us if people knew." He groaned. "But I've changed, I've changed." We can only interpret by our experiences. Maurice could understand muddle, not change. "You only think you've changed," he said, smiling. "I used to think I had when Miss OI-cott was here, but it all went when I returned to you." "I know my own mind," said Clive, getting warm and freeing himself from the chair. "I was never like you." "You are now. Do you remember how I pretended—`` "Of course I remember. Don't be childish." "We love each other, and know it. Then what else—" "Oh, for God's sake, Maurice, hold your tongue. If I love any-one it's Ada." He added, "I take her at random as an example." But an example was the one thing Maurice could realize. "Ada?" he said, with a change of tone. "Only to prove to you the sort of thing." "You scarcely know Ada." "Nor did I know my nurse or the other women I've mentioned. As I said before, it's no special person, only a tendency." "Who was in when you arrived?" "Kitty." "But it's Ada, not Kitty." "Yes, but I don't mean—Oh, don't be stupid!" "What do you mean?" "Anyhow, you understand, now," said Clive, trying to keep impersonal, and turning to the comforting words with which his discourse should have concluded. "I've changed. Now I want you to understand too that the change won't spoil anything in our friendship that is real. I like you enormously—more than any man I've ever met" (he did not feel this as he said it) "I most enormously respect and admire you. It's character, not pas-sion, that is the real bond." "Did you say something to Ada just before I came in? Didn't you hear my car come up? Why did Kitty and my mother come out and not you? You must have heard my noise. You knew I flung up my work for you. You never talked to me down the tele-phone. You didn't write or come back from Greece. How much did you see of her when you were here before?" "Look here, old man, I can't be cross-questioned." "You said you could." "Not about your sister." "Why not?" "You must shut up, I say. Come back to what I was saying about character—the real tie between human beings. You can't build a house on the sand, and passion's sand. We want bed rock . . ." "Ada!" he called, suddenly deliberate. Clive shouted in horror. "What for?" "Ada! Ada!" He rushed at the door and locked it. "Maurice, it mustn't end like this—not a row," he implored. But as Maurice approached he pulled out the key and clenched it, for chivalry had awoken at last. "You can't drag in a woman," he breathed; "I won't have it." "Give that up." "I mustn't. Don't make it worse. No—no." Maurice bore down on him. He escaped: they dodged round the big chair, arguing for the key in whispers. They touched with hostility, then parted for ever, the key falling between them. "Clive, did I hurt you?" "No." "My darling, I didn't mean to." "I'm all right." They looked at one another for a moment before beginning new lives. "What an ending," he sobbed, "what an ending." "I do rather love her," said Clive, very pale. "What's going to happen?" said Maurice, sitting down and wiping his mouth. "Arrange . . . I'm done for." Since Ada was in the passage Clive went out to her: to Woman was his first duty. Having appeased her with vague words, he returned to the smoking-room, but the door was now locked be-tween them. He heard Maurice turn out the electric light and sit down with a thud. "Don't be an ass anyway," he called nervously. There was no reply. Clive scarcely knew what to do. At any rate he could not stop in the house. Asserting a man's prerogative, he announced that he must sleep in town after all, in which the women ac-quiesced. He left the darkness within for that without: the leaves fell as he went to the station, the owls hooted, the mist enveloped him. It was so late that the lamps had been extinguished in the suburban roads, and total night without compromise weighed on him, as on his friend. He too suffered and exclaimed, "What an ending!" but he was promised a dawn. The love of women would rise as certainly as the sun, scorching up immaturity and ushering the full human day, and even in his pain he knew this. He would not marry Ada—she had been transitional—but some goddess of the new universe that had opened to him in London, someone utterly unlike Maurice Hall. 克莱夫没打电报，更没有立即动身。尽管满心想对莫瑞斯宽容一些，并且训练自己尽量抱一种合情合理的看法，克莱夫却再也不肯像过去那样听任莫瑞斯摆布了。他从容不迫地返回英国。他还是从福克斯通（译注：福克斯通是英格兰肯特郡城镇，通铁路后发展成为英吉利海峡的客运港和第一流的海滨胜地。）往莫瑞斯的公司发了一封电报，原以为莫瑞斯会到查灵克罗斯（译注：查灵克罗斯是大伦敦威斯特敏斯特市的一处地方，位于伦敦正中心）来迎接他。莫瑞斯没有来，他就乘火车前往郊区，以便及早解释一番。他的态度是既有同情心又很沉着。 那是十月份的一个傍晚。落叶纷飞，薄雾，猫头鹰的呜叫，使他心里充满了愉快的愁绪。希腊是清澈的，然而死气沉沉。他喜欢北方的气氛，此地的福音不在于真实，而在于妥协。他和他的朋友会做些安排，把女人容纳进来。犹如黄昏进入夜晚，他们也会随着年龄饱经忧患，安全顺利地形成一种关系。他也喜欢夜晚。它是仁慈宽厚、安详恬静的，四周并非漆黑一团。他从火车站走过来，快要迷路时，就看见了另一盏街灯，走过去后，又是下一盏。每一个方向，街灯都像链子似的绵延不绝，他沿着其中的一条踱到目的地。 吉蒂听见了他的声音，从客厅里出来迎接他。霍尔一家人当中，克莱夫一向最不喜欢吉蒂了。按克莱夫现在的措词来说就是：吉蒂不是个地地道道的女人。她告诉克莱夫一个消息，莫瑞斯今天晚上有工作，不回家了。“妈妈和艾达到教堂去了。”她补充说，“她们只好步行了，因为莫瑞斯是坐汽车出去的。” “他到哪儿去啦？” “别问我，他把地址留给仆人了。你想象得到吗？上次你在这儿的时候，我们对莫瑞斯了解得就不多，现在甚至更少了。他变成了一个最神秘的人。”她边哼着曲子，边给他沏了杯茶。吉蒂缺乏见识与魅力，对克莱夫来说正合适。他能够在不至于感到嫌恶的情况下，倾听她诉说莫瑞斯的事。她用从霍尔太太那儿继承来的黏糊糊的腔调继续抱怨他。 “只需要五分钟就能到教堂。”克莱夫说。 “是啊。假若他跟我们说一声儿，她们就会留在家里招待你的。他对一切都守口如瓶，反过来又笑话女孩子们。” “是我没让他知道。” “希腊怎么样？” 他告诉了她。她听得厌烦透了，换了她哥哥，也会这样的。况且她没有他那种能够听出言外之意的天赋。克莱夫想起来，当他对莫瑞斯大发议论之后，亲密的感情就油然而生。这种情况，不知凡几。那腔激情虽已化为废墟，却能抢救出好多东西。莫瑞斯是个卓越的人，一旦理解了什么，又如此明智。 吉蒂接着就耍点儿小聪明，概述起自己的事来。她曾提出人家政学校的要求，母亲已经答应了。然而莫瑞斯听说每周要交三畿尼（译注：畿尼是旧时英国金币，合1.05英镑。）学费，就斩钉截铁地说不行。吉蒂的牢骚主要是金钱方面的。她想要一笔私房钱，艾达就有一笔。艾达作为法定继承人，必须“学会金钱的价值，可是什么都不让我学”。克莱夫决定对自己的朋友说说，要待这个女孩儿好一点儿。过去他就干预过一次，莫瑞斯十分愉快地听取了他的意见，使他觉得他什么话都可以说。 他们被低沉的嗓音打断，那两个去教堂的人回来了。艾达进来了，身穿圆领紧身毛衣，头戴宽顶无檐圆帽，裙子是灰色的。秋雾在她的头发上留下了精巧的水珠。她的双颊红润，两眼炯炯有神。她向他致意时喜形于色，尽管她的惊叫与吉蒂如出一辙，却产生了不同的效果。“你为什么没预先通知我们呢？”她大喊道。“除了饼，什么都没有。我们本来可以准备一顿正式的英国大餐为你接风的。” 他说，几分钟之内他就得返回伦敦，然而霍尔太太一定要留他过夜。恭敬不如从命。这座房子眼下充满了温馨的回忆，尤其是艾达说话的时候。他忘记了她与吉蒂截然不同。 “我还只当你是莫瑞斯呢，”他对她说，“你们的嗓音出奇地相似。” “因为我感冒了啊。”她笑着说。 “不，他们就是相像，”霍尔太太说，“艾达有莫瑞斯的嗓门。他的鼻子，我的意思当然是说还有他的嘴，以及他的好兴致和健康，我常常认为这三样都像。另一方面，吉蒂有莫瑞斯那样的头脑。” 大家都笑了，三个女子明显地相互喜爱。克莱夫目睹了以前不曾理会的母女关系。由于家长不在，她们变得更友善，更健谈。植物，靠太阳生长，然而有些植物是随着日暮开花的。霍尔家的女眷们使他联想到点缀着彭杰的一条荒芜小径的月见草（译注：月见草是柳叶菜科月见草属植物，草本，开美丽的黄花。广布北美，欧洲有引种。二年生，叶互生）。跟母亲姐姐聊天时，就连吉蒂也面目姣好。他拿定主意为了她的事谴责莫瑞斯几句，但是不能用苛刻的口气。因为莫瑞斯也美，在这崭新的幻象中，莫瑞斯成了个庞然大物。 巴里大夫曾鼓励两个姑娘去参加救护班的学习。饭后，克莱夫听凭她们往自己身上缠绷带。艾达包扎他的头部，吉蒂包扎的是脚踝。这时候，霍尔太太喜气洋洋，漫不经心，反复说：“喏，德拉姆先生，不管怎样，你这次的病比上次害的那场强一些。” “霍尔太太，我希望您直呼我的教名。” “好的，就这样吧。但是艾达和吉蒂，你们可不行。” “我希望艾达和吉蒂也这么叫。” “那么，克莱夫！”吉蒂说。 “那么，吉蒂！” “克莱夫。” “艾达——这么叫多好啊。”然而，他的脸颊羞红了。“我讨厌拘泥于形式。” “我也是这样。”姑娘们异口同声地说。“我对任何人的看法都毫不在乎——一向如此。”边说边用率直的眼神盯着他。 “莫瑞斯可不然，”霍尔太太说，“他挑剔得很。” “莫瑞斯这个人实在不足取——畦，你把我的头弄疼啦。” “哇，畦。”艾达仿效他说。 电话铃响了。 “他在公司里收到了你的电报，”吉蒂大声报告，“他问你在不在这儿。” “告诉他我在。” “那么，今天晚上他就回来。现在他想跟你说话。” 克莱夫拿起听筒，然而只传来了嗡嗡声，电话挂断了。他们不知道莫瑞斯在哪儿，所以无法给他打过去。克莱夫松了一口气，因为现实的逼近使他感到惊慌，被缠上绷带给他带来了很大的快乐。他的朋友很快就到了。现在艾达朝他俯下身来，他瞅见了自己所熟悉的容貌，在后面的灯光映衬下平添了几分魅力。他将视线从她那深色头发和眼睛移向没有阴影的嘴巴和身体的曲线，并在她身上找到了转变感情的时候恰好需要的一切。他见过更性感的女人们，但没有一个女人向他许诺过这样的安宁。她是回忆与欲望达成的和解，她是希腊所从未知晓的恬静的傍晚。什么争论都跟她不沾边，因为她是和善的，把过去与现在调和起来。他从未料想过还有这样的人，除非是在天堂里，而他是不相信天堂的。突然，很多事都变得可能了。他躺在那儿，朝她的眼睛望着，他的几缕希望在里面有所反映。他知道能够使她爱上自己，这样一来他身上就点燃起文火。多么美好啊，于愿已足，他唯一焦虑的是莫瑞斯会回家来，因为回忆就应该终属回忆。每逢有什么响动，当别人跑出屋子去看是不是汽车到了的时候，他就把她留下来陪自己。她很快就明白了他的愿望，不等他发话就留在他身边了。 “你简直不知道待在英国有多么好！”他猛然说。 “难道希腊不可爱吗？” “可怕。” 她感到忧伤，克莱夫也叹了口气。他们的目光相遇了。 “我觉得很难过，克莱夫。” “哦，事情已经过去了。” “确切地说，到底是……” “艾达，是这么回事。在希腊逗留期间，我不得不彻头彻尾地重建自己的人生。谈何容易，可我认为我已经完成了。” “我们经常谈论你。莫瑞斯说你会喜爱希腊的。” “莫瑞斯还蒙在鼓里呢，谁知道的也没有你多！我对你比对任何人说的都多。你能守口如瓶吗？” “当然喽。” 克莱夫不知所措了，这番谈话变得棘手了。然而艾达一点儿也没有期望继续说下去，能够跟她所天真地钦佩的克莱夫单独待在一起就足够了。她告诉他，他回来了，她甭提有多么高兴了。他热烈地表示同意，“尤其是回到这儿来”。 “汽车！”吉蒂尖声呼叫起来。 “别去！”克莱夫边抓住艾达的手，边重复了一遍。 “我必须去……莫瑞斯……” “莫瑞斯嘛，管他呢。”他不肯松手。从门厅里传来了一片喧哗声。“他到哪儿去了？”他的朋友正在吼叫。“你们把他安顿在哪儿了？” “艾达，明天和我去散步吧。多跟我见见面。……一言为定。” 她的哥哥冲进来了。他瞧见绷带，以为出了事故，知道自己弄错了以后又大笑起来。“快摘掉吧，克莱夫。你为什么听任她们摆布？我说，他气色蛮好。你看上去挺健康。老兄，过去喝一杯吧。我替你解下绷带，不，姑娘们，你们不行。”克莱犬跟着莫瑞斯走出去之际转过身来，只见艾达朝他几乎察觉不出地点了点头。 身穿毛皮大衣的莫瑞斯活像一头巨兽。离开旁人后，他立即脱下大衣，笑眯眯地踱过来。“那么，你不爱我了吗？”他提出疑问。 “这一切等明天再谈吧。”克莱夫边避开他的目光边说。 “知道了。来一杯。” “莫瑞斯，我不愿意争吵。” “我愿意。” 他摆摆手，不肯接递过来的那杯酒。这场风暴注定要爆发了。“可你不应该用这种口吻跟我说话，”他接着说，“这会使我越来越困难。” “我就是要争吵，我非要争吵不可。”他按照最初那个时期的样子走过来，将一只手插进克莱夫的头发。“坐下来。哟，你为什么给我写那样一封信？” 克莱夫没有回答，他更加沮丧地望着这张自己一度爱过的脸。对男性的嫌恶重新浮上心头，他想知道，倘若莫瑞斯试图拥抱他，会发生什么事呢？ “为什么？啊？现在你已经康复了，告诉我。” “你离开我的椅子，我就说。”于是他开始讲预先准备好的一席话。它是有条理的，不牵涉个人感情的，对莫瑞斯的伤害会最轻微。“我变得正常了——跟别人一样，我也不知道是怎样变的，正如我不知道自己是怎么出生的一样。这是不合乎情理的，我并不希望如此。你愿意问什么就问吧。我是为了回答你才到这儿来的。因为我在信里不可能详尽地写。然而我在信中写的是真实的。” “你说是真实的？” “当时是真实的，现在也是。” “你说你只喜欢女人，而不是男人？” “在真正的意义上，我对男人是喜欢的，莫瑞斯，今后也一直会喜欢。” “一切都来得这么突然。” 他的态度也是冷漠的，但他没离开克莱夫的椅子。他的手指仍停留在克莱夫的头上，抚摩着绷带。他的情绪从快活变成宁静的关切。他既没生气，也不害怕，一心一意只想把朋友治好。克莱夫满腔厌恶，他领悟到，两个人所取得的爱的胜利行将崩溃，人心该有多脆弱，多么充满讽刺意味。 “是谁使你发生变化的？” 他讨厌这种讯问的方式。“谁都没让我变。这仅仅是生理上的变化。”他开始诉说自己的体验。 “显然是那个护士。”莫瑞斯若有所思地说，“你要是及早告诉我就好了。……我东想西想，然而没料到是这个。保密是不对的，弄得越来越糟。就应该说啊，说啊，说啊。只要有能够彼此倾吐衷曲的人就行。咱们两个完全是这样的。倘若你告诉了我，这会儿你早就没事了。” “为什么呢？” “因为我会使你恢复正常的。” “怎样恢复？” “你等着瞧吧。”他微笑着说。 “一点儿用处也没有——我已经变了。” “难道豹子能够把身上的斑点变掉吗？克莱夫，你的头脑糊涂了，这跟你刚生过一场病也有关系。如今我不再担心了，因为其他方面你已经康复了。看上去你还很高兴，这个问题也会迎刃而解。我明白你是生怕我会感到痛苦，所以不敢告诉我。但是咱们两个人之间还用得着客气吗？你应该跟我说一声就好了。要不是为了你，我为什么待在这儿？其他任何人你都不信任。你和我是不法之徒。倘若世人知道了，这一切，”他边说边指着室内那些为中产阶级提供舒适生活的摆设，“全都会被没收。” 克莱夫烦闷地说：“然而我已经变了，我已经变了。” 我们只能凭借自己的体验来理解。莫瑞斯明白什么是糊涂，却不明白变了是怎么回事。“你只是认为自己变了而已。”他，笑吟吟地说。“当奥尔科特小姐在这儿的时候，我常常认为自个儿变了，然而我一回到你身边，那种感觉就统统消失了。” “我了解自己的心境，”克莱夫边说边激动起来，起身离开了椅子。“我一向跟你不同。” “现在一样了。你还记得吗？我曾经怎样假装……” “我当然记得了，别这么孩子气。” “咱们两个人相互爱着，自己也知道。那么，另外还有什么……” “哦，看在上帝的分上，莫瑞斯，你给我住口！倘若我爱什么人的话，就是艾达。”他补充说，“我只是作为一个例子随便提到她的。” 然而，莫瑞斯倒是能够理解什么叫做例子。“艾达？”他说，连腔调都变了。 “仅仅是向你表明某一种感情。” “你几乎不了解艾达啊。” “我也不了解我那位护士，以及我提到过的其他一些女人。正如我刚才说过的，并不是特定的什么人，只是一种倾向而已。” “你到这儿的时候，谁在家来着？” “吉蒂。” “然而你说的是艾达呀，不是吉蒂。” “是啊。可我指的不是～哦，别这么笨头笨脑的！” “你这话是什么意思？” “不管怎样，我已经把自己的问题摊开来了。现在呢，”克莱夫竭力不牵涉个人感情地说，他求助于能够给予慰藉的词句，这番谈话是预定要这么结束的。“我变了。眼下我想让你也理解，尽管我变了，却丝毫不会损害咱们两个人之间的真实友情。我非常喜欢你——超过了我曾遇见的任何人（他是言不由衷的）。我非常尊敬并且赞美你，真正的纽带是品性，而不是情欲。” “就在我进屋之前，你跟艾达说什么了吗？难道你没听见我的汽车开过来吗？为什么吉蒂和妈妈迎出来了，你们却没出来？你们应该听见了我的声音啊。你知道我为了你把工作都丢开了。你一次也没接我的电话，你既没写信给我，也没有马上从希腊返回。过去你到这儿来的时候，跟艾达见过多少次？” “嘿，老弟，这么盘问我可不行。” “你说过可以问。” “关于你的妹妹，可不行。” “为什么不行？” “喂，我说呀，你必须住口。再回到我刚才谈起的品性的问题——它才是人与人之间的真正的纽带。你不能在沙子上建造起一座房子，而情欲就是沙子。我们需要坚实牢固的地基……” “艾达！”他突然故意喊道。 克莱夫吓得大叫，“干什么？” “艾达！艾达！” 克莱夫冲到门跟前，将它锁上了。“莫瑞斯，不应该这么结束——可别吵完架再分手。”他恳求道。然而，当莫瑞斯走过来时，他抽出钥匙，攥在手里，敬重女性的理念终于被唤醒了。“你不能连累女人，”他喃喃地说，“我决不允许。” “把它交出来。” “决不。别把事情弄得更糟，不行——不行。” 莫瑞斯立即冲到他身边。他撒腿就逃，二人围绕着那把大椅子你追我躲，唧唧喳喳地为了给不给钥匙而争辩着。 他们怀着敌意碰撞在一起，随后永远分离了，钥匙掉在两个人之间的地面上。 “克莱夫，我伤着你了吗？” “没有。” “亲爱的，我是无意的。” “我不要紧。” 他们在开始新的人生之前，相互望了一眼对方的脸。“这叫什么结局呀，”他啜泣着，“这叫什么结局呀。” “我确实相当喜欢她。”克莱夫说，脸色很苍白。 “将会发生什么事呢？”莫瑞斯说，他坐下来，擦着嘴。“你来安排吧……我已经精疲力竭了。” 艾达既然到走廊里来了，克莱夫便迎出去。目前他首要的义务就是保护女性。他含糊其辞安抚了她一番，欲返回吸烟室。然而门已被锁上，进不去了。他听见莫瑞斯熄了灯，“咕咚”一声坐到椅子上。 “不管怎样，别干傻事。”克莱夫焦虑不安地高声说。没有回答。克莱夫简直不知道如何是好，无论如何他也不能在这家过夜了。他开始行使男人的特权，宣布自己终究还是得回城里去睡，女人们表示同意。他撇下室内的黑暗，步入外界的黑暗。他向车站踱去时，落叶纷飞，猫头鹰呜叫，路被雾气笼罩着。夜色更深，郊外的街灯已熄灭了。没有妥协余地的完全的夜晚像对待他的朋友那样，压得他喘不过气来。他也遭受了痛苦，于是大声喊道：“这叫什么结局呀！”然而，他已被许诺将获得黎明。女人的爱会像旭日一样千真万确地升起，把不成熟处烧焦，引他进入成熟的日子。即使在苦恼之中他也清楚这一点，他是不会跟艾达结婚的——她出现于过渡时期——但是他一定能找到在伦敦为他开拓的那个新世界的女神，她与莫瑞斯‘霍尔迥然不同。 |
Chapter 24 He stopped a week more at Athens, lest by any pos- sibility he was wrong. The change had been so shock-ing that sometimes he thought Maurice was right, and that it was the finish of his illness. It humiliated him, for he had under-stood his soul, or, as he said, himself, ever since he was fifteen. But the body is deeper than the soul and its secrets inscrutable. There had been no warning—just a blind alteration of the life spirit, just an announcement, "You who loved men, will hence-forward love women. Understand or not, it's the same to me." Whereupon he collapsed. He tried to clothe the change with reason, and understand it, in order that he might feel less hu-miliated: but it was of the nature of death or birth, and he failed. It came during illness—possibly through illness. During the first attack, when he was severed from ordinary life and fever-ish, it seized an opportunity that it would have taken some time or other. He noticed how charming his nurse was and enjoyed obeying her. When he went a drive his eye rested on women. Little details, a hat, the way a skirt is held, scent, laughter, the delicate walk across mud—blended into a charming whole, and it pleased him to find that the women often answered his eye with equal pleasure. Men had never responded—they did not assume he admired them, and were either unconscious or puz-zled. But women took admiration for granted. They might be offended or coy, but they understood, and welcomed him into a world of delicious interchange. All through the drive Clive was radiant. How happy normal people made their lives! On how little had he existed for twenty-four years! He chatted to his nurse, and felt her his for ever. He noticed the statues, the ad-vertisements, the daily papers. Passing a cinema palace, he went in. The film was unbearable artistically, but the man who made it, the men and the women who looked on—they knew, and he was one of the them. In no case could the exaltation have lasted. He was like one whose ears have been syringed; for the first few hours he hears super-normal sounds, which vanish when he adjusts himself to the human tradition. He had not gained a sense, but rearranged one, and life would not have appeared as a holiday for long. It saddened at once, for on his return Maurice was waiting for him, and a seizure resulted: like a fit, it struck at him from behind the brain. He murmured that he was too tired to talk, and escaped, and Maurice's illness gave him a further reprieve, during which he persuaded himself that their relations had not altered, and that he might without disloyalty contemplate women. He wrote affectionately and accepted the invitation to recruit, without misgivings. He said he caught cold in the car; but in his heart he believed that the cause of his relapse was spiritual: to be with Maurice or anyone connected with him was suddenly revolting. The heat at dinner! The voices of the Halls! Their laughter! Maurice's an-ecdote! It mixed with the food—was the food. Unable to dis-tinguish matter from spirit, he fainted. But when he opened his eyes it was to the knowledge that love had died, so that he wept when his friend kissed him. Each kindness increased his suffering, until he asked the nurse to for-bid Mr Hall to enter the room. Then he recovered and could fly to Penge, where he loved him as much as ever until he turned up. He noticed the devotion, the heroism even, but his friend bored him. He longed for him to go back to town, and actually said so, so near the surface had the rock risen. Maurice shook his head and stopped. Clive did not give in to the life spirit without a struggle. He believed in the intellect and tried to think himself back into the old state. He averted his eyes from women, and when that failed adopted childish and violent expedients. The one was this visit to Greece, the other—he could not recall it without disgust. Not until all emotion had ebbed would it have been possible. He regretted it deeply, for Maurice now inspired him with a physi-cal dislike that made the future more difficult, and he wished to keep friends with his old lover, and to help him through the ap-proaching catastrophe. It was all so complicated. When love flies it is remembered not as love but as something else. Blessed are the uneducated, who forget it entirely, and are never con-scious of folly or pruriency in the past, of long aimless conversa-tions. 他在雅典继续逗留了一个月，因为他生怕自己可能误会了。这种变化使他太震惊了，有时他认为也许莫瑞斯说得对，疾病把他的精力耗尽了。这令他感到屈辱。因为从十五岁起，他就理解自己的灵魂，借用他本人的话：理解自己。然而肉体比灵魂深奥，拥有难以捉摸的秘密。没有任何警告一生命的本质无端地起了变化，仅仅这么通告道：“你原来是个爱男性的人，今后将爱女性。不论你理解与否，对我而言，都是一样的。”于是他的精神崩溃了。他试图给这个变化披上理智的外衣，好去理解它，这样就不至于感到那么丢脸了。但这是属于死亡或诞生范畴的问题，他失败了。 变化是病中发生的——兴许是疾病导致的。他第一次发病期间，脱离了日常生活，发着烧，迟早会发生的那个变化乘虚而人。他注意到护士何等迷人，乐意听从她的吩咐。乘车兜风的时候，他两眼盯着女人们。一些小小的细节——一顶帽子，撩起裙子的手势，香水的气味，嫣然一笑，乖巧地躲闪着泥的碎步——构成了富于魅力的整体。他高兴地发现，女人们往往同样快乐地对他的眼神做出反应。男人们从未做出过反应，他们做梦也想不到他会欣赏他们，要么意识不到他的视线，要么感到困惑。然而女人们认为自己理应受到赞美。她们也许会见怪或忸怩作态，但她们是大度的，并欢迎他进入彼此在精神上美妙地交流的世界。一路上，克莱夫满面春风。正常人过的是多么幸福的人生啊！这二十四年，自己是靠何等少得可怜的一点儿东西活过来的呀！他跟护士聊天，感到她是永远属于他的。他注意到了雕像、广告和日报。经过一家电影院时，他心血来潮，走了进去。就艺术性而言，那影片让人无法忍受，然而制片人与看电影的男男女女却是相识的。克莱夫是他们当中的一员。 这种兴奋绝不能持久。他就像是个把耳朵洗净了的人。起初的几个钟头，他听得见异常的声音，及至使自己适应了普通人的惯例，它就消失了。他并没有获得新观念，不过是把旧的重新调整了一番。生活不会长期像过节似的，很快就黯淡起来。因为他刚一回来，莫瑞斯正等候着他。结果他被吓晕了，脑后遭到袭击，就像是发作似的。他嘟哝着自己太累啦，说不出话来，逃之天天。莫瑞斯的病使他暂时得到解脱。这期间，他说服自己，他们两个人的关系并没有起变化，他可以在仍忠于莫瑞斯的情况下转一些关于女人的念头。他怀着深厚感情给莫瑞斯写了封信，毫无疑虑地接受了前来休养的邀请。 他说自己在车子里受了风寒。但是内心里他确信，旧病复发的原因是精神方面的。与莫瑞斯或跟他有关的任何人待在一起，忽然令他恶心了。吃饭的时候热气腾腾！霍尔一家人的嗓门！她们的笑声！莫瑞斯讲的趣闻！它与食物混杂在一起了——它不折不扣就是食物。他分辨不出什么是物质，什么是精神，就昏过去了。 然而当他睁开眼睛的时候，却知道爱已经死了。因此，他的朋友吻他之际，他哭了。莫瑞斯对他的每一个友好行为都增添他的痛苦，他终于要求护士禁止霍尔先生进科病房。随后，他恢复了健康，得以逃回到彭杰。他觉得自己还像过去一样爱着莫瑞斯，然而莫瑞斯刚一找上门来，这种感觉就化为乌有。他注意到了莫瑞斯的献身精神，乃至英雄气概，但这个朋友使他感到厌烦。他希望莫瑞斯回到伦敦去，并且直接说了，大有一触即发之势。莫瑞斯摇了摇头，继续留在彭杰。 克莱夫并不是没有挣扎就屈服于精神生命所发生的这种变化的。他相信思维能力，试图靠思索使自己回到原先的状态下。他把目光从女人身上移开，一旦失败就采取稚气、激烈的权宜手段。一个是希腊之行，另一个呢——他一回想起来就不能不感到厌恶。除非所有的情感都逐渐消失，否则他是不可能无动于衷的。克莱夫深深地懊悔，如今莫瑞斯使他产生一种生理上的嫌恶，将来面临的困难就更大了。他愿与昔日情人友好相处，在逼近的严重不幸中，自始至终助以一臂之力。一切是如此错综复杂，爱情溜掉后，留在记忆中的就不再是爱情了，而是别的什么。没受过教育的人多么有福啊，因为他们能够把它完全抛在脑后，不记得过去干的荒唐事或好色行为．以及那冗长、不着边际的谈话。 |
Chapter 23 Dear Clive, Please come back on receiving this. I have looked out your connections, and you can reach England on Tuesday week if you start at once. I am very anxious about you on account of your letter, as it shows how ill you are. I have waited to hear from you for a fortnight and now come two sentences, which I suppose mean that you cannot love anyone of your own sex any longer. We will see whether this is so as soon as you arrive! I called upon Pippa yesterday. She was full of the lawsuit, and thinks your mother made a mistake in closing the path. Your mother has told the village she is not closing it against them. I called to get news of you, but Pippa had not heard either. You will be amused to hear that I have been learning some classical music lately—also golf. I get on as well as can be expected at Hill and Hall's. My mother has gone to Birmingham after changing back-wards and forwards for a week. Now you have all the news. Wire on getting this, and again on reaching Dover. Maurice. Clive received this letter and shook his head. He was going with some hotel acquaintances up Pentelicus, and tore it to pieces on the top of the mountain. He had stopped loving Mau-rice and should have to say so plainly. 亲爱的克莱夫： 收到这封信后，就请回来吧。我查了一下交通情况。假若马上动身的话，星期二你就能抵达英国。由于你的信的缘故，我为你非常担忧。因为它证实了你病得多么重。这封信我盼了两个星期，盼到的是两个句子。你的意思莫非是说，今后你再也不能爱任何一个同性的人了。你一回来就水落石出了！ 昨天我给皮帕打了电话。她满脑子都是诉讼的事。她认为令堂禁止通行那条路是个错误。令堂已告诉村方，此举不是针对他们的。我打电话是为了得到你的消息，然而皮帕也没收到你的信。近来我学了点儿古典音乐，你听了，会觉得好笑吧。还学会了打高尔夫球。我在希尔与霍尔混得还可以。家母反复考虑了一周之后，到伯明翰去了。现在你已有了所有的消息。收到此函，请打个电报。在多佛上岸后，再打一次。 莫瑞斯 克莱夫收到此信，摇了摇头。他约好了跟几个在旅馆结识的人去攀登彭特利库斯山（译注：彭特利库斯山是希腊阿蒂卡州山地。主峰科基纳拉斯峰海拔1109米，位于雅典东北约16公里处。山顶有一座雅典娜女神殿堂。）。在山顶上，他把信撕得粉碎。克莱夫已经不再爱莫瑞斯了，必须坦率地告诉他。 |
Chapter 22 Clive sat in the theatre of Dionysus. The stage was empty, as it had been for many centuries, the audi-torium empty; the sun had set though the Acropolis behind still radiated heat. He saw barren plains running down to the sea, Salamis, Aegina, mountains, all blended in a violet evening. Here dwelt his gods—Pallas Athene in the first place: he might if he chose imagine her shrine untouched, and her statue catch-ing the last of the glow. She understood all men, though mother-less and a virgin. He had been coming to thank her for years because she had lifted him out of the mire. But he saw only dying light and a dead land. He uttered no prayer, believed in no deity, and knew that the past was devoid of meaning like the present, and a refuge for cowards. Well, he had written to Maurice at last. His letter was journey-ing down to the sea. Where one sterility touched another, it would embark and voyage past Sunium and Cythera, would land and embark, would land again. Maurice would get it as he was starting for his work. "Against my will I have become normal. I cannot help it." The words had been written. He descended the theatre wearily. Who could help anything? Not only in sex, but in all things men have moved blindly, have evolved out of slime to dissolve into it when this accident of con- sequences is over. sighed the actors in this very place two thousand years before. Even that remark, though further from vanity than most, was vain. 克莱夫坐在狄奥尼索斯剧场（译注：狄奥尼索斯剧场是最早形式的希腊剧场，坐落于雅典卫城南侧。4世纪后，剧场冷落，后停止使用，并开始损毁。1765年人们重新发现了这个剧场，19世纪末在考古学家和希腊式建筑权威德普菲尔德的指导下按其原貌进行了重大修复。）里。多少个世纪以来，舞台是空荡荡的，观众席也空无一人。太阳已经落下，背后的卫城却还发散着热气。他眺望着向海边倾斜的光秃秃的平原，萨拉米斯（萨拉米斯，希腊拉阿蒂卡州岛屿，位于爱琴海萨罗尼克湾内）、埃伊纳（译注：埃伊纳，希腊萨罗尼克群岛中最大的岛屿。埃伊纳岛的全盛时期在公元前5世纪。东面的山顶上有一座保存完好的神庙，建于公元前5世纪，以祭奉阿帕伊亚神-古代埃伊纳人的神）、群山，统统与淡紫色黄昏融为一体。他的神祗们就住在这里——首先是雅典娜·波利亚斯（译注：在希腊宗教里，雅典娜是城市的保护女神，雅典因而得名。从君主政体向民主政体过渡的时期，作为城市女神的雅典娜·波利亚斯在雅典出现了。赫西奥德在《神谱》里记述说，她没有母亲,是从宙斯的前额中跳出来的。帕台农神庙殿堂内的雅典娜女神像是用金子和象牙制作的。）。倘若愿意的话，他可以想象雅典娜的神庙完好如初，她的雕像在落日余晖下熠熠发光。尽管没有母亲，又是个处女，她对所有的男人了如指掌。多年来，克莱夫不断地渴望到此向她表示谢忱，因为她将他从泥潭中拖了出来。 然而他只看见了渐渐消失的光和死灭了的大地。他不曾祷告，对任何神祗都没有信仰。他知道过去就跟现在一样毫无意义，并为懦夫提供了避难所。 他终于给莫瑞斯写了信。他这封信将要渡海，经过陆地与海洋接触之处，被装上了船，绕过苏钮姆岬与基西拉（译注：基西拉是伊奥尼亚群岛中最靠东南的岛屿），登陆后又被装上船，再度登陆。莫瑞斯上班的时候就会收到这封信。“我不由自主地变得正常了。我一点儿办法也没有。”他终于把这话写出来了。 他有气无力地走下剧场。不论是谁，又有什么办法呢？不仅在性方面，毋宁说是在各方面，人们都是盲目地踱过来的。他们脱离泥淖逐渐演变成人，及至偶然的连锁结束，就又消融到泥淖中去。两千年前，刚好就在此处，演员们感叹道：“最好是根本就没出生。（译注：原文为希腊文）”就连这句言词都是空洞的，尽管比起大多数台词来，它与虚荣相距甚远。 |
| Chapter 21 It was plain in a few days that nothing serious was amiss with the visitor. The attack, despite its dra-matic start, was less serious than its predecessor, and soon allowed his removal to Penge. His appearance and spirits re-mained poor, but that must be expected after influenza, and no one except Maurice felt the least uneasiness. Maurice thought seldom about disease and death, but when he did it was with strong disapproval. They could not be allowed to spoil his life or his friend's, and he brought all his youth and health to bear on Clive. He was with him constantly, going down uninvited to Penge for weekends or for a few days' holi-day, and trying by example rather than precept to cheer him up. Clive did not respond. He could rouse himself in company, and even affect interest in a right of way question that had arisen between the Durhams and the British Public, but when they were alone he relapsed into gloom, would not speak, or spoke in a half serious, half joking way that tells of mental ex-haustion. He determined to go to Greece. That was the only point on which he held firm. He would go, though the month would be September, and he alone. "It must be done," he said. "It is a vow. Every barbarian must give the Acropolis its chance once." Maurice had no use for Greece. His interest in the classics had been slight and obscene, and had vanished when he loved Clive. The stories of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, of Phaedrus. of the Theban Band were well enough for those whose hearts were empty, but no substitute for life. That Clive should occa-sionally prefer them puzzled him. In Italy, which he liked well enough in spite of the food and the frescoes, he had refused to cross to the yet holier land beyond the Adriatic. "It sounds out of repair" was his argument. "A heap of old stones without any paint on. At all events this"1—he indicated the library of Siena Cathedral—"you may say what you like, but it is in working order." Clive, in his amusement, jumped up and down upon the Piccolomini tiles, and the custodian laughed too instead of scolding them. Italy had been very jolly—as much as one wants in the way of sight-seeing surely—but in these latter days Greece had cropped up again. Maurice hated the very word, and by a curious inversion connected it with morbidity and death. Whenever he wanted to plan, to play tennis, to talk non-sense, Greece intervened. Clive saw his antipathy, and took to teasing him about it, not very kindly. For Clive wasn't kind: it was to Maurice the most serious of all the symptoms. He would make slightly malicious remarks, and use his intimate knowledge to wound. He failed: i.e., his knowledge was incomplete, or he would have known the impos-sibility of vexing athletic love. If Maurice sometimes parried outwardly it was because he felt it human to respond: he always had been put off Christ turning the other cheek. Inwardly noth-ing vexed him. The desire for union was too strong to admit resentment. And sometimes, quite cheerfully, he would conduct a parallel conversation, hitting out at Clive at times in acknowl-edgement of his presence, but going his own way towards light, in hope that the beloved would follow. Their last conversation took place on these lines. It was the evening before Clive's departure, and he had the whole of the Hall family to dine with him at the Savoy, as a return for their kindness to him, and had sandwiched them out between some other friends. "We shall know what it is if you fallthis time," cried Ada, nodding at the champagne. "Your health!" he replied. "And the health of all ladies. Come, Maurice!" It pleased him to be slightly old-fashioned. Healths were drunk, and only Maurice detected the underlying bitterness. After the banquet he said to Maurice, "Are you sleeping at home?" "No." "I thought you might want to see your people home." "Not he, Mr Durham," said his mother. "Nothing I can do or say can make him miss a Wednesday. Maurice is a regular old bachelor." "My flat's upside down with packing," remarked Clive. "I leave by the morning train, and go straight through to Mar-seilles." Maurice took no notice, and came. They stood yawning at each other, while the lift descended for them, then sped up-wards, climbed another stage on their feet, and went down a passage that recalled the approach to Risley's rooms at Trinity. The flat, small, dark, and silent, lay at the end. It was, as Clive said, littered with rubbish, but his housekeeper, who slept out, had made up Maurice's bed as usual, and had arranged drinks. "Yet again," remarked Clive. Maurice liked alcohol, and had a good head. "I'm going to bed. I see you've found what you wanted." "Take care of yourself. Don't overdo the ruins. By the way—" He took a phial out of his pocket. "I knew you'd forget this. Chlorodyne." "Chlorodyne! Your contribution!" He nodded, "Chlorodyne for Greece. . . . Ada has been telling me that you thought I was going to die. Why on earth do you worry about my health? There's no fear. I shan't ever have so clean and clear an experience as death." "I know I shall die some time and I don't want to, nor you to. If either of us goes, nothing's left for both. I don't know if you call that clean and clear?" "Yes, I do." "Then I'd rather be dirty," said Maurice, after a pause. Clive shivered. "Don't you agree?" "Oh, you're getting like everyone else. You will have a theory. We can't go quietly ahead, we must always be formulating, though every formula breaks down. 'Dirt at all costs' is to be yours. I say there are cases when one gets too dirty. Then Lethe, if there is such a river, will wash it away. But there may not be such a river. The Greeks assumed little enough, yet too much perhaps. There may be no forgetfulness beyond the grave. This wretched equipment may continue. In other words, beyond the grave there may be Hell." "Oh, balls." Clive generally enjoyed his metaphysics. But this time he went on. "To forget everything—even happiness. Happiness! A casual tickling of someone or something against oneself— that's all. Would that we had never been lovers! For then, Mau-rice, you and I should have lain still and been quiet. We should have slept, then had we been at rest with kings and counsellors of the earth, which built desolate places for themselves—" "What on earth are you talking about?" "—or as an hidden untimely birth, we had not been: as infants which never saw light. But as it is—Well, don't look so serious." "Don't try to be funny then," said Maurice. "I never did think anything of your speeches." "Words conceal thought. That theory?" "They make a silly noise. I don't care about your thoughts either." "Then what do you care about in me?" Maurice smiled: as soon as this question was asked, he felt happy, and refused to answer it. "My beauty?" said Clive cynically. "These somewhat faded charms. My hair is falling out. Are you aware?" "Bald as an egg by thirty." "As an addled egg. Perhaps you like me for my mind. During and after my illness I must have been a delightful companion." Maurice looked at him with tenderness. He was studying him, as in the earliest days of their acquaintance. Only then it was to find out what he was like, now what had gone wrong with him. Something was wrong. The diseases still simmered, vexing the brain, and causing it to be gloomy and perverse, and Maurice did not resent this: he hoped to succeed where the doctor had failed. He knew his own strength. Presently he would put it forth as love, and heal his friend, but for the moment he investigated. "I expect you do like me for my mind—for its feebleness. You always knew I was inferior. You're wonderfully considerate— give me plenty of rope and never snub me as you did your family at dinner." It was as if he wanted to pick a quarrel. "Now and then you call me to heel—" He pinched him, pre-tending to be playful. Maurice started. "What is wrong now? Tired?" "I'm off to bed." "I.e., you're tired. Why can't you answer a question? I didn't say 'tired of me', though I might have." "Have you ordered your taxi for the nine o'clock?" "No, nor got my ticket. I shan't go to Greece at all. Perhaps it'll be as intolerable as England." "Well, good night, old man." He went, deeply concerned, to his room. Why. would everyone declare Clive was fit to travel? Clive even knew he wasn't himself. So methodical as a rule, he had put off taking his ticket till the last moment. He might still not go, but to express the hope was to defeat it. Maurice un-dressed, and catching sight of himself in the glass, thought, "A mercy I'm fit." He saw a well-trained serviceable body and a face that contradicted it no longer. Virility had harmonized them and shaded either with dark hair. Slipping on his pyjamas, he sprang into bed, concerned, yet profoundly happy, because he was strong enough to live for two. Clive had helped him. Clive would help him again when the pendulum swung, mean-while he must help Clive, and all through life they would alter-nate thus: as he dozed off he had a further vision of love, that was not far from the ultimate. There was a knock at the wall that divided their rooms. "What is it?" he called; then, "Come in!" for Clive was now at the door. "Can I come into your bed?" "Come along," said Maurice, making room. "I'm cold and miserable generally. I can't sleep. I don't know why." Maurice did not misunderstand him. He knew and shared his opinions on this point. They lay side by side without touching. Presently Clive said, "It's no better here. I shall go." Maurice was not sorry, for he could not get to sleep either, though for a different reason, and he was afraid Clive might hear the drum-ming of his heart, and guess what it was. 没过几天就弄清楚了，来客病得不重。尽管刚复发时看上去挺吓人，但没有想象的那么厉害。不久他就获得了回彭杰去的许可。他的脸色依然不好，精神萎靡，但这也是患过流行性感冒后预料之中的事，除了莫瑞斯外，旁人丝毫没有感到不安。 莫瑞斯轻易不去想疾病与死亡的事，倘若想的话，就伴随着强烈的反感。不应该容许它们来损害他本人或朋友的生命。于是他携带着自己的全部青春与健康去对克莱夫发生作用。每逢周末或连休日，他就到彭杰去做不速之客，不是靠口头训导，而是以身作则使他鼓起劲儿来。对克莱夫却未能奏效。当众他会振作起来，甚至对德拉姆家族与英国公众之间所发生的公路通行权问题佯装兴致勃勃。然而只剩下他和莫瑞斯在一起的时候，他就故态复萌，意气消沉，不肯说话。要么就用半认真半开玩笑的口吻说点儿什么，这表明他的精神已经耗尽了。他已打定主意要去希腊。惟独这一点，他是十分坚定的。尽管九月份才能动身，他非去不可，而且是单独前往。“我必须去，”他说，“是去履行誓言。每一个未开化的人都得给予卫城（译注：卫城是古希腊城邦兼有防卫性质的中心地区，内有市政与宗教建筑。卫城多建于高山之巅，具有军事和宗教双重目的。雅典卫城是最著名的卫城，位于陡峭的山冈上，建于公元前5世纪中叶。）一次机会。” 莫瑞斯与希腊风马牛不相及。他对古希腊罗马文学的兴趣淡薄，而且是淫猥的，一经爱上克莱夫，就消失殆尽。哈莫狄奥斯和阿里斯托吉顿啦（译注：哈莫狄奥斯和阿里斯托吉顿是一对同性爱者。修昔底德在《伯罗奔尼撒战争史》中说：暴君希庇亚斯之弟希帕尔科斯侮辱了哈莫狄奥斯。哈莫狄奥斯和阿里斯托吉顿就计划在公元前514年对希庇亚斯及其兄弟行刺。结果只杀死了希帕尔科斯。哈莫狄奥斯当场遇害，阿里斯托吉顿被擒后死于毒刑。希庇亚斯的暴政又延续了四年多。），斐多啦，以及第邦神圣队（译注：第邦神圣队是由一对对同性爱者组成的军队）啦，这些故事对那些心灵空虚的人们而言是蛮好的，却代替不了人生。克莱夫时而偏爱它们，莫瑞斯觉得莫名其妙。他十分喜欢意大利，尽管讨厌那儿的食品和湿壁画（译注：用在清水中磨研的颜色粉末，在刚抹好的湿灰泥墙壁上作画的方法。色彩与石灰一起干燥凝固后，就成为墙壁的永久部分。）。他却拒绝渡过亚德里亚海，到那更神圣的土地（译注：指希腊。意大利东南与希腊之间隔着亚德里亚海。）去。“使人感到年久失修，”他提出这么个理由，“一堆老掉牙的石头，什么颜色也没有。总之，这个嘛，”——他指的是锡耶纳大教堂里的书库——“不管你怎么说，这个派上了用场。”克莱夫听得十分开心，在皮科洛米尼时代（译注：指意大利籍教皇庇护二世（1439-1464在位），原名艾伊尼阿斯·西尔维乌·皮科洛米尼。皮科洛米尼家族是贵族世家，家族中出过军人、文人和教皇。）的彩色瓷砖上跳来跳去。管理人非但没申诉他们，还跟他们一道笑。意大利令人非常快活——就观光而言，确实是这样——然而近来希腊又突然冒出来了。莫瑞斯就连这个词都憎恶。出于难以解释的偏见，他由希腊而联想到疾病和死亡。每当他有什么打算，打网球啦，聊天啦，希腊就插进来了。克莱夫看出他厌恶希腊，就养成借此取笑他的习惯，并不怎么体谅他。 克莱夫就是不体谅他。莫瑞斯认为这是所有的症状中最严重的。克莱夫会说些稍微出于恶意的话，还用自己谙熟的知识来伤害他。克莱夫失败了，也就是说，他的知识并不全面，否则他就会知道，要想损害像莫瑞斯这么个运动健将的爱情是不可能的。莫瑞斯有时表面上避开了克莱夫的攻击，因为他觉得有所反应是人之常情。他一向不喜欢基督关于连另一边脸也伸过去的教导（译注：见《新约全书，路加福音》第6章第29节“论爱仇敌”。耶稣教导说：“有人打你一边的脸，连另一边也让他打吧！”）。在内心里，他一点儿也不生克莱夫的气。与克莱夫结合的欲望太强烈了，怨恨无从侵入。有时候他会十分快活地进行与之匹敌的谈话，偶尔回击他一句，表示并没忘记他就在眼前。他径直走向光明，希望自己所挚爱的人会尾随其后。 他们二人之间的最后一次谈话就是如此这般地进行的。那是克莱夫动身前的傍晚，他把霍尔一家人请到萨沃伊来吃晚餐，以回报他们对他的亲切关怀。他安排他们夹坐在其他朋友中间。“假若这次你晕倒了，我们会知道是怎么个来由。”艾达边朝着香槟酒点头，边大声说。“为你的健康干杯！”他回答。“为所有的女士们的健康干杯！干一杯，莫瑞斯！”他喜欢来点儿老一套的做法。大家为健康干了杯，惟独莫瑞斯看破了潜在的讥刺。 晚宴结束后，他对莫瑞斯说：“你回家去睡吗？” “不。” “我以为你想把家里人护送回府上去呢。” “他才不干呢，德拉姆先生。”他母亲说，“不论我怎么做，怎么说，他也决不肯放弃一个星期三。莫瑞斯是个十足的老光棍儿。” “我的套房里被行李弄得很乱。”克莱夫说，“我乘早晨的火车径直穿行到马赛（译注：马赛是法国的第二大城市和最大的商业港口，临地中海利翁湾。从伦敦出发后．需要坐轮船渡过多佛尔海峡，才能抵达法国。）去。” 莫瑞斯充耳不闻，还是来了。等候电梯降下来的时候，他们朝着对方大打呵欠。接着，乘电梯上去，徒步登上另一层楼梯，沿着过道走去。令人联想到三一学院里通向里斯利那个套房的走廊。克莱夫的套房小而黑暗，寂然无声，位于尽头。正像克莱夫说过的那样，里面杂乱无章，然而不在这里住宿的女管家已照常为莫瑞斯铺好了床，饮料也准备停当了。 “还要喝啊。”克莱夫说。 莫瑞斯喜欢喝酒，而且有酒量。 “我要上床了。依我看，你想要的都有了。” “好好照顾自己。身体已经垮了，可别再劳累过度。另外，”他从衣兜里掏出一个小药瓶，“我就知道你会忘记这个，哥罗颠②。” “哥罗颠！（译注：哥罗颠是一种止痛麻醉药。）难为你想得这么周到！” 莫瑞斯点了点头。 “带着哥罗颠到希腊去……艾达告诉我，你还以为我会一命呜呼呢。你究竟为什么这么为我的健康担心呢？别害怕。像死亡这样干净利索的经验，永远与我无缘。” “我清楚自己迟早会死，而我不愿意死，更不愿意你死。倘若咱们两个人当中有一个死了，什么都没留下，我不知道你是否把这叫做干净利索。” “是的，我就这么叫。” “那么，我宁愿自己是污秽的。”莫瑞斯停顿了半晌说，克莱夫打了个寒噤。 “你不同意吗？” “哦，你变得跟任何凡夫俗子毫无二致了。你非有个理论不可。咱们不能静悄悄地向前走，总是非得做成公式。尽管每个公式都有不再起作用的一天。你的公式是‘不惜任何代价也要保持污秽，。我可要告诉你，还有变得过于污秽的情形呢。于是忘川（译注：忘川是希腊神话中从冥府流过去的一条河。凡是喝了这条河水的亡魂，会把过去的事一概忘掉。）——倘若有这么一条河的话一就会把它洗净。然而也许没有这样的河，希腊人并没怎么任意想象。不然，或许还想象得过了头呢。说不定到了坟墓的彼方，什么都忘不掉。糟糕的记性也许会延续下去。换言之，坟墓的彼方可能就是地狱。” “呸，胡说八道。” 克莱夫通常是借着抽象的空谈来自得其乐。然而这一次，他继续发挥下去。“忘却一切——连幸福都抛到脑后。幸福！被什么人或什么东西偶然胳肢了一下——如此而已。咱们两个人要足从来没做过情人，该有多好！因为要是那样的话，咱们就可以一动不动地躺着，一声不响。咱们应该睡觉了，那样一来，咱们就可以跟世上那些为自己确保了孤寂场所的国王们及其谋士们友好相处了——” “你究竟在说些什么呀？” “要么就像夭折的早产儿那样，咱们从来就没享有过生命，犹如那些压根儿不曾见过光的婴儿。然而事实上——喂，别显得那么严肃。” “那么，你就别说这么古怪的话好了。”莫瑞斯说，“我倒是从来也没把你的话当真过。” “话语掩盖思想，是这套理论吗？” “话语不过是发出无聊的声音而已。我也不喜欢你的思想。” “那么，你喜欢我的哪一点呢？” 莫瑞斯微微一笑。克莱夫刚这么一问，他就感到满足了，不肯回答。 “我的美貌吗？”克莱夫用讥讽的口吻说，“姿色已褪了几分，我的头发大量地脱落。你发觉了吗？” “三十岁的时候就成了秃子，像个鸡蛋似的。” “精神错乱的秃子，也许你喜欢我的头脑。生病期间以及病后，我想必是个可爱的伙伴。” 莫瑞斯温情脉脉地望着他。他在观察克莱夫，犹如他们初结识的时候那样。只不过当初是想弄清楚他是个什么样的人，现在想知道的是他出了什么毛病。克莱夫是有点儿不对头。还有后遗症，弄得他头脑混乱，情绪沮丧，一意孤行。莫瑞斯没有对此感到不满。大夫失败了，他希望自己能成功，他知道自己的力量。他将凭借爱的力量治好朋友的病，眼下他在进行探索。 “我认为你确实是由于我的头脑的关系才喜欢我。喜欢我的意志薄弱这一点，你一向清楚我不如你。你对我体贴得无微不至，你听任我为所欲为。吃饭的时候你故意冷落你家里的人，对我却从来没这么做过。” 这简直像是在找碴儿打架。 “可你不时地要我对你俯首帖耳——”他假装闹着玩儿地掐了莫瑞斯一下。莫瑞斯吓了一跳，“怎么啦？厌倦了吗？” “我要睡觉去了。” “也就是说，你厌倦了。你为什么不能回答一个问题？我并没说‘对我感到厌倦了’，尽管我可以这么说。” “你已经叫好了出租车，让它早晨九点钟来吗？” “没有，连车票都还没买呢。说不定我根本就不去希腊，也许它跟英国一样令人难以忍受。” “唔。晚安，老兄。”他深深地忧虑着回到自己的屋子。为什么人人都说克莱夫已经适合于旅行了呢？连克莱夫本人都知道自己不正常。克莱夫一般是有条不紊的，所以拖延到最后还没买票。或许他到头来不会出发，然而表示出一种愿望就是为了挫败它。莫瑞斯脱下衣服，瞥了一眼映在镜中的自己，想道：“真是幸运，我是健康的。”他看见的是锻炼得结结实实、矫健的肉体，以及一张再与之般配的脸。男子气概使二者相协调，均覆以乌黑的毛。他穿上睡衣，跳上床。尽管忧虑着克莱夫的事，却高兴极了。因为他强壮到足以使两个人生存下去。克莱夫曾帮助过他。形势一变，克莱夫还要帮助他。目前他必须帮助克莱夫。他们两个人将毕生像这样轮流互助。他昏昏欲睡时，梦幻中出现了爱的前景，与终极目的相距不远了。 隔壁传来了叩打声。 “怎么啦？”他问，接着就说，“请进！”因为克莱夫已来到门外。 “我可以钻进你的被窝吗？” “来吧。”莫瑞斯边说边为他挪出地方。 “我总是发冷，苦不堪言，唾不着觉。我也不知道是怎么回事。” 莫瑞斯并没有误解克莱夫。在这一点上，他了解克莱夫，两个人的意见一致。他们并肩而卧，却没有挨在一起。过了一会儿，克莱夫说：“这儿也好不了多少，我走啦。”莫瑞斯并没有感到遗憾，因为他也睡不着，尽管是出于不同的理由。他的心怦怦直跳，生怕被克莱夫听见，从而揣测出个中原因。 |
Chapter 20 Clive got through his bar exams successfully, but just before he was called he had a slight touch of influ-enza with fever. Maurice came to see him as he was recovering, caught it, and went to bed himself. Thus they saw little of one another for several weeks, and when they did meet Clive was still white and nervy. He came down to the Halls', preferring their house to Pippa's, and hoping that the good food and quiet would set him up. He ate little, and when he spoke his theme was the futility of all things. "I'm a barrister because I may enter public life," he said in reply to a question of Ada's. "But why should I enter public life? Who wants me?" "Your mother says the county does." "If the county wants anyone it wants a Radical. But I've talked to more people than my mother, and they're weary of us leisured classes coasting round in motor-cars and asking for something to do. All this solemn to and fro between great houses —it's a game without gaiety. You don't find it played outside England. (Maurice, I'm going to Greece.) No one wants us, or anything except a comfortable home." "But to give a comfortable home's what public life is," shrilled Kitty. "Is, or ought to be?" "Well, it's all the same." "Is and ought to be are not the same," said her mother, proud of grasping the distinction. "You ought to be not interrupting Mr Durham, whereas you—" "—is," supplied Ada, and the family laugh made Clive jump. "We are and we ought to be," concluded Mrs Hall. "Very dif-ferent." "Not always," contradicted Clive. "Not always, remember that, Kitty," she echoed, vaguely ad-monitory: on other occasions he had not minded her. Kitty cried back to her first assertion. Ada was saying anything, Maurice nothing. He was eating away placidly, too used to such table talk to see that it worried his friend. Between the courses he told an anecdote. All were silent to listen to him. He spoke slowly, stupidly, without attending to his words or taking the trouble to be interesting. Suddenly Clive cut in with "I say— I'm going to faint," and fell off his chair. "Get a pillow, Kitty: Ada, eau de cologne," said their brother. He loosened Clive's collar. "Mother, fan him; no; fan him . . ." "Silly it is," murmured Clive. As he spoke, Maurice kissed him. "I'm all right now." The girls and a servant came running in. "I can walk," he said, the colour returning to his face. "Certainly not," cried Mrs Hall. "Maurice'U carry you—Mr Durham, put your arms round Maurice." "Come along, old man. The doctor: somebody telephone." He picked up his friend, who was so weak that he began to cry. "Maurice—I'm a fool." "Be a fool," said Maurice, and carried him upstairs, undressed him, and put him to bed. Mrs Hall knocked, and going out to her he said quickly, "Mother, you needn't tell the others I kissed Durham." "Oh, certainly not." "He wouldn't like it. I was rather upset and did it without thinking. As you know, we are great friends, relations almost." It sufficed. She liked to have little secrets with her son; it re-minded her of the time when she had been so much to him. Ada joined them with a hot water bottle, which he took in to the patient. "The doctor'll see me like this," Clive sobbed. "I hope he will." "Why?" Maurice lit a cigarette, and sat on the edge of the bed. "We want him to see you at your worst. Why did Pippa let you travel?" "I was supposed to be well." "Hell take you." "Can we come in?" called Ada through the door. "No. Send the doctor alone." "He's here," cried Kitty in the distance. A man, little older than themselves, was announced. "Hullo, Jowitt," said Maurice, rising. "Just cure me this chap. He's had influenza, and is supposed to be well. Result he's fainted, and can't stop crying." "We know all about that," remarked Mr Jowitt, and stuck a thermometer into Clive's mouth. "Been working hard?" "Yes, and now wants to go to Greece." "So he shall. You clear out now. I'll see you downstairs." Maurice obeyed, convinced that Clive was seriously ill. Jowitt followed in about ten minutes, and told Mrs Hall it was nothing much—a bad relapse. He wrote prescriptions, and said he would send in a nurse. Maurice followed him into the garden, and, laying a hand on his arm, said, "Now tell me how ill he is. This isn't a relapse. It's something more. Please tell me the truth." "He'sall right," said the other; somewhat annoyed, for he piqued himself on telling the truth. "I thought you realized that. He's stopped the hysteria and is getting off to sleep. It's just an ordinary relapse. He will have to be more careful this time than the other, that's all." "And how long will these ordinary relapses, as you call them, go on? At any moment may he have this appalling pain?" "He's only a bit uncomfortable—caught a chill in the car, he thinks." "Jowitt, you don't tell me. A grown man doesn't cry, unless he's gone pretty far." "That is only the weakness." "Oh, give it your own name," said Maurice, removing his hand. "Besides, I'm keeping you." "Not a bit, my young friend, I'm here to answer any difficul-ties." "Well, if it's so slight, why are you sending in a nurse?" "To amuse him. I understand he's well off." "And can't we amuse him?" "No, because of the infection. You were there when I told your mother none of you ought to go into the room." "I thought you meant my sisters." "You equally—more, for you've already caught it from him once." "I won't have a nurse." "Mrs Hall has telephoned to the Institute." "Why is everything done in such a damned hurry?" said Maurice, raising his voice. "I shall nurse him myself." "Have you wheeling the baby next." "I beg your pardon?" Jowitt went off laughing. In tones that admitted no argument Maurice told his mother he should sleep in the patient's room. He would not have a bed taken in, lest Clive woke up, but lay down on the floor with his head on a foot-stool, and read by the rays of a candle lamp. Before long Clive stirred and said feebly, "Oh damnation, oh damnation." "Want anything?" Maurice called. "My inside's all wrong." Maurice lifted him out of bed and put him on the night stool. When relief had come he lifted him back. "I can walk: you mustn't do this sort of thing." "You'd do it for me." He carried the stool down the passage and cleaned it. Now that Clive was undignified and weak, he loved him as never before. "You mustn't," repeated Clive, when he came back. "It's too filthy." "Doesn't worry me," said Maurice, lying down. "Get off to sleep again." "The doctor told me he'd send a nurse." "What do you want with a nurse? It's only a touch of diar-rhoea. You can keep on all night as far as I'm concerned. Hon-estly it doesn't worry me—I don't say this to please you. It just doesn't." "I can't possibly—your office—" "Look here, Clive, would you rather have a trained nurse or me? One's coming tonight, but I left word she was to be sent away again, because I'd rather chuck the office and look after you myself, and thought you'd rather." Clive was silent so long that Maurice thought him asleep. At last he sighed, "I suppose I'd better have the nurse." "Right: she will make you more comfortable than I can. Per-haps you're right." Clive made no reply. Ada had volunteered to sit up in the room below, and, accord-ing to arrangement, Maurice tapped three times, and while waiting for her studied Clive's blurred and sweaty face. It was useless the doctor talking: his friend was in agony. He longed to embrace him, but remembered this had brought on the hys-teria, and besides, Clive was restrained, fastidious almost. As Ada did not come he went downstairs, and found that she had fallen asleep. She lay, the picture of health, in a big leather chair, with her hands dropped on either side and her feet stretched out. Her bosom rose and fell, her heavy black hair served as a cushion to her face, and between her lips he saw teeth and a scarlet tongue. "Wake up," he cried irritably. Ada woke. "How do you expect to hear the front door when the nurse comes?" "How is poor Mr Durham?" "Very ill; dangerously ill." "Oh Maurice! Maurice!" "The nurse is to stop. I called you, but you never came. Go off to bed now, as you can't even help that much." "Mother said I must sit up, because the nurse mustn't be let in by a man—it wouldn't look well." "I can't think how you have time to think of such rubbish," said Maurice. "We must keep the house a good name." He was silent, then laughed in the way the girls disliked. At the bottom of their hearts they disliked him entirely, but were too confused mentally to know this. His laugh was the only grievance they avowed. "Nurses are not nice. No nice girl would be a nurse. If they are you may be sure they do not come from nice homes, or they would stop at home." "Ada, how long were you at school?" asked her brother, as he helped himself to a drink. "I call going to school stopping at home." He set down his glass with a clank, and left her. Clive's eyes were open, but he did not speak or seem to know that Maurice had returned, nor did the coming of the nurse arouse him. 克莱夫顺利地通过了出庭辩护律师的考试，然而在取得资格之前，患了轻微的流行性感冒，发起烧来。进入恢复期后，莫瑞斯去探望他时被传染上了，也卧病在床。这样一来，他们二人几个星期没怎么见面。后来好不容易见到了，克莱夫依然脸色苍白，神经紧张。跟皮帕家相比，他更喜欢霍尔家，所以前来小住，希望合口味的食品与安宁会使自己康复。他吃得很少，三句话不离“干什么都是白搭”。 “我做一名出庭辩护律师，为的是将来可能当政治家。”他这么回答艾达向他提的问题。“然而，我当政治家干吗？谁要我呢？” “你母亲说，全郡居民要你。” “全郡居民所要的是个激进党派成员。比起我母亲来，我跟更多的人谈过话。他们对咱们闲居阶级已经不感兴趣了。咱们坐着汽车去转悠，找事做。装腔作势地在各座大宅门之间串来串去，玩的是一场没有欢乐的游戏。除了在英国，没有人这么玩。（莫瑞斯，我要到希腊去。）谁都不需要我们，他们所需要的只是个舒适的家庭而已。” “但是，政治家正在提供舒适的家庭。”吉蒂尖锐刺耳地说。 “是‘正在’呢，还是‘应该’呢？” “喏，这完全是一码事。” …正在’和‘应该’可不是一码事。”艾达的母亲说，由于理解了二者的不同，她很得意。“你们不应该打扰德拉姆先生，你们却……” …正在’。”艾达从旁插嘴，全家人大笑，惹得克莱夫跳了起来。 …正在’和‘应该’，”霍尔太太做出结论，“是截然不同的。” “未必是这样。”克莱夫反驳道。 “未必是这样。你可要记住，吉蒂。”她随声附和，稍微带点儿训斥的口吻。其他时候他并不在乎她说什么。吉蒂仍大声坚称二者是一码事。艾达念念有词，莫瑞斯默不作声。他一向安静地进食，对饭桌上的这种饶舌已习以为常，没有理会他的朋友竟给弄得心烦意乱。等着上菜的时候，他讲了一桩趣闻。大家都默默地倾听。他慢条斯理、笨嘴拙舌地讲着，既不注意措词，也不费心去讲得饶有趣味。克莱夫忽然喊了一声：“啊——我要晕倒啦！”就从椅子上跌下去了。 “拿个枕头来，吉蒂。艾达，科隆香水。”她们的哥哥吩咐道。他松开了克莱夫的领口。“妈，扇扇。不是我，是他……” “多么不中用啊……”克莱夫喃喃地说，话音未落，莫瑞斯吻了他一下。 “这会儿我完全好了。” 姑娘们和一个仆人跑了进来。 “我能走路啦。”他说，他的脸恢复了血色。 “绝没有好。”霍尔太太叫喊。“莫瑞斯抱你去——德拉姆先生，用胳膊搂住莫瑞斯．” “来吧，老兄。请大夫，谁去打个电话。”他抱起朋友，克莱夫虚弱地哭泣起来。 “莫瑞斯，我是个蠢材。” “就做个蠢材好了。”莫瑞斯说，并把克莱夫抱上楼去，替他脱衣服，让他唾在床上。霍尔太太敲了敲门，他迎出去，快嘴快舌地说：“妈，您不必告诉旁人我吻过德拉姆。” “哦，当然不告诉。” “他不喜欢这样。我六神无主，连想都没想一下就这么做了。您知道，我们是挚友，几乎是亲戚。” 这就够了。她喜欢与儿子分享一些小秘密，这使她忆起过去的岁月，对他而言，那时她曾是无上宝贵的。艾达送来了一个热水袋。他接住，进屋拎到病人床头。 “让大夫瞧见我这副德行。”克莱夫呜咽地说。 “我但愿他能瞧见。” “为什么？” 莫瑞斯点燃一支香烟，坐在床边上。“我们要他看看你最糟糕的样子。为什么皮帕让你去旅行？” “我被认为已经康复了。” “见鬼。” “我们能进去吗？”艾达隔着门大声问道。 “不能。请大夫一个人进来。” “他就在这儿。”吉蒂在远处叫喊。报过名字后，一个比他们大不了多少的人进来了。 “你好，乔伊特。”莫瑞斯边起身边招呼。“替我把这家伙治好了吧。他患了流行性感冒，被认为已经痊愈了。结果晕倒了，一个劲儿地哭。” “这是常有的情况。”乔伊特先生说，并把一支体温计插到克莱夫嘴里。“是不是劳累过度呢？” “可不是嘛。如今说是想去希腊。” “啊，可以去。现在你先出去吧，待会儿我到楼下去见你。” 莫瑞斯听从了他的话，克莱夫想必病得很重。过了大约十分钟，乔伊特出来了，并告诉霍尔太太没什么大不了的——旧病复发而已。他开了处方，说要派个护士来。莫瑞斯尾随他到庭园里，将手放在大夫的胳膊上说：“现在告诉我，他病得多么厉害。这不是旧病复发，还有什么其他的，请告诉我真实情况。” “他不要紧的。”大夫说。他一向以说实话而自负，所以弄得有些心烦。“我以为你已经领悟了这一点。癔病不再发作了，他快要入睡了。这是司空见惯的旧病复发，这一次他可得比上一次当心，如此而已。” “你所说的这种司空见惯的旧病复发会拖延多久呢？他是不是随时都可能遭受这种骇人的痛苦呢？” “他只不过是有点儿不舒服——他认为是在车子里患上了感冒。” “乔伊特，你别对我这么说。一个成年人是不会哭的，除非已经相当严重了。” “只不过是虚弱罢了。” “哦，你怎么说都行，”莫瑞斯边说边把手移开。“而且我正在耽搁你。” “一点儿关系也没有，我的年轻朋友，我等着解答你的任何难胚。” “喏，倘若病情轻，你为什么派护士来呢？” “好让他开心呗。我知道他手头宽裕。” “难道我们就不能让他开心吗？” “哪里的话。因为怕传染啊。我曾告诉过你母亲，你们都不应该走进病房，可那时你已经待在里边了。” “我还以为你指的是我的妹妹们呢。” “你也一样——尤其是你，因为你已经被他传染过一次了。” “我不要护士。” “霍尔太太已经给护士站打电话了。” “为什么一切都他妈的赶成这个样子？”莫瑞斯提高了嗓门说，“我自个儿护理他。” “下一步你就该把孩子放在婴儿车里推着走了。” “请问，你说什么？” 乔伊特放声大笑，扬长而去。 莫瑞斯用不容置疑的口吻告诉母亲，他必须睡在病房里。由于怕吵醒克莱夫，他没让人把床搬进去，却头枕脚凳，卧在地板上，借着烛光读书。过一会儿，克莱夫蠕动起来，有气无力地说：“啊，该死。啊，该死。” “你要什么？”莫瑞斯呼唤道。 “我闹肚子啦。” 莫瑞斯把他从床上抱下来，扶他坐在便桶上。不一会儿，又将他抱回去。 “我能走路。你不该做这种事。” “你也会为我这么做的。” 他把便桶端到走廊尽头，冲洗干净。现在克莱夫既不体面又虚弱，他比任何时候都爱这个朋友。 “你不应该这样。”当他回来的时候，克莱夫把话重复了一遍。“太脏了。” “我才不在乎呢。”莫瑞斯边躺下去边说，“再接着睡吧。” “大夫告诉我，他要派个护士来。” “你要护士干吗？只不过是轻微的腹泻而已。就我而言，你可以整宿泻个不停。老实说，我并不在乎——我不是为了使你高兴才这么说的。我就是不在乎。” “我总不能——你还得去上班呢——” “喂，克莱夫，你是宁愿要一位熟练的护士，还是要我呢？今天晚上预定来一位，可我已经留下话，来了就把她打发走。因为我情愿不去上班，自个儿照看你。我还认为你也愿意这样呢。” 克莱夫沉默良久，莫瑞斯甚至以为他睡着了。他终于叹了口气说：“我想，还是宁可要护士。” “好的。她比我更能使你舒适一些。也许你是对的。” 克莱夫没有回答。 艾达自告奋勇在楼下的房间里守夜，莫瑞斯就按照预先谈好的敲了三下地板。等候她上楼的时候，他审视着克莱夫那张模糊不清、汗津津的脸。大夫那么说也是白搭，他的朋友苦恼不堪。他很想拥抱克莱夫，却又想起那曾使克莱夫的癔病发作，何况克莱夫一向是有所克制的，几乎到了洁癖的程度。艾达没有来，他就下楼去了，发现她睡得正熟。她躺在一把大皮椅上，双臂耷拉下来，伸出两只脚．俨然是健康的化身。她的胸脯一起一伏，浓密乌黑的头发充当了面庞的靠垫，嘴唇略启，露出皓齿与鲜红的舌头。“醒一醒。”他急躁地喊叫。 艾达醒过来了。 “像你这样，护士来的时候，你怎么听得见大门的响动呢？” “可怜的德拉姆先生怎么样啦？” “病得很重，病到危险的程度。” “哦，莫瑞斯！莫瑞斯！” “护士嘛，得留下来。我叫你来着，可你总也不来。去睡吧，因为你连这么一点儿忙也帮不上。” “妈妈说我必须守夜。因为护士不应该由男人领进去——那不雅观。” “我简直不能想象你们居然有时间考虑这么无聊的事。”莫瑞斯说。 “我们必须维护家庭的好名声。” 他没吭声，接着以妹妹们厌恶的样子笑了。她们的内心深处极不喜欢他。然而她们思想太混乱，并不曾觉察出这一点。她们惟一公开抱怨的是他这种笑法。 “护士没有教养，任何有教养的姑娘都不会去当护士。即使她们本人有教养，你也能肯定她们不是出身于有教养的家庭，否则她们会待在家里。” “艾达，你上过几年学校？”哥哥一边斟酒一边问。 “我把上学叫做待在家里。” 他“咔嗒”一声将玻璃杯放下来，离开了她。克莱夫睁着眼睛，却没有说话，好像也不知道莫瑞斯已经回来了。甚至护士抵达，也没使他苏醒。 |
Chapter 19 By this time their families had become acquainted. "They will never get on," they had agreed. "They belong to different sections of society." But, perhaps out of per-versity, the families did get on, and Clive and Maurice found amusement in seeing them together. Both were misogynists, Clive especially. In the grip of their temperaments, they had not developed the imagination to do duty instead, and during their love women had become as remote as horses or cats; all that the creatures did seemed silly. When Kitty asked to hold Pippa's baby, when Mrs Durham and Mrs Hall visited the Royal Academy in unison, they saw a misfit in nature rather than in society, and gave wild explanations. There was nothing strange really: they themselves were sufficient cause. Their passion for each other was the strongest force in either family, and drew everything after it as a hidden current draws a boat. Mrs Hall and Mrs Durham came together because their sons were friends; "and now," said Mrs Hall, "we are friends too." Maurice was present the day their "friendship" began. The matrons met in Pippa's London house. Pippa had married a Mr London, a coincidence that made a great impression on Kitty, who hoped she would not think of it and laugh during tea. Ada, as too silly for a first visit, had been left at home by Maurice's advice. Nothing happened. Then Pippa and her mother motored out to return the civility. He was in town but again nothing seemed to have happened, except that Pippa had praised Kitty's brains to Ada and Ada's beauty to Kitty, thus offending both girls, and Mrs Hall had warned Mrs Durham against installing hot air at Penge. Then they met again, and as far as he could see it was always like this; nothing, nothing, and still nothing. Mrs Durham had of course her motives. She was looking out wives for Clive, and put down the Hall girls on her list. She had a theory one ought to cross breeds a bit, and Ada, though sub-urban, was healthy. No doubt the girl was a fool, but Mrs Dur-ham did not propose to retire to the dower house in practice, whatever she might do in theory, and believed she could best manage Clive through his wife. Kitty had fewer qualifications. She was less foolish, less beautiful, and less rich. Ada would inherit the whole of her grandfather's fortune, which was con-siderable, and had always inherited his good humour. Mrs Dur-ham met old Mr Grace once, and rather liked him. Had she supposed the Halls were also planning she would have drawn back. Like Maurice they held her by their indiffer-ence. Mrs Hall was too idle to scheme, the girls too innocent. Mrs Durham regarded Ada as a favourable line and invited her to Penge. Only Pippa, into whose mind a breath of modernity had blown, began to think her brother's coldness odd. "Clive,are you going to marry?" she asked suddenly. But his reply, "No, do tell mother," dispelled her suspicions: it is the sort of reply a man who is going to marry would make. No one worried Maurice. He had established his power at home, and his mother began to speak of him in the tones she had reserved for her husband. He was not only the son of the house, but more of a personage than had been expected. He kept the servants in order, understood the car, subscribed to this and not to that, tabooed certain of the girls' acquaintances. By twenty-three he was a promising suburban tyrant, whose rule was the stronger because it was fairly just and mild. Kitty protested, but she had no backing and no experience. In the end she had to say she was sorry and to receive a kiss. She was no match for this good-humoured and slightly hostile young man, and she failed to establish the advantage that his escapade at Cambridge had given her. Maurice's habits became regular. He ate a large breakfast and caught the 8.36 to town. In the train he read theDaily Tele-graph. He worked till 1.0, lunched lightly, and worked again through the afternoon. Returning home, he had some exercise and a large dinner, and in the evening he read the evening paper, or laid down the law, or played billiards or bridge. But every Wednesday he slept at Clive's little flat in town. Weekends were also inviolable. They said at home, "You must never interfere with Maurice's Wednesdays or with his week-ends. He would be most annoyed." 这时候两家人已经互相认识了。 “他们是绝对处不好的。”在这一点上，克莱夫和莫瑞斯的意见一致。“他们属于不同的社会阶层嘛。”然而，正相反，两家人居然意气相投，克莱夫和莫瑞斯看到他们济济一堂，觉得好笑。他们二人都憎恶女子，尤其是克莱夫。他们本性难移，连想都没想到过应该反过来尽点儿义务。他们沉浸在爱河中的时候，女眷变得跟马和猫一样疏远，她们不论做什么，都显得傻里傻气。吉蒂要求抱抱皮帕的婴儿，德拉姆太太和霍尔太太一同去参观皇家学院（译注：指皇家戏剧艺术学院。伦敦一所由国家资助的最古老的戏剧学校。1904年由演员兼导演H.B.特里爵士创建，次年迁至高尔大街。），他们都认为这与其说是社会阶层不同，毋宁说是阴错阳差地将不同性格的人扭到一块儿去了，于是胡乱加以解释。其实一点儿都不奇怪，他们本人就是充足的推动力。他们之间的强烈感情成了维系两家人的结结实实的纽带，犹如暗流拖着一艘船一般，拖曳着一切。霍尔太太与德拉姆太太因为儿子们是朋友才走到一起来的。“如今，”霍尔太太说，“我们也成了朋友。” 她们之间的“友谊”开始那天，莫瑞斯也在场。夫人们是在皮帕那坐落于伦敦的住宅里见面的。皮帕嫁给了一位姓伦敦的先生。这一巧合给吉蒂留下了深刻印象，但愿自己可别在喝茶的时候想起这件事笑起来。遵照莫瑞斯的意见，艾达被留在家里，因为就初次拜访而言，她太愚蠢。什么事也没发生。然后，皮帕和她母亲坐汽车回拜。当时他在伦敦，好像还是什么事都没发生。只不过皮帕向艾达夸赞吉蒂的脑子灵，又对吉蒂赞扬艾达长得漂亮，从而把两个姑娘都得罪了。霍尔太太则提醒德拉姆太太，可别在彭杰装暖气设备。接着，她们又见了面。据他所知，总是这样：什么都没发生，依然没发生任何事。 德拉姆太太当然有她的动机。她正在为克莱夫物色妻子，于是将霍尔家的姑娘们列在自己的名单上。她有一套理论，认为血统应该杂一些，而艾达呢，尽管土里土气，却很健康。毫无疑问，这姑娘脑子不好使，然而德拉姆太太不论在口头上怎么说，实际上无意引退到寡妇房里去。她相信，最宜通过克莱夫的妻子来操纵他。吉蒂的资格就差一些了。她没那么笨，没那么漂亮，也没那么富有。艾达将来会继承外祖父的全部财产，相当可观，与生俱来的好脾气也得自外祖父的遗传。德拉姆太太跟格雷斯先生有一面之缘，她颇喜欢他。 倘若她揣测霍尔一家人也有所企图，她会打退堂鼓的。她们跟莫瑞斯一样冷漠，从而把她吸引住了。霍尔太太过于怠惰，不会出谋划策，姑娘们太天真无邪。德拉姆太太认为艾达的门第好，就邀请她到彭杰去做客。惟独皮帕，由于受了些许现代化的洗礼，开始觉得她哥哥的冷淡简直是古怪。“克莱夫，你打算结婚吗？”她冷不防问道。然而他回答的那句“不，务必去告诉母亲”，消除了她的疑虑。这正是有意结婚的男人会说的话。 没有人来烦扰莫瑞斯。他在家中确立了自己的权力，母亲开始用对丈夫的那种口吻说话。他不仅是这一家的嫡子，还成了一位名士，这是人们所始料未及的。他把仆人们管理得井然有序，对汽车的事一清二楚，赞成这个，不同意那个，禁止妹妹们与某些相识者来往。在二十三岁时，他成了伦敦郊外的中产家庭一名前途远大的暴君，由于他的统治相当公正宽容，也就更稳固。吉蒂反抗过，然而没人支持她，又缺乏经验，最后她只好道歉，被哥哥吻了一下。她可不是这个态度友好、稍微怀点儿敌意的青年的对手。他在剑桥时的那次越轨行为曾使她占过上风，她却未能巧妙地加以利用。 莫瑞斯的日常生活变得很有规律。他吃上一顿丰盛的早餐，乘八点三十六分的火车赴伦敦，在车上读《每日电讯报》。他工作到一点，午餐吃得很少，再整整工作一个下午。回家后，做些轻微的运动，饱餐一顿。傍晚读晚报，发号施令，要么就打台球，或玩桥牌。 每逢星期三他就在克莱夫那坐落于伦敦的小套房过夜，周末也同样是不可侵犯的。女眷们在家里念叨：“你可千万别干预莫瑞斯的星期三或周末。他会被惹恼到极点。” |
Chapter 18 During the next two years Maurice and Clive had as much happiness as men under that star can expect. They were affectionate and consistent by nature, and, thanks to Clive, extremely sensible. Clive knew that ecstasy cannot last, but can carve a channel for something lasting, and he contrived a relation that proved permanent. If Maurice made love it was Clive who preserved it, and caused its rivers to water the gar' den. He could not bear that one drop should be wasted, either in bitterness or in sentimentality, and as time went on they abstained from avowals ("we have said everything") and almost from caresses. Their happiness was to be together; they radiated something of their calm amongst others, and could take their place in society. Clive had expanded in this direction ever since he had under-stood Greek. The love that Socrates bore Phaedo now lay within his reach, love passionate but temperate, such as only finer na-tures can understand, and he found in Maurice a nature that was not indeed fine, but charmingly willing. He led the beloved up a narrow and beautiful path, high above either abyss. It went on until the final darkness—he could see no other terror—and when that descended they would at all events have lived more fully than either saint or sensualist, and would have extracted to their utmost the nobility and sweetness of the world. He edu-cated Maurice, or rather his spirit educated Maurice's spirit, for they themselves became equal. Neither thought "Am I led; am I leading?" Love had caught him out of triviality and Maurice out of bewilderment in order that two imperfect souls might touch perfection. So they proceeded outwardly like other men. Society received them, as she receives thousands like them. Behind Society slum-bered the Law. They had their last year at Cambridge together, they travelled in Italy. Then the prison house closed, but on both of them. Clive was working for the bar, Maurice harnessed to an office. They were together still. 这之后两年期间，莫瑞斯和克莱夫将星宿下的男人所能指望的幸福都弄到了手。他们是天生的情种，始终如一。多亏克莱夫还非常明智。克莱夫明白，狂热不能持久，他却能为耐久的东西开辟渠道，并想方设法把两人的关系安排得绵延不绝。倘若创造爱的是莫瑞斯，维护爱的就是克莱夫，他用爱之流滋润两人的庭园。他连一滴也不忍心把它浪费在讥讽或感伤上。随着岁月的流逝，他们克制自己，不再信誓旦旦了（“咱们已经把话说尽了”），爱抚也几乎完全抑制了。两人只要待在一起，就沉浸在幸福中。与旁人共处时，他们是平静的，得以在社会上确保自己的位置。 克莱夫自从通晓希腊文以来，就朝这个方向发展。苏格拉底对斐多（译注：苏格拉底（约公元前470-前399）古希腊三大哲人中的第一位。他和柏拉图、亚里士多德共同奠定了西方文化的哲学基础。斐多（约公元前417-?）哲学家。出身于贵族家庭，在对斯巴达的战争(公元前400-前399)中被俘，卖为奴隶。苏格拉底的一个友人将他买下后释放．于是他成为苏格拉底的学生。柏拉图的一篇对话以他的名字命名。苏格拉底去世后．斐多返回埃利斯，创办学校。）所抱有的那种爱，他伸手就够得着。这是一种充满激情却又有节制的爱，只有气质典雅者才能理解。克莱夫在莫瑞斯身上所找到的气质，说得确切些，够不上典雅，然而心甘情愿得可爱。他引导自己所钟爱的人沿着美丽的窄径高高地向上攀，两侧是深渊。此径一直延伸到黑暗的终点。除此而外，他无所畏惧。当黑暗降临之际，反正他们业已度过了比圣徒或纵欲者都充实得多的生涯，尽情地索取了尘世的崇高与甘美。他教育了莫瑞斯，或者毋宁说是他的精神教育了莫瑞斯的精神，因为他们已经在平等相处了。谁也不去琢磨：“我究竟是在引导，还是被引导着呢？”为了使两颗并不完美的灵魂臻于完美，爱把他从平庸中捞出来，又把莫瑞斯从困惑中捞出来。 于是，表面上他们跟旁人一样生活下去。社会接受了他们，犹如接受成千上万他们这类的人。法律在社会背后安睡。他们一道在剑桥度过最后一年，接着到意大利去旅行。随后，牢门关上了，两个人都被关在里面。克莱夫为了取得出庭辩护律师的资格而深造，莫瑞斯到证券公司去工作。二人依然在一起。 |
Chapter 17 It seems strange that Maurice should have won any respect from the Durham family, but they did not dislike him. They only disliked people who wanted to know them well—it was a positive mania—and the rumour that a man wished to enter county society was a sufficient reason for ex-cluding him from it. Inside (region of high interchange and dignified movements that meant nothing) were to be found several who, like Mr Hall, neither loved their fate nor feared it, and would depart without a sigh if necessary. The Durhams felt they were conferring a favour on him by treating him as one of themselves, yet were pleased he should take it as a matter of course, gratitude being mysteriously connected in their minds with ill breeding. Wanting only his food and his friend, Maurice did not observe he was a success, and was surprised when the old lady claimed him for a talk towards the end of his visit. She had questioned him about his family and discovered the riakedness thereof, but this time her manner was deferential: she wanted his opinion of Clive. "Mr Hall, we wish you to help us: Clive thinks so much of you. Do you consider it wise for him to stop up a fourth year at Cambridge?" Maurice was wanting to wonder which horse he should ride in the afternoon: he only half attended, which gave an appear-ance of profundity. "After the deplorable exhibition he has made of himself in the Tripos—is it wise?" "He means to," said Maurice. Mrs Durham nodded. "There you have gone to the root of the matter. Clive means to. Well, he is his own master. This place is his. Did he tell you?" "No." "Oh, Penge is his absolutely, under my husband's will. I must move to the dower house as soon as he marries—" Maurice started; she looked at him and saw that he had col-oured. "So thereis some girl," she thought. Neglecting the point for a moment, she returned to Cambridge, and observed how little a fourth year would profit a "yokel"—she used the word with gay assurance—and how desirable it was that Clive should take his place in the countryside. There was the game, there were his tenants, there were finally politics. "His father repre-sented the division, as you doubtless know." "No." "What does he talk to you about?" she laughed. "Anyhow, my husband was a member for seven years, and though a Lib is in now, one knows that cannot last. All our old friends are looking to him. But he must take his place, he must fit himself, and what on earth is the good of all this—I forget what—advanced work. He ought to spend the year travelling instead. He must go to America and if possible the Colonies. It has become absolutely indispensable." "He speaks of travelling after Cambridge. He wants me to "Itrust you will—but not Greece, Mr Hall. That is travelling for play. Do dissuade him from Italy and Greece." "I'd prefer America myself." "Naturally—anyone sensible would; but he's a student—a dreamer—Pippa says he writes verse. Have you seen any?" Maurice had seen a poem to himself. Conscious that life grew daily more amazing, he said nothing. Was he the same man who eight months back had been puzzled by Risley? What had deep-ened his vision? Section after section the armies of humanity were coming alive. Alive, but slightly absurd; they misunder-stoodhim so utterly: they exposed their weakness when they thought themselves most acute. He could not help smiling. "You evidently have . . ." Then suddenly "Mr Hall, is there anyone? Some Newnham girl? Pippa declares there is." "Pippa had better ask then," Maurice replied. Mrs Durham was impressed. He had met one impertinence with another. Who would have expected such skill in a young man? He seemed even indifferent to his victory, and was smil-ing to one of the other guests, who approached over the lawn to tea. In the tones that she reserved for an equal she said, "Im-press on him about America anyhow. He needs reality. I noticed that last year." Maurice duly impressed, when they were riding through the glades alone. "I thought you were going down," was Clive's comment. "Like them. They wouldn't look at Joey." Clive was in full reaction against his family, he hated the worldliness that they combined with complete ignorance of the World. "These children will be a nuisance," he remarked during a canter. "What children?" "Mine! The need of an heir for Penge. My mother calls it marriage, but that was all she was thinking of." Maurice was silent. It had not occurred to him before that neither he nor his friend would leave life behind them. "I shall be worried eternally. They've always some girl stay-ing in the house as it is." "Just go on growing old—" "Eh, boy?" "Nothing," said Maurice, and reined up. An immense sadness —he believed himself beyond such irritants—had risen up in his soul. He and the beloved would vanish utterly—would con-tinue neither in Heaven nor on Earth. They had won past the conventions, but Nature still faced them, saying with even voice, "Very well, you are thus; I blame none of my children. But you must go the way of all sterility." The thought that he was sterile weighed on the young man with a sudden shame. His mother or Mrs Durham might lack mind or heart, but they had done visible work; they had handed on the torch their sons would tread out. He had meant not to trouble Clive, but out it all came as soon as they lay down in the fern. Clive did not agree. "Why chil-dren?" he asked. "Why always children? For love to end where it begins is far more beautiful, and Nature knows it." "Yes, but if everyone—" Clive pulled him back into themselves. He murmured some-thing about Eternity in an hour: Maurice did not understand, but the voice soothed him. 莫瑞斯能够赢得德拉姆家族的敬意似乎是奇妙的，他们并不讨厌他。他们只厌恶——而且简直到了偏执狂的程度——那些想跟他们套交情的人；倘若风传某人希望进入乡绅社交界，就有足够的理由对他施以闭门羹。在内部（这是由高姿态的礼尚往来与威严的举止构成的领域，毫无意义）能找到几位像霍尔先生这样的人：对他们的好运抱着不卑不亢的态度，必要的时候就告辞，连气都不叹一声。德拉姆家族认为，把他当作家庭成员之一予以招待，是对他赏光，他处之泰然，这又中了他们的意。在他们的心目中，表示谢意莫名其妙地是与缺乏教养联系在一起的。 莫瑞斯所要的只是食物和他的友人，对自己取得的成功浑然不觉。当他的逗留期即将结束时，老夫人要求跟他谈一次话，使他吃了一惊。关于他的家族，她早就讯问过，已了如指掌。然而这一次，她是谦逊地对待他的：关于克莱夫，她想听听他的意见。 “霍尔先生，我们想请你帮帮忙。克莱夫非常看重你。你认为他在剑桥待上第四年，这明智吗？” 莫瑞斯满脑子都是下午该骑哪匹马的事，所以心不在焉，但却显出很深沉的样子。 “这可是在文学士学位考试时当众出丑之后啊——这明智吗？” “他要这么做。”莫瑞斯说。 德拉姆夫人点了点头。“你这是一语破的。克莱夫要这么做。喏，他是不受任何人牵制的。这份家当是他的，他告诉过你吗？” “没有。” “根据我丈夫的遗嘱，彭杰全部归他所有。只要他一结婚，我就搬到寡妇房里去……” 莫瑞斯吃了一惊。她看了看他，发现他双颊通红。“那么，有女友了。”她猜测。她姑且把这个话题撇开，又回到剑桥上，说对一个“乡巴佬”——她是爽朗、满怀信心地使用这个词的——而言，念第四年书，益处太少了。要是克莱夫在乡间占有他自己的位置，那该多么可心啊。这里有猎场，有他那些佃户，最后还有政治。“他父亲代表这个选区参加了议会，你肯定是知道的。” “不知道。” “他都跟你谈些什么呀？”她笑了。“不管怎样，我丈夫担任过七年议员。尽管眼下自由党在当政，谁都知道不会持续很久。我们所有的老朋友统统指望着他，但他务必占有自己的位置，务必适应下来。这一切——它叫什么来着——研究院什么的，到底有什么用呢？他应该去旅行一年。他必须到美国去一趟，如果可能的话，再到那些殖民地去转转。已经到了势在必行的地步。” “他说，从剑桥毕业之后就去旅行。他要我一起去。” “我相信你们会去的——可别到希腊去，霍尔先生。那是娱乐之旅。千万劝阻他，别去意大利和希腊。” “我本人也更喜欢美国。” “当然喽——任何一个通情达理的人都会如此；但他是个学者——一个空想家——皮帕说他还写诗呢。你看到过吗？” 莫瑞斯看到过献给他本人的一首诗。他察觉到生活日益变得令人惊异，于是默不作声。八个月以前，里斯利曾使他大惑不解，难道自己仍是同一个人吗？究竟是什么扩大了他的视野呢？生气勃勃的人一群群地出现在他的视野里。生气勃勃，然而有点儿愚蠢。他们彻头彻尾误解了他。他们自以为最敏锐的时候，暴露了弱点。他不禁面泛微笑。 “你显然看到过……”接着，她突然说，“霍尔先生，他有什么人吗？是纽恩汉姆（译注：小说的时代背景为20世纪初期。除了纽恩汉姆学院（建于1871年）以外，剑桥大学的各所学院当时只收男生。以后又为女子创立了新大厅学院（建于1954年）和露西·卡文迪什学院（建于1965年）。这三所学院至今只收女生。到1987年为止，其他28所学院已陆续改为男女合校。）的姑娘吗？皮帕说他有个女友。” “那么，皮帕最好还是问一句。”莫瑞斯回答。 德拉姆夫人对他感到钦佩。他出言不逊，以反击不逊。谁料得到一个年轻人会有这样的本领呢？他对自己取得的胜利甚至显得满不在乎，正朝一个在此小住的宾客微笑。那人沿着草坪走过来喝茶。她用对待与自己地位相等者的口吻说：“你好歹让他牢牢记住美国吧，他需要的是现实。去年我就注意到了这一点。” 当他们双双骑马穿越林中空地的时候，莫瑞斯尽量让他对美国留下印象。 “我觉得你变得俗气了。”克莱夫批评他说，“跟他们一样，他们对乔伊是不屑一顾的。”克莱夫对自己的家族是完完全全抗拒的。他们把名利心与丝毫不谙世事融为一体，他恨透了这一点。“孩子们也够麻烦的。”当马放慢了速度的时候，他说。 “什么孩子？” “我的呀！彭杰这份家当，需要一个继承人。我母亲把这叫做婚姻，她脑子里转的全是这个念头。” 莫瑞斯沉默了。他从来没有想过自己或是这个朋友会留下后代。 “我会有无休止的烦恼。就像这样，总是有个什么姑娘在家里小住。” “逐渐变老而已……” “你说什么，老弟？” “没什么。”莫瑞斯说罢，勒紧缰绳停住了。他的心中充满了极度的悲伤。他原以为自己不会再有这样的激情了。他和他心爱的人将会消失殆尽。他们的灵魂不会升天，也不会在世上留下子孙。他们胜利地摈弃了习俗，但是大自然依然面对着他们，用冷酷无情的噪音说：“很好，你们就是这样的；我不责备自己的任何孩子。不过，你们得沿着所有不育者的路走下去。”当这个年轻人想到自己竟没有后代时，猛然地羞愧难当。他的母亲或德拉姆太太也许不够聪明，感情贫乏，但她们完成了肉眼看得见的工作。她们将生命的火炬传给了自己的儿子，他们却会把火踩灭。 他无意伤害克莱夫的感情，然而他们刚在羊齿丛中躺下来，他就说出了自己的想法。克莱夫并不同意，“为什么提起孩子？”他问。“为什么老是孩子？爱嘛，在哪儿开始就在哪儿结束，那要美得多，大自然也明白这一点。” “对，但是如果人人都……” 克莱夫把他拖回到他们自己的事情上来。他叽叽咕咕地说什么永恒寓于一小时之内。莫瑞斯没有听懂，克莱夫的嗓音却使他得到抚慰。 |
Chapter 16 TheDurhams lived in a remote part of England on the Wilts and Somerset border. Though not an old family they had held land for four generations, and its influence had passed into them. Clive's great-great-uncle had been Lord Chief Justice in the reign of George IV,and the nest he had feathered was Penge. The feathers were inclined to blow about now. A hundred years had nibbled into the fortune, which no wealthy bride had replenished, and both house and estate were marked, not indeed with decay, but with the immobility that precedes it. The house lay among woods. A park, still ridged with the lines of vanished hedges, stretched around, giving light and air and pasture to horses and Alderney cows. Beyond it the trees began, most planted by old Sir Edwin, who had annexed the common lands. There were two entrances to the park, one up by the village, the other on the clayey road that went to the station. There had been no station in the old days, and the ap-proach from it, which was undignified and led by the back premises, typified an afterthought of England's. Maurice arrived in the evening. He had travelled straight from his grandfather's at Birmingham, where, rather tepidly, he had come of age. Though in disgrace, he had not been mulcted of his presents, but they were given and received without enthusiasm. He had looked forward so much to being twenty-one. Kitty implied that he did not enjoy it because he had gone to the bad. Quite nicely he pinched her ear for this and kissed her, which annoyed her a good deal. "You have nosense of things," she said crossly. He smiled. From Alfriston Gardens, with its cousins and meat teas, the change to Penge was immense. County families, even when in-telligent, have something alarming about them, and Maurice approached any seat with awe. True, Clive had met him and was with him in the brougham, but then so was a Mrs Sheep-shanks, who had arrived by his train. Mrs Sheepshanks had a maid, following behind with her luggage and his in a cab, and he wondered whether he ought to have brought a servant too. The lodge gate was held by a little girl. Mrs Sheepshanks wishedeveryone curtsied. Clive trod on his foot when she said this, but he wasn't sure whether accidentally. He was sure of nothing. When they approached he mistook the back for the front, and prepared to open the door. Mrs Sheepshanks said, "Oh, but that's complimentary." Besides, there was a butler to open the door. Tea, very bitter, was awaiting them, and Mrs Durham looked one way while she poured out the other. People stood about, all looking distinguished or there for some distinguished reason. They were doing things or causing others to do them: Miss Durham booked him to canvass tomorrow for Tariff Reform. They agreed politically; but the cry with which she greeted his alliance did not please him. "Mother, Mr Hallis sound." Major Western, a cousin also stopping in the house, would ask him about Cambridge. Did Army men mind one being sent down? . . . No, it was worse than the restaurant, for there Clive had been out of his element too. "Pippa, does Mr Hall know his room?" 'The Blue Room, mama." "The one with no fireplace," called Clive. "Show him up." He was seeing off some callers. Miss Durham passed Maurice on to the butler. They went up a side staircase. Maurice saw the main flight to the right, and wondered whether he was being slighted. His room was small, furnished cheaply. It had no outlook. As he knelt down to un-pack, a feeling of Sunnington came over him, and he deter-mined, while he was at Penge, to work through all his clothes. They shouldn't suppose he was unfashionable; he was as good as anyone. But he had scarcely reached this conclusion when Clive rushed in with the sunlight behind him. "Maurice, I shall kiss you," he said, and did so. "Where—what's through there?" "Our study—" He was laughing, his expression wild and radi-ant. "Oh, so that's why—" "Maurice! Maurice! you've actually come. You're here. This place'll never seem the same again, I shall love it at last." "It's jolly for me coming," said Maurice chokily: the sudden rush of joy made his head swim. "Go on unpacking. So I arranged it on purpose. We're up this staircase by ourselves. It's as like college as I could manage." "It's better." "I really feel it will be." There was a knock on the passage door. Maurice started, but Clive though still sitting on his shoulder said, "Come in!" indif-ferently. A housemaid entered with hot water. "Except for meals we need never be in the other part of the house," he continued. "Either here or out of doors. Jolly, eh? I've a piano." He drew him into the study. "Look at the view. You may shoot rabbits out of this window. By the way, if my mother or Pippa tells you at dinner that they want you to do this or that tomorrow, you needn't worry. Say 'yes' to them if you like. You're actually going to ride with me, and they know it. It's only their ritual. On Sunday, when you haven't been to church they'll pretend afterwards you were there." "But I've no proper riding breeches." "I can't associate with you in that case," said Clive and bounded off. When Maurice returned to the drawing-room he felt he had a greater right to be there than anyone. He walked up to Mrs Sheepshanks, opened his mouth before she could open hers, and was encouraging to her. He took his place in the absurd octet that was forming to go in—Clive and Mrs Sheepshanks, Major Western and another woman, another man and Pippa, himself and his hostess. She apologized for the smallness of the party. "Not at all," said Maurice, and saw Clive glance at him mali-ciously: he had used the wrong tag. Mrs Durham then put him. through his paces, but he did not care a damn whether he satis-fied her or not. She had her son's features and seemed equally able, though not equally sincere. He understood why Clive should have come to despise her. After dinner the men smoked, then joined the ladies. It was a suburban evening, but with a difference; these people had the air of settling something: they either just had arranged or soon would rearrange England. Yet the gate posts, the roads—he had noticed them on the way up—were in bad repair, and the timber wasn't kept properly, the windows stuck, the boards creaked. He was less impressed than he had expected by Penge. When the ladies retired Clive said, "Maurice, you look sleepy too." Maurice took the hint, and five minutes afterwards they met again in the study, with all the night to talk into. They lit their pipes. It was the first time they had experienced full tran- quillity together, and exquisite words would be spoken. They knew this, yet scarcely wanted to begin. "I'll tell you my latest now," said Clive. "As soon as I got home I had a row with mother and told her I should stop up a fourth year." Maurice gave a cry. "What's wrong?" "I've been sent down." "But you're coming back in October." "I'm not. Cornwallis said I must apologize, and I wouldn't— I thought you wouldn't be up, so I didn't care." "And I settled to stop because I thought you would be up. Comedy of Errors." Maurice stared gloomily before him. "Comedy of Errors, not Tragedy. You can apologize now." "It's too late." Clive laughed. "Why too late? It makes it simpler. You didn't like to apologize until the term in which your offence was com-mitted had come to an end. 'Dear Mr Cornwallis: Now that the term is over, I venture to write to you.' I'll draft the letter tomor-row." Maurice pondered and finally exclaimed, "Clive, you're a devil." "I'm a bit of an outlaw, I grant, but it serves these people right. As long as they talk of the unspeakable vice of the Greeks they can't expect fair play. It served my mother right when I slipped up to kiss you before dinner. She would have no mercy if she knew, she wouldn't attempt, wouldn't want to attempt to understand that I feel to you as Pippa to her fiance, only far more nobly, far more deeply, body and soul, no starved medie-valism of course, only a—a particular harmony of body and soul that I don't think women have even guessed. But you know." "Yes. I'll apologize." There was a long interval: they discussed the motor bicycle, which had never been heard of again. Clive made coffee. "Tell me, what made you wake me that night after the Debat-ing Society. Describe." "I kept on thinking of something to say, and couldn't, so at last I couldn't even think, so I just came." "Sort of thing you would do." "Are you ragging?" asked Maurice shyly. "My God!" There was a silence. "Tell me now about the night I first came up. Why did you make us both so unhappy?" "I don't know, I say. I can't explain anything. Why did you mislead me with that rotten Plato? I was still in a muddle. A lot of things hadn't joined up in me that since have." "But hadn't you been getting hold of me for months? Since first you saw me at Risley's, in fact." "Don't ask me." "It's a queer business, any way." "It's that." Clive laughed delightedly, and wriggled in his chair. "Mau-rice, the more I think it over the more certain I am that it's you who are the devil." "Oh, all right." "I should have gone through life half awake if you'd had the decency to leave me alone. Awake intellectually, yes, and emo-tionally in a way; but here—" He pointed with his pipe stem to his heart; and both smiled. "Perhaps we woke up one another. I like to think that any way." "When did you first care about me?" "Don't ask me," echoed Clive. "Oh, be a bit serious—well—what was it in me you first cared about?" "Like really to know?" asked Clive, who was in the mood Maurice adored—half mischievous, half passionate; a mood of supreme affection. "Yes." "Well, it was your beauty." "My what?" "Beauty. ... I used to admire that man over the bookcase most." "I can give points to a picture, I dare say," said Maurice, hav-ing glanced at the Michelangelo. "Clive, you're a silly little fool, and since you've brought it up I think you're beautiful, the only beautiful person I've ever seen. I love your voice and everything to do with you, down to your clothes or the room you are sitting in. I adore you." Clive went crimson. "Sit up straight and let's change the sub-ject," he said, all the folly out of him. "I didn't mean to annoy you at all—" "Those things must be said once, or we should never know they were in each other's hearts. I hadn't guessed, not so much at least. You've done all right, Maurice." He did not change the subject but developed it into another that had interested him recently, the precise influence of Desire upon our aesthetic judgements. "Look at that picture, for instance. I love it because, like the painter himself, I love the subject. I don't judge it with eyes of the normal man. There seem two roads for arriving at Beauty—one is in common, and all the world has reached Michelangelo by it, but the other is private to me and a few more. We come to him by both roads. On the other hand Greuze —his subject matter repels me. I can only get to him down one road. The rest of the world finds two." Maurice did not interrupt: it was all charming nonsense to him. "These private roads are perhaps a mistake," concluded Clive. "But as long as the human figure is painted they will be taken. Landscape is the only safe subject—or perhaps something geo-metric, rhythmical, inhuman absolutely. I wonder whether that is what the Mohammedans were up to and old Moses—I've just thought of this. If you introduce the human figure you at once arouse either disgust or desire. Very faintiy sometimes, but it's there. 'Thou shalt not make for thyself any graven image—' because one couldn't possibly make it for all other people too. Maurice, shall we rewrite history? 'The Aesthetic Philosophy of the Decalogue.' I've always thought it remarkable of God not to have damned you or me in it. I used to put it down to him for righteousness, though now I suspect he was merely ill-informed. Still I might make out a case. Shall I choose it for a Fellowship Dissertation?" "Ican't follow, you know," said Maurice, a little ashamed. And their love scene drew out, having the inestimable gain of a new language. No tradition overawed the boys. No convention settled what was poetic, what absurd. They were concerned with a passion that few English minds have admitted, and so created untrammelled. Something of exquisite beauty arose in the mind of each at last, something unforgettable and eternal, but built of the humblest scraps of speech and from the simplest emotions. "I say, will you kiss me?" asked Maurice, when the sparrows woke in the eaves above them, and far out in the woods the ring-doves began to coo. Clive shook his head, and smiling they parted, having estab-lished perfection in their lives, at all events for a time. 德拉姆家住在英格兰偏远地区，威尔特（译注：威尔特是英格兰南部一郡，位于布里斯托尔海峡、英吉利海峡和泰晤士河之间的分水岭地区。）与萨默塞特（萨默塞特是英格兰西南部一郡，北濒布里斯托尔海湾。沿岸风景优美，是保护区。）两郡交界处。尽管并非世家，这个家族拥有这片土地已达四代之久，其影响融入了他们的血液。在乔治四世（译注：乔治四世(1762-1830)．英国国王、汉诺威国王。1820年即位。）的统治下，克莱夫的曾叔祖曾任英国首席法官。彭杰就是他用羽毛筑起来的窝。如今那些羽毛几乎被刮得七零八落了。这份家当遭到百年岁月的蚕食，也未娶上一位阔新娘来改换门庭。宅邸与庄园虽然尚未真正朽烂，却已打上了停滞的烙印，而那正是朽烂的前兆。 宅邸坐落在森林里。周围是辽阔的园林，仍被逐渐消失的树篱圈起。园林提供着阳光、空气、牧场与成群的奥尔德尼（译注：奥尔德尼是英国海峡群岛岛屿，在英吉利海峡，以养牛和旅游业为主。）乳牛。园林外面是一片森林，大多是老埃德温爵士生前栽种的。他将私有的园林与公地并在了一起。园林有两个大门口。从村庄往上走就到了一个门口，另一道门则开在通往车站的黏土质道路上。原本这里没有车站，从车站通向园林的是一条沿着后院的不像样的背巷，象征着英国人的事后聪明。 莫瑞斯是傍晚抵达的。他是从住在伯明翰的外祖父家里径直上路的。在那里，他死气沉沉地过了成年的生日。尽管丢尽了面子，礼物并没被取消，但是送的人和接受的人都不起劲儿。他曾经翘盼着满二十一岁这一天。吉蒂暗示说，由于哥哥堕落了，所以感到不快乐。作为报复，莫瑞斯好好地掐了一下她的耳朵，并吻了她，弄得吉蒂非常恼火。“你不明事理。”她气冲冲地说。他面泛微笑。 外祖父那座艾尔弗里斯顿花园有不少表兄弟姐妹，下午喝茶的时候供应肉食冷盘。从那儿来到彭杰，变化太大了。全郡居民，即使那些有才智的，其周围的气氛也令人不安。莫瑞斯不论是到哪座庄园去拜访，都心怀畏惧。不错，克莱夫到车站来接他，陪他坐上四轮轿式马车。跟莫瑞斯乘同一趟火车来的希普香克斯太太也坐上了这辆马车。希普香克斯太太有一个女佣，连同她和莫瑞斯的行李，乘一辆出租马车，尾随其后。莫瑞斯嘀咕着自己是否也该带个仆人来。一个小姑娘扶着看守小屋那扇敞开的门，希普香克斯太太想让每个人都对她施屈膝礼。当这位太太对小姑娘这么说的时候，克莱夫踩了莫瑞斯一脚，莫瑞斯拿不准克莱夫是故意的，还是偶然的。他什么都拿不准。他们来到宅第跟前时，他把后门误当成前门，伸手去为这位太太开门。希普香克斯太太说：“哦，实在不敢当。”而且那儿有个负责开门的男管家。 已经给客人斟好了很酽的茶。德拉姆太太一面倒茶，一面朝另一边望着。人们东一个西一个站着，看上去他们都气度不凡，要么就是为了不同凡响的理由而待在那儿。他们本人有所作为，要么就是敦促旁人有所作为。德拉姆小姐跟莫瑞斯约好，明天一起去参加关税改革的讨论会。他们两个人在政治上意见一致，但是她由于欢迎这种同盟而大声喊叫使他很不高兴。“妈妈，霍尔先生是个正经人。”韦斯顿少校是德拉姆家的亲戚，也暂时住在他们家。他这样那样地向莫瑞斯打听剑桥的事。军人会在乎他受停学处分这一点吗？……可不，这比在饭馆里那次还糟，因为在那儿，克莱夫也不得其所。 “皮帕，霍尔先生知道他住在哪间屋子里吗？” “是蓝屋，妈妈。” “那间屋里没有壁炉。”克莱夫在一边大声说，“你领他去吧。”他正在送走一些客人。 德拉姆小姐把莫瑞斯带到男管家那里。他们沿着侧面的楼梯走上去，莫瑞斯看见正面的楼梯在右边，他怀疑自己莫非受到了怠慢。他这间屋子很小，摆设也简陋，窗外没有景致。当他跪下来打开行李时，在萨宁顿住宿时的感觉重新袭上心头。他拿定主意，在彭杰逗留期间，要有效地利用自己所带来的全部衣物。他们休想将他当成不符合时尚的人，他样样都不比别人逊色。然而他刚得出这个结论，克莱夫就背着阳光冲进屋子。“莫瑞斯，我要吻你。”他说完就做了。 “那个门通向什么地方？” “咱们的书房呗……”他笑着，表情激动，容光焕发。 “噢，原来如此……” “莫瑞斯！莫瑞斯！你真来啦，你在这儿。彭杰再也不像过去那样了，我终于爱上了这个地方。” “我到这儿来，太高兴了。”莫瑞斯的声音哽噎了。一阵欢乐猛地袭上心头，他感到眩晕。 “继续把行李打开吧，我是故意这么安排的。只有咱们两个人走这楼梯。我尽量安排得像在学院里一样。” “比学院里还好呢。” “我确实认为是这样。” 有人在敲通向过道的那扇门，莫瑞斯吓了一跳。克莱夫仍坐在他的肩膀上，满不在乎地说：“请进！”一个女佣送热水来了。 “除了吃饭，咱们用不着去家里的其他地方。”他继续说，“要么待在这儿，要么就出门。快乐吧，啊？我有一架钢琴。”他把莫瑞斯拉进书房。“看看风景。从这个窗户你就可以射击兔子。顺便说说，倘若吃晚饭的时候家母或皮帕告诉你，明天她们要你做这做那，你不用发愁。你如果愿意的话，可以对她们说：‘好的。’其实你将跟我一道去骑马，她们也知道。她们只不过是照通常的习惯邀请一下而已。在星期天，假若你没去做礼拜，事后她们会假装认为你去过了。” “可是我没有正式的马裤。” “那么我就不奉陪啦。”克莱夫说罢，从莫瑞斯的肩上一跃而下。 当莫瑞斯回到客厅里的时候，他认为自己所拥有的待在那儿的权利比任何人都大。他踱到希普香克斯太太跟前，她还没来得及开口，他就说起话来，对她表示支持。不成双、不成对的八个人准备入席——克莱夫与希普香克斯太太，韦斯顿少校与另一个妇女，另一个男子与皮帕，他本人与女主人—一他堂堂正正地确保了自己的座位。她向他道歉说，人数太少了。 “哪里，哪里。”莫瑞斯说。他发觉克莱夫用讥讽的眼神瞥视自己，于是想：这句套话用错了。接着，德拉姆太太开始考察莫瑞斯的能力，然而他一点儿也不在乎她是否对自己感到满意。她的容貌跟儿子相像，看上去跟儿子一样有本事，所不同的是没有儿子那么真诚。他理解了克莱夫为什么会看不起自己的母亲。 饭后，男人们抽了一会儿烟，就来跟女士们做伴。这与住在伦敦郊区的中等阶层的人们消磨傍晚时光的方式相似，然而又有所不同。这些人有一种处理大事的风度：他们要么刚刚扭转过，要么即将重新扭转乾坤。不过，大门的门柱也罢，道路也罢——来的时候他一路注意到——无不年久失修。森林树木管理不善，一扇扇窗户卡住了，地板踏上去嘎吱作响。他对彭杰的幻想多少破灭了一些。 女士们回到各自的房间去了，克莱夫说：“莫瑞斯，看上去你也困了。”莫瑞斯领会了这个提示，过了五分钟，他们二人就在书房里重逢，以便彻夜谈心。他们点燃了烟斗。这是他们第一次在一起体验完完全全的静谧，他们将进行微妙的对话。他们心领神会，可是舍不得马上开始。 “我现在告诉你我最近的情况。”克莱夫说，“我一到家就跟母亲争吵，告诉她，第四个学年我也要待在剑桥。” 莫瑞斯大喊一声。 “怎么啦？” “我受了停学处分呀。” “不过，十月你就会返校的。” “我不回去。康沃利斯先生说我必须写悔过书，我不写——我以为你读完第三个学年就走了，所以满不在乎。” “而我还只当你会回来，才决定荐读上一年的。简直是一场错误的喜剧。” 莫瑞斯神色忧郁地朝前面望着。 “错误的喜剧，不是悲剧。你现在就可以写悔过书。” “已经太晚啦。” 克莱夫笑了。“怎么会太晚呢？反倒更简单一些呢。你在自己犯了过错的这个学期结束之前无意悔过。‘亲爱的康沃利斯先生，在本学期结束之际，恕我冒昧地向您致书。’明天我替你起草悔过书的底稿。” 莫瑞斯思考了一番，最后惊叫道：“克莱夫，你是个坏蛋！” “我承认自己有不法之徒的一面，然而那帮人就欠我这么对待他们。只要他们一天说什么‘希腊人那难以启齿的罪恶’，他们又怎么能指望我磊落坦率地对待他们呢？晚饭前，我溜进去吻了你一下。我母亲完全蒙在鼓里，活该！倘若她知道了，绝不会轻饶我。我对你的感情就跟皮帕对她的未婚夫的感情一样，只不过高尚得多，深厚得多。母亲却不想知道，也不试图知道。肉与灵协调一致，当然不是中世纪那饿瘪了的东西，只是肉与灵的一种特殊的协调一致。依我看，女人甚至理会不到有这种东西。但你是知道的。” “好的，我写悔过书。” 他们聊了好一会儿，还谈起那辆摩托车。从那一天起，再也不曾听说它怎样了。克莱夫煮了咖啡。 “喂，那天晚上开完讨论会之后，你怎么会想起来叫我的？你说一说。” “我一直想对你说点儿什么，可又不知道该说什么。最后弄得思绪纷乱，所以就去了。” “这种事你是做得出来的。” “你是在跟我开玩笑吗？”莫瑞斯羞怯地问。 “哪里的话！”紧接着是一阵沉默。“现在跟我讲讲我第一次对你吐露心里话的那个晚上的事。你为什么弄得咱们两个人都那么不愉快呢？” “我不知道，我什么都无从解释。你为什么搬出讨厌的柏拉图来误导我呢？当时我还糊里糊涂的，对许多事都不明白。打那以后，才逐渐开窍儿。” “不过，你使我醉心而不能自拔，已达几个月之久了吗？事实上，是从你在里斯利的房间里头一次见到我的时候起。” “别问我这个。” “不管怎么说，这件事儿难以解释。” “可不是嘛。” 克莱夫高兴地笑了，在椅子上扭动着身体。“莫瑞斯，我越细琢磨越能肯定，你才是个坏蛋呢。” “是这么回事吗？” “倘若你高抬贵手，容我听其自然，我就会半睡半醒地了此一生。当然，我在理智方面是清醒的，在感情方面多少也……然而，这里……”他用烟斗柄指了指自己的心脏。于是，两个人都微笑了。“也许咱们俩是互相被唤醒了。我情愿这么想。” “你是从什么时候起看上我的？” “别问我这个。”克莱夫重复了一遍莫瑞斯方才的话。 “喂，你给我放正经点儿——喏——你起初看上我的哪一点？” “你真想知道吗？”克莱夫问。莫瑞斯非常喜欢这种心境——顽皮与激情参半，洋溢着挚爱的克莱夫。 “想知道。” “喏，看上了你的美。” “我的什么？” “美……我曾经最爱慕书架上方的那个男人。” “一幅画嘛，我足可以理解的。”莫瑞斯瞥了一眼墙上的米开朗琪罗说。“克莱夫，你是个可笑的小傻瓜。你既然提出来了嘛，我也认为你美。你是我迄今见过的惟一长得美的人。我爱你的嗓音，爱与你有关的一切，直到你的衣服，或是你坐在里面的屋子。我崇拜你。” 克莱夫的脸变得绯红。“坐直了，咱们换个话题吧。”他说，那股傻劲儿已荡然无存。 “我压根儿没有惹恼你的意思。” “这些话非得说一遍不可，否则咱们俩永远不会明白彼此的心事。我没想到，至少没猜测出到了这种程度。你做得很对，莫瑞斯。”他不曾换话题，却把它发展到新近感兴趣的另一个主题上去了：欲望对我们的审美能力究竟产生多大的影响。“比方说，瞧瞧那幅画。我爱它，因为我跟画家本人一样，爱他所画的那个青年。我不用一般男人的目光来鉴赏这幅画。通向美的路似乎有两条一一条是共通的，芸芸众生正是沿着这条路走到米开朗琪罗跟前的。另一条是我和另外几个人走的幽径。我们沿着这两条路抵达米开朗琪罗那儿。但是，格勒兹（译注：琼-巴普蒂斯特.格勒兹(1725-1805)是法国风俗画和肖像画家。1759年结识法国文学家、哲学家狄德罗（1713-1784），受其鼓励倾向于感情夸张的风俗画。）却不然。他的题材使我感到厌恶。我只能沿着一条路走到他跟前，芸芸众生却能找到两条路。” 莫瑞斯没有打断他的话。对他来说，那通篇都是可爱的无稽之谈。 “私自拥有幽径也许是错误的，”克莱夫下结论说，“然而只要还画人物像，幽径就存在。风景是惟一安全的题材。要么就是几何图形，格调优美，完全无人性的主题。我心里琢磨，这会不会是回教徒所领会到的一点呢？还有老摩西——我这是刚刚想到的。倘若你把人体画下来，当即会引起厌恶或挑逗起欲望。有时是非常轻微的，但必然产生。‘不可为自己造任何偶像’（译注：见《旧约全书·出埃及记》第20章第4节。）。因为你不可能为所有的人都造偶像。莫瑞斯，咱们来改写历史如何？《十诫里的美的哲学》。我一直认为神真了不起，没有处罚你我之辈。过去我把这看作出于神的正义，不过如今我猜想神仅仅是不知情而已。然而我还是能就这个专题进行答辩。我要不要拿这个主题写篇论文，好取得特别研究员的资格呢？” “我听不懂，这你是知道的。”莫瑞斯说，他有点儿难为情。 他们的情场获得了不可估量的意义的新语言，从而拖长了。任何传统都不曾吓倒这对年轻人。任何习俗也不曾确定什么是富有诗意的，什么是不合理的。肯于承认他们所涉及的那种情欲的英国心灵寥寥无几，也就没有为之制造羁绊。他们的心灵中终于出现了极致的美。难以忘怀，永恒不变，是用最谦卑的片言只语表达出来的，并且发自最单纯的感情。 “喂，你肯吻我一下吗？”当麻雀在头顶上的屋檐下睡醒，斑尾林鸽在远方的森林里开始咕咕地鸣啭时，莫瑞斯问。 克莱夫摇摇头，他们面泛微笑分手了。无论如何，他们暂时在各自的人生中建立了完美。 |
Chapter 15 "I can`tapologize, mother—I explained last night there's nothing to apologize about. They had no right to send me down when everyone cuts lectures. It's pure spite, and you can ask anyone—Ada, do try turning on the coffee in-stead of the salt water." She sobbed, "Maurice, you've upset mother: how can you be so unkind and brutal?" "I'm sure I don't mean to be. I don't see I've been unkind. I shall go straight into the business now, like father did, without taking one of their rotten degrees. I see no harm in that." "You might have kept your poor father out, he never had any unpleasantness," said Mrs Hall. "Oh Morrie, my darling—and we did so look forward to Cambridge." "All this crying's a mistake," announced Kitty, who aspired to the functions of a tonic. "It only makes Maurice tfunk he's im-portant, which he isn't: he'll write to the Dean as soon as no one wants him to." "I shan't. It's unsuitable," replied her brother, hard as iron. "I don't see that." "Little girls don't see a good deal." "I'm not so sure!" He glanced at her. But she only said that she saw a good deal more than some little boys who thought themselves little men. She was merely maundering, and the fear, tinged with respect, i that had arisen in him died down. No, he couldn't apologize. He had done nothing wrong and wouldn't say he had, it was the first taste of honesty he had known for years, and honesty is like blood. In his unbending mood the boy thought it would be pos-sible to live without compromise, and ignore all that didn't yield to himself and Clive! Clive's letter had maddened him. No doubt he is stupid—the sensible lover would apologize and get back to comfort his friend—but it was the stupidity of passion, which would rather have nothing than a little. They continued talking and weeping. At last he rose, said, "I can't eat to this accompaniment," and went into the garden. His mother followed with a tray. Her very softness enraged him, for love develops the athlete. It cost her nothing to muck about with tender words and toast: she only wanted to make him soft too. She wanted to know whether she had heard rightly, was he refusing to apologize? She wondered what her father would say, and incidentally learnt that the birthday gift was lying beside some East Anglian drove. She grew seriously concerned, for its loss was more intelligible to her than the loss of a degree. The girls minded too. They mourned the bicycle for the rest of the morning, and, though Maurice could always silence them or send them out of earshot, he felt that their pliancy might sap his strength again, as in the Easter vacation. In the afternoon he had a collapse. He remembered that Clive and he had only been together one day! And they had spent it careering about like fools—instead of in one another's arms! Maurice did not know that they had thus spent it perfectly—he was too young to detect the triviality of contact for contact's sake. Though restrained by his friend, he would have surfeited passion. Later on, when his love took second strength, he real-ized how well Fate had served him. The one embrace in the darkness, the one long day in the light and the wind, were twin columns, each useless without the other. And all the agony of separation that he went through now, instead of destroying, was to fulfil. He tried to answer Clive's letter. Already he feared to ring false. In the evening he received another, composed of the words "Maurice! I love you." He answered, "Clive, I love you." Then they wrote every day and for all their care created new images in each other's hearts. Letters distort even more quickly than silence. A terror seized Clive that something was going wrong, and just before his exam he got leave to run down to town. Maurice lunched with him. It was horrible. Both were tired, and they had chosen a restaurant where they could not hear themselves speak. "I haven't enjoyed it," said Clive when he wished goodbye. Maurice felt relieved. He had pretended to himself that he had enjoyed it, and thus increased his misery. They agreed that they would confine themselves to facts in their letters, and only write when anything was urgent. The emotional strain relaxed, and Maurice, nearer to brain fever than he sup-posed, had several dreamless nights that healed him. But daily life remained a poor business. His position at home was anomalous: Mrs Hall wished that someone would decide it for her. He looked like a man and had turned out the Howells last Easter; but on the other hand he had been sent down from Cambridge and was not yet twenty-one. What was his place in her house? Instigated by Kitty, she tried to assert herself, but Maurice, after a genuine look of sur-prise, laid back his ears. Mrs Hall wavered, and, though fond of her son, took the unwise step of appealing to Dr Barry. Maurice was asked to go round one evening to be talked to. "Well, Maurice, and how goes the career? Not quite as you expected, eh?" Maurice was still afraid of their neighbour. "Not quite as your mother expected, which is more to the point." "Not quite as anyone expected," said Maurice, looking at his hands. Dr Barry then said, "Oh, it's all for the best. What do you want with a University Degree? It was never intended for the suburban classes. You're not going to be either a parson or a barrister or a pedagogue. And you are not a county gentleman. Sheer waste of time. Get into harness at once. Quite right to insult the Dean. The city's your place. Your mother—" He paused and lit a cigar, the boy had been offered nothing. "Your mother doesn't understand this, Worrying because you don't apologize. For my own part I think these things right them-selves. You got into an atmosphere for which you are not suited, and you've very properly taken the first opportunity to get out of it." "How do you mean, sir?" "Oh. Not sufficiently clear? I mean that the county gentleman would apologize by instinct if he found he had behaved like a cad. You've a different tradition." "I think I must be getting home now," said Maurice, not with-out dignity. "Yes, I think you must. I didn't invite you to have a pleasant evening, as I hope you have realized." "You've spoken straight—perhaps some day I shall too. I know I'd like to." This set the Doctor off, and he cried: "How dare you bully your mother, Maurice. You ought to be horsewhipped. You young puppy! Swaggering about instead of asking her to forgive you! I know all about it. She came here with tears in her eyes and asked me to speak. She and your sis- ters are my respected neighbours, and as long as a woman calls me I'm at her service. Don't answer me, sir, don't answer, I want none of your speech, straight or otherwise. You are a disgrace to chivalry. I don't know what the world is coming to. I dont know what the world—I'm disappointed and disgusted with you." Maurice, outside at last, mopped his forehead. He was ashamed in a way. He knew he had behaved badly to his mother, and all the snob in him had been touched to the raw. But some-how he could not retract, could not alter. Once out of the rut, he seemed out of it for ever. "A disgrace to chivalry." He con-sidered the accusation. If a woman had been in that side-car, if then he had refused to stop at the Dean's bidding, would Dr Barry have required an apology from him? Surely not. He fol-lowed out this train of thought with difficulty. His brain was still feeble. But he was obliged to use it, for so much in current speech and ideas needed translation before he could understand them. His mother met him, looking ashamed herself; she felt, as he did, that she ought to have done her own scolding. Maurice had grown up, she complained to Kitty; the children went from one; it was all very sad. Kitty asserted her brother was still nothing but a boy, but all these women had a sense of some change in his mouth and eyes and voice since he had faced Dr Barry. “我决不写悔过书，妈妈——昨天晚上我已经解释过，我没有什么可谢罪的。人人都在旷课，他们凭什么罚我停学？这纯粹是有意和我作对，您可以随便问任何人。喂，艾达，给我来杯地道的咖啡，可别给我盐水。” 艾达抽泣着说：“莫瑞斯，你把妈妈弄得心烦意乱，你怎么可以这样冷酷残忍呢？” “我敢说，这不是故意的。我不认为自己冷酷。我要像爸爸那样直接就业，不要那没用的学位了。我看不出这样做有什么害处。” “别把你可怜的爸爸牵扯进来，他可从来没做过任何让人不愉快的事。”霍尔太太说。“哦，莫瑞，我亲爱的——我们大家对剑桥抱过多么大的期望啊。” “你们不该这么哭哭啼啼的，”渴望起到强硬作用的吉蒂说，“这仅仅让莫瑞斯觉得自己很重要，其实他没什么了不起。一旦没人要求他写了，他马上就会给学监写的。” “我才不写呢，这样做不合适。”哥哥斩钉截铁地说。 “我看不出有什么不合适。” “小姑娘看不出来的东西太多了。” “这很难说！” 他瞥了她一眼。她说自己远比那些自以为成了小大人的男孩子所看出来的要多。她不过是诈唬而已。于是，他对妹妹油然而生的敬畏之情消失了。不，他可不能谢罪，他没做任何不好的事，所以不愿意说自己做过。这是多年来他头一次接受诚实的考验，而诚实就像血液一样宝贵。莫瑞斯顽固地认为，他能够毫不妥协地过一辈子。凡是不肯对他本人和克莱夫做出让步的人，他一概不理睬！克莱夫的信使得他精神错乱。毫无疑问，他是个糊涂虫。倘若他是个通情达理的情人，就会写悔过书，回剑桥去安慰自己的友人。然而这是激情造成的愚蠢，宁可什么都不要，也不肯只要一点点。 莫瑞斯的母亲和妹妹继续唠叨并哭泣。他终于站起来说：“在这样的伴奏下，我吃不下去。”就走到庭院里去了。母亲端着托盘跟了出来。她的宽厚惹恼了他，因为爱情使运动员莫瑞斯成长起来了。对她来说，捧着放有烤面包片的托盘，边说好话边溜达算不了什么，她只不过是想让儿子也变得跟她一样宽厚而已。 她想知道自己是否听错了。难道他真的拒绝悔过吗？她琢磨着．倘若她父亲知道了，会说些什么。接着，她偶然得悉，老人家送给莫瑞斯的那份生日礼物竟被撂在东英吉利亚（译注：东英吉利亚是英格兰最东端的传统地区。由诺福克、萨福克二郡和剑桥郡、埃塞克斯郡的一部分组成，沿岸有重要的渔港和避暑地。）的道旁了。她认真地对此事表示关切，因为对她而言，丢摩托车比丢学位更明白易懂。两个妹妹也牵挂此事。直到晌午为止，她们不断地为摩托车而哀叹。尽管莫瑞斯一向能够让她们闭嘴，或把她们打发到听不见她们声音的地方去，但他生怕她们过于顺从，会像复活节放假期间那样削弱他的志气，所以什么也没说。 到了下午，莫瑞斯的精神崩溃了。他想起克莱夫和自己仅仅相聚了一天！而且就像一对傻子似的乘着摩托车疾驰——却不曾相互搂抱！莫瑞斯没有理解，正因为如此，他们这一天才尽善尽美。他太年轻了，不曾察觉为接触而接触是何等平庸。虽然他的朋友在抑制着他，他还是几乎倾注全部激情。后来，当他的爱获得第二种力量时，他才领悟命运待他不薄。黑暗中的一次拥抱，在光与风中的漫长的一天，是两根相辅相成的柱子。眼下他所忍受的别离的痛苦，并非为了破坏，而是为了成全。 他试着给克莱夫写回信，他已经在惧怕虚伪了。傍晚他收到另一封来信，是用“莫瑞斯，我爱你！”这样的词句构成的。他在回信中写道：“克莱夫，我爱你。”随后，他们之间每天都有书信往来，毫不在意地相互在心里制造着对方的新形象。信件比沉默更迅速地引起曲解。心怀恐惧，不知什么地方出了问题，克莱夫感到害怕。于是临考试前，他请假直奔伦敦。莫瑞斯与他共进午餐，这是一件可怕的事。双方都已经很疲倦了，却选了一家噪音格外大的饭馆，彼此说话的声音都听不见。“我一点儿也不愉快。”分手的时候克莱夫说。莫瑞斯感到宽慰，他自己都装出一副愉快的样子，心里就更加难受了。他们约定，今后在信中仅限于写事实，除非有紧急情况，不再写信，心理上的压迫感减少了。莫瑞斯头脑发热，几乎处于高度兴奋状态，只不过自己没有意识到。这之后，他接连睡了几夜，连梦都没做，终于康复了。然而，日常生活依旧不愉快。 他在家中的地位是不正常的，霍尔太太希望有人替他做出决定。他俨然是个大人了，上次过复活节假期时，还把豪厄尔夫妇解雇了。然而另一方面，他在剑桥受到停学处分，尚未满二十一岁。在她这个家里，该给他什么样的地位呢？在吉蒂的鼓动下，她试图向儿子显示一下自己的权威。莫瑞斯起初露出了真正惊讶的神色，随后就敌视起她来。霍尔太太动摇了，虽然喜欢她的儿子，却采取了求助于巴里大夫这一不明智的措施。一个傍晚，大夫叫莫瑞斯到自己家去，说是有话跟他谈。 “喂，莫瑞斯，学业怎么样？不完全像是你所期待的样子吧，啊？” 莫瑞斯对他们家这位邻居依然心怀畏惧。 “不完全像是你母亲所期待的样子一这么说更中肯一些。” “不完全像是任何人所期待的样子。”莫瑞斯瞧着自己的手说。 于是，巴里大夫说：“哦，这样就最好了。你要大学的学位干吗？它从来就不是为郊区的中产阶级而设的。你既不会去做牧师，也不会去做律师或教员，你也不是个乡绅，纯粹是在荒废光阴。马上就业算啦，你把学监侮辱了一通，相当不错。你的职位在伦敦商业中心区。你的母亲……”他停顿了一下，点燃了一支雪茄，却什么都没给这个小伙子。“你的母亲不理解这一点。只因为你不肯悔过，她很着急。依我看，水到渠成。你踏进了不适合于你的地方，而你又非常正确地抓住第一个机会摆脱了这个环境。” “您这是什么意思，先生？” “咦，我说得不够清楚吗？我指的是，倘若一位乡绅发现自己的举止像个粗鄙无礼的人，他就会凭着直觉道歉。你是在不同的传统观念下长大的。” “我想，现在我该回家去了。”莫瑞斯说，他保持了威严。 “对，我想你是该回去了。我希望你已经领悟到我不是请你来度过一个愉快的傍晚的。” “您谈得直截了当——也许迟早有一天，我也会这样做。我知道自己喜欢这样。” 大夫一触即发，他大声嚷道：“你怎么敢欺侮你母亲，莫瑞斯。应该用马鞭狠狠地抽打你一顿。你这个浅薄自负的小子！不去请求母亲原谅，却大摇大摆地走来走去！我统统都知道。她泪汪汪地到这儿来了，要求我说几句话。她和你的两个妹妹是我所尊重的邻居。只要女人们发话，我就惟命是从。别回答我，先生，别回答。不论直截了当与否，你的辩解我一句也不要听。你玷辱了骑士精神。我不知道世界变成了什么样子，我不知道——我对你感到失望，感到厌恶。” 莫瑞斯终于走到外面去了，他擦了擦额头。他有几分惭愧，自己对母亲不好，他身上那庸俗的一面被刺痛了。然而不知怎的，他下不来台，不能改变。一旦脱了轨，好像永远也上不了轨道了。“玷辱了骑士精神。”他琢磨着大夫的指责。倘若坐在摩托车挎斗里的是个女人，倘若他是由于这个缘故才拒绝按学监的命令停下来，那么巴里大夫还会要求他谢罪吗？想必不会的。他吃力地沿着这个思路想下去，他的头脑依然虚弱，但是他非动脑筋不可。因为有那么多日常谈话与想法，他都得重新解释一遍才能领会。 他的母亲在等候着他。她显得怪难为情的样子。她的儿子．她觉得应该亲自来训斥他。她对吉蒂抱怨说，莫瑞斯长大成人了，子女们一个个地离去，多么令人悲伤啊。吉蒂硬说她哥哥仍旧是个孩子。然而自从莫瑞斯去见过巴里大夫以后，家中的女眷都觉得他的嘴、眼睛和嗓音统统起了一些变化。 |
Chapter 14 The Dean sent Maurice down. Mr Cornwallis was not a severe official, and the boy had a tolerable record, but he could not overlook so gross a breach of discipline. "And why did you not stop when I called you, Hall?" Hall made no answer, did not even look sorry. He had a smouldering eye, and Mr Cornwallis, though much an-noyed, realized that he was confronted with a man. In a dead, bloodless way, he even guessed what had happened. "Yesterday you cut chapel, four lectures, including my own translation class, and hall. You have done this sort of thing be-fore. It's unnecessary to add impertinence, don't you think? Well? No reply? You will go down and inform your mother of the reason. I shall inform her too. Until you write me a letter of apology, I shall not recommend your readmission to the college in October. Catch the twelve o'clock." "All right." Mr Cornwallis motioned him out. No punishment was inflicted on Durham. He had been let off all lectures in view of his Tripos, and even if he had been remiss the Dean would not have worried him; the best classical scholar of his year, he had won special treatment. A good thing he would no longer be distracted by Hall. Mr Cornwallis always suspected such friendships. It was not natural that men of different char-acters and tastes should be intimate, and although undergradu- ates, unlike schoolboys, are officially normal, the dons exercised a certain amount of watchfulness, and felt it right to spoil a love affair when they could. Clive helped him pack, and saw him off. He said little, lest he depressed his friend, who was still in the heroics, but his heart sank. It was his last term, for his mother would not let him stay up a fourth year, which meant that he and Maurice would never meet in Cambridge again. Their love belonged to it, and par-ticularly to their rooms, so that he could not conceive of their meeting anywhere else. He wished that Maurice had not taken up a strong line with the Dean, but it was too late now, and that the side-car had not been lost. He connected that side-car with intensities—the agony of the tennis court, the joy of yesterday. Bound in a single motion, they seemed there closer to one an-other than elsewhere; the machine took on a life of its own, in which they met and realized the unity preached by Plato. It had gone, and when Maurice's train went also, actually tearing hand from hand, he broke down, and returning to his room wrote pas-sionate sheets of despair. Maurice received the letter the next morning. It completed what his family had begun, and he had his first explosion of rage against the world. 学监勒令莫瑞斯停学。 康沃利斯先生不是一位严厉的学监，迄今莫瑞斯品学尚好。但是他绝不能宽恕此次的违法乱纪。“霍尔，我叫你停住的时候，你为什么不肯停下来？”霍尔不回答，而且连道歉的样子都没有。他的眼睛郁积着不满情绪。康沃利斯先生尽管十分烦恼，却领悟到自己面对的是一个成年人。他运用呆滞、冷酷的想象力，甚至猜测出发生了什么事。 “昨天你没去做礼拜，还旷了四堂课，包括我本人教的翻译课，也没参加会餐。过去你也这么做过，不用再火上浇油，摆出一副傲慢的态度了吧？你不这么想吗？啊？不回答吗？罚你停学，回家去告诉你母亲，怎么会落到这步田地的。我也会通知她。除非你给我写一封悔过书来，否则我绝不推荐你在十月间复学。乘十二点钟的火车动身吧。” “知道啦。” 康沃利斯先生打手势示意让他出去。 德拉姆不曾受到任何惩罚。由于即将参加荣誉学位考试，所有的课程他都被免了。即便他旷了课，学监也不会跟他过不去。作为这个学年最杰出的古典文学高才生，他获得了特殊待遇。今后他再也不必为霍尔的缘故弄得精神涣散，是件好事。康沃利斯先生一直怀疑学生之间存在着这样的友谊。性格与爱好都不相同的大学生成为密友，是不自然的。不像公学的学生，大学本科生已被公认为具有自制能力了。尽管如此，学监们在一定程度上还是小心提防着，并认为应该力所能及地破坏这种恋爱关系。 克莱夫帮助莫瑞斯打点行李，为他送行。他的话很少，以免使朋友沮丧，但他的心情是抑郁的，莫瑞斯却依然以英雄自居。这是他的最后一个学期了，因为他的母亲不让他在剑桥读四年之久。这就意味着他和莫瑞斯再也不会在剑桥相逢了。他们之间的爱情属于剑桥，尤其属于他们的房间，所以他很难想象两个人会在别的任何地方见面。他想，倘若莫瑞斯不曾对学监采取那么强硬的态度该有多好，然而现在为时已晚。他还希望那辆摩托车没有丢失。他把那辆摩托车跟激情联系在一起——在网球场上，他曾苦恼过，昨天却充满了欢乐。他们二人始终是一致行动的，在摩托车里好像比在其他地方挨得更近了。摩托车具有了自己的生命，他们在车里会合，并实现了柏拉图所倡导的那种结合。摩托车已经没有了，莫瑞斯搭乘的火车也急驰而去，把他们相互拉着的手拆散开来。克莱夫的精神崩溃了，于是回到自己的房间，写了一封充满绝望的信。 第二天早晨，莫瑞斯收到了信。这封信把他的家族已经开始做的那件事结束了。他对世界头一次爆发了愤怒。 |
Chapter 13 "I've missed two lectures already," remarked Maurice, who was breakfasting in his pyjamas. "Cut them all—he'll only gate you." "Will you come out in the side-car?" "Yes, but a long way," said Clive, lighting a cigarette. "I can't stick Cambridge in this weather. Let's get right outside it ever so far and bathe. I can work as we go along—Oh damnation!"— for there were steps on the stairs. Joey Fetherstonhaugh looked in and asked one or other of them to play tennis with him that afternoon. Maurice accepted. "Maurice! What did you do that for, you fool?" "Cleared him out quickest. Clive, meet me at the garage in twenty minutes, bring your putrid books, and borrow Joey's goggles. I must dress. Bring some lunch too." "What about horses instead?" "Too slow." They met as arranged. Joey's goggles had offered no difficulty, as he had been out. But as they threaded Jesus Lane they were hailed by the Dean. "Hall, haven't you a lecture?" "I overslept," called Maurice contemptuously. "Hall! Hall! Stop when I speak." Maurice went on. "No good arguing," he observed. "Not the least." They swirled across the bridge and into the Ely road. Maurice said, "Now we'll go to Hell." The machine was powerful, he reckless naturally. It leapt forward into the fens and the reced-ing dome of die sky. They became a cloud of dust, a stench, and a roar to the world, but the air they breathed was pure, and all the noise they heard was the long drawn cheer of the wind. They cared for no one, they were outside humanity, and death, had it come, would only have continued their pursuit of a retreating horizon. A tower, a town—it had been Ely—were behind them, in front the same sky, paling at last as though heralding the sea. "Right turn," again, then "left," "right," until all sense of direc-tion was gone. There was a rip, a grate. Maurice took no notice. A noise arose as of a thousand pebbles being shaken together between his legs. No accident occurred, but the machine came to a standstill among the dark black fields. The song of the lark was heard, the trail of dust began to settle behind them. They were alone. "Let's eat," said Clive. They ate on a grassy embankment. Above them the waters of a dyke moved imperceptibly, and reflected interminable willow trees. Man, who had created the whole landscape, was nowhere to be seen. After lunch Clive thought he ought to work. He spread out his books and was asleep in ten minutes. Maurice lay up by the water, smoking. A farmer's cart appeared, and it did occur to him to ask which county they were in. But he said noth-ing, nor did the farmer appear to notice him. When Clive awoke it was past three. "We shall want some tea soon," was his con-tribution. "All right. Can you mend that bloody bike?" "Oh yes, didn't something jam?" He yawned and walked down to the machine. "No, I can't, Maurice, can you?" "Rather not." They laid their cheeks together and began laughing. The smash struck them as extraordinarily funny. Grandpapa's present too! He had given it to Maurice against his coming of age in August. Clive said, "How if we left it and walked?" "Yes, who'd do it any harm? Leave the coats and things inside it. Likewise Joey's goggles." "What about my books?" "Leave 'em too." "I shan't want them after hall?" "Oh, I don't know. Tea's more important than hall. It stands to reason—well what are you giggling at?—that if we follow a dyke long enough we must come to a pub." "Why, they use it to water their beer!" Maurice smote him on the ribs, and for ten minutes they played up amongst the trees, too silly for speech. Pensive again, they stood close together, then hid the bicycle behind dog roses, and started. Clive took his notebook away with him, but it did not survive in any useful form, for the dyke they were following branched. "We must wade this," he said. "We can't go round or we shall never get anywhere. Maurice, look—we must keep in a bee line south." "All right." It did not matter which of them suggested what that day; the other always agreed. Clive took off his shoes and socks and rolled his trousers up. Then he stepped upon the brown surface of the dyke and vanished. He reappeared swimming. "All that deep!" he spluttered, climbing out. "Maurice, no idea! Had you?" Maurice cried, "I say, I must bathe properly." He did so, while Clive carried his clothes. The light grew radiant. Presently they came to a farm. The farmer's wife was inhospitable and ungracious, but they spoke of her afterwards as "absolutely ripping." She did in the end give them tea and allow Clive to dry near her kitchen fire. She "left payment to them," and, when they overpaid her, grum-bled. Nothing checked their spirits. They transmuted every-thing. "Goodbye, we're greatly obliged," said Clive. "And if any of your men come across the bike: I wish we could describe where we left it better. Anyhow I'll give you my friend's card. Tie it on the bike if they will be so kind, and bring it down to the nearest station. Something of the sort, I don't know. The station master will wire to us." The station was five miles on. When they reached it the sun was low, and they were not back in Cambridge till after hall. All this last part of the day was perfect. The train, for some un-known reason, was full, and they sat close together, talking quietly under the hubbub, and smiling. When they parted it was in the ordinary way: neither had an impulse to say anything special. The whole day had been ordinary. Yet it had never come before to either of them, nor was it to be repeated. “我已经误了两堂课了。”莫瑞斯说。他身穿睡衣，正在吃早餐。 “都别上了——只不过是受到禁止外出的处分呗。” “你愿意坐在摩托车的挎斗里去兜风吗？” “好的，到远处去吧。”克莱夫边点燃一支香烟边说。“像这样的天气，我可不能老待在剑桥。咱们离开这儿，走得远远的，游泳去吧。一路上，我还可以用功。哎呀，怎么啦？”这时传来了跑上楼梯的脚步声。乔伊·费瑟斯顿豪探进头来，问他们两个人当中的任何一个能不能当天下午跟他一道打网球。莫瑞斯同意了。 “莫瑞斯，干吗同意呀，你这傻瓜？” “为的是最快地把他打发走。克莱夫，20分钟之内在车库跟我碰头。捎上你那些枯燥的书，把乔伊的风镜也借来。我得换衣服，再带点儿午餐。” “咱们骑马去如何？” “太慢啦。” 他们照预先安排的那样碰了头。乔伊的风镜毫不费力地就弄到手了，因为他不在屋里。然而当他们沿着耶稣小径驰行时，学监叫他们停下来。 “霍尔，你不是有课吗？” “我睡过了头。”莫瑞斯傲慢不恭地大声叫喊。 “霍尔！霍尔！我跟你说话的时候，你得停住。” 霍尔继续驾驶着。“争论下去也没用。”他说。 “一点儿用处也没有。” 摩托车飞也似地跨过桥，奔上通往伊利（译注：伊利是剑桥郡的一座小城镇，常有来自附近剑桥的游客参观游览。位于乌兹河西岸，坐落在冲积扇的岩石“岛”上。现存的大教堂是由诺曼人隐修院院长西米恩创建的。）的公路。莫瑞斯说：“咱们现在该下地狱啦。”发动机的马力很大，他又天性莽撞。摩托车向沼泽地扑去。天空快速地向后退着。他们化为一团尘雾，一股恶臭，俗世的一片噪音，但他们所吸的空气是清新的，他们听到的只有风那快活的长啸。他们对任何人都不关心，他们超然物外。倘若死神降临，他们依然会继续追逐那后退的地平线。圣堂的尘塔，城镇——那就是伊利——被他们撇在后面了。前方还是同样的天空，颜色终于变得淡一些了。“向右转”，再转一次，然后“向左”，“向右”，直到完全失掉方向感。“啪”的一声，接着又“嘎”的一声，莫瑞斯置之不理。两条腿之间发出了像是搅和一千颗石头子般的声音n没出车祸，然而在黑黝黝的一片田野间，马达突然停住了。听到了云雀鸣啭声，长长地拖在他们身后的那溜尘土开始沉降了。除了他们．连个人影都没有。 “咱们吃饭吧。”克莱夫说。 他们坐在长满了草的堤岸I二吃了饭。河水几乎察觉不出地移动着，沿堤栽种的柳树无止无休地在水上投下影子。哪里也看不到制造整个风景的人。吃完饭，克莱夫认为他该用功了。他摊开书本，不出十分钟就睡着了。莫瑞斯在水边躺下来抽烟。出现了一辆农夫的手推车，他有心打听一下他们目前待在哪个郡。然而他没吱声，那个农夫好像也不曾注意到他。克莱夫一觉醒来，已经三点多钟了。他劈头就说：“过一会儿咱们该喝茶了。” “好的。你会修理那辆该死的摩托车吗？” “当然会。是不是什么地方发生故障了？”他打了个哈欠，走到车子跟前去。“不，我修理不了。莫瑞斯，你会吗？” “当然不会。” 他们二人相互贴着脸颊，开怀大笑。他们认为车撞毁了是无比滑稽的事件。况且这还是外公的礼物呢！八月间莫瑞斯将达成人年龄，外公给了他这份贺礼。克莱夫说：“咱们把它撂下，走回去如何？” “行。谁也不会来捣蛋吧？把大衣什么的都放在车里。乔伊的风镜也放进去。” “我的书怎么办？” “也放下吧。” “饭后我还用得着书吧？” “唔，这就很难说了。喝茶比吃饭重要，这是合乎常理的——喂，你傻笑什么？——倘若咱们沿着河堤一直走，必然会撞见一家小酒馆。” “他们把河水兑在啤酒里！” 莫瑞斯朝着克莱夫的侧腹打了一拳。他们在树丛间打闹了十分钟，太荒唐了，连话也顾不得说了。他们重新变得若有所思，紧挨在一起伫立着。随后，将摩托车藏在野蔷薇丛下面以后就启程了。克莱夫随身携带着笔记本，到头来它报废了，因为他们沿堤走着的那条河分成了两叉。 “咱们得蹬水过河。”克莱夫说。“咱们可不能兜圈子，否则就会迷失方向。莫瑞斯，瞧——咱们必须笔直地朝南走。” “明白啦。” 那一天，不论他们当中的哪一个提出什么建议，都无关紧要，另一个人准同意。克莱夫脱了鞋和短袜子，卷起裤腿。随后，他踩进那褐色的水，没了顶。他游着泳，浮上来了。 “深极啦！”他边急促而慌乱地说，边从水里爬出来。“莫瑞斯，我完全没想到！你想到了吗？” 莫瑞斯叫喊道：“我必须适当地游泳。”他就这么做了。克莱夫替他拿着衣服，阳光灿烂。不一会儿，他们来到一座农舍跟前。 那位大娘既冷淡又粗鄙，然而事后他们说她“好极了”。到头来她总算是以茶水招待了他们，还容许克莱夫在她厨房的炉火旁烘干他那些湿衣服。她说“随你们给多少都行”，他们多付给她一些钱，她只是咕哝了一句什么。他们依然兴高采烈，什么也抑制不住他们。他们使一切都起了变化。 “再见，多谢你的招待。”克莱夫说，“要是本地的一个男人找到了那辆摩托车-尚若能把我们放摩托车的地点讲得详细一些就好了。不管怎样，我把朋友的名片留给你，请他们费神把它拴在摩托车上，将车运到最近的火车站去。大致就是这样，我也说不准。站长会给我们打电报的。” 火车站在相距五英里的地方。他们走到车站的时候，太阳都快落了。晚饭结束后，他们才返抵剑桥。这一天的最后一段时间过得十分美满。不知道是什么缘故，火车满员，他们紧挨着坐在那儿，在喧闹声中小声交谈，面泛微笑。他们是像平时那样分手的，谁也没有凭一时冲动说点儿特别的话。这是平凡的一天，然而他们二人都是平生第一次过这样的日子，而且也是最后的一次。 |
| Chapter 12 Clive had suffered little from bewilderment as a boy. His sincere mind, with its keen sense of right and wrong, had brought him the belief that he was damned instead. Deeply religious, with a living desire to reach God and to please Him, he found himself crossed at an early age by this other de-sire, obviously from Sodom. He had no doubt as to what it was: his emotion, more compact than Maurice's, was not split into the brutal and the ideal, nor did he waste years in bridging the gulf. He had in him the impulse that destroyed the City of the Plain. It should not ever become carnal, but why had he out of all Christians been punished with it? At first he thought God must be trying him, and if he did not blaspheme would recompense him like Job. He therefore bowed his head, fasted, and kept away from anyone whom he found himself inclined to like. His sixteenth year was ceaseless torture. He told no one, and finally broke down and had to be removed from school. During the convalescence he found himself falling in love with a cousin who walked by his bath chair, a young married man. It was hopeless, he was damned. These terrors had visited Maurice, but dimly: to Clive they were definite, continuous, and not more insistent at the Eucharist than elsewhere. He never mistook them, in spite of the rein he kept on grossness. He could control the body; it was the tainted soul that mocked his prayers. The boy had always been a scholar, awake to the printed word, and the horrors the Bible had evoked for him were to be laid by Plato. Never could he forget his emotion at first reading theFhaedrus. He saw there his malady described exquisitely, calmly, as a passion which we can direct, like any other, towards good or bad. Here was no invitation to licence. He could not believe his good fortune at first—thought there must be some misunder-standing and that he and Plato were thinking of different things. Then he saw that the temperate pagan really did comprehend him, and, slipping past the Bible rather than opposing it, was offering a new guide for life. "To make the most of what I have." Not to crush it down, not vainly to wish that it was something else, but to cultivate it in such ways as will not vex either God or Man. He was obliged however to throw over Christianity. Those who base their conduct upon what they are rather than upon what they ought to be, always must throw it over in the end, and besides, between Clive's temperament and that religion there is a secular feud. No clear-headed man can combine them. The temperament, to quote the legal formula, is "not to be mentioned among Christians", and a legend tells that all who shared it died on the morning of the Nativity. Clive regretted this. He came of a family of lawyers and squires, good and able men for the most part, and he did not wish to depart from their tradition. He wished Christianity would compromise with him a little and searched the Scriptures for support. There was David and Jona-than; there was even the "disciple that Jesus loved." But the Church's interpretation was against him; he could not find any rest for his soul in her without crippling it, and withdrew higher into the classics yearly. By eighteen he was unusually mature, and so well under con-trol that he could allow himself to be friendly with anyone who attracted him. Harmony had succeeded asceticism. At Cam-bridge he cultivated tender emotions for other under-graduates, and his life, hitherto gray, became slightly tinged with delicate hues. Cautious and sane, he advanced, nor was there anything petty in his caution. He was ready to go further should he con-sider it right. In his second year he met Risley, himself "that way." Clive did not return the confidence which was given rather freely, nor did he like Risley and his set. But he was stimulated. He was glad to know that there were more of his sort about, and their frank-ness braced him into telling his mother about his agnosticism; it was all he could tell her. Mrs Durham, a worldly woman, made little protest. It was at Christmas the trouble came. Being the only gentry in the parish, the Durhams communicated sepa-ately, and to have the whole village looking on while she and her daughters knelt without Clive in the middle of that long footstool cut her with shame and stung her into anger. They quarrelled. He saw her for what she really was—withered, un-sympathetic, empty—and in his disillusion found himself think-ing vividly of Hall. Hall: he was only one of several men whom he rather liked. True he, also, had a mother and two sisters, but Clive was too level-headed to pretend this was the only bond between them. He must like Hall more than he realized—must be a little in love with him. And as soon as they met he had a rush of emotion that carried him into intimacy. The man was bourgeois, unfinished and stupid—the worst of confidants. Yet he told about his home troubles, touched out of all proportion by his dismissal of Chapman. When Hall started teasing he was charmed. Others held off, regarding him as se-date, and he liked being thrown about by a powerful and hand-some boy. It was delightful too when Hall stroked his hair: the faces of the two people in the room would fade: he leant back till his cheek brushed the flannel of the trousers and felt the warmth strike through. He was under no illusion on these oc-casions. He knew what kind of pleasure he was receiving, and received it honestly, certain that it brought no harm to either of them. Hall was a man who only liked women—one could tell that at a glance. Towards the end of the term he noticed that Hall had ac-quired a peculiar and beautiful expression. It came only now and then, was subtle and lay far down; he noticed it first when they were squabbling about theology. It was affectionate, kindly, and to that extent a natural expression, but there was mixed in it something that he had not observed in the man, a touch of— impudence? He was not sure, but liked it. It recurred when they met suddenly or had been silent. It beckoned to him across intel-lect, saying, "This is all very well, you're clever, we know—but come!" It haunted him so that he watched for it while his brain and tongue were busy, and when it came he felt himself replying, "I'll come—I didn't know." "You can't help yourself now. You must come." "I don't want to help myself." "Come then." He did come. He flung down all the barriers—not at once, for he did not live in a house that can be destroyed in a day. All that term and through letters afterwards he made the path clear. Once certain that Hall loved him, he unloosed his own love. Hitherto it had been dalliance, a passing pleasure for body and mind. How he despised that now. Love was harmonious, im-mense. He poured into it the dignity as well as the richness of his being, and indeed in that well-tempered soul the two were one. There was nothing humble about Clive. He knew his own worth, and, when he had expected to go through life without love, he had blamed circumstances rather than himself. Hall, though attractive and beautiful, had not condescended. They would meet on an equality next term. But books meant so much for him he forgot that they were a bewilderment to others. Had he trusted the body there would have been no disaster, but by linking their love to the past he linked it to the present, and roused in his friend's mind the con-ventions and the fear of the law. He realized nothing of this. What Hall said he must mean. Otherwise why should he say it? Hall loathed him—had said so, "Oh, rot"—the words hurt more than any abuse, and rang in his ears for days. Hall was the healthy normal Englishman, who had never had a glimmer of what was up. Great was the pain, great the mortification, but worse fol-lowed. So deeply had Clive become one with the beloved that he began to loathe himself. His whole philosophy of life broke down, and the sense of sin was reborn in its ruins, and crawled along corridors. Hall had said he was a criminal, and must know. He was damned. He dare never be friends with a young man again, for fear of corrupting him. Had he not lost Hall his faith in Christianity and attempted his purity besides? During those three weeks Clive altered immensely, and was beyond the reach of argument when Hall—good, blundering creature—came to his room to comfort him, tried this and that without success, and vanished in a gust of temper. "Oh, go to Hell, it's all you're fit for." Never a truer word but hard to accept from the beloved. Clive's defeat increased: his life had been blown to pieces, and he felt no inward strength to rebuild it and clear out evil. His conclusion was "Ridiculous boy! I never loved him. I only had an image I made up in my polluted mind, and may God help me to get rid of it." But it was this image that visited his sleep, and caused him to whisper its name. "Maurice..." "Clive..." "Hall!" he gasped, fully awake. Warmth was upon him. "Mau-rice, Maurice, Maurice___OhMaurice —" "I know." "Maurice, I love you." "I you." They kissed, scarcely wishing it. Then Maurice vanished as he had come, through the window. 少年时代，克莱夫很少由于迷惑不解而苦恼。但是，由于他心地真诚，对善与恶的感觉敏锐，以致相信自己是该遭天罚的。他非常虔诚，有着接近神、使神感到满意的强烈愿望。不过，年少时他就领悟到自己因来自所多玛的另一种欲望（译注：据《旧约全书·创世记》第18至19章，所多玛的市民干尽了残酷邪恶的勾当。全城被神毁掉，除了善良的罗得一家人，市民们统统被灭绝。“另一种欲望”指同性爱倾向。）而备受磨难。他丝毫没有怀疑这究竟是什么。他的情感比莫瑞斯的细腻，不曾分裂为肉欲与理想，更没有试图在二者之间的鸿沟上搭桥而荒废光阴。他具有一股内在的冲动，那座悲恸之城就是被它毁掉的。永远不能听任这股冲动变成肉欲，但是在众多的基督教徒当中，为什么偏偏让他受这样的惩罚呢？ 起初他以为神准是在考验他。倘若他不亵渎神，就会像约伯那样得到补偿（译注：据《旧约全书·约伯记》，约伯经受了神对他的种种考验，从不怨天尤人。最后，神把他所失去的财富还给了他。）。于是他耷拉着脑袋，过斋戒生活，决不接近任何一个他觉得自己会喜欢的人。十六岁那一年，他不断地受到折磨。他对所有的人都守口如瓶，终于患上神经衰弱，被迫休学。进入康复期后，他坐在轮椅上外出，却发现自己爱上了那个陪他的已婚青年，他的一位亲戚。简直是无可救药，他该遭到天罚。 莫瑞斯也曾体验过这样的恐怖，然而是隐隐约约的。克莱夫所尝到的恐怖却是明确的，持续不断的，举行圣餐仪式的时候最要命。尽管他抑制住自己，不会有粗鲁的言行，他却绝不会看错真相。他能够控制自己的肉体，然而他那具堕落的灵魂却在嘲弄他所做的祷告。 这个少年素喜读书，深受书本的启发。《圣经》在他心中引起的恐怖被柏拉图平息下去了。他永远不会忘记初读《斐德罗斯篇》（译注：《斐德罗斯篇》是柏拉图的对话集，内容主要是美学和神秘主义。他把人分成九等，第一等人是“爱智慧者，爱美者，或诗神和爱神的顶礼者”。第六等人是“诗人或其他从事模仿的艺术家”。）时的兴奋。其中他的病被细腻地、平静地加以描述，是作为跟任何其他的激情一样，既可以引向好的方面，也可以引向坏的方面的激情来描述的。这里没有怂恿人去放纵的记述。起初他不能相信自己的好运气——他以为自己准是误解了，他跟柏拉图所想的是两码事。随后，他知道了这位温和的异教徒确实理解他；并没有跟《圣经》对立，却从旁边溜过去，向他捧出新的人生指南：“尽量发展自己的禀赋。”不是将它压垮，也不是徒然希望它是别样的东西，而是以不会惹恼神或人的方式来培育它。 但是他非放弃基督教不可。凡是我行我素，而不是遵奉既定的行为准则的人，最后都必须放弃它。何况克莱夫的性格倾向与基督教教义在俗世间是势不两立的。任何一个头脑清楚的人都不可能使二者妥协。如果引用法律上的惯用语句，克莱夫这种性格倾向是“在基督教徒当中不可启口的”。神话中说，有这种倾向的人在耶稣诞生的第二天早晨统统死掉了，克莱夫对此感到遗憾。他出身于律师、乡绅门第，家族中大多数人都有教养，有本事。他不愿意偏离这一传统。他渴望基督教稍微对他做出让步，就翻看《圣经》，寻找能够支持自己的词句。有大卫与约拿旦(译注：大卫是扫罗王之子约拿旦的好友，扫罗妒忌大卫，想置之于死地。大卫在约拿旦的协助下逃逸。见《旧约全书·撒母耳记上》第18至20章。)的先例，甚至还有“耶稣所钟爱的门徒”（译注：指约翰《约翰福音》的作者。耶稣看见他的母亲和他所钟爱的门徒站在旁边，就对他母亲说：‘妈妈，瞧，你的儿子。’接着，他又对那个门徒说：‘瞧，你的母亲。’”见《新约全书·约翰福音》第19章第26至27节。）。然而教会的解释与他的不一致。倘若想通过《圣经》使自己的灵魂得到安宁，他就必须曲解这种解释不可。于是他逐年对古典文学越钻越深。 18岁时，他已成熟得不同凡响。他能够充分克制自己，不论他感到谁有吸引力，他都会与之建立友好关系，融洽接替了禁欲。在剑桥，他为其他学友们陶冶了温柔的感情。他的人生迄今是灰色的，眼下稍微带有淡淡的色泽了。他谨慎而稳健地前进，他的谨慎丝毫没有小气的意味。只要他认为是正确的，他就准备再向前迈进。 二年级的时候，他遇见了里斯利。里斯利也有“那种倾向”。里斯利相当坦率地向他吐露了自己的秘密，克莱夫却守口如瓶。而且他不喜欢里斯利及其伙伴们，但是他受到了刺激。他知道了周围还有他这种倾向的人，感到很高兴。他们的直言不讳促使他鼓起勇气，将自己的不可知论告诉了母亲。他只能开诚布公地说这么多。德拉姆太太是个圆滑的女人，没提出什么异议。圣诞节期间惹出了麻烦，作为本教区惟一属于绅士阶级的望族，德拉姆这家人与全村的教徒是分开领圣餐的。在众目睽睽之下，她和两个女儿跪在长长的脚台中央，克莱夫却缺席，这使她恼羞成怒。母子吵架了，她原形毕露——憔悴枯槁，没有同情心，精神空虚。他看到母亲这副样子，感到幻灭。这时候，他发觉自己正在强烈地想着霍尔。 霍尔，那是他相当喜欢的几个人中的一个。真的，霍尔也有一位母亲和两个妹妹。然而克莱夫的头脑十分冷静，不至于假装这是他们之间惟一紧密的关系。他对霍尔的好感一定比自己所领悟到的要深—一想必是有点儿爱上了霍尔。放完了假，他们刚一见面，一阵激情袭上心头，促使他跟霍尔亲密起来。 霍尔没有教养，毛毛糙糙，头脑糊涂——最不宜把这种人当做知己。然而由于他给查普曼下了逐客令，克莱夫感激不已，就把家里的那场纠纷向他和盘托出。当霍尔开始跟他戏弄的时候，他被陶醉了。旁人认为他道貌岸然，对他敬而远之。其实他喜欢让这么个有力气的英俊少年摔着玩儿。被霍尔抚摸头发也很愉快。待在屋子里的他们两个人的脸，轮廓模糊了。克莱夫向后仰，脸颊碰着霍尔的法兰绒裤子，并感到裤子的热气刺穿自己的身子。在这些场合，他没有抱任何幻想，他明白自己获得的是什么样的快乐，于是老老实实地接受了它。他确信双方都没有受到伤害，霍尔这个人只喜欢女子——一眼就看得出这一点。 接近学期末的时候，克莱夫发现霍尔脸上有一种特殊的、美丽的表情。这种表情只是偶然浮现，难于捉摸，转瞬即逝。当他们针对神学问题进行争论的时候，他头一次注意到它。它是亲热、和善的，这还在自然表情的范围内。然而，他觉得霍尔的表情中好像夹杂着过去不曾注意到的一丝蛮横。他拿不准，但喜欢它。当他们二人突然相遇或者沉默半晌之后，霍尔的脸上就会泛出这样的神情。它越过理性，引诱他说：“一切都很好，我们知道你是个聪明人一到我这儿来吧！”这种神情萦回在克莱夫的心头，他一边忙于动脑子，鼓其如簧之舌，一边期待着。它浮现在霍尔的脸上后，他就情不自禁地在心里回答：“我会去的——我原来不知道。” “你现在已经无法违抗了，你非来不可。” “我不想违抗。” “那么，来吧。” 克莱夫来了。他拆掉了所有的屏障，不是一下子就拆尽的。因为他并没有住在能够毁于一旦的家里。整整一个学期，随后又在假期内通过书信，他铺平了道路。及至他确知霍尔爱着他，他就释放出自己那一腔爱情。在这之前，不过是调情，是肉体与精神的一种刹那间的快乐而已。而今，他多么藐视它啊。爱是和谐的，无穷无尽的。他将个人的尊严与宽大的心怀倾注进去。在他那平和的灵魂中，它们是合二为一的。克莱夫丝毫没有自卑感，他孤芳自赏。及至料想自己注定要过一辈子没有爱情的生活时，他责备的与其说是自个儿．毋宁说是环境。霍尔呢，尽管长得一表人才，又富于吸引力，在他面前并没有表现出一副了不起的样子。下学期他们会以平等的地位会面。 然而，对他来说书籍是无比重要的，他竟忘记别人会被书弄得迷惑不解。倘若他侧重肉体，就不会招致任何不幸了。但是他把他们二人的爱跟古代衔接起来，同时又联系到现在。这样一来t就在他的朋友心中唤醒了因循旧习，以及对法律的恐惧。他完全没有理会到这一点。霍尔所说的肯定是由衷之言，否则他为什么要说呢？霍尔厌恶他，而且这么说了：“哦，别胡说！”这比任何谩骂都使他感到痛苦，在他的耳际萦绕了好几天。霍尔是个健康、正常的英国人，对克莱夫的心事浑然不觉。 克莱夫痛苦不已，屈辱至极，但更糟糕的还在后头。由于克莱夫已经与他所挚爱的人深深地融为一体了，他开始厌恶起自己来。他的人生哲学完全崩溃了，从废墟中重新产生的罪恶意识，在瓦砾间乱爬。霍尔曾经说那是犯罪行为，而他是晓得这句话的分量的。克莱夫被弄得身败名裂。他再也不敢跟小伙子交朋友了，生怕会使对方道德败坏。难道他没有让霍尔失掉对基督教的信仰，甚至还试图玷 ，污他的纯洁吗？ 三个星期以来，克莱夫发生了极大的变化。当霍尔——善良、愚钝的人儿——到他的房间来安慰他时，他抱着超然的态度。霍尔用尽种种办法也没有用，终于大发雷霆，消失了踪影。“哦，下地狱去吧，那是最适合你的地方。”此话无比真实，然而出自所爱的人之口就难以接受了。克莱夫一而再再而三地败下阵来。他的人生被彻底粉碎，他感到自己没有重建人生并清除邪恶的勇气。他的结论是：“荒谬的男孩！我从来没爱过他。我不过是在被污染了的心灵中塑造了这么个形象。神啊，请帮助我将它驱除掉。” 然而，出现在他睡梦中的正是这个形象，致使他呼唤他的名字。 “莫瑞斯……” “克莱夫……” “霍尔！”他透不过气来，完全清醒了。暖烘烘的体温笼罩在他身上。“莫瑞斯，莫瑞斯，莫瑞斯……啊，莫瑞斯……” “我知道。” “莫瑞斯，我爱你。” “我也爱你。” 他们二人不由自主地接吻。随后，莫瑞斯就像进来的时候一样，从窗子跳出去，消失了踪影。 |
Chapter 11 After this crisis Maurice became a man. Hitherto—if human beings can be estimated—he had not been worth anyone's affection, but conventional, petty, treacherous to others, because to himself. Now he had the highest gift to offer. The idealism and the brutality that ran through boyhood had joined at last, and twined into love. No one might want such love, but he could not feel ashamed of it, because it was "he," neither body or soul, nor body and soul, but "he" working through both. He still suffered, yet a sense of triumph had come elsewhere. Pain had shown him a niche behind the world's judge-ments, whither he could withdraw. There was still much to learn, and years passed before he ex-plored certain abysses in his being—horrible enough they were. But he discovered the method and looked no more at scratches in the sand. He had awoken too late for happiness, but not for strength, and could feel an austere joy, as of a warrior who is homeless but stands fully armed. As the term went on he decided to speak to Durham. He valued words highly, having so lately discovered them. Why should he suffer and cause his friend suffering, when words might put all right? He heard himself saying, "I really love you as you love me," and Durham replying, "Is that so? Then I for-give you," and to the ardour of youth such a conversation seemed possible, though somehow he did not conceive it as leading to joy. He made several attempts, but partly through his own shy-ness, partly through Durham's, they failed. If he went round, the door was sported, or else there were people inside; should he enter, Durham left when the other guests did. He invited him to meals—he could never come; he offered to lift him again for tennis, but an excuse was made. Even if they met in the court, Durham would affect to have forgotten something and run past him or away. He was surprised their friends did not notice the change, but few undergraduates are observant—they have too much to discover within themselves and it was a don who re-marked that Durham had stopped honeymooning with that Hall person. He found his opportunity after a debating society to which both belonged. Durham—pleading his Tripos—had sent in his resignation, but had begged that the society might meet in his rooms first, as he wished to take his share of hospitality. This was like him; he hated to be under an obligation to anyone. Maurice went and sat through a tedious evening. When every-one, including the host, surged out into the fresh air, he re-mained, thinking of the first night he had visited that room, and wondering whether the past cannot return. Durham entered, and did not at once see who it was. Ignoring him utterly, he proceeded to tidy up for the night. "You're beastly hard," blurted Maurice, "you don't know what it is to have a mind in a mess, and it makes you very hard." Durham shook his head as one who refuses to listen. He looked so ill that Maurice had a wild desire to catch hold of him. "You might give me a chance instead of avoiding me—I only want to discuss." "We've discussed the whole evening." "I mean theSymposium, like the ancient Greeks." "Oh Hall, don't be so stupid—you ought to know that to be alone with you hurts me. No, please don't reopen. It's over. It's over." He went into the other room and began to undress. "For-give this discourtesy, but I simply can't—my nerves are all no-how after three weeks of this." "So are mine," cried Maurice. "Poor, poor chap!" "Durham, I'm in Hell." "Oh, you'll get out. It's only the Hell of disgust. You've never done anything to be ashamed of, so you don't know what's really Hell." Maurice gave a cry of pain. It was so unmistakable that Dur-ham, who was about to close the door between them, said, "Very well, 111 discuss if you like. What's the matter? You appear to want to apologize about something. Why? You behave as if I'm annoyed with you. What have you done wrong? You've been thoroughly decent from first to last." In vain he protested. "So decent that I mistook your ordinary friendliness. When you were so good to me, above all the afternoon I came up— I thought it was something else. I am more sorry than I can ever say. I had no right to move out of my books and music, which was what I did when I met you. You won't want my apol-ogy any more than anything else I could give, but, Hall, I do make it most sincerely. It is a lasting grief to have insulted you." His voice was feeble but clear, and his face like a sword. Mau-rice flung useless words about love. "That's all, I think. Get married quickly and forget." "Durham, I love you." He laughed bitterly. "I do—I have always—" "Good night, good night." "I tell you, I do—I came to say it—in your very own way—I have always been like the Greeks and didn't know." "Expand the statement." Words deserted him immediately. He could only speak when he was not asked to. "Hall, don't be grotesque." He raised his hand, for Maurice had exclaimed. "It's like the very decent fellow you are to comfort me, but there are limits; one or two things I can't swallow." "I'm not grotesque—" "I shouldn't have said that. So do leave me. I'm thankful it's into your hands I fell. Most men would have reported me to the Dean or the Police." "Oh, go to Hell, it's all you're fit for," cried Maurice, rushed into the court and heard once more the bang of the outer door. Furious he stood on the bridge in a night that resembled the first —drizzly with faint stars. He made no allowance for three weeks of torture unlike his own or for the poison which, secreted by one man, acts differently on another. He was enraged not to find his friend as he had left him. Twelve o'clock struck, one, two, and he was still planning what to say when there is nothing to say and the resources of speech are ended. Then savage, reckless, drenched with the rain, he saw in the first glimmer of dawn the window of Durham's room, and his heart leapt alive and shook him to pieces. It cried "You love and are loved." He looked round the court. It cried "You are strong, he weak and alone," won over his will. Terrified at what he must do, he caught hold of the mullion and sprang. "Maurice—" As he alighted his name had been called out of dreams. The violence went out of his heart, and a purity that he had never imagined dwelt there instead. His friend had called him. He stood for a moment entranced, then the new emotion found him words, and laying his hand very gently upon the pillows he an-swered, "Give!" 出了这件事之后，莫瑞斯变成了男子汉。倘若能够对人加以评价的话，过去他不值得让任何人爱慕。他曾经是个墨守成规、心胸狭窄、背信弃义的人。他连自己都欺骗，又怎么能忠于旁人呢？现在他具有能够赠送人们的最有价值的礼品了。少年期一直流淌在身子里的理想主义与肉欲终于结合了，并孕育出爱情这个果实。或许任何人都不想得到这样的爱情，但是他不会为此感到羞愧，因为那就是“他本人”。并不单是肉体或灵魂，更不是肉体与灵魂合二为一，却是“他本人”对二者起着作用。他依然苦恼着，胜利的感觉却来自其他方面。痛苦将世间的审判所触及不到的适当场所指给他看，他可以隐遁在那里。 尚有许许多多应该学习的事物，过了好几年他才探索自己内部那一个个深渊——它们真够可怕的。然而他发现了办法，再也不去看沙地上的示意图了。他觉醒得太迟，来不及获得幸福了，但还来得及增强自己的实力。他能感受到禁欲的喜悦，犹如一个失去了家园、却武装到牙齿的战士。 随着这个学期的进展，他决定跟德拉姆谈一次话。他最近才看出语言的价值，予以高度评价。既然语言可能会把一切事情都安排好，他为什么还要自讨苦吃，也让朋友吃苦头呢？他听见自己在说：“我真的爱你，正如你爱我一样。”并听见德拉姆回答：“是吗？那么我就饶了你。”以年轻人的激情，这样的交谈似乎是可能的。不过，不知怎的，他不认为它会使自己找到快乐。他尝试了几次，由于他本人缺乏自信，又由于德拉姆过于腼腆，都失败了。他到德拉姆的房间去一看，要么就是外面那扇门关得严严的，表示谢绝会客，要么就是屋里有旁人。倘若他进去的话，其他客人告辞时，德拉姆也会跟他们结伴而去。他请德拉姆吃饭——德拉姆总找个借口谢绝。他提出再让德拉姆搭他的摩托车去打网球，德拉姆必然婉辞。即使他们二人在院子里相遇，德拉姆也会假装忘了东西，从他身旁一溜烟儿跑得没影儿了。他们的朋友们竟然没发觉这个变化，使莫瑞斯感到吃惊。其实，本科生没有几个观察力敏锐的。他们自顾不暇，自己内部的东西就够他们发现的了。倒是有一位学监谈到，德拉姆不再向那个名叫霍尔的人献殷勤了。 德拉姆和莫瑞斯同是一个讨论会的会员。在一次集会之后，莫瑞斯找到了机会。德拉姆以参加荣誉学位考试为理由，申请退出该会。在这之前，他要求会员们在他的房间里举行一次集会，以便报答大家的深情厚谊。德拉姆行事为人一向是这样的：他不愿意欠任何人的情。莫瑞斯前往，耐心地坐在那儿度过一个单词沉闷的傍晚。当包括主人在内的每一个人涌到室外去呼吸新鲜空气时，他留了下来，回想着自己初次造访这间屋子的往事，猜测着究竟有没有J日梦重温的可能。 德拉姆进来了，他没有马上发觉待在那儿的是谁。他完全无视莫瑞斯，着手收拾房间。 “你太苛刻了，”莫瑞斯莽撞地说，“你不知道头脑不灵敏是什么滋味，所以才会如此苛刻地对待我。” 德拉姆好像拒绝听到一般摇了摇头。他面带病容，促使莫瑞斯疯狂地渴望紧紧抓住他。 “别总是躲避我，哪怕给我一次机会也好嘛——我只是想讨论一下。” “咱们已经讨论了一个晚上。” “我指的是《会饮篇》，就像古代希腊人那样。” “喂，霍尔，别那么傻头傻脑的——你应该知道，跟你单独在一起，使我感到痛苦。不，请不要揭旧伤疤吧。事情已经过去了，过去了。”他走进邻室，开始脱衣服。“请原谅我待你简慢。然而我确实不行了——这三个星期以来，我的神经完全乱了套。” “我也一样！”莫瑞斯叫喊。 “小可怜虫！” “德拉姆，眼下我在地狱里呢。” “哦，你会挣脱出来的。那只不过是厌烦的地狱而已。你从来没做过任何丢人的事，所以你不知道什么是真正的地狱。” 莫瑞斯发出了痛苦的喊声：“绝对不会弄错的。”正要把自己和莫瑞斯之间的那扇门关上的德拉姆说：“好的。倘若你愿意的话，我就跟你讨论一番。究竟是怎么回事？你好像要为什么事道歉似的。为什么？看你的举止，仿佛我被你惹恼了一般。你做了什么坏事呢？你自始至终是绝对正派的。” 莫瑞斯怎么抗议也没有用。 “你是那样正派，以致我对你那普通的友谊产生了误会。你对我那么好，尤其是我上楼来的那个下午——我竟然认为它是另外一种东西。我非常抱歉，难以用语言表达。我不该越出书籍和音乐的范畴，可我遇见你的时候，却这么做了。你不屑于听到我的道歉，也不愿意让我替你做旁的什么。然而霍尔，我最真诚地向你道歉。我对你太无礼了，将毕生感到懊悔。” 德拉姆的声音有气无力，却是清脆的，脸像一把剑那样寒气逼人。莫瑞斯说了一些关于爱的话，终归徒劳。 “一切都了结啦，我想。早点儿结婚，忘掉这些吧。” “德拉姆，我爱你。” 德拉姆发出了苦涩的笑声。 “是真的——从来就……” “晚安，晚安。” “我告诉你，我爱你——我是为了说这话而来的——用跟你完全一样的措词。我一向跟那些希腊人如出一辙，却蒙在鼓里。” “你畅所欲言吧。” 莫瑞斯立即语塞了。只有没人要求他说话时，他才说得出来。 “霍尔，别出洋相。”德拉姆举起一只手来，因为莫瑞斯惊叫起来了。“你想安慰我。你是个好人，这样做正符合你的处世之道。然而，什么都是有限度的。有一两件事我不能忍受。” “我并没有出洋相……” “我不该这么说。因此，务必请离开我。我很感谢自己栽在你手里。绝大多数人会到学监或警察那儿去告发我。” “哦，下地狱去吧，那是最适合你的地方。”莫瑞斯喊着冲进院子，再度听见了外面那扇门“砰”的一声关上。他狂怒地伫立在那座桥上。这个夜晚与头一次的那么相似，下着蒙蒙细雨，星星朦朦胧胧。他没有考虑到三个星期以来德拉姆所经受的与他不同的折磨，以及一个人的隐私或许会在旁人身上发生截然不同的作用。自从上次分手后他再也没有看到他的朋友，所以被激怒了。时钟敲了十二下、一下、两下，他仍在琢磨该说些什么，尽管已无话可说，语言已经枯竭。 莫瑞斯被雨淋透了，非常暴躁，在最初一抹曙光中他看见了德拉姆那个房间的窗户。他的心脏剧烈地跳动，将他震得粉碎。它喊道：“你爱着，也被爱着。”他四下里望着院子。院子喊道：“你是坚强的，他是软弱而孤独的。”莫瑞斯的意志屈服了，必须要做的事使他极度惊恐，他抓住窗棂子，纵身一跳。 “莫瑞斯……” 当他跳进屋子后，德拉姆在梦中呼唤着他的名字。心头的狂躁消失了，取而代之的是他从未想象过的纯真感情。他的朋友呼唤了他，他神魂颠倒。伫立片刻，新产生的激情终于使他有所吐露，他轻轻地将手放在枕头上，回答说：“克莱夫！” |
Chapter 10 A slow nature such as Maurice's appears insensitive, for it needs time even to feel. Its instinct is to assume that nothing either for good or evil has happened, and to resist the invader. Once gripped, it feels acutely, and its sensations in love are particularly profound. Given time, it can know and im-part ecstasy; given time, it can sink to the heart of Hell. Thus it was that his agony began as a slight regret; sleepless nights and lonely days must intensify it into a frenzy that consumed him. It worked inwards, till it touched the root whence body and soul both spring, the"I"that he had been trained to obscure, and, realized at last, doubled its power and grew superhuman. For it might have been joy. New worlds broke loose in him at this, and he saw from the vastness of the ruin what ecstasy he had lost, what a communion. They did not speak again for two days. Durham would have made it longer, but most of their friends were now in common, and they were bound to meet. Realizing this, he wrote Maurice an icy note suggesting that it would be a public convenience if they behaved as if nothing had happened. He added, "I shall be obliged if you will not mention my criminal morbidity to any-one. I am sure you will do this from the sensible way in which you took the news." Maurice did not reply, but first put the note with the letters he had received during the vac and afterwards burnt them all. He supposed the climax of agony had come. But he was fresh to real suffering as to reality of any kind. They had yet to meet. On the second afternoon they found themselves in the same four at tennis and the pain grew excruciating. He could scarcely stand or see; if he returned Durham's service the ball sent a throb up his arm. Then they were made to be partners; once they jostled, Durham winced, but managed to laugh in the old fash-ion. Moreover, it proved convenient that he should come back to college in Maurice's side-car. He got in without demur. Mau-rice, who had not been to bed for two nights, went light-headed, turned the machine into a by-lane, and travelled top speed. There was a wagon in front, full of women. He drove straight at them, but when they screamed stuck on his brakes, and just avoided disaster. Durham made no comment. As he indicated in his note, he only spoke when others were present. All other inter-course was to end. That evening Maurice went to bed as usual. But as he laid his head on the pillows a flood of tears oozed from it. He was hor-rified. A man crying! Fetherstonhaugh might hear him. He wept stifled in the sheets, he sprang about kicking, then struck his head against the wall and smashed the crockery. Someone did come up the stairs. He grew quiet at once and did not recom-mence when the footsteps died away. Lighting a candle, he looked with surprise at his torn pyjamas and trembling limbs. He continued to cry, for he could not stop, but the suicidal point had been passed, and, remaking the bed, he lay down. His gyp was clearing away the ruins when he opened his eyes. It seemed queer to Maurice that a gyp should have been dragged in. He wondered whether the man suspected anything, then slept again. On waking the second time he found letters on the floor—one from old Mr Grace, his grandfather, about the party that was to be given when he came of age, another from a don's wife ask-ing him to lunch ("Mr Durham is coming too, so you won't be shy"), another from Ada with mention of Gladys Olcott. Yet again he fell asleep. Madness is not for everyone, but Maurice's proved the thun-derbolt that dispels the clouds. The storm had been working up not for three days as he supposed, but for six years. It had brewed in the obscurities of being where no eye pierces, his surroundings had thickened it. It had burst and he had not died. The brilliancy of day was around him, he stood upon the mountain range that overshadows youth, he saw. Most of the day he sat with open eyes, as if looking into the Valley he had left. It was all so plain now. He had lied. He phrased it "been fed upon lies," but lies are the natural food of boyhood, and he had eaten greedily. His first resolve was to be more careful in the future. He would live straight, not because it mattered to anyone now, but for the sake of the game. He would not deceive himself so much. He would not—and this was the test—pretend to care about women when the only sex that attracted him was his own. He loved men and always had loved them. He longed to embrace them and mingle his being with theirs. Now that the man who returned his love had been lost, he admitted this. 像莫瑞斯这样本性迟钝的人，看上去感觉不灵敏，因为任何事物他都需要花费时间去感受。这样的性子有一种本能，装作好事坏事均未发生的样子，以抗拒侵犯者。一旦被攫住，会有剧烈的感觉，恋爱使这种性子迸发出的激情格外强烈。假以时日，它有能力进入忘我的境界，并传授旁人这样的特性。假以时日，它能堕入地狱的无底深渊。就这样，莫瑞斯的苦恼是从些微的懊悔开始的。失眠的夜晚与孤寂的白昼必然加剧这种苦恼，以致使他陷入狂乱状态，不断受折磨。这种苦恼侵入内心深处，最后触及肉身与灵魂的根源——也就是他曾在昏睡中训练自己予以埋没的那个“我”。终于有所领悟，力量倍增，成长为超人。一个个新世界在他的内部瓦解了，废墟堆积如山，他这才发现自己所失掉的是什么样的狂喜，是什么样的心灵交流。 这之后，他们足足有两天没交谈，德拉姆希望越长越好。如今他们所交往的大多是共同的朋友，所以两个人相会是在所难免的。德拉姆了解这一点，就给莫瑞斯写了封冷冰冰的短笺，提出倘若他们的举止让人觉得什么事都不曾发生，对大家都有好处。他补充道：“假若你不向任何人谈起我那恶劣的病态言行，我将感激不尽。我确信你会以听到我的自白时的那种明智态度这么做的。”莫瑞斯没有写回信。起初他把这封短笺与假期中收到的那一摞信放在一起，随后将它们一古脑儿烧掉了。 莫瑞斯以为这是苦恼的顶点，然而现世的任何一种真正的苦难才刚刚开始。他们仍得见面。第二天下午打网球的时候，他们发现二人均被列在参加比赛的四个人当中，于是痛苦得难以忍受。莫瑞斯几乎站不住，也不能看了。当他接德拉姆的大力发球时，震得胳膊发麻。后来他们被安排成球场上的搭档。有一次他们的身体相撞了，德拉姆退缩了一下，然而成功地照老样子笑了笑。 此外，德拉姆被认为为了方便起见，应该坐在莫瑞斯那辆摩托车的挎斗里返回学院。德拉姆二话不说就坐进去了。莫瑞斯已经两宿没睡觉了，头昏眼花地驾驶摩托车，转入小巷，用全速急驰而去。前方有一辆满载妇女的四轮运货马车。他径直朝她们猛冲，她们尖声喊叫。他来个急刹车，及时避免了一场惨祸。德拉姆一言未发。正如他在短笺中所表示的，而今他只有当着旁人的面才跟莫瑞斯说话，其他一切交往都得结束。 那天晚上莫瑞斯像往常一样上了床。然而他的头刚一挨枕头，就泪如泉涌。他感到震惊，一个男人在哭！费瑟斯顿豪可能会听见。他用被单抑制着哭泣，并且又踢又跳。他把脑袋往墙上撞，陶器被震碎了。不知是什么人，沿着楼梯走了上来。他立即安静下来，脚步声消失后，也没再出声音。他点燃一支蜡烛，惊讶地看着自己那件撕破了的睡衣和发颤的四肢。他继续哭下去，因为抑制不住。但是倾向于自杀的那一瞬间已经过去了，他把床重新铺了铺，躺下来。当他睁开眼睛的时候，工友正在清理杯盘的碎片。莫瑞斯觉得太奇怪了，连工友都受了牵连。他想知道这位工友是否觉察到了什么，随后又入睡了。第二次醒来，发现地板上有几封信。一封是他的外祖父——格雷斯老先生写来的，谈及当他成年之际举办宴会一事。另一封是学监的妻子邀请他共进午餐（“德拉姆先生也来，所以你用不着害臊。”）。还有一封信是艾达写的，提到了格拉迪斯·奥尔科特小姐。接着，他又进入了梦乡。 并不是人人都会发疯。但是就莫瑞斯而言，疯狂的霹雳将乌云驱散了。他以为风暴是三天之内酝酿成的，其实已经酝酿了六年之久。它是在任何肉眼都无法看穿的生命的晦暗中孕育出来的，环境使它膨胀。它爆裂了，他却没有死掉。四周充满了白昼的灿烂光辉，他站在朝青春期投下阴影的山脉上，他明白了。 这一天，绝大部分时间他都睁大眼睛坐着，仿佛在俯瞰自己撇下的那个幽谷。如今一切都洞若观火。原来他是在虚伪中生活过来的。他称之为“靠虚伪喂大的”。然而虚伪是少年时代的天然养料，他曾狼吞虎咽过。他首先打定主意今后要谨小慎微。从此他将正正经经地做人，并非因为这样一来会对什么人有好处，而是为了能光明正大地行事。再也不要那么欺骗自己了，既然惟一能够吸引他的是同性人，他就别装出一副对女性有兴趣的样子了——对他来说，这可是个考验。他爱的是男人，一向如此。他希望拥抱男性。将自己的人生跟他们的打成一片。如今已失掉那个曾经回报他那份眷爱的男子，他才肯承认这一点。 |
