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[Novel] 《莫瑞斯》 Maurice【中英对照】完结

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木有有木

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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。

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Chapter 1
BEGUN 1913 FINISHED 1914
Dedicated to a Happier Year
PART
Once a term the whole school went for a walk—that is to say the three masters took part as well as all the boys. It was usually a pleasant outing, and everyone looked for-ward to it, forgot old scores, and behaved with freedom. Lest discipline should suffer, it took place just before the holidays, when leniency does no harm, and indeed it seemed more like a treat at home than school, for Mrs Abrahams, the Principal's wife, would meet them at the tea place with some lady friends, and be hospitable and motherly.
Mr Abrahams was a preparatory schoolmaster of the old-fash-ioned sort. He cared neither for work nor games, but fed his boys well and saw that they did not misbehave. The rest he left to the parents, and did not speculate how much the parents were leaving to him. Amid mutual compliments the boys passed out into a public school, healthy but backward, to receive upon un-defended flesh the first blows of the world. There is much to be said for apathy in education, and Mr Abrahams's pupils did not do badly in the long run, became parents in their turn, and in some cases sent him their sons. Mr Read, the junior assistant, was a master of the same type, only stupider, while Mr Ducie, the senior, acted as a stimulant, and prevented the whole concern from going to sleep. They did not like him much, but knew that he was necessary. Mr Ducie was an able man, orthodox, but not out of touch with the world, nor incapable of seeing both sides
of a question. He was unsuitable for parents and the denser boys, but good for the first form, and had even coached pupils into a scholarship. Nor was he a bad organizer. While affecting to hold the reins and to prefer Mr Read, Mr Abrahams really allowed Mr Ducie a free hand and ended by taking him into partnership. Mr Ducie always had something on his mind. On this occasion it was Hall, one of the older boys, who was leaving them to go to a public school. He wanted to have a "good talk" with Hall, during the outing. His colleagues objected, since it would leave them more to do, and the Principal remarked that he had already talked to Hall, and that the boy would prefer to take his last walk with his school-fellows. This was probable, but Mr Ducie was never deterred from doing what is right. He smiled and was si-lent. Mr Read knew what the "good talk" would be, for early in their acquaintance they had touched on a certain theme profes-sionally. Mr Read had disapproved. "Thin ice," he had said. The Principal neither knew nor would have wished to know. Parting from his pupils when they were fourteen, he forgot they had de-veloped into men. They seemed to him a race small but com-plete, like the New Guinea pygmies, "my boys". And they were even easier to understand than pygmies, because they never married and seldom died. Celibate and immortal, the long pro-cession passed before him, its thickness varying from twenty-five to forty at a time. "I see no use in books on education. Boys be-gan before education was thought of." Mr Ducie would smile, for he was soaked in evolution.
From this to the boys.
"Sir, may I hold your hand.... Sir, you promised me...Both Mr. Abrahams's hands were bagged and all Mr Read's. ... Oh sir, did you hear that? He thinks Mr Read has three hands! . .. I didn't, I said 'fingers'. Green eye! Green eye!"
"When you have quite finished—!"
"Sir!"
"I'm going to walk with Hall alone."
There were cries of disappointment. The other masters, seeing that it was no good, called the pack off, and marshalled them along the cliff towards the downs. Hall, triumphant, sprang to Mr Ducie's side, and felt too old to take his hand. He was a plump, pretty lad, not in any way remarkable. In this he resem-bled his father, who had passed in the procession twenty-five years before, vanished into a public school, married, begotten a son and two daughters, and recently died of pneumonia. Mr Hall had been a good citizen, but lethargic. Mr Ducie had in-formed himself about him before they began the walk.
"Well, Hall, expecting a pi-jaw, eh?"
"I don't know, sir—Mr Abrahams' given me one with 'Those Holy Fields'. Mrs Abrahams' given me sleeve links. The fellows have given me a set of Guatemalas up to two dollars. Look, sir! The ones with the parrot on the pillar on."
"Splendid, splendid! What did Mr Abrahams say? Told you you were a miserable sinner, I hope."
The boy laughed. He did not understand Mr Ducie, but knew that he was meaning to be funny. He felt at ease because it was his last day at school, and even if he did wrong he would not get into a row. Besides, Mr Abrahams had declared him a success. "We are proud of him; he will do us honour at Sunnington": he had seen the beginning of the letter to his mother. And the boys had showered presents on him, declaring he was brave. A great mistake—he wasn't brave: he was afraid of the dark. But no one knew this.
"Well, what did Mr Abrahams say?" repeated Mr Ducie, when they reached the sands. A long talk threatened, and the boy wished he was up on the cliff with his friends, but he knew that wishing is useless when boy meets man.
"Mr Abrahams told me to copy my father, sir."
"Anything else?"
"I am never to do anything I should be ashamed to have mother see me do. No one can go wrong then, and the public school will be very different from this."
"Did Mr Abrahams say how?"
"All kinds of difficulties—more like the world."
"Did he tell you what the world is like?"
"No."
"Did you ask him?"
"No, sir."
"That wasn't very sensible of you, Hall. Clear things up. Mr Abrahams and I are here to answer your questions. What do you suppose the world—the world of grown-up people is like?"
"I can't tell. I'm a boy," he said, very sincerely. "Are they very treacherous, sir?"
Mr Ducie was amused and asked him what examples of treachery he had seen. He replied that grown-up people would not be unkind to boys, but were they not always cheating one another? Losing his schoolboy manner, he began to talk like a child, and became fanciful and amusing. Mr Ducie lay down on the sand to listen to him, lit his pipe, and looked up to the sky. The little watering-place where they lived was now far behind, the rest of the school away in front. The day was gray and wind-less, with little distinction between clouds and sun.
"You live with your mother, don't you?" he interrupted, seeing that the boy had gained confidence.
"Yes, sir."
"Have you any elder brothers?"
"No, sir—only Ada and Kitty."
"Any uncles?"
"No."
"So you don't know many men?"
"Mother keeps a coachman and George in the garden, but of course you mean gentlemen. Mother has three maid-servants tolook after the house, but they are so idle that they will not mend Ada's stockings. Ada is my eldest little sister."
"How old are you?"
"Fourteen and three quarters."
"Well, you're an ignorant little beggar." They laughed. After a pause he said, "When I was your age, my father told me some-thing that proved very useful and helped me a good deal." This was untrue: his father had never told him anything. But he needed a prelude to what he was going to say.
"Did he, sir?"
"Shall I tell you what it was?"
"Please, sir."
"I am going to talk to you for a few moments as if I were your father, Maurice! I shall call you by your real name." Then, very simply and kindly, he approached the mystery of sex. He spoke of male and female, created by God in the beginning in orderthat the earth might be peopled, and of the period when the male and female receive their powers. "You are just becoming a man now, Maurice; that is why I am telling you about this. It is not a thing that your mother can tell you, and you should not mention it to her nor to any lady, and if at your next school boys mention it to you, just shut them up; tell them you know. Have you heard about it before?"
"No, sir."
"Not a word?"
"No, sir."
Still smoking his pipe, Mr Ducie got up, and choosing a smooth piece of sand drew diagrams upon it with his walking-stick. "This will make it easier," he said to the boy, who watched dully: it bore no relation to his experiences. He was attentive, as
was natural when he was the only one in the class, and he knew that the subject was serious and related to his own body. But he could not himself relate it; it fell to pieces as soon as Mr Ducie put it together, like an impossible sum. In vain he tried. His torpid brain would not awake. Puberty was there, but not intel-ligence, and manhood was stealing on him, as it always must, in a trance. Useless to break in upon that trance. Useless to describe it, however scientifically and sympathetically. The boy assents and is dragged back into sleep, not to be enticed there before his hour.
Mr Ducie, whatever his science, was sympathetic. Indeed he was too sympathetic; he attributed cultivated feelings to Mau-rice, and did not realize that he must either understand nothing or be overwhelmed. "All this is rather a bother," he said, 'Taut one must get it over, one mustn't make a mystery of it. Then come the great things—Love, Life." He was fluent, having talked to boys in this way before, and he knew the kind of question they would ask. Maurice would not ask: he only said, "I see, I see, I see," and at first Mr Ducie feared he did not see. He ex-amined him. The replies were satisfactory. They boy's memory was good and—so curious a fabric is the human—he even de-veloped a spurious intelligence, a surface flicker to respond to the beaconing glow of the man's. In the end he did ask one or two questions about sex, and they were to the point. Mr Ducie was much pleased. "That's right," he said. "You need never be puzzled or bothered now."
Love and life still remained, and he touched on them as they strolled forward by the colourless sea. He spoke of the ideal man —chaste with asceticism. He sketched the glory of Woman. En-gaged to be married himself, he grew more human, and his eyes coloured up behind the strong spectacles; his cheek flushed. To love a noble woman, to protect and serve her—this, he told the
little boy, was the crown of life. "You can't understand now, you will some day, and when you do understand it, remember the poor old pedagogue who put you on the track. It all hangs to-gether—all—and God's in his heaven, All's right with the world. Male and female! Ah wonderful!"
"I think I shall not marry," remarked Maurice.
"This day ten years hence—I invite you and your wife to din-ner with my wife and me. Will you accept?"
"Oh sir!" He smiled with pleasure.
"It's a bargain, then!" It was at all events a good joke to end with. Maurice was nattered and began to contemplate marriage. But while they were easing off Mr Ducie stopped, and held his cheek as though every tooth ached. He turned and looked at the long expanse of sand behind.
"I never scratched out those infernal diagrams," he said slowly.
At the further end of the bay some people were following them, also by the edge of the sea. Their course would take them by the very spot where Mr Ducie had illustrated sex, and one of them was a lady. He ran back sweating with fear.
"Sir, won't it be all right?" Maurice cried. "The tide'll have covered them by now."
"Good Heavens ... thank God ... the tide's rising."
And suddenly for an instant of time, the boy despised him. "Liar," he thought. "Liar, coward, he's told me nothing." . . . Then darkness rolled up again, the darkness that is primeval but not eternal, and yields to its own painful dawn.

第一章
1913年动笔
1914年完稿
献给更幸福的一年
全校——也就是说，三位教师和所有的学生每个学期出去散步一次。那通常是令人愉悦的郊游，每个人都企盼着，将分数抛在脑后，无拘无束。为了避免扰乱纪律，总在临放假之前组织，这个时候即便放纵一些也不碍事。与其说仍在学校，倒好像是在家里接受款待，因为校长夫人亚伯拉罕太太会偕同几位女友在喝茶的地方跟他们相聚，热情好客，像慈母一样。
亚伯拉罕先生是—位旧脑筋的私立预备学校校长。功课也罢，体育活动也罢，他一概不放在心上，只顾让学生吃好，防止他们品行不端。其他的就听任学生的父母去管了，从未顾及过家长多么信任他。校方和家长相互恭维着，那些身体健康、学业落后的学生们遂升入公学（译注：公学是英国独立的中等学校，由私人资助和管理，培养准备升入大学的学生。学生主要来自上等阶层和富裕的中等阶层家庭。），世道朝着他们那毫无防备的肉体猛击一拳。教学不力这一点，大有讨论的余地，从长远来看，亚伯拉罕先生的学生们并不怎么差劲儿。轮到他们做父亲后，有的还把儿子送到母校来。副教务主任里德是同一个类型的教师，只是更愚蠢一些。而教务主任杜希，却是本校的一副兴奋剂，使得全盘的教育方针不至于沉闷。那两个人不怎么喜欢他，但却知道他是不可或缺的。杜希先生是一位干练的教师，正统的教育家，既懂得人情世故，又有本事从两方面来看问题。他不善于跟家长周旋，也不适宜跟迟钝的学生打交道，却擅长教一年级。他把学生们培养成热爱读书的人，他的组织能力也不赖。亚伯拉罕先生表面上掌权，并做出一副偏爱里德先生的样子，骨子里却任凭杜希先生处理一切，到头来还让他做了共同经营者。
杜希先生老是惦念着什么。这次是高班的一个名叫霍尔的学生，不久就要跟他们告别，升人公学。他想在郊游的时候跟霍尔“畅谈”一番。他的同事们表示异议，因为事后会给他们添麻烦。校长说他们已经谈过话了，况且霍尔宁愿和同学们在一起，因为这是他最后一次散步。很可能是如此，然而凡是正当的事，杜希先生素来是一不做，二不休。他面泛微笑，一声不响。里德先生知道他要“畅谈”什么。因为他们初结识之际，在交流教育的经验时触及过一个问题。当时，里德先生反对杜希先生的意见，说那是“如履薄冰”。校长并不知道此事，他也不愿意知道。他那帮学生长到十四岁就离开他了，他忘记他们已经长成男子汉了。对他来说，他们好像是小型而完整的种族一“我的学生”，不啻是新几内亚的俾格米人（译注：俾格米人是现代人类学术语，专指男性平均身高不足150厘米的人种）。他们比俾格米人还容易理解，因为他们决不结婚，轻易不会死掉。这些单身汉是永生的，排成一字长队从他面前经过，数目不等，少则二十五名，多则四十名。“依我看，关于教育学的书没有用处，还没产生‘教育’这个概念的时候，孩子们就已经这样了。”杜希先生听罢，一笑置之，因为他专心研究进化论。
那么，学生们又如何呢？
“老师，我能拉着您的手吗？……老师，您答应过我的……亚伯拉罕老师的两只手都腾不出来。里德老师的手全都……啊，老师，您听见了吗？他以为里德老师有三只手呢！……我没那么说，我说的是‘指头’。吃醋喽！吃醋喽！”
“你们说完了吧！”
“老师！”
“我只跟霍尔一个人走。”
一片失望的喊声。其他两位教师发觉拦不住他，就把孩子们打发走，让他们沿着海边的悬崖朝沙丘走去。霍尔得意洋洋地一个箭步来到杜希先生身旁，但觉得自己的年龄大了，所以没拉住老师的手。他是胖胖的英俊少年，没有任何出众之处，在这一点上与他的父亲如出一辙。二十五年前，他父亲曾排在队伍里从校长面前走过去，消失到一家公学中，结了婚，成为一个男孩两个女孩的父亲，最近死于肺炎。霍尔生前是一位好市民，但工作懒散。郊游之前，杜希先生预先查明了这些情况。
“喂，霍尔，你以为会听到一通说教吧，嗯？”
“我不知道，老师。亚伯拉罕老师在说教之后给了我一本《神圣的田野》（译注：《神圣的田野》是萨缪尔.曼宁牧师写的一部宗教地理著作）。亚伯拉罕太太送给我一对袖口链扣。同学们给了我一套面值两元的危地马拉邮票。您看这张邮票，老师！柱子上还有一只鹦鹉呢。”
“好极啦，好极啦！亚伯拉罕老师说了些什么？是不是说你是个可怜的罪人呢？”
男孩大笑起来。他没听懂杜希先生的话，然而知道那是在开玩笑。他悠然自得，因为这是在本校的最后一天了。即便做错了，也不会被斥责。何况亚伯拉罕老师还说他成绩很好。他瞥过一眼校长写给他母亲的那封信的开头部分：“我们因他而自豪。他人萨宁顿之后，也会给本校添光彩。”同学们送给他许许多多礼物，声称他勇敢。然而大错特错——他不勇敢：他惧怕黑暗。但是没人知道这些。
“喏，亚伯拉罕老师说什么来着？”当他们走到沙滩上之后，杜希先生重复了一遍。这预示着将有一番冗长的谈话，男孩希望自己跟同学们一起在悬崖上步行。然而他知道，当一个孩子遇上一个成人的时候，孩子的愿望是无济于事的。
“亚伯拉罕老师教我效仿我父亲，老师。”
“还说了什么？”
“我决不能做任何羞于让我母亲知道的事。这样的话，任何人都不会误入歧途。他还说公学跟本校迥然不同。”
“亚伯拉罕老师说过怎样不同了吗？”
“困难重重——更像是两个世界。”
“他告诉你这个世界的情况了吗？”
“没有。”
“你问他了吗？”
“没有，老师。”
“这你就不够明智了，霍尔。你应该把事情弄清楚。亚伯拉罕老师和我就是待在这儿替你们解答问题的。你认为这个世界——也就是成人的世界是什么样的呢？”
“我说不上来，我不过是个孩子。”他非常真诚地说，“他们极其奸诈吗？老师？”
杜希先生觉得有趣，让他举例说明自己所看到的奸诈行为。他回答说，成年人不欺负孩子，然而他们相互间不总是在尔虞我诈吗？他抛弃了学生应有的规矩，说起话来像孩子一般，变得充满幻想，很有意思。杜希先生躺在沙滩上倾听，他点燃烟斗，仰望天空。如今他们已把寄宿学校所在的矿泉地甩在后面了，一群师生则在遥远的前方。天色灰暗，没有风，云彩与太阳混沌一片。
“你跟你母亲住在一起吗？”杜希先生看出男孩有了自信，就打断他的话问道。
“是的，老师。”
“你有哥哥吗？”
“没有，老师——只有艾达和吉蒂。”
“伯伯叔叔呢？”
“没有。”
“那么，你不大认识成年的男人吧？”
“母亲雇用一个马车夫，还有一个名叫乔治的园丁。然而您指的当然是绅士喽。母亲还雇了三个做家务的女佣，可她们懒得很，连艾达的袜子都不肯补。艾达是我的大妹妹。”
“你多大啦？”
“十四岁九个月。”
“喏，你是个不开窍的小家伙。”他们二人笑了。他歇了口气，又说下去，“我在你这个年龄的时候，我父亲告诉了我一件事．极其有用，受益匪浅。”这不是真的，他父亲从来没有告诉过他任何事。但是在进入正题之前，他需要一段开场白。
“是吗，老师？”
“我跟你说说他都告诉了我些什么事，好吗？”
“好的，老师。”
“我就只当做了你的父亲，跟你聊几分钟，莫瑞斯！我现在用你的教名称呼你。”于是，他非常直率诚恳地探讨起性的神秘来。他谈到原始时代神创造了男性与女性，以便让大地上充满了人，还谈到了男女能发挥本能的时期。“莫瑞斯，你快要成人了，所以我才告诉你这些事。你母亲不能跟你谈这个，你也不应该对她或任何一个女子提起这个话题。倘若在你即将要去的那座学校里，同学们跟你提到这事，就堵住他们的嘴，告诉他们你已经知道了。你原来听说过吗？”
“没有，老师。”
“一句也没听说过？”
“没有，老师。”
杜希先生站了起来，继续抽着烟斗，他看中了一片平坦的沙地，并在上面用手杖画了示意图。“这样一来就容易理解了。”男孩呆呆地看着，好像与他的人生风马牛不相及。他专心致志地倾听，很自然，老师在给他一个人授课。他知道话题是严肃的，涉及自己的肉体。但是他无法把它与自己联系起来，这就犹如一道难以解答的问题，杜希先生的说明自右耳朵进去，从左耳朵出来，简直是白费力气。他头脑迟钝，反应不过来。虽然进入了青春期，却茫然无知，性的冲动在恍惚状态下正悄悄地潜入他的身体内部。打破这种恍惚状态是无济于事的，不论怎样科学地、善意地加以描述也没有用。少年被唤醒后会重新昏睡起来，那个时期到来之前，是无法将他引诱进去的。
不论杜希先生的科学知识怎样，侧隐之心是有的。说实在的，他太温情了，认为莫瑞斯具备有教养的人的理智，却不曾领悟孩子要么对此一窍不通，要么会弄得不知所措。“这一切挺麻烦的，”他说，“可是得了解它，而不该把它看得很神秘。伟大的事情——爱、人生——将接踵而至。”他口若悬河。以往他也曾跟孩子们像这样谈过，而且知道他们会提出些什么问题。莫瑞斯却不发问，只是说：“我明白，我明白，我明白。”起初杜希先生怕他不明白，就问了一番，他的回答令人满意。男孩的记性很好。人的思维真是妙不可言，他甚至进一步阐述了似是而非的领悟，对成年人那诱导的光亮做出反应，闪烁出徒有其表的光辉。最后他确实提出了一两个关于性的问题，都很中肯，杜希先生十分满意。“就是那样。”他说，“这回你就永远不会迷惑不解或感到烦恼了。”
然而，还有爱与人生的问题。当他们沿着暗灰色的海边漫步的时候，他谈到这些。他谈到由于禁欲的缘故变得纯洁的理想人物，他描绘了女性的光辉。目前已订了婚的他，越谈越富于人情味儿，透过深度眼镜，目光炯炯有神。他的两颊泛红了。爱一个高尚的女子，保护并侍奉她——他告诉这个稚气的男孩，人生的意义就在于此。“眼下你还不能理解这些，有一天你会理解的。当你理解了的时候，可要记起那个启蒙你的老教师。所有的事都安排得严丝合缝——神在天上，尘世太平无事。男人和女人！多么美妙啊！”
“我认为我是不会结婚的。”莫瑞斯说。
“十年后的今天——我邀请你和你太太跟我和夫人一起吃饭。你肯光临吗？”
“哦，老师！”他笑逐颜开。
“那么，一言为定！”不管怎样，用这句笑话来结束今天的谈话．可谓恰如其分。莫瑞斯受宠若惊，开始深思婚姻问题。然而，’l1他们溜达了一段后，杜希先生停下脚步，好像所有的牙齿都疼痛起来一般，双手捧着两颊。他转过身去，望着来路那长长的一片沙地。
“我忘记抹掉那些该死的示意图啦。”他慢吞吞地说。
海湾那边有几个人，正沿着海岸朝着他们走来。其中还有个女人，他们的路线刚好经过杜希先生所画的性器官图解。他吓出一身冷汗，拔腿就往回奔。
“老师，不要紧吧？”莫瑞斯大声喊道。“现在潮水早把它们淹没了。”
“天哪……谢天谢地……涨潮啦。”
刹那间，男孩猛地鄙视起他来。“撒谎大王！”他想。“撒谎大王，胆小鬼，他所说的都是无稽之谈。”……接着，黑暗将少年笼罩住。久远的然而并非是永恒的黑暗落下帷幕，等待着自身那充满痛苦的黎明。

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4071鲜花 1鸡蛋

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举报只看该作者板凳发表于: 2013-12-18 0

Chapter 2
Maurices mother lived near London, in a comfortable villa among some pines. There he and his sisters had been born, and thence his father had gone up to business every day, thither, returning. They nearly left when the church was built, but they became accustomed to it, as to everything, and even found it a convenience. Church was the only place Mrs Hall had to go to—the shops delivered. The station was not far either, nor was a tolerable day school for the girls. It was a land of facilities, where nothing had to be striven for, and suc-cess was indistinguishable from failure.
Maurice liked his home, and recognized his mother as its pre-siding genius. Without her there would be no soft chairs or food or easy games, and he was grateful to her for providing so much, and loved her. He liked his sisters also. When he arrived they ran out with cries of joy, took off his greatcoat, and dropped it for the servants on the floor of the hall. It was nice to be the centre of attraction and show off about school. His Guatemala stamps were admired—so were "Those Holy Fields" and a Hol-bein photograph that Mr Ducie had given him. After tea the weather cleared, and Mrs Hall put on her goloshes and walked with him round the grounds. They went kissing one another and conversing aimlessly.
"Morrie ..."
"Mummie ..."
"Now I must give my Morrie a lovely time."
"Where's George?"
"Such a splendid report from Mr Abrahams. He says you re-mind him of your poor father. . .. Now what shall we do these holidays?"
"I like here best."
"Darling boy..." She embraced him, more affectionately than ever.
"There is nothing like home, as everyone finds. Yes, toma-toes—" she liked reciting the names of vegetables. "Tomatoes, radishes, broccoli, onions—"
"Tomatoes, broccoli, onions, purple potatoes, white potatoes," droned the little boy.
"Turnip tops—"
"Mother, where's George?"
"He left last week."
"Why did George leave?" he asked.
"He was getting too old. Howell always changes the boy every two years."
"Oh."
"Turnip tops," she continued, "potatoes again, beetroot— Morrie, how would you like to pay a little visit to grandpapa and Aunt Ida if they ask us? I want you to have a very nice time this holiday, dear—you have been so good, but then Mr Abrahams is such a good man; you see, your father was at his school too, and we are sending you to your father's old public school too— Sunnington—in order that you may grow up like your dear father in every way."
A sob interrupted her.
"Morrie,darling —"
The little boy was in tears.
"My pet, what is it?"
"I don't know... I don't know..."
"Why, Maurice .. ."
He shook his head. She was grieved at her failure to make him happy, and began to cry too. The girls ran out, exclaiming, "Mother, what's wrong with Maurice?"
"Oh, don't," he wailed. "Kitty, get out—"
"He's overtired," said Mrs Hall—her explanation for every-thing.
"I'm overtired."
"Come to your room, Morrie—Oh my sweet, this is really too dreadful."
"No—I'm all right." He clenched his teeth, and a great mass of sorrow that had overwhelmed him by rising to the surface began to sink. He could feel it going down into his heart until he was conscious of it no longer. "I'm all right." He looked around him fiercely and dried his eyes. "I'll play Halma, I think." Before the pieces were set, he was talking as before; the childish collapse was over.
He beat Ada, who worshipped him, and Kitty, who did not, and then ran into the garden again to see the coachman. "How d'ye do, Howell. How's Mrs Howell? How d'ye do, Mrs Howell," and so on, speaking in a patronizing voice, different from that he used to gentlefolks. Then altering back, "Isn't it a new garden boy?"
"Yes, Master Maurice."
"Was George too old?"
"No, Master Maurice. He wanted to better himself."
"Oh, you mean he gave notice."
"That's right."
"Mother said he was too old and you gave him notice."
"No, Master Maurice."
"My poor woodstacks'll be glad," said Mrs Howell. Maurice
and the late garden boy had been used to play about in them.
"They are Mother's woodstacks, not yours," said Maurice and went indoors. The Howells were not offended, though they pre-tended to be so to one another. They had been servants all their lives, and liked a gentleman to be a snob. "He has quite a way with him already," they told the cook. "More like his father."
The Barrys, who came to dinner, were of the same opinion. Dr Barry was an old friend, or rather neighbour, of the family, and took a moderate interest in them. No one could be deeply inter-ested in the Halls. Kitty he liked—she had hints of grit in her— but the girls were in bed, and he told his wife afterwards that Maurice ought to have been there too. "And stop there all his life. As he will. Like his father. What is the use of such people?"
When Maurice did go to bed, it was reluctantly. That room always frightened him. He had been such a man all the evening, but the old feeling came over him as soon as his mother had kissed him good night. The trouble was the looking-glass. He did not mind seeing his face in it, nor casting a shadow on the ceiling, but he did mind seeing his shadow on the ceiling re-flected in the glass. He would arrange the candle so as to avoid the combination, and then dare himself to put it back and be gripped with fear. He knew what it was, it reminded him of nothing horrible. But he was afraid. In the end he would dash out the candle and leap into bed. Total darkness he could bear, but this room had the further defect of being opposite a street lamp. On good nights the light would penetrate the curtains un-alarmingly, but sometimes blots like skulls fell over the furni-ture. His heart beat violently, and he lay in terror, with all his household close at hand.
As he opened his eyes to look whether the blots had grown smaller, he remembered George. Something stirred in the unfathomable depths of his heart. He whispered, "George,
George." Who was George? Nobody—just a common servant. Mother and Ada and Kitty were far more important. But he was too little to argue this. He did not even know that when he yielded to this sorrow he overcame the spectral and fell asleep.
莫瑞斯的母亲住在伦敦郊外的一座松林环绕、舒适安逸的老宅里。他和妹妹们都是在这儿出生的，父亲每天从这里去上班，下班后再回来。修建起教堂的时候，他们差点儿搬家，然而他们对教堂也跟对其他的一切那样习惯起来，甚至发现教堂自有好处。惟独教堂是霍尔夫人非去不可的地方，因为家家店铺都送货上门。车站相距不远，女儿们就读的那所还算不错的学校也很近。这是一个凡事都方便的地方，没有任何值得为之拼搏的事物，成功与失败难以分辨。
莫瑞斯喜爱自己这个家，并把母亲看做保佑它的守护神。没有她的话，就不会有柔软的椅子、可口的食物以及轻松的游戏。由于她提供了这么多，他对她不胜感激，并且爱她。他也喜欢妹妹们，他一回家，她们就欢呼着跑出来，帮他脱下厚大衣，将它丢在门厅的地上，让仆人们收拾。像这样被大家捧着，把学校的事夸耀一番，是很惬意的。他那些危地马拉邮票、那本《神圣的田野》的书，以及杜希先生送给他的一帧霍尔拜因照片（译注：德国的霍尔拜因家族中有两位肖像画家最著名，名叫大霍尔拜因（约1465-1524）、小霍尔拜因（1497/1498-1543）。此处指根据肖像拍成的照片。），均受到称赞。喝完茶，天放晴了，霍尔太太穿上高筒橡皮套鞋，跟他一起在庭园里散步。母子二人边走边不时地吻一下，有一搭没一搭地聊着。
“莫瑞……”
“妈咪……”
“现在我得让我的莫瑞过上一段快乐的日子。”
“乔治在哪儿呢？”
“亚伯拉罕先生写来了一份非常出色的成绩报告单。他说，你使他想起你那可怜的父亲。……喂，咱们怎样度过这段假期好呢？”
“我最喜欢待在家里。”
“多乖的孩子啊……”她更亲热地拥抱了他。
“人人都认为任何地方都没有自己的家好。是啊，这里有西红柿——”她喜欢列举蔬菜的名字，“西红柿、萝卜、花椰菜、圆葱头——”
“西红柿、花椰菜、圆葱头、褐皮土豆、浅色皮土豆。”小男孩懒洋洋地说着。
“芜菁叶——”
“妈妈，乔治在哪儿呢？”
“上星期他辞工了。”
“乔治为什么要辞工？”他问道。
“他的年龄太大啦。豪厄尔总是每两年换一个小伙子。”
“哦。”
“芜菁叶，”她接着说下去，“土豆、甜菜根——莫瑞，要是外祖父和艾达姨妈邀请咱们-你愿意不愿意去？我想让你过个非常快乐的假期。亲爱的——你的成绩多棒哇。不过，亚伯拉罕先生这个人真好。要知道，你爸爸也在他那所学校念过书。为了让你成长得跟你爸爸一模一样，我们把你也送到你爸爸的母校萨宁顿公学去。”
一阵抽泣声打断了她的话。
“莫瑞，乖乖——”
小男孩泪流满面。
“我的乖乖，你怎么啦？”
“我不知道……我不知道……”
“哎呀，莫瑞斯……”
他摇摇头。她没能让他感到愉快，也开始哭起来。女孩们跑了出来，惊叫道：“妈妈，莫瑞斯怎么啦？”
“哦，别……”他大声哭叫，“吉蒂，走开——”
“他太累啦。”霍尔太太说—一凡事她都这么解释。
“我太累啦。”
“到你的屋里去吧，莫瑞——啊，我亲爱的，真是太可怕啦。”
“不——我不要紧。”他咬紧牙关。于是，冒到意识表层的使他突然感到不能自持的那一大团悲哀开始下沉了。他觉察出它降人到自己的心灵深处，终于再也意识不到了。“我不要紧。”他恶狠狠地四下里看了看，将眼泪挤干。“我想玩希腊跳棋。”（译注：希腊跳棋发明于1880年。在方形棋盘上绘有256个方格，双方将棋子从棋盘一角移至对角，先移完者胜。两人玩时每人有19个子，也可以三人玩。）还没摆好棋子，他就已经能够像平时那样谈话了。那阵稚气的精神崩溃症状消失了。
他把崇拜他的艾达打败了，并将不崇拜他的吉蒂也打败了。接着，他重新跑到庭院里去看望车夫。“你好，豪厄尔。豪厄尔大婶在吗？你好，豪厄尔大婶。”不同于跟社会地位高的人交谈，他用一种屈尊俯就的腔调跟他们说话。接着，话题一转，“那是新来的小园丁吗？”
“是的，莫瑞斯少爷。”
“乔治年龄太大了吗？”
“不是的，莫瑞斯少爷。他找到了一份更好的工作。”
“哦，你的意思是说，是他自己辞工的。”
“可不是嘛。”
“妈妈说，你嫌他年龄太大了，就把他辞掉了。”
“不是这么回事，莫瑞斯少爷。”
“这下子我那堆可怜的柴火就高兴了。”豪厄尔大婶说。莫瑞斯和原先那个园丁总是将柴火垛当游戏场。“那是我妈妈的柴火垛，不是你的。”莫瑞斯说罢，掉头进屋去了。尽管豪厄尔夫妇相互间假装对此耿耿于怀，其实他们并没有感到不快。他们做了一辈子仆人，喜欢自命不凡的主人。
“少爷已经蛮有派头儿啦，”他们对厨师说，“越来越像老爷了。”
应邀来吃晚饭的巴里夫妇有着同样的看法。巴里大夫是这家人的老朋友，或者说是邻居，对他们有一定的兴趣。谁也不会深切关注霍尔家族。他喜欢吉蒂一她有那么一股刚毅劲头——然而女孩们都已经上床了。事后他告诉自己的妻子，莫瑞斯也该待在床上。“在那儿结束他的一生。他会这样的，就像他的父亲一样。这种人到底有什么用呢？”
莫瑞斯终于勉勉强强地上了床，那间卧室一向使他害怕。整个晚上他都做出一个男人的样子，然而当他的母亲道晚安吻别他的时候，原来的感觉又回来了。是那面镜子在作怪。他并不介意照在镜子里的自己的脸，也不在乎天花板上映着自己的投影，然而他却怕天花板上自己那个投影映现在镜中。他把蜡烛挪开，以便拆散这种组合，随后又鼓起勇气将蜡烛放回原处，顿时又惊恐万状。他知道那究竟是怎么回事，它并没使他联想到任何可怕的事，但是他很害怕。最后，他扑灭蜡烛，跳进被窝里。他能忍受伸手不见五指的黑暗，但这间屋子有着比镜子还严重的缺点：面对着一盏街灯。有些夜晚运气好，灯光丝毫不令人惊恐地透过窗帘照射进来。然而有时头盖骨般的黑斑会落在家具上，他的心脏就怦怦地猛跳，他惊慌失措地躺着，其实全家人近在咫尺。
他睁开眼睛看看那些黑斑是否缩小了。这时他想起了乔治。心中那不可测的深处，不知何物在蠕动。他喃喃自语：“乔治，乔治。”乔治是谁呢？无足轻重的人——一个普普通通的仆人而已。妈妈、艾达和吉蒂比他重要多了。然而他毕竟太小，考虑不周。他甚至不曾意识到，当自己沉浸在悲哀中时，竟制服了心里的鬼怪，进入了梦乡。

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4071鲜花 1鸡蛋

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举报只看该作者地板发表于: 2013-12-18 0

Chapter 3
Sunnington was the next stage in Maurice's career.
He traversed it without attracting attention. He was not good at work, though better than he pretended, nor colos-sally good at games. If people noticed him they liked him, for he had a bright friendly face and responded to attention; but there were so many boys of his type—they formed the back-bone of the school and we cannot notice each vertebra. He did the usual things—was kept in, once caned, rose from form to form on the classical side till he clung precariously to the sixth, and he became a house prefect, and later a school prefect and member of the first fifteen. Though clumsy, he had strength and physical pluck: at cricket he did not do so well. Having been bullied as a new boy, he bullied others when they seemed un-happy or weak, not because he was cruel but because it was the proper thing to do. In a word, he was a mediocre member of a mediocre school, and left a faint and favourable impression be-hind. "Hall? Wait a minute, which was Hall? Oh yes, I remem-ber; clean run enough."
Beneath it all, he was bewildered. He had lost the precocious clearness of the child which transfigures and explains the uni-verse, offering answers of miraculous insight and beauty. "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings . . ." But not out of the mouth of the boy of sixteen. Maurice forgot he had ever been sexless, and only realized in maturity how just and clear the
sensations of his earliest days must have been. He sank far below them now, for he was descending the Valley of the Shadow of Life. It lies between the lesser mountains and the greater, and without breathing its fogs no one can come through. He groped about in it longer than most boys.
Where all is obscure and unrealized the best similitude is a dream. Maurice had two dreams at school; they will interpret him.
In the first dream he felt very cross. He was playing football against a nondescript whose existence he resented. He made an effort and the nondescript turned into George, that garden boy. But he had to be careful or it would reappear. George headed down the field towards him, naked and jumping over the wood-stacks. "I shall go mad if he turns wrong now," said Maurice, and just as they collared this happened, and a brutal disappoint-ment woke him up. He did not connect it with Mr Ducie's homily, still less with his second dream, but he thought he was going to be ill, and afterwards that it was somehow a punish-ment for something.
The second dream is more difficult to convey. Nothing hap-pened. He scarcely saw a face, scarcely heard a voice say, "That is your friend," and then it was over, having filled him with beauty and taught him tenderness. He could die for such a friend, he would allow such a friend to die for him; they would make any sacrifice for each other, and count the world nothing, neither death nor distance nor crossness could part them, be-cause "this is my friend." Soon afterwards he was confirmed and tried to persuade himself that the friend must be Christ. But Christ has a mangy beard. Was he a Greek god, such as illus-trates the classical dictionary? More probable, but most prob-ably he was just a man. Maurice forbore to define his dream further. He had dragged it as far into life as it would come. He
would never meet that man nor hear that voice again, yet they became more real than anything he knew, and would actually—
"Hall! Dreaming again! A hundred lines!"
"Sir—oh! Dative absolute."
"Dreaming again. Too late." —would actually pull him back to them in broad daylight and drop a curtain. Then he would reimbibe the face and the four words, and would emerge yearning with tenderness and longing to be kind to everyone, because his friend wished it, and to be good that his friend might become more fond of him. Misery was somehow mixed up with all this happiness. It seemed as certain that he hadn't a friend as that he had one, and he would find a lonely place for tears, attributing them to the hundred lines.
Maurice's secret life can be understood now; it was part bru-tal, part ideal, like his dreams.
As soon as his body developed he became obscene. He sup-posed some special curse had descended on him, but he could not help it, for even when receiving the Holy Communion filthy thoughts would arise in his mind. The tone of the school was pure—that is to say, just before his arrival there had been a ter-rific scandal. The black sheep had been expelled, the remainder were drilled hard all day and policed at night, so it was his fortune or misfortune to have little opportunity of exchanging experiences with his school-fellows. He longed for smut, but heard little and contributed less, and his chief indecencies were solitary. Books: the school library was immaculate, but while at his grandfather's he came across an unexpurgated Martial, and stumbled about in it with burning ears. Thoughts: he had a dirty little collection. Acts: he desisted from these after the novelty was over, finding that they brought him more fatigue than pleasure.
All which, if it can be understood, took place in a trance. Maurice had fallen asleep in the Valley of the Shadow, far be-neath the peaks of either range, and knew neither this nor that his school-fellows were sleeping likewise.
The other half of his life seemed infinitely remote from ob-scenity. As he rose in the school he began to make a religion of some other boy. When this boy, whether older or younger than himself, was present, he would laugh loudly, talk absurdly, and be unable to work. He dared not be kind—it was not the thing —still less to express his admiration in words. And the adored one would shake him off before long, and reduce him to sulks. However, he had his revenges. Other boys sometimes wor-shipped him, and when he realized this he would shake off them. The adoration was mutual on one occasion, both yearning for they knew not what, but the result was the same. They quar-relled in a few days. All that came out of the chaos were the two feelings of beauty and tenderness that he had first felt in a dream. They grew yearly, flourishing like plants that are all leaves and show no sign of flower. Towards the close of his edu-cation at Sunnington the growth stopped. A check, a silence, fell upon the complex processes, and very timidly the youth began to look around him.
萨宁顿是莫瑞斯的人生中的下一个舞台。他没有引起人们注目地横穿过去。他的成绩不佳，其实比他装出来的要好，体育方面也不突出。人们倘若注意到他，就会喜欢他，因为他长着一张开朗亲切的面孔，对旁人的关切立即做出反应。然而，像他这种类型的少年比比皆是—一他们构成了学校的脊椎，我们不可能端详每一块椎骨。他走的是一条平凡的路一被关过禁闭，挨过一次鞭笞，作为古典文学专业的学生，一级级地升班，好歹升到六年级。他成了学生宿舍的舍监，后来又任全校的监督生，并被选为足球队员。尽管笨手笨脚，他却很有力气，身子骨很结实。板球嘛，他打得不怎么好。作为新生，他曾被欺负过；他反过来欺负那些看上去闷闷不乐或孱弱的学生，并非由于他残忍，而是由于这是司空见惯的事。总之，他是一所平庸的学校的平庸的成员，给人留下个模糊而良好的印象。“霍尔？且慢，谁是霍尔？啊，对，想起来了，那家伙还不赖。”
这一切是表面现象，骨子里他感到困惑。他已失却儿时的早熟的鲜明个性，那时，他曾把宇宙理想化并做出解释，结论是宇宙中充满了奇妙的洞察与美。“出自婴儿和乳臭未干的小儿之口……”而不是一个十六岁少年的言论。莫瑞斯忘记了自己曾有过无性的时期，如今进入成熟年龄，方领悟到孩提时候的知觉是多么正确明智。目前他已下沉到比那时低得多的地方，因为他正朝着生荫的幽谷（译注：作者把《旧约·诗篇》第23篇的“死荫的幽谷”改为“生荫的幽谷”。）往下降。该谷位于矮山与高山之间，除非先饱吸弥漫在那里的雾气，谁也穿不过去。他在里面探索的时间比绝大多数少年要长。
一切都是模糊而非现实的，酷似一场梦。莫瑞斯在学校里做过两场梦。它们能够象征这个时期的他。
在第一场梦中，他感到非常暴躁。他在踢足球，对手是他十分厌恶的一个没有特征的人。他竭力想看清楚，那个不易分辨的人忽然变成了小园丁乔治。但是他不得不小心谨慎，否则那个人会重新出现。乔治沿着田野朝他奔跑，赤裸着身子，从柴火垛上一蹿而过。“倘若他这时变得不对劲了，我会发疯的。”莫瑞斯说。他和乔治刚刚抓住对方的时候事情就发生了，强烈的失望使他惊醒。他不曾把这与杜希先生那番说教联系在一起，更无从与第二场梦联系上，然而他认为自己会患病的，后来又觉得这是为某些事遭到了惩罚。
第二场梦就更难以说明了，什么也没发生。他几乎没瞧见那张脸，勉勉强强听见了一个声音：“这是你的朋友。”就结束了。然而，这使他心中充满了美好，使他变得温柔。为了这样一位朋友，就是赴死，也在所不辞；他也容许这样一位朋友为自己赴死。他们彼此问肯做出任何牺牲，不把俗世放在眼里。死亡、距离也罢，龃龉也罢，都不可能将他们疏远，因为“这是我的朋友”。不久之后，他接受了坚振礼（译注：也译作“坚信礼”。基督教礼仪，象征一个人通过洗礼同上帝建立的关系得到巩固。婴儿受洗后，满七岁即可受坚振礼，自此能获得圣灵赐予的恩典、力量和勇气。）。他试图说服自己，那位朋友肯定是基督。可是耶稣基督蓄着肮脏的胡须。难道他是个希腊神吗？就像古典词典中所画的？很可能是的。然而他最有可能只是个凡人。莫瑞斯克制住自己，不再进一步试图阐明他的梦了。相反地，他把梦拖到现实生活中来。他再也不会遇见那个人，更不会听到那声音，但它们比现实世界的任何现象都更真实，遂引起了这么一件事：
“霍尔！你又做梦哪！罚你抄写一百行！”
“老师——啊！绝对与格。（译注：“与格”是指名词的语法上的格）”
“又做梦，适可而止吧。”
遇到这样的场合，他就在光天化日之下被拖回到梦中去，拉严帷幕。于是重新沉浸在那张脸和那六个字中。当他从帷幕里面走出来时，向往着温柔，渴望与人为善，因为这是他那位朋友的意愿。为了让他的朋友更喜欢他，他要做个善良的人。不知为何，这一切幸福伴随着苦痛。除了这一位，他好像确实连一个朋友都没有。他就找一个孤独的地方去流眼泪，却把这归咎于罚他抄写一百行。
如今我们知道了莫瑞斯生活中的隐私，一部分是肉欲的，一部分是理想的，犹如他的梦。
肉体刚一成熟，他就变得淫猥了。他料想这是受到了一种特殊的诅咒，然而身不由己。因为就连领圣餐的时候脑子里也会浮现猥亵的念头。学校的风尚是纯洁的——也就是说，就在他入学前不久，发生了一起惊人的丑闻。害群之马遭到开除处分，其余的学生整天被繁重的学业束缚着，夜间受到监视。这是幸运的还是不幸的，他几乎没有机会跟同学交换意见。他渴望说些下流话，但很少听到旁人说，他自己更无从说起。他那主要的猥亵行为是独自干的。书籍，学校的图书馆是完美无瑕的，然而在祖父家小住时，他发现了一本未经删节的马提雅尔（译注：马提雅尔(约38/40-约104)，罗马著名铭辞作家，是现代警句诗的开山祖师。人们指责他的诗有两大缺点：谄媚和猥亵。）的书。他磕磕巴巴地读着，两耳热辣辣的。思想，他贮存了一些色情的念头。行为，新鲜劲儿过去之后，他发觉这种行为给他带来的疲劳超过了快乐，从此就克制了。
要知道，这一切都是在昏睡状态下发生的。莫瑞斯在生荫的幽谷里沉睡，离两边的山顶都很远，他对此事一无所知，更不晓得自己的同学也同样在梦乡中。
他的另一半生活好像与伤风败俗相距甚远。进入高班后，他开始将某个少年当做一心追求的目标。不论这个少年比莫瑞斯年龄大还是小，只要他在场，莫瑞斯就大声笑，说些傻话，无法用功。莫瑞斯不敢对他表示友好一那可是有失体面的——更不能用语言来表达钦佩之情。过不了多久，他所爱慕的那个少年就把他甩了，弄得他闷闷不乐。不过，他也报了仇。别的少年有时崇拜他，一旦知道了这个，他就把他们甩了。有一次，双方相互爱慕，也不明白彼此依恋什么，然而结果是一样的。几天之后，两个人就吵架了。从一片馄饨中显露出的是原来他在梦中所意识到的美好和温柔这两种感觉。它们逐年成长，就好像是绿叶婆娑、却丝毫没有开花迹象的植物。在萨宁顿的学业即将结束时，就不再长了。复杂的成长过程受到抑制．伴随而来的是沉默。年轻人非常胆怯地四下里望着。

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Chapter 4
He was nearly nineteen.
He stood on the platform on Prize Day, reciting a Greek Oration of his own composition. The hall was full of schoolboys and their parents, but Maurice affected to be ad-dressing the Hague Conference, and to be pointing out to it the folly of its ways. "What stupidity is this, O andres Europenaici, to talk of abolishing war? What? Is not Ares the son of Zeus himself? Moreover, war renders you robust by exercising your limbs, not forsooth like those of my opponent." The Greek was vile: Maurice had got the prize on account of the Thought, and barely thus. The examining master had stretched a point in his favour since he was leaving and a respectable chap, and more-over leaving for Cambridge, where prize books on his shelves would help to advertise the school. So he received Grote'sHis-tory of Greece amid tremendous applause. As he returned to his seat, which was next to his mother, he realized that he had again become popular, and wondered how. The clapping continued —it grew to an ovation; Ada and Kitty were pounding away with scarlet faces on the further side. Some of his friends, also leaving, cried "speech". This was irregular and quelled by the authorities, but the Headmaster himself rose and said a few words. Hall was one of them, and they would never cease to feel him so. The words were just. The school clapped not because Maurice was eminent but because he was average. It could cele-
brate itself in his image. People ran up to him afterwards saying "jolly good, old man", quite sentimentally, and even "it will be bilge in this hole without you." His relations shared in the tri-umph. On previous visits he had been hateful to them. "Sorry, mater, but you and the kids will have to walk alone" had been his remark after a football match when they had tried to join on to him in his mud and glory: Ada had cried. Now Ada was chat-ting quite ably to the Captain of the School, and Kitty was being handed cakes, and his mother was listening to his house-master's wife, on the disappointments of installing hot air. Everyone and everything had suddenly harmonized. Was this the world?
A few yards off he saw Dr Barry, their neighbour from home, who caught his eye and called out in his alarming way, "Con-gratulations, Maurice, on your triumph. Overwhelming! I drink to it in this cup"—he drained it—"of extremely nasty tea."
Maurice laughed and went up to him, rather guiltily; for his conscience was bad. Dr Barry had asked him to befriend a little nephew, who had entered the school that term, but he had done nothing—it was not the thing. He wished that he had had more courage now that it was too late and he felt a man.
"And what's the next stage in your triumphal career? Cam-bridge?"
"So they say."
"So they say, do they? And what do you say?"
"I don't know," said the hero good-temperedly.
"And after Cambridge, what? Stock Exchange?"
"I suppose so—my father's old partner talks of letting me in if all goes well."
"And after you're let in by your father's old partner, what? A pretty wife?"
Maurice laughed again.
"Who will present the expectant world with a Maurice the third? After which old age, grandchildren, and finally the daisies. So that's your notion of a career. Well, it isn't mine."
"What's your notion, Doctor?" called Kitty.
"To help the weak and right the wrong, my dear," he replied, looking across at her.
"I'm sure it is all our notions," said the housemaster's wife, and Mrs Hall agreed.
"Oh no, it's not. It isn't consistently mine, or I should be look-ing after my Dickie instead of lingering on this scene of splen-dour."
"Do bring dear Dickie to say how d'ye do to me," asked Mrs Hall. "Is his father down here too?"
"Mother!" Kitty whispered.
"Yes. My brother died last year," said Dr Barry. "The incident slipped your memory. War did not render him robust by exer-cising his limbs, as Maurice supposes. He got a shell in the stomach."
He left them.
"I think Dr Barry gets cynical," remarked Ada. "I think he's jealous." She was right: Dr Barry, who had been a lady killer in his time, did resent the continuance of young men. Poor Maur-ice encountered him again. He had been saying goodbye to his housemaster's wife, who was a handsome woman, very civil to the older boys. They shook hands warmly. On turning away he heard Dr Barry's "Well, Maurice; a youth irresistible in love as in war," and caught his cynical glance.
"I don't know what you mean, Dr Barry."
"Oh, you young fellows! Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth these days. Don't know what I mean! Prudish of a petticoat! Be frank, man, be frank. You don't take anyone in. The frank mind's the pure mind. I'm a medical man and an old man and I tell you
that. Man that is bom of woman must go with woman if the human race is to continue."
Maurice stared after the housemaster's wife, underwent a violent repulsion from her, and blushed crimson: he had re-membered Mr Ducie's diagrams. A trouble—nothing as beauti-ful as a sorrow—rose to the surface of his mind, displayed its ungainliness, and sank. Its precise nature he did not ask himself, for his hour was not yet, but the hint was appalling, and, hero though he was, he longed to be a little boy again, and to stroll half awake for ever by the colourless sea. Dr Barry went on lecturing him, and under the cover of a friendly manner said much that gave pain.
他快要满19岁了。
在年度颁奖日，他站在讲坛上，背诵着他本人写的希腊文演说稿。讲堂里挤满了学生与家长，莫瑞斯却只当自己是在海牙会议（译注：1899年和1907年在荷兰海牙举行过两次国际会议。第一次会议址未能就其主要目的即限制军备问题达成协议，但签订了和平解决国际争端的公约。第二次会议也未能就限制军备问题达成协议，但会议精神对第一次世界大战后国际联盟的成立大有影响。）上讲话，指出会议精神有多么愚蠢。“哦，欧洲的人们，协议废止战争，这是何等愚蠢的举动！啊？战神阿瑞斯难道不是主神宙斯的儿子吗？况且，战争还会促使你锻炼肢体，身躯健壮，与我的论敌迥然不同。”莫瑞斯的希腊文蹩脚透了，他是凭着有见解而获奖的，如此而已。负责审查的那位教师把他的分数打宽了一些，因为他是个品行端正的毕业生，而且即将升人剑桥。在那里，把作为奖品颁给他的那些书籍排列在书架上，就能帮助本校做宣传。于是，他在雷鸣般的掌声中接受了格罗特（译注：乔治·格罗特1794-1871，英国历史学家，代表作为《希腊史》1846-1856，共12卷）的《希腊史》。当他回到紧挨着母亲的座位上时，就认识到自己重新变得受欢迎，他感到很奇怪。掌声持续下去，甚至为他全场起立喝彩。艾达和吉蒂满脸涨得通红，在尽头接连不断地鼓掌。毕业班的几个同学大声喊着：“演说！”这不符合程序，被主持人制止了。然而，校长本人起身说了几句话：霍尔是他们当中的一个，并且他们会一直这样看待他。他说得恰到好处。学生们并非因为莫瑞斯出类拔萃才为他鼓掌，而是由于他是平庸的。人们可以假借他这个形象来颂扬自己。事后，人们朝着他蜂拥而来，用十分感伤的口吻说：“好极啦，老兄。”甚至感叹道：“你走了以后，这个鬼地方就没意思啦。”他的家族也大沾其光。以往家里人参加学校的活动时，他总对她们表示敌意。一场足球比赛结束后，他满身泥泞，沐浴着胜利的光辉。当母亲和妹妹们跑过来，想跟他待在一起时，他却说：“对不起，妈，您和小家伙们不得不单独走。”那一次，艾达哭了。眼下艾达正干练地跟最高班的班长聊天。有人递给吉蒂一盘蛋糕，他母亲正在倾听舍监的妻子诉说供暖设备不好用。真令人沮丧。每一个人，每一样事物，忽然都协调了。世界就是这样的吗？
莫瑞斯看见邻居巴里大夫站在不远处。大夫注意到了他，并且用大得吓人的声音喊：“祝贺你的成功，莫瑞斯！我十分感动！为你干这一杯。”他一饮而尽，“令人作呕的茶。”
莫瑞斯笑了，颇感内疚地朝他踱去。他心中有愧。巴里大夫的一个小侄子上学期入了本校，曾拜托莫瑞斯照顾。然而他什么也没做——没把这个当回事。现在他感到自己是个大人了，懊悔自己当初没有更多的勇气，但为时已晚。
“那么，你这辉煌的生涯中，下一个舞台在哪儿？剑桥吗？”
“他们这么说。”
“他们这么说，是吗？你怎么说呢？”
“我不知道。”今天的英雄和蔼可亲地说。
“剑桥之后怎样呢？证券交易所吗？”
“我料想是这样。我父亲的老搭档说，如果一切顺利，就让我参加。”
“你父亲的老搭档让你参加后又怎样呢？娶一个漂亮的妻子？”
莫瑞斯又笑了。
“她将送给满怀期待的世界一位莫瑞斯三世吧？接着迎来老境、儿孙，最后是长满雏菊的坟墓。这就是你对事业的见解，我的见解不是这样的。”
“您的见解是怎样的呢？”吉蒂大声说。
“帮助弱者，纠正谬误，亲爱的。”他朝她望过去，回答说。
“我相信这是我们大家的见解。”舍监的妻子说，霍尔太太表示同意。
“啊，不，不是的。我也并非一贯如此，否则的话，我该去照料我的迪基，而不是继续在这豪华的场所待下去。”
“请务必把亲爱的迪基带到我们家来玩玩。他爸爸也来了吗？”霍尔太太问。
“妈妈！”吉蒂悄声说。
“我弟弟去年去世了，”巴里大夫说。“您是贵人善忘。战争并没像莫瑞斯所设想的那样锻炼他的肢体，使他身躯健壮。他的腹部中了一颗子弹。”
他扬长而去。
“我认为巴里大夫变得玩世不恭了。”艾达发表了意见。“我认为他这是妒忌。”她说得一点不错。当年巴里大夫曾经是个使女人倾心的男人，年轻人后浪推前浪地拥上来，他感到不满。倒霉的莫瑞斯再度碰见了他。莫瑞斯正向舍监的妻子告别。她是个俏丽的女人，对高班男生礼数周到。他们热情地握手。莫瑞斯掉头而去的时候，听见巴里大夫说：“喏，莫瑞斯，风华正茂，不论在情场上还是在战场上，都是不可抗拒的。”于是，他的视线与大夫那嘲讽的目光相遇。
“我不明白您的意思，巴里大夫。”
“哦，你们这些年轻人！装出一副一本正经的样子。不明白我的意思！在姑娘面前过分拘谨！开诚布公，小伙子，开诚布公。你什么人也欺骗不了。开诚布公的心灵是纯洁的心灵。我是个医生，上了年纪，我告诉你这一点。男人是女人所生的，为了让人类继续存在下去，就必须跟女人同步而行。”
莫瑞斯凝视着舍监太太的背影，对她产生了强烈的厌恶感，满脸涨得通红。他记起了杜希先生画的那些示意图。一种苦恼——没有悲哀那么美——浮到他的意识表层，显示了一下它有多么丑陋，又沉下去。他并不曾问自己它的真面目，因为还没到时候。然而，旁人对他所做的暗示把他弄得毛骨悚然。尽管他是一位英雄，却渴望自己重新变成一个小男孩，永远半睡半醒地沿着无色的海洋徜徉。巴里大夫继续对他进行说教，大夫装出一副友好的样子，说了许许多多刺痛他的话。

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4071鲜花 1鸡蛋

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Chapter 5
He chose a college patronized by his chief school friend Chapman and by other old Sunningtonians, and during his first year managed to experience little in Univer-sity life that was unfamiliar. He belonged to an Old Boys' Club, and they played games together, tea'd and lunched together, kept up their provincialisms and slang, sat elbow to elbow in hall, and walked arm in arm about the streets. Now and then they got drunk and boasted mysteriously about women, but their outlook remained that of the upper fifth, and some of them kept it through life. There was no feud between them and the other undergraduates, but they were too compact to be popular, too mediocre to lead, and they did not care to risk knowing men who had come from other public schools. All this suited Maur-ice. He was constitutionally lazy. Though none of his difficul-ties had been solved, none were added, which is something. The hush continued. He was less troubled by carnal thoughts. He stood still in the darkness instead of groping about in it, as if this was the end for which body and soul had been so pain-fully prepared.
During his second year he underwent a change. He had moved into college and it began to digest him. His days he might spend as before, but when the gates closed on him at night a new process began. Even as a freshman he made the important discovery that grown-up men behave politely to one another unless there is a reason for the contrary. Some third-year people had called on him in his digs. He had expected
them to break his plates and insult the photograph of his mother, and when they did not he ceased planning how some day he should break theirs, thus saving time. And the manners of the dons were even more remarkable. Maurice was only wait-ing for such an atmosphere himself to soften. He did not enjoy being cruel and rude. It was against his nature. But it was neces-sary at school, or he might have gone under, and he had sup-posed it would have been even more necessary on the larger battlefield of the University.
Once inside college, his discoveries multiplied. People turned out to be alive. Hitherto he had supposed that theywere what hepretended to be—flat pieces of cardboard stamped with a conventional design—but as he strolled about the courts at night and saw through the windows some men singing and others arguing and others at their books, there came by no process of reason a conviction that they were human beings with feelings akin to his own. He had never lived frankly since Mr Abra-hams's school, and despite Dr Barry did not mean to begin; but he saw that while deceiving others he had been deceived, and mistaken them for the empty creatures he wanted them to think he was. No, they too had insides. "But, O Lord, not such an in-side as mine." As soon as he thought about other people as real, Maurice became modest and conscious of sin: in all creation there could be no one as vile as himself: no wonder he pre-tended to be a piece of cardboard; if known as he was, he would be hounded out of the world. God, being altogether too large an order, did not worry him: he could not conceive of any censure being more terrific than, say, Joey Fetherstonhaugh's, who kept in the rooms below, or of any Hell as bitter as Coventry.
Shortly after this discovery he went to lunch with Mr Corn-wallis, the Dean.
There were two other guests, Chapman and a B.A. from Trin-ity, a relative of the Dean's, by name Risley. Risley was dark,
tall and affected. He made an exaggerated gesture when intro-duced, and when he spoke, which was continually, he used strong yet unmanly superlatives. Chapman caught Maurice's eye and distended his nostrils, inviting him to side against die newcomer. Maurice thought he would wait a bit first. His dis-inclination to give pain was increasing, and besides he was not sure that he loathed Risley, though no doubt he ought to, and in a minute should. So Chapman ventured alone. Finding Risley adored music, he began to run it down, saying, "I don't go in for being superior," and so on.
"I do!"
"Oh, do you! In that case I beg your pardon."
"Come along, Chapman, you are in need of food," called Mr Cornwallis, and promised himself some amusement at lunch.
" 'Spect Mr Risley isn't. I've put him off with my low talk."
They sat down, and Risley turned with a titter to Maurice and said, "I simplycant think of any reply to that"; in each of his sentences he accented one word violently. "It is so humili-ating. 'No' won't do. 'Yes' won't do. Whatis to be done?"
"What about saving nothing?" said the Dean.
"To say nothing? Horrible. You must be mad."
"Are you always talking, may one ask?" inquired Chapman.
Risley said he was.
"Never get tired of it?"
"Never."
"Ever tire other people?"
"Never."
"Odd that."
"Do not suggest I've tired you. Untrue, untrue, you're beam-ing."
"It's not at you if I am," said Chapman, who was hot-temp-ered.
Maurice and the Dean laughed.
"I come to a standstill again. How amazing are the difficulties of conversation."
"You seem to carry on better than most of us can," remarked Maurice. He had not spoken before, and his voice, which was low but very gruff, made Risley shiver.
"Naturally. It is my forte. It is the only thing I care about, conversation."
"Is that serious?"
"Everything I say is serious." And somehow Maurice knew this was true. It had struck him at once that Risley was serious. "And are you serious?"
"Don't sk me."
"Then talk until you become so."
"Rubbish," growled the Dean.
Chapman laughed tempestuously.
"Rubbish?" He questioned Maurice, who, when he grasped the point, was understood to reply that deeds are more impor-tant than words.
"What is the difference? Wordsare deeds. Do you mean to say that these five minutes in Cornwallis's rooms have done nothing for you? Will youever forget you have met me, for in-stance?"
Chapman grunted.
"Rut he will not, nor will you. And then I am told we ought to be doing something."
The Dean came to the rescue of the two Sunningtonians. He said to his young cousin, "You're unsound about memory. You confuse what's important with what's impressive. No doubt Chapman and Hall always will remember they've met you—"
"And forget this is a cutlet. Quite so."
"Rut the cutlet does some good to them, and you none."
"Obscurantist!"
"This is just like a book," said Chapman. "Eh, Hall?"
"I mean," said Risley, "oh how clearly I mean that the cutlet influences your subconscious lives, and I your conscious, and so I am not only more impressive than the cutlet but more impor-tant. Your Dean here, who dwells in Medieval Darkness and wishes you to do the same, pretends that only the subconscious, only the part of you that can be touched without your knowl-edge is important, and daily he drops soporific—"
"Oh, shut up," said the Dean.
"But I am a child of light—"
"Oh, shut up." And he turned the conversation on to normal lines. Risley was not egotistic, though he always talked about himself. He did not interrupt. Nor did he feign indifference. Gambolling like a dolphin, he accompanied them whitherso-ever they went, without hindering their course. He was at play, but seriously. It was as important to him to go to and fro as to them to go forward, and he loved keeping near them. A few months earlier Maurice would have agreed with Chapman, but now he was sure the man had an inside, and he wondered whether he should see more of him. He was pleased when, after lunch was over, Risley waited for him at the bottom of the stairs and said, "You didn't see. My cousin wasn't being human."
"He's good enough for us; that's all I know," exploded Chap-man. "He's absolutely delightful."
"Exactly. Eunuchs are." And he was gone.
"Well, I'm—" exclaimed the other, but with British self-con-trol suppressed the verb. He was deeply shocked. He didn't mind hot stuff in moderation, he told Maurice, but this was too much, it was bad form, ungentlemanly, the fellow could not have been through a public school. Maurice agreed. You could call your cousin a shit if you liked, but not a eunuch. Rotten style! All the same he was amused, and whenever he was hauled in in the future, mischievous and incongruous thoughts would occur to him about the Dean.
他选择的是挚友查普曼以及萨宁顿的其他老同学所光顾的那家学院。在第一年的陌生的大学生活期间，他几乎没有新体验。他属于老校友俱乐部，他们一起参加体育运动，一起喝茶进餐，满嘴土腔俚语，在大餐厅里紧挨着坐，挎着胳膊逛大街。他们不时地喝醉，关于女人，神秘兮兮地大吹大擂，然而他们的精神面貌仍像是公学的高班学生，有些人一辈子也改不掉。他们和其他同学之间素无怨仇，但他们紧紧地抱作一团，所以不受欢迎；他们又太平庸，当不了学生领袖；他们也无意冒险去结识来自其他公学的学生。这一切使莫瑞斯满意。他生性懒惰，尽管他的苦恼没有解决，却也没添新的。沉寂继续下去，肉欲的思想活动不再那么困扰他了。他静静地伫立在黑暗中，而不是用手到处摸索，好像这就是肉体与灵魂那么痛苦地做准备所要得到的结果。
第二年，他发生了变化。他搬进学院，那里的生活浸透了他。白天他过得跟以前一样，然而夜幕降临后，新生活就开始了。在一年级时，他就有了个重大发现。成年人彬彬有礼地交往，除非有特别的原因不能这么做。几个三年级的学生曾到单身宿舍来看望他。他以为他们准会打碎他的盘子，朝着他母亲的照片横加侮辱，结果不然。于是他也不用浪费时间去计划有一天怎样砸他们的盘子了。导师们温文尔雅，更是惊人。莫瑞斯本人正盼望着这种气氛，以便变得温和。他不喜欢蛮横粗鲁，那是与他的天性相悖的。然而，在公学时期，他非这样做不可，否则他就会被人踩在脚下。他曾经猜测，在大学这更辽阔的战场上，就更需要这样做了。
一旦在学院里生活，他的发现层出不穷。人们原来是活生生的，他一直以为他们乃是一片片印有普普通通图案的硬纸板，而他本人则是假装的。但是，当他夜间在院子里溜达的时候，隔着窗户看见有些学生在唱歌，另外一些正在争论，还有埋头读书的。不容置疑，他们是具有跟他同样的感情的人。离开亚伯拉罕先生的学校后，他再也不曾坦荡荡地做过人。尽管巴里大夫对他进行过那番说教，他却无意洗心革面。然而他明白了，在欺骗旁人的时候，他自己也被欺骗了。他曾希望旁人认为他是个空空洞洞的人，并错误地以为旁人也是那样的人。不，他们很有些内容。“然而，天哪，但愿不是我这样的内容。”莫瑞斯自从认为旁人是活生生的人以来，就变得谦虚了，并且开始意识到自己是有罪的。天地万物中，再也没有比他更坏的人了。难怪他要假装成一片硬纸板了。倘若他的原形毕露，他就会被驱逐出这个世界。神的存在太伟大了，不会使他感到忧虑。可以这么说，他难以想象还有比来自楼下套房里的乔伊-费瑟斯顿豪的谴责更可怕的惩罚，或是像考文垂（译注：1670年12月，英国政治家约翰·考文垂爵士（?-1682）暗讽国王查理二世对舞台的兴趣只在女演员身上，结果在路上遗到伏击，被几个近卫军官撕裂了鼻子。次年，国会通过考文垂法案：凡是殴斗而造成人体残废者应治重罪。这里指众怒难犯。）的酷刑那样悲惨的地狱。
发现此事后不久，他应邀去跟学监康沃利斯先生共进午餐。
另外还有两位客人。一个是查普曼，另一个是三一学院的硕士，名叫里斯利，是学监的亲戚。里斯利的头发乌黑，身材高大，矫揉造作。被介绍的时候，他做出夸张的姿态，说起话来（他滔滔不绝地说话）嗲声嗲气，满嘴最高级形容词。查普曼对莫瑞斯以目示意，张大鼻孔，邀他与自己携手将这陌生人教训一顿。莫瑞斯认为得先等一会儿，不愿意伤害别人的心情越来越强烈了，况且他拿不准自己是否厌恶里斯利。毫无疑问，他应该厌恶里斯利，一会儿工夫就会那样的。于是，查普曼单独向里斯利挑战了。他发觉里斯利热爱音乐，就开始予以贬低．说“我讨厌那种高雅的人”，等等。
“我喜欢！”
“哦，你喜欢！既然是这样，请原谅。”
“来吧，查普曼，你该吃点儿东西。”康沃利斯先生大声说，他心中断定这顿午饭会有些乐趣。
“我猜想里斯利先生不饿，我那些粗野的话使他倒了胃口。”
他们坐下后，里斯利窃笑着转向莫瑞斯说：“我简直不知道该怎样回答。”每说一句话，他就在某个字上加重语气。“这是奇耻大辱。说‘不’，不行；说‘是’，也不行，究竟该怎么办？”
“不说话好不好呢？”学监说。
“不说话？太恐怖了，你一定是疯了。”
“请问，你是不是总在说话？”查普曼问。
里斯利说：“是的。”
“永远也不厌烦吗？”
“永远也不。”
“没让旁人烦过吗？”
“从来也没有。”
“不可思议。”
“你该不是在暗示我让你讨厌了吧。这不是真的，不是真的，你简直是眉飞色舞。”
“倘若我眉飞色舞的话可不是由于你的缘故。”查普曼说，他性情暴躁。
莫瑞斯和学监笑了。
“我又被弄得哑口无言了。如此困难的谈话令我吃惊。”
“你好像比我们中的大多数人都谈得好。”莫瑞斯发表了意见。在这之前他一直没有说话，他粗哑低沉的嗓音使里斯利颤抖。
“当然，这是我的特长。我惟一看重的事情就是谈话。”
“此话当真？”
“我说的都是真心话。”莫瑞斯认为确实是这样，里斯利给他的印象是严肃的。莫瑞斯问他：“你是认真的吗？”
“别问我。”
“那么，就聊到你变得严肃为止。”
“废话！”学监咆哮如雷。
查普曼狂笑起来。
“你认为这是废话吗？”里斯利询问莫瑞斯。莫瑞斯得到要领后，认为行动比语言重要。
“两者有什么区别？语言就是行动。你的意思是说，在康沃利斯先生的屋子里待了五分钟，你没受什么影响吗？例如，你会忘记自己曾经遇见过我吗？”
查普曼哼了一声。
“他不会忘记的，你也不会。可我还得听你的说教，告诉我们该做什么！”
学监插嘴解救那两个萨宁顿毕业生。他对自己这位年轻的表弟说：“你对记忆的理解是不对的，你把重要的东西和令人难忘的东西混淆起来了。毫无疑问，查普曼和霍尔会念念不忘他们遇见过你——”
“却把吃炸肉排的事遗忘了，的确如此。”
“但是炸肉排对他们有些好处，对你一点儿好处也没有。”
“蒙昧主义者！”
“简直像是书本里的话。”查普曼说。“呃，霍尔？”
“我的意思是，”里斯利说，“哦，我的意思很清楚，炸肉排对你们的潜意识的生命产生影响，我这个人对你们的意识发生作用，所以我不仅比炸肉排令人难忘，也比它更重要。这位在座的你们的学监，生活在中世纪的黑暗里，他但愿你们也像他这么做，他假装只有下意识，只有你们的知识所涉及不到的那个部分才是重要的。他自己每天施催眠术——”
“喂，住嘴。”学监说。
“然而我是光明之子——”
“喂，住嘴。”于是他把话题转到正常的方向。尽管里斯利总是谈自己，他却不是个自我中心的人。他没有打断旁人的谈话，更不曾装出一副漠不关心的样子。他像一头海豚那样嬉戏着，不论他们聊到哪儿，他都奉陪，决不妨碍他们的进程。他在做游戏，然而是认真地做游戏。对他们来说，重要的是径直往前走，他却情愿来回走，他喜欢自始至终挨近他们。倘若是几个月之前，莫瑞斯的想法就会跟查普曼一致，然而如今他确信这个人有内容，琢磨着是不是该进一步认识他。吃罢午饭，里斯利在楼梯脚等候他，这使他感到高兴。
里斯利说：“你没看出来，我那位表哥不是个男子汉。”
“对我们来说，他是个好样儿的。”查普曼大发雷霆，“他非常讨人欢喜。”
“千真万确。阉人全都是这样的。”说罢，他扬长而去。
“啊，畜——”查普曼吼道，然而英国人的自我克制使他把下面的话咽回去了。他震惊不已。他告诉莫瑞斯，适度的脏话他并不介意，然而里斯利太过分了。这是卑鄙的，缺乏绅士风度，这小子不会是公学培养出来的。莫瑞斯的意见与他相同。如果愿意的话，可以骂你的表哥“混蛋”，可不能骂“阉人”。卑劣到极点！尽管如此，他被逗乐了。从那以后，每逢他被叫到学监室去挨申诉，有关学监的一些荒唐可笑、前后矛盾的想法就会浮现在他的脑海里。

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顶端

木有有木

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4071鲜花 1鸡蛋

等级: 热心会员

举报只看该作者 6楼发表于: 2013-12-18 0

Chapter 6
All that day and the next Maurice was planning how he could see this queer fish again. The chances were bad. He did not like to call on a senior-year man, and they were at different colleges. Risley, he gathered, was well known at the Union, and he went to the Tuesday debate in the hope of hear-ing him: perhaps he would be easier to understand in public. He was not attracted to the man in the sense that he wanted him for a friend, but he did feel he might help him—how, he didn't formulate. It was all very obscure, for the mountains still overshadowed Maurice. Risley, surely capering on the summit, might stretch him a helping hand.
Having failed at the Union, he had a reaction. He didn't want anyone's help; he was all right. Besides, none of his friends would stand Risley, and he must stick to his friends. But the re-action soon passed, and he longed to see him more than ever. Since Risley was so odd, might he not be odd too, and break all the undergraduate conventions by calling? One "ought to be human", and it was a human sort of thing to call. Much struck by the discovery, Maurice decided to be Bohemian also, and to enter the room making a witty speech in Risley's own style. "You've bargained for more than you've gained" occurred to him. It didn't sound very good, but Risley had been clever at not letting him feel a fool, so he would fire it off if inspired to nothing better, and leave the rest to luck.
For it had become an adventure. This man who said one ought to "talk, talk" had stirred Maurice incomprehensibly. One night, just before ten o'clock, he slipped into Trinity and waited in the Great Court until the gates were shut behind him. Look-ing up, he noticed the night. He was indifferent to beauty as a rule, but "what a show of stars!" he thought. And how the foun-tain splashed when the chimes died away, and the gates and doors all over Cambridge had been fastened up. Trinity men were around him—all of enormous intellect and culture. Maur-ice's set had laughed at Trinity, but they could not ignore its dis-dainful radiance, or deny the superiority it scarcely troubles to affirm. He had come to it without their knowledge, humbly, to ask its help. His witty speech faded in its atmosphere; and his heart beat violently. He was ashamed and afraid.
Risley's rooms were at the end of a short passage; which since it contained no obstacle was unlighted, and visitors slid along the wall until they hit the door. Maurice hit it sooner than he ex-pected—a most awful whack—and exclaimed "Oh damnation" loudly, while the panels quivered.
"Come in," said a voice. Disappointment awaited him. The speaker was a man of his own college, by name Durham. Risley was out.
"Do you want Mr Risley? Hullo, Hall!"
"Hullo! Where's Risley?"
"I don't know."
"Oh, it's nothing. I'll go."
"Are you going back into college?" asked Durham without looking up: he was kneeling over a castle of pianola records on the floor.
"I suppose so, as he isn't here. It wasn't anything particular."
"Wait a sec, and I'll come too. I'm sorting out the Pathetic Symphony."
Maurice examined Risley's room and wondered what would have been said in it, and then sat on the table and looked at Durham. He was a small man—very small—with simple man-ners and a fair face, which had flushed when Maurice blundered in. In the college he had a reputation for brains and also for exclusiveness. Almost the only thing Maurice had heard about him was that he "went out too much", and this meeting in Trin-ity confirmed it.
"I can't find the March," he said. "Sorry."
"All right."
"I'm borrowing them to play on Fetherstonhaugh's pianola."
"Under me."
"Have you come into college, Hall?"
"Yes, I'm beginning my second year."
"Oh yes, of course, I'm third."
He spoke without arrogance, and Maurice, forgetting due honour to seniority, said, "You look more like a fresher than a third-year man, I must say."
"I may do, but I feel like an M.A."
Maurice regarded him attentively.
"Risley's an amazing chap," he continued.
Maurice did not reply.
"But all the same a little of him goes a long way."
"Still you don't mind borrowing his things."
He looked up again. "Oughtn't I to?" he asked.
"I'm only ragging, of course," said Maurice, slipping off the table. "Have you found that music yet?"
"No."
"Because I must be going"; he was in no hurry, but his heart, which had never stopped beating quickly, impelled him to say this.
"Oh. All right."
This was not what Maurice had intended. "What is it you want?" he asked, advancing.
"The March out of the Pathetique—"
"That means nothing to me. So you like this style of music."
"I do."
"A good waltz is more my style."
"Mine too," said Durham, meeting his eye. As a rule Maurice shifted, but he held firm on this occasion. Then Durham said, "The other movement may be in that pile over by the window. I must look. I shan't be long." Maurice said resolutely, "I must go now."
"All right, I'll stop."
Beaten and lonely, Maurice went. The stars blurred, the night had turned towards rain. But while the porter was getting the keys at the gate he heard quick footsteps behind him.
"Got your March?"
"No, I thought I'd come along with you instead."
Maurice walked a few steps in silence, then said, "Here, give me some of those things to carry."
"I've got them safe."
"Give," he said roughly, and jerked the records from under Durham's arm. No other conversation passed. On reaching their own college they went straight to Fetherstonhaugh's room, for there was time to try a little music over before eleven o'clock. Durham sat down at the pianola. Maurice knelt beside him.
"Didn't know you were in the aesthetic push, Hall," said the host.
"I'm not—I want to hear what they're up to."
Durham began, then desisted, saying he would start with the 5/4 instead.
"Why?"
"It's nearer waltzes."
"Oh, never mind that. Play what you like. Don't go shifting— it wastes time."
But he could not get his way this time. When he put his hand on the roller Durham said, "You'll tear it, let go," and fixed the 5/4 instead.
Maurice listened carefully to the music. He rather liked it.
"You ought to be this end," said Fetherstonhaugh, who was working by the fire. "You should get away from the machine as far as you can."
"I think so—Would you mind playing it again if Fetherston-haugh doesn't mind?"
"Yes, do, Durham. It is a jolly thing."
Durham refused. Maurice saw that he was not pliable. He said, "A movement isn't like a separate piece—you can't repeat it"—an unintelligible excuse, but apparently valid. He played the Largo, which was far from jolly, and then eleven struck and Fetherstonhaugh made them tea. He and Durham were in for the same Tripos, and talked shop, while Maurice listened. His excitement had never ceased. He saw that Durham was not only clever, but had a tranquil and orderly brain. He knew what he wanted to read, where he was weak, and how far the officials could help him. He had neither the blind faith in tutors and lec-tures that was held by Maurice and his set nor the contempt professed by Fetherstonhaugh. "You can always learn some-thing from an older man, even if he hasn't read the latest Ger-mans." They argued a little about Sophocles, then in low water Durham said it was a pose in "us undergraduates" to ignore him and advised Fetherstonhaugh to re-read theAjax with his eye on the characters rather than the author; he would learn more that way, both about Greek grammar and lif e.
Maurice regretted all this. He had somehow hoped to find the man unbalanced. Fetherstonhaugh was a great person, both in
brain and brawn, and had a trenchant and copious manner. But Durham listened unmoved, shook out the falsities and approved the rest. What hope for Maurice who was nothing but falsities? A stab of anger went through him. Jumping up, he said good night, to regret his haste as soon as he was outside the door. He settled to wait, not on the staircase itself, for this struck him as absurd, but somewhere between its foot and Durham's own room. Going out into the court, he located the latter, even knocking at the door, though he knew the owner was absent,, and looking in he studied furniture and pictures in the firelight. Then he took his stand on a sort of bridge in the courtyard. Un-fortunately it was not a real bridge: it only spanned a slight de-pression in the ground, which the architect had tried to utilize in his effect. To stand on it was to feel in a photographic studio, and the parapet was too low to lean upon. Still, with a pipe in his mouth, Maurice looked fairly natural, and hoped it wouldn't rain.
The lights were out, except in Fetherstonhaugh's room. Twelve struck, then a quarter past. For a whole hour he might have been watching for Durham. Presently there was a noise on the staircase and the neat little figure ran out with a gown round its throat and books in its hand. It was the moment for which he had waited, but he found himself strolling away. Dur-ham went to his rooms behind him. The opportunity was pass-ing.
"Good night," he screamed; his voice was going out of gear, and startling them both. "Who's that? Good night, Hall. Taking a stroll before bed?" "I generally do. You don't want any more tea, I suppose?" "Do I? No, perhaps it's a bit late for tea." Rather tepidly he added, "Like some whisky though?" "Have you a drop?" leaped from Maurice.
"Yes—come in. Here I keep: ground floor."
"Oh, here!" Durham turned on the light. The fire was nearly out now. He told Maurice to sit down and brought up a table with glasses.
"Say when?"
"Thanks—most awfully, most awfully."
"Soda or plain?" he asked, yawning.
"Soda," said Maurice. But it was impossible to stop, for the man was tired and had only invited him out of civility. He drank and returned to his own room, where he provided himself with plenty of tobacco and went into the court again.
It was absolutely quiet now, and absolutely dark. Maurice walked to and fro on the hallowed grass, himself noiseless, his heart glowing. The rest of him fell asleep, bit by bit, and first of all his brain, his weakest organ. His body followed, then his feet carried him upstairs to escape the dawn. But his heart had lit never to be quenched again, and one thing in him at last was real.
Next morning he was calmer. He had a cold for one thing, the rain having soaked him unnoticed, and for another he had overslept to the extent of missing a chapel and two lectures. It was impossible to get his life straight. After lunch he changed for football, and being in good time flung himself on his sofa to sleep till tea. But he was not hungry. Refusing an invitation, he strolled out into the town and, meeting a Turkish bath, had one. It cured his cold, but made him late for another lecture. When hall came, he felt he could not face the mass of Old Sunning-tonians, and, though he had not signed off, absented himself, and dined alone at the Union. He saw Risley there, but with indif-ference. Then the evening began again, and he found to his sur-prise that he was very clear-headed, and could do six hours' work in three. He went to bed at his usual time, and woke up
healthy and very happy. Some instinct, deep below his con-sciousness, had advised him to let Durham and his thoughts about Durham have a twenty-four-hours' rest.
They began to see a little of one another. Durham asked him to lunch, and Maurice asked him back, but not too soon. A caution alien to his nature was at work. He had always been cautious pettily, but this was on a large scale. He became alert, and all his actions that October term might be described in the language of battle. He would not venture on to difficult ground. He spied out Durham's weaknesses as well as his strength. And above all he exercised and cleaned his powers.
If obliged to ask himself, "What's all this?" he would have re-plied, "Durham is another of those boys in whom I was inter-ested at school," but he was obliged to ask nothing, and merely went ahead with his mouth and his mind shut. Each day with its contradictions slipped into the abyss, and he knew that he was gaining ground. Nothing else mattered. If he worked well and was nice socially, it was only a by-product, to which he had de-voted no care. To ascend, to stretch a hand up the mountainside until a hand catches it, was the end for which he had been bom. He forgot the hysteria of his first night and his stranger recov-ery. They were steps which he kicked behind him. He never even thought of tenderness and emotion; his considerations about Durham remained cold. Durham didn't dislike him, he was sure. That was all he wanted. One thing at a time. He didn't so much as have hopes, for hope distracts, and he had a great deal to see to.
当天和第二天，莫瑞斯一直在盘算怎样才能再度见到这个怪人。机会太少了。他不愿意去拜访高班学生，而且他们又在不同的学院。他断定里斯利在学生联合会（译注：学生联合会既具有俱乐部性质（有餐厅，还经常举行舞会），同时也是英国议会政治的摇篮，每周都举行辩论会。）尽人皆知，就去参加星期二的辩论会，指望能听到里斯利的发言。也许在大庭广众之下更容易理解他。莫瑞斯不是在想跟里斯利交朋友的心情下被他所吸引的，但他感到里斯利能帮助他也未可知——究竟如何帮助，他就想不出来了。一切都朦朦胧胧，因为他依然在山岭的阴影下。里斯利想必正在山顶上跳跃嬉戏，说不定能助他一臂之力。
他在学生联合会未能如愿以偿，就产生了一种逆反心理。他不需要任何人的帮助，他这样就挺好。再说，他的朋友们没有一个能容忍里斯利，他必须忠于自己的朋友。然而这种逆反心理很快就消失了，他比原来更渴望见到里斯利。既然里斯利如此古怪，他何不也来个古怪之举，打破大学本科生的一切惯例，去拜访他？“应该做个男子汉”，去拜访是男子汉份内之事。莫瑞斯被这一发现所打动，决定也做个放荡不羁的人，一走进里斯利的房间，就用里斯利的腔调发表妙趣横生的演说。他想到一句话：“你原想获得更大的成果。”听上去并不十分精彩，里斯利很精明，不要让他觉得自己是个蠢人。除非灵机一动，能想起更俏皮的话，听天由命吧。
这变成一种冒险了。那个人说，人们应该“谈话，谈话”，使得莫瑞斯莫名其妙地激动起来。一个夜晚，快要到十点钟的时候，他溜进三一学院，在大院子里一直等到大门在他身后关闭。他抬头望望夜空。通常他对美漠不关心，这时却想着“满天星斗！”报时的钟声已响过，剑桥校园内所有的门都关严了，随后传到耳际的喷泉迸溅声何等清越。周围都是三一学院的学生们——极有才智，教养非常好。莫瑞斯的伙伴们尽管嘲笑三一学院，却决不能无视三一学院散发出的自负的光辉。也决不能对三一学院所不屑于被认可的优越一笑置之。他是背着伙伴们到三一学院来的，是谦虚地来向它求助的。在学院的这种气氛下，他那俏皮的台词消失了，他的心怦怦直跳，既羞愧又害怕。
里斯利的套房位于短短的走廊尽头。什么障碍物也没有，走廊也就没点灯。来客沿墙而行，直到撞上门为止。莫瑞斯比自己所预料的更快地撞上了它——咣当一声巨响——墙板震颤起来。于是他惊叫道：“该死！”
“请进！”屋里有人说。失望等待着他，说话的是跟他同学院的人，名叫德拉姆。里斯利出门了。
“你要找里斯利先生吗？嘿，是霍尔呀！”
“嘿！里斯利去哪儿啦？”
“我不知道。”
“啊，没关系，我回去了。”
“你要回咱们学院去吗？”德拉姆头也不抬地问道。他跪在地板上，摆弄一摞自动钢琴（译注：自动钢琴：在一卷卷纸上按音符时值和音高穿凿出大小不一的孔，演奏时，空气被压入孔中，推动琴槌击弦发声。十九世纪晚期开始流行，直到留声机和无线电问世为止。）用的唱片。
“我想既然他不在，没有什么特别的事。”
“稍等一会儿，我也一起回去。我正在找《悲怆交响曲》（译注：《悲怆》是俄国作曲家柴可夫斯基（1840-1893）的B小调第六交响曲的副标题。）。”
莫瑞斯四下里打量着里斯利的屋子，寻思着在这里究竟都谈过些什么呢？然后坐在桌子上，瞧着德拉姆。他个子矮小——非常小——态度自然，皮肤白皙。当莫瑞斯跌跌撞撞地走进去时，他飞红了脸。在学院里，他以脑筋好以及孤傲著称。关于他，莫瑞斯只听说是“太爱到外头去走动”。在三一学院与他相逢，证实了这一点。
“我找不到《进行曲》。（译注：指《悲怆交响曲》第三乐章，是一首谐谑曲，富于进行曲的特征。）”他说，“对不起，叫你久等了。”
“不要紧。”
“我借几张，放在费瑟斯顿豪的自动钢琴上听。”
“他就住在我楼下。”
“你入了学院吗，霍尔？”
“嗯，我刚升二年级。”
“啊，当然。我是三年级。”
德拉姆的口气一点儿都不狂妄，莫瑞斯忘记了对高班生所应表示的敬意，说道：“依我看，与其说是三年级，你更像是个一年级的学生。”
“也许是这样。可我觉得自己像是个文学硕士。
莫瑞斯留心地端详他。
“里斯利是个了不起的家伙。”他继续说下去。
莫瑞斯没有吱声。
“尽管如此，偶尔见一次面，也就够了。”
“不过，你还照样跑来向他借东西。”
他又抬起头来看。“这么做不合适吗？”他问。
“我只是开玩笑而已。”莫瑞斯边说边从桌子上滑下来。“你找到那张唱片了吗？”
“没有。”
“因为我得走啦一”其实他并不急于离开，然而他的心一个劲儿地怦怦直跳，以致非这么说不可。
“哦，好的。”
莫瑞斯没想到他会这么回答。“你在找什么呢？”他边往前走边问。
“《悲怆》里的《进行曲》。”
“我一点都不懂。那么，你喜欢这种风格的音乐喽？”
“喜欢。”
“我更喜欢的风格是活泼的华尔兹舞曲。”
“我也一样。”德拉姆说，他与莫瑞斯四目相视。莫瑞斯通常会把目光移开，然而这次却直勾勾地望着。于是德拉姆说：“其他乐章也许在窗边的那一摞里，我得去瞧瞧，耽误不了多会儿。”
莫瑞斯坚决地说：“我必须马上走。”
“好吧，我这就停下来。”
莫瑞斯走出去了，颓丧而孤独。星星已模糊不清，天空像要下雨。当门房正找大门钥匙时，他听见背后传来急促的脚步声。
“找到你的《进行曲》了吗？”
“没有。我改变了主意，打算跟你一起回去。”
莫瑞斯默默地走了几步，随后说：“喏，我帮你拿一些。”
“我拿得了。”
“给我。”他粗鲁地说，并将唱片从德拉姆的腋下一把夺过来。他们没再交谈，返回自己的学院后，他们径直到费瑟斯顿豪的房间去了。因为在十一点以前，他们还能试听一会儿音乐。德拉姆坐在自动钢琴前的凳子上，莫瑞斯屈膝跪在他旁边。
“没想到你也是艺术伙伴中的一个，霍尔。”房间的主人说。
“我可不是一我想听听这里面都有些什么。”
自动钢琴开始演奏，又停止了。德拉姆说他要调成四分之五拍。
“为什么？”
“那更接近华尔兹舞曲。”
“啊，这没关系，随意演奏吧。别调了——太浪费时间了。”
然而这一次他却未能固执己见。他刚将自己的手放在滚轴上，德拉姆就说：“放手，你会把它损坏的。”并把琴调成了四分之五拍。
莫瑞斯专注地听着，他颇为喜爱这个乐曲。
“你应该到这边来，”正在炉火边用功的费瑟斯顿豪说，“尽量地离琴远一点才好。”
“有道理——倘若费瑟斯顿豪不介意，可不可以再奏一遍？”
“我没关系，德拉姆，再奏一遍吧。多么愉快的音乐。”
德拉姆拒绝了，莫瑞斯看出他不是个顺从的人。他说：“乐章不是独立的乐曲——不能重复地听。”这是个莫名其妙的借口，但显然站得住脚。德拉姆接着又奏了《广板》（译注：《广板》系德国作曲家亨德尔（1685-1759）所作乐曲。通常用以指别人改编的许多动听的器乐曲，是从亨德尔的歌剧《赛尔斯》中的《绿树青葱》咏叹调改编而成（其实谱上原来标的是“小广板”）。），一点也不快活。随后时钟敲了十一下，费瑟斯顿豪给他们沏了茶。他和德拉姆双双准备参加荣誉学位考试，就谈起专业来，莫瑞斯聆听着。他始终兴奋不已。他看得出德拉姆不仅才思敏捷，还具备沉着、有条理的思维。他知道自己想要读什么书，有哪方面的弱点，校方能够给他多大的帮助。莫瑞斯及其伙伴们对导师与讲义盲目信赖，德拉姆却不然。但他也不像费瑟斯顿豪那样，对导师与讲义抱着轻蔑的态度。“你总可以从年长的人身上学到一些东西，即便他没读过最近出版的德文书籍。”关于索福克勒斯（译注：索福克勒斯（约前496一约前406），古希腊三大悲剧诗人之一。他的传世剧作是《埃阿斯》（约公元前441）等。），他们争论了一会儿。德拉姆有点儿招架不住了，提出“我们这些本科生”忽视索福克勒斯，这是附庸风雅。他劝告费瑟斯顿豪重读《埃阿斯》，别去注意作者，宁肯把两眼盯在登场人物上。这样来读，不论关于希腊文法还是希腊人的生活，都能学到更多的东西。
这番争论使莫瑞斯感到沮丧。不知为什么，他曾指望能发现德拉姆的情绪不稳。费瑟斯顿豪是个优秀的人物，脑筋好，肌肉发达-直言不讳，喋喋不休。然而德拉姆冷静地听，将谬误提出来，对其余的表示同意。莫瑞斯简直就是谬误的化身，他有什么希望呢？愤怒的利刃刺穿了他的身子。他跳起来道了声“晚安”，可是刚一走出屋子，就懊悔自己不该这么性急。他决定等候，不是在楼梯上等，因为他觉得这样很可笑，还是在楼梯脚与德拉姆的房屋之间等吧。他走到院子里，找到了德拉姆那间屋子，明知道主人不在，却还敲了敲门，并打开门探了探头，借着炉火的光仔细端详家具和墙上挂的画。然后就去站在院子里的一座徒有其名的桥上。遗憾的是那不是真正的桥，只是庭园设计师为了效果起见，把它架设在一片洼地上而已。在上面一站，就会有待在照相馆的摄影室里那样的感觉。栏杆太矮，不能凭靠。不过，莫瑞斯口衔烟斗，看上去颇像是站在真桥上似的，他希望不要下雨。
除了费瑟斯顿豪的屋子，所有的灯光都熄了。时钟敲了十二下，接着十二点一刻也过去了。他可能已等候了德拉姆一个钟头。过了一会儿，楼梯响了，一个矮小文雅的身姿，他穿着大学礼服，手捧书籍跑了出来。莫瑞斯所等待的正是这一瞬间，他却不由自主地移步走开。德拉姆在他后面，走向自己的屋子。他正在错过机会。
“晚安！”他尖声喊叫，刺耳的声音使两个人都大吃一惊。
“谁？晚安，霍尔。睡觉前散散步吗？”
“我通常都这样。你不想再喝茶了吧？”
“我吗？不，现在喝茶或许太晚了些。”他不大热情地补上一句，“不过，来点儿威士忌如何？”
“你有吗？”莫瑞斯赶紧说。
“对，请进。我就住在这儿，一楼。”
“哦，这儿！”德拉姆把灯捻亮了。这会儿壁炉里的火已经快燃尽了。他叫莫瑞斯坐下，并把桌子和玻璃杯端过来。
“要多少？”
“多谢一足够了，足够了。”
“兑苏打水还是喝纯的？”他边打哈欠边问。
“兑苏打水。”莫瑞斯说。他不便久坐，因为德拉姆疲倦了，只是出于礼貌才邀他进屋的。他喝完以后回到自己的房间去了。他在屋里吸了大量的烟，又重新来到了院子里。
万籁俱寂，一团漆黑。莫瑞斯在圣洁的草坪上来回踱步，毫无声息，心里热辣辣的。身体的其他部位一点点地睡着了，首先进入梦乡的是他的头脑——最弱的器官。他的肉体接着入睡，随后他的两只脚将他送上楼，以便逃避拂晓。心中被点燃的火永远也不会被熄灭，他身上终于有了个真实的部位。
第二天早晨，他心里渐渐宁静下来。因为前天晚上淋了雨，他患了感冒，并且睡过了头。非但没去做礼拜，还旷了两堂课。让他的生活步人正轨已经不可能了。午饭后，他换了衣服准备去踢足球，看看时间还充裕，便躺在了沙发上。结果一直睡到喝茶的时间。他并不饿，拒绝一个邀请后溜达到了大街上，去洗了一个蒸汽浴。这治好了他的感冒，结果又旷了一堂课。该到大餐厅吃饭了，他却无心跟萨宁顿的老校友们碰头。他不曾事先打招呼，擅自缺了席，并孤零零地在学生联合会吃了顿饭。他在那儿看见了里斯利，但他对里斯利很冷漠。夜幕又降临了。莫瑞斯发现自己思维非常敏捷，三个小时就能做完六个小时的功课，令自己大吃一惊。他按平时的就寝时间上了床，一觉醒来，身体健康，心情非常愉快。潜在意识深处的一种本能劝他在二十四小时之内别再去想德拉姆以及有关德拉姆的事。
从此，他们二人偶尔见见面。德拉姆请莫瑞斯吃午饭，莫瑞斯再回请一次。他的天性中所没有的谨慎在起作用，他一向不在这方面下工夫，这次可是极其谨慎。他变得很警惕，从十月开始的这个学期，他所有的行为都可以用“斗争”一词来描述，但决不涉足危险领域。他窥探到了德拉姆的长处以及弱点。尤其重要的是，他锻炼并加强了自己的能力。
倘若被迫问自己：“这是在干什么？”他就会回答说：“德拉姆是我所感兴趣的。”然而他没有问过自己，仅仅是闭着嘴，关上心扉，径直往前走。光阴日复一日，连同种种矛盾，消逝到深渊中。他知道自己有所进展，其余的全都无所谓。倘若他很用功，跟同学相处得很好，那都是连带反应而已，他根本不放在心上。向上爬，朝着山腰伸出手去，直到某人的手抓住它。他就是为了达到这个目的而生下来的。他忘掉了第一个夜晚自己那种病态的兴奋，以及更奇妙的康复。那是他在告别过去。他的心境与温存、感情完全无关，想到德拉姆的时候，他是冷静的。他深信德拉姆并不讨厌他，对他来说，这就足够了。一步一个脚印，他甚至没有抱什么希望。因为希望会使他分神，而他不得不关照的事太多了。

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Chapter 7
Next term they were intimate at once. "Hall, I nearly wrote a letter to you in the vac," said Durham, plunging into a conversation.
"That so?"
"But an awful screed. I'd been having a rotten time."
His voice was not very serious, and Maurice said, "What went wrong? Couldn't you keep down the Christmas pudding?"
It presently appeared that the pudding was allegorical; there had been a big family row.
"I don't know what you'll say—I'd rather like your opinion on what happened if it doesn't bore you."
"Not a bit," said Maurice.
"We've had a bust up on the religious question."
At that moment they were interrupted by Chapman.
"I'm sorry, we're fixing something," Maurice told him.
Chapman withdrew.
"You needn't have done that, any time would do for my rot," Durham protested. He went on more earnestly.
"Hall, I don't want to worry you with my beliefs, or rather with their absence, but to explain the situation I must just tell you that I'm unorthodox. I'm not a Christian."
Maurice held unorthodoxy to be bad form and had remarked last term in a college debate that if a man had doubts he might have the grace to keep them to himself. But he only said to Dur-ham that it was a difficult question and a wide one.
"I know—it isn't about that. Leave it aside." He looked for a little into the fire. "It is about the way my mother took it. I told her six months ago—in the summer—and she didn't mind. She made some foolish joke, as she does, but that was all. It just passed over. I was thankful, for it had been on my mind for years. I had never believed since I found something that did me better, quite as a kid, and when I came to know Risley and his crew it seemed imperative to speak out. You know what a point they make of that—it's really their main point. So I spoke out. She said, 'Oh yes, you'll be wiser when you are as old as me': the mildest form of the thing conceivable, and I went away re-joicing. Now it's all come up again."
"Why?"
"Why? On account of Christmas. I didn't want to communi-cate. You're supposed to receive it three times a year—"
"Yes, I know. Holy Communion."
"—and at Christmas it came round. I said I wouldn't. Mother wheedled me in a way quite unlike her, asked me to do it this once to please her—then got cross, said I would damage her reputation as well as my own—we're the local squires and the neighbourhood's uncivilized. But what I couldn't stand was the end. She said I was wicked. I could have honoured her if she had said that six months before, but now! now to drag in holy words like wickedness and goodness in order to make me do what I disbelieved. I told her I have my own communions. If I went to them as you and the girls are doing to yours my gods would kill me!' I suppose that was too strong."
Maurice, not well understanding, said, "So did you go?"
"Where?"
"To the church."
Durham sprang up. His face was disgusted. Then he bit his lip and began to smile.
"No, I didn't go to church, Hall. I thought that was plain."
"I'm sorry—I wish you'd sit down. I didn't mean to offend you. I'm rather slow at catching."
Durham squatted on the rug close to Maurice's chair. "Have you known Chapman long?" he asked after a pause.
"Here and at school, five years."
"Oh." He seemed to reflect. "Give me a cigarette. Put it in my mouth. Thanks." Maurice supposed the talk was over, but after the swirl he went on. "You see—you mentioned you had a mother and two sisters, which is exactly my own allowance, and all through the row I was wondering what you would have done in my position."
"Your mother must be very different to mine."
"What is yours like?"
"She never makes a row about anything."
"Because you've never yet done anything she wouldn't ap-prove, I expect—and never will."
"Oh no, she wouldn't fag herself."
"You can't tell, Hall, especially with women. I'm sick with her. That's my real trouble that I want your help about."
"She'll come round."
"Exactly, my dear chap, but shall I? I must have been pre-tending to like her. This row has shattered my he. I did think I had stopped building lies. I despise her character, I am dis-gusted with her. There, I have told you what no one else in the world knows."
Maurice clenched his fist and hit Durham lightly on the head with it. "Hard luck," he breathed.
"Tell me about your home life."
"There's nothing to tell. We just go on."
"Lucky devils."
"Oh, I don't know. Are you ragging, or was your vac really beastly, Durham?"
"Absolute Hell, misery and Hell."
Maurice's fist unclenched to reform with a handful of hair in its grasp.
"Waou, that hurts!" cried the other joyously.
"What did your sisters say about Holy Communion?"
"One's married a clerg—No, that hurts."
"Absolute Hell, eh?"
"Hall, I never knew you were a fool—" he possessed himself of Maurice's hand— "and the other's engaged to Archibald Lon-don, Esquire, of the—Waou! Ee! Shut up, I'm going." He fell between Maurice's knees.
"Well, why don't you go if you're going?"
"Because I can't go."
It was the first time he had dared to play with Durham. Reli-gion and relatives faded into the background, as he rolled him up in the hearth rug and fitted his head into the waste-paper basket. Hearing the noise, Fetherstonhaugh ran up and helped. There was nothing but ragging for many days after that, Dur-ham becoming quite as silly as himself. Wherever they met, which was everywhere, they would butt and spar and embroil their friends. At last Durham got tired. Being the weaker he was hurt sometimes, and his chairs had been broken. Maurice felt the change at once. His coltishness passed, but they had become demonstrative during it. They walked arm in arm or arm around shoulder now. When they sat it was nearly always in the same position—Maurice in a chair, and Durham at his feet, leaning against him. In the world of their friends this attracted no no-tice. Maurice would stroke Durham's hair.
And their range increased elsewhere. During this Lent term Maurice came out as a theologian. It was not humbug entirely. He believed that he believed, and felt genuine pain when any-thing he was accustomed to met criticism—the pain that mas-querades among the middle classes as Faith. It was not Faith,
being inactive. It gave him no support, no wider outlook. It didn't exist till opposition touched it, when it ached like a use-less nerve. They all had these nerves at home, and regarded them as divine, though neither the Bible nor the Prayer Book nor the Sacraments nor Christian ethics nor anything spiritual were alive to them. "But how can people?" they exclaimed, when anything was attacked, and subscribed to Defence Soci-eties. Maurice's father was becoming a pillar of Church and So-ciety when he died, and other things being alike Maurice would have stiffened too.
But other things were not to be alike. He had this overwhelm-ing desire to impress Durham. He wanted to show his friend that he had something besides brute strength, and where his father would have kept canny silence he began to talk, talk. "You think I don't think, but I can tell you I do." Very often Durham made no reply and Maurice would be terrified lest he was losing him. He had heard it said, "Durham's all right as long as you amuse him, then he drops you," and feared lest by exhibiting his orthodoxy he was bringing on what he tried to avoid. But he could not stop. The craving for notice grew overwhelming, so he talked, talked.
One day Durham said, "Hall, why this thusness?"
"Religion means a lot to me," bluffed Maurice. "Because I say so little you think I don't feel. I care a lot."
"In that case come to coffee after hall."
They were just going in. Durham, being a scholar, had to read grace, and there was cynicism in his accent. During the meal they looked at each other. They sat at different tables, but Maurice had contrived to move his seat so that he could glance at his friend. The phase of bread pellets was over. Durham looked severe this evening and was not speaking to his neigh-bours. Maurice knew that he was thoughtful and wondered what about.
"You wanted to get it and you're going to," said Durham, sporting the door.
Maurice went cold and then crimson. But Durham's voice, when he next heard it, was attacking his opinions on the Trinity. He thought he minded about the Trinity, yet it seemed unim-portant beside the fires of his terror. He sprawled in an arm-chair, all the strength out of him, with sweat on his forehead and hands. Durham moved about getting the coffee ready and saying, "I knew you wouldn't like this, but you have brought it on yourself. You can't expect me to bottle myself up indefinitely. I must let out sometimes."
"Go on," said Maurice, clearing his throat.
"I never meant to talk, for I respect people's opinions too much to laugh at them, but it doesn't seem to me that you have any opinions to respect. They're all second-hand tags—no, tenth-hand."
Maurice, who was recovering, remarked that this was pretty strong.
"You're always saying, 1 care a lot.'"
"And what right have you to assume that I don't?"
"You do care a lot about something, Hall, but it obviously isn't the Trinity."
"What is it then?"
"Rugger."
Maurice had another attack. His hand shook and he spilt the coffee on the arm of the chair. "You're a bit unfair," he heard himself saying. "You might at least have the grace to suggest that I care about people."
Durham looked surprised, but said, "You care nothing about the Trinity, any way."
"Oh, damn the Trinity."
He burst with laughter. "Exactly, exactly. We will now pass on to my next point."
"I don't see the use, and I've a rotten head any way—I mean a headache. Nothing's gained by—all this. No doubt I can't prove the thing—I mean the arrangement of Three Gods in One and One in Three. But it means a lot to millions of people, what-ever you may say, and we aren't going to give it up. We feel about it very deeply. God is good. That is the main point. Why go off on a side track?"
"Why feel so deeply about a side track?"
"What?"
Durham tidied up his remarks for him.
"Well, the whole show all hangs together."
"So that if the Trinity went wrong it would invalidate the whole show?"
"I don't see that. Not at all."
He was doing badly, but his head really did ache, and when he wiped the sweat off it re-formed.
"No doubt I can't explain well, as I care for nothing but rug-ger."
Durham came and sat humorously on the edge of his chair.
"Look out—you've gone into the coffee now."
"Blast—so I have."
While he cleaned himself, Maurice unsported and looked out into the court. It seemed years since he had left it. He felt dis-inclined to be longer alone with Durham and called to some men to join them. A coffee of the usual type ensued, but when they left Maurice felt equally disinclined to leave with them. He flourished the Trinity again. "It's a mystery," he argued.
"It isn't a mystery to me. But I honour anyone to whom it really is."
Maurice felt uncomfortable and looked at his own thick brown hands. Was the Trinity really a mystery to him? Except at his confirmation had he given the institution five minutes'
thought? The arrival of the other men had cleared his head, and, no longer emotional, he glanced at his mind. It appeared like his hands—serviceable, no doubt, and healthy, and capable of development. But it lacked refinement, it had never touched mysteries, nor a good deal else. It was thick and brown.
"My position's this," he announced after a pause. "I don't be-lieve in the Trinity, I give in there, but on the other hand I was wrong when I said everything hangs together. It doesn't, and because I don't believe in the Trinity it doesn't mean I am not a Christian."
"What do you believe in?" said Durham, unchecked.
"The—the essentials."
"As?"
In a low voice Maurice said, "The Redemption." He had never spoken the words out of church before and thrilled with emotion. But he did not believe in them any more than in the Trinity, and knew that Durham would detect this. The Re-demption was the highest card in the suit, but that suit wasn't trumps, and his friend could capture it with some miserable two.
All that Durham said at the time was, "Dante did believe in the Trinity," and going to the shelf found the concluding pas-sage of theParadiso. He read to Maurice about the three rainbow circles that intersect, and between their junctions is enshadowed a human face. Poetry bored Maurice, but towards the close he cried, "Whose face was it?"
"God's, don't you see?"
"But isn't that poem supposed to be a dream?"
Hall was a muddle-headed fellow, and Durham did not try to make sense of this, nor knew that Maurice was thinking of a dream of his own at school, and of the voice that had said, "That is your friend."
"Dante would have called it an awakening, not a dream."
"Then you think that sort of stuff's all right?"
"Belief's always right," replied Durham, putting back the book. "It's all right and it's also unmistakable. Every man has somewhere about him some belief for which he'd die. Only isn't it improbable that your parents and guardians told it to you? If there is one won't it be part of your own flesh and spirit? Show me that. Don't go hawking out tags like 'The Redemption' or 'The Trinity'."
"I've given up the Trinity."
"The Redemption, then."
"You're beastly hard," said Maurice. "I always knew I was stupid, it's no news. The Risley set are more your sort and you had better talk to them."
Durham looked awkward. He was nonplussed for a reply at last, and let Maurice slouch off without protest. Next day they met as usual. It had not been a tiff but a sudden gradient, and they travelled all the quicker after the rise. They talked theol-ogy again, Maurice defending the Redemption. He lost. He real-ized that he had no sense of Christ's existence or of his goodness, and should be positively sorry if there was such a person. His dislike of Christianity grew and became profound. In ten days he gave up communicating, in three weeks he cut out all the chapels he dared. Durham was puzzled by the rapidity. They were both puzzled, and Maurice, although he had lost and yielded all his opinions, had a queer feeling that he was really winning and carrying on a campaign that he had begun last term.
For Durham wasn't bored with him now. Durham couldn't do without him, and would be found at all hours curled up in his room and spoiling to argue. It was so unlike the man, who was reserved and no great dialectician. He gave as his reason for at-
tacking Maurice's opinions that "They are so rotten, Hall, every-one else up here believes respectably." Was this the whole truth? Was there not something else behind his new manner and furi-ous iconoclasm? Maurice thought there was. Outwardly in re-treat, he thought that his Faith was a pawn well lost; for in capturing it Durham had exposed his heart.
Towards the end of term they touched upon a yet more deli-cate subject. They attended the Dean's translation class, and when one of the men was forging quietly ahead Mr Cornvvallis observed in a flat toneless voice: "Omit: a reference to the un-speakable vice of the Greeks." Durham observed afterwards that he ought to lose his fellowship for such hypocrisy.
Maurice laughed.
"I regard it as a point of pure scholarship. The Greeks, or most of them, were that way inclined, and to omit it is to omit the mainstay of Athenian society."
"Is that so?"
"You've read theSymposium?'
Maurice had not, and did not add that he had explored Mar-tial.
"It's all in there—not meat for babes, of course, but you ought to read it. Read it this vac."
No more was said at the time, but he was free of another sub-ject, and one that he had never mentioned to any living soul. He hadn't known it could be mentioned, and when Durham did so in the middle of the sunlitcourt a breath of liberty touched him.
下一个学期（译注：剑桥大学的学年从每年十月间开始。全年分三个学期，每个学期约八个半星期。三个学期分别是米迦勒节学期、四旬斋学期、复括节学期。“下一个学期”指四旬斋学期。）伊始，他们两个人的关系变得亲密了。
“霍尔，在假期里，我差点儿给你写信。”德拉姆一看见莫瑞斯就说。
“是吗？”
“然而写起来就冗长得要命。日子过得糟糕透顶。”
他的语气并不很严肃。于是莫瑞斯说：“有什么不对？吃圣诞节布丁，肚子出毛病了吗？”
不一会儿，他就听出了布丁可以用作寓言，德拉姆家里发生了一起激烈的争吵。
“我不晓得你会怎么说——倘若你不觉得厌烦的话，我倒是想听听你对此事的看法。”
“一点儿也不觉得厌烦。”莫瑞斯说。
“关于宗教问题，我们吵得不可开交。”
这时候，查普曼的到来打搅了他们。
“对不起，我们正在谈话。”莫瑞斯对他说。
查普曼走了。
“你不必那么做，什么时候都可以听我这番无稽之谈。”德拉姆提出异议，然而他更认真地继续谈着。
“霍尔，我不愿意用自己的信仰——或者不如说是缺乏信仰——的问题来烦扰你。但是为了把情况解释明白，我必须告诉你，我是个异端分子，我不是个基督教徒。”
按照莫瑞斯的观点，异端就是邪恶的。上学期在学院所举行的一次讨论会上，他曾发表这样一种见解：倘若一个人对基督教有疑问，也应该有守口如瓶的雅量。然而他对德拉姆只说了句“信仰是个很麻烦的问题，范围太大了”。
“我知道——不是关于信仰的问题，把它撇在一边吧。”他注视了一会儿炉火。“而是我母亲对此事怎样看的问题。半年前——夏天的时候——我就告诉她了，她并未介意。她照例说了些愚蠢的笑话，仅此而已，事情就过去了。我感到欣慰，因为这是我多年的心事。小时候我发现了对我来说有些事比基督教更有益处，从此再也没信过神。当我结识了里斯利以及他那伙人之后，就很想全部说出来。你知道他们把坦诚看得多么重要，这确实是他们的主要着眼点。于是我就向母亲和盘托出。她说：‘啊，是吗？你到了我这岁数，会稍微变得聪明一些吧。’这是我所能想象的最温和的反应了，我欢欢喜喜地离开了家。可是在这次的假期中，这一切又成了问题。”
“为什么？”
“为什么？由于过圣诞节的缘故。我不愿意领圣餐，基督教徒每年应该领三次圣餐一”
“啊，我知道，圣餐。”
“过圣诞节的时候，这就成问题了。我说我绝不去，母亲一反常态，用甜言蜜语哄我，要求我领这一次圣餐，好让她高兴。接着她就生起气来，说我会损坏我本人以及她的名誉。我们是本地的乡绅，周围净是没受过教育的人们。然而我所不能忍受的是母亲的最后一句话。母亲说我是邪恶的。如果她这话是半年前说的，我可以接受她的看法，现在不行！为了让我做没有信仰的事，眼下竟用上邪恶啦、善良啦这样一些分量很重的词。我告诉她，我有我个人的圣餐仪式。‘倘若我像您和咱们家的女孩子们参加你们的圣餐仪式那样去参加我的圣餐仪式的话，我的神祗们会杀掉我的！’这话恐怕说得太重了。”
莫瑞斯没怎么听懂他的意思，就问道：“那么，你去了吧？”
“去哪儿？”
“教堂呀。”
德拉姆跳了起来，满脸厌恶的神色。接着他咬咬嘴唇．面泛微笑。
“没有，霍尔，我没去教堂。我认为这是不言而喻的事。”
“对不起——我请求你坐下来。我无意触犯你，我的脑筋太迟钝了。”
德拉姆挨着莫瑞斯的椅子蹲在地毯上。过了一会儿，他问：“你跟查普曼认识很长时间了吗？”
“从公学到现在五年了。”
“噢。”他好像在沉思。“给我一支香烟，替我送到嘴里，多谢。”莫瑞斯以为有关信仰的话已结束了，然而喷出一口烟后，他又说下去。“听我说——你告诉过我，你有母亲和两个妹妹，刚好和我的情形一样。在那场争吵中，我一直想知道，要是你会怎么办事？”
“你母亲肯定和我母亲不同。”
“你母亲是怎样一个人？”
“她对任何事情都不大吵大闹。”
“因为你从来还没做过让她不赞成的事，我料想，今后你也永远不会的。”
“哦，不是这样。我母亲不愿意把自己弄得疲惫不堪。”
“简直说不准。霍尔，尤其是女人。我对母亲感到厌恶。这就是我真正的烦恼，想得到你的帮助。”
“她会回心转意的。”
“千真万确，亲爱的老弟。可是我呢？过去我想必是假装爱她而已。这次的争吵使我的谎言粉碎了。我的确以为自己已经不再编造谎言了。我讨厌她的性格，她令我反感。喏，我把世界上其他任何人都不知道的事告诉你了。”
莫瑞斯攥起拳头，轻轻地敲着德拉姆的头。“运气不好。”他低声说。
“对我说说你们～家人的生活。”
“没什么好说的，我们只是这样相处下去。”
“你们这些幸运儿。”
“哦，我不知道，德拉姆，你是在开玩笑呢，还是假期实在过得糟透了呢？”
“简直是活地狱，悲惨的境遇，人间地狱。”
莫瑞斯打开拳头，抓住德拉姆的一绺头发，又攥紧拳头。
“哇，好疼！”德拉姆快活地叫起来。
“关于圣餐仪式，你的妹妹们怎么说？”
“有个妹妹跟一位牧师结婚了——别，好疼。”
“简直是活地狱，啊？”
“霍尔，我再也没想到你是一个愚蠢的——”他抓住了莫瑞斯的手。“另一个跟乡绅阿尔赤鲍尔德·伦敦订了婚一嗷！哎哟！放手，我走啦。”他倒在莫瑞斯的双膝之间了。
“喏，你说要走，为什么不走呢？”
“因为我不能走哇。”
莫瑞斯这是头一回胆敢跟德拉姆闹着玩儿。当他拿壁炉前的小地毯把德拉姆裹起来，并将字纸篓扣在他头上时，宗教和亲属就消失了踪影。费瑟斯顿豪听到喧闹声，跑上楼，解救了德拉姆。从此，他们二人一连打闹了好多天。德拉姆变得跟莫瑞斯一样滑稽可笑。他们不论在什么地方相遇——他们在任何地方都相遇——就半真半假地互相殴打，把朋友们也卷进去。德拉姆终于感到厌烦了。他的体质较弱，间或受了伤，屋中的几把椅子也给弄坏了。莫瑞斯立即觉察出德拉姆的心情起了变化。他不再像小马驹那样跟德拉姆欢闹了，然而，通过欢闹。他们学会了直率地表露感情。如今他们两个人互相挽着臂，或者搂着脖子走路。当他们坐下来的时候，姿势几乎一成不变——莫瑞斯坐在椅子上，德拉姆坐在他脚下，倚着他的膝。在朋友们当中，这不曾引起人们的注意。莫瑞斯总是抚摩德拉姆的头发。
他们还向其他领域扩展。在四旬斋（译注：四旬斋（亦名大斋期），始自四旬斋首日（圣灰星期三）．即耶稣复活节前六个半星期，规定要在四十天内（星期日除外）进行斋戒，模拟当年耶稣在旷野禁食。）这个学期，莫瑞斯标榜自己是个神学家，这并不完全是无稽之谈。他相信自己是有信仰的，当他所习以为常的任何东西受到指责时，他就会感到真正的痛苦。在中产阶级的人们中间，这种痛苦戴着信仰的假面具。这不是信仰，其实是惰性。它不曾给予莫瑞斯支持，也没能帮助他扩大视野。遇到反击之前，它甚至不存在，一遇到反击，它就像不起作用的神经一样作痛。他们家每人都有这样一根神经，并把它看作神圣的。尽管对他们来说，《圣经》、祈祷书、圣餐、基督教伦理以及其他任何超乎世俗的东西都是没有生命的。其中任何一样东西遭到攻击后，他们就惊叫道：“人们怎么能这样？”于是就在保卫协会的文件上签名。莫瑞斯的父亲去世的时候快要成为教会与社会的中坚了。倘若处在同样的状况下，莫瑞斯的思想也会僵化的。
然而，他并没有处在同样的状况下。他有一种想要令德拉姆钦佩的无比强烈的愿望。他想向这位朋友显示，除了蛮劲十足，他还有别的。他父亲说话谨慎，他却喋喋不休。“你认为我什么也不想，然而我可以告诉你，不是这么回事。”德拉姆经常不回答。莫瑞斯就心惊胆战，以为会失掉这个朋友。他曾听人家说：“只要你一天能让德拉姆开心，他就对你好．否则他就把你甩了。”他生怕由于炫耀自己的正统宗教观点，会发生本来试图避免的事。然而他怎么也抑制不住，引起德拉姆瞩目的渴望越来越强烈，于是他口若悬河地说个没完。
一天，德拉姆说：“霍尔，你为什么这样？”
“对我来说，宗教信仰是至关紧要的事。”莫瑞斯虚张声势。“由于我说得极少，你就认为我无动于衷。我把它看得非常重要。”
“那么，会餐后到我屋里来喝咖啡吧。”
他们二人正往大餐厅里走。德拉姆领着奖学金，所以必须做饭前感恩祷告，他的祈祷含有玩世不恭的腔调。吃饭时他们相互望着。他们坐在不同的桌前，然而莫瑞斯巧妙地把椅子挪了挪，以便能看见他的朋友。把面包当作小球来抛掷的阶段早已成为过去。这个傍晚，德拉姆脸上的神色严肃，没跟周围的人们交谈。莫瑞斯知道他有心事，猜测着他究竟在想些什么。
“你想要什么，你就会得到什么。”德拉姆一边说一边关严外边那扇门，以表示“谢绝会见”。
莫瑞斯浑身发冷，满脸涨得通红。接着，莫瑞斯又听见德拉姆的声音了。他在对莫瑞斯关于三位一体（译注：三位一体指上帝（天主教中，叫做“天主”）本体为一，但又是圣父、圣子邪稣基督和圣灵三位。《新约》为三位一体教义提供了根据。到了四世纪末，三位一体教义已大致具备今天的形式。）的看法进行抨击。莫瑞斯原来以为自己是重视三位一体教义的。然而面对着这片恐怖的火焰，那好像无关紧要了。他仰面朝天地倒在一把扶手椅上，一点儿力气都没有了，额头和双手淌着汗。德拉姆踱来踱去，准备着咖啡，嘴里说：“我知道你不喜欢我这样，但你是自找的。你总不能指望我无限期地把话憋在心里，我非得不时地发泄一通不可。”
“说下去吧。”莫瑞斯清了清嗓子说。
“其实我本来什么也不想说，因为我一向十分尊重人们的意见，不愿意嘲笑他们。然而依我看，你好像没有任何值得尊重的意见。你那些意见统统是二手货——不，十手货。”
莫瑞斯又振作起来了，并指出德拉姆的话说得太重了。
“你的口头禅是：‘我把它看得非常重要。…
“你凭什么臆断不是这么回事呢？”
“你确实把一些事情看得很重要，霍尔，但那显然不是三位一体教义。”
“那么，是什么呢？”
“是足球。”
这又是对莫瑞斯的当头一棒。他的手颤抖起来，竟把咖啡洒在椅子的扶手上。“你有点儿不公平。”他听见自己这么说。“你起码有气度暗示一下，我把人看得很重要嘛。”
德拉姆的脸上露出惊奇的表情，说：“反正你把三位一体看得一点儿都不重要。”
“啊，让三位一体见鬼去吧！”
德拉姆突然哈哈大笑。“就得这样，就得这样，咱们现在来谈谈我的下一个论点。”
“我不明白这有什么用，反正我的脑袋有毛病，我是说头痛。毫无疑问，我证明不了这些事，也就是说，证明不了三位上帝本体为一，一位上帝本体为三。但是，不管你怎么说，对好几百万人而言，这是至关紧要的，我们是不会放弃这个教义的。对此我们有深切的感受。上帝是善良的，这是最重要的一点。为什么非要走上岔道不可呢？”
“为什么对岔道有深切的感受呢？”
“你说什么？”
德拉姆把莫瑞斯说过的话替他重新整理了一遍。
“喏，这样就首尾一致了。”
“那么，倘若三位一体教义出了错，是不是所有的论点都站不住脚了呢？”
“我不这么认为，决不会的。”
莫瑞斯完全处于招架之势。他的头还真疼，那些汗刚擦完，就又流了出来。
“难怪我解释不清楚，因为除了足球，我把什么都看得不重要。”
德拉姆走过来，情绪很好地坐在莫瑞斯那把椅子的边上。
“留神——你把咖啡碰洒啦。”
“糟糕——是我洒的。”
莫瑞斯一面擦洒在身上的咖啡，一面打开外边那扇门，朝院子里望去。离开这院子以来，好像已过了好几年似的。他不愿意再独自跟德拉姆相处，就招呼几个同学来和他们做伴，随后照平时那样喝起咖啡来。然而他们告辞时，莫瑞斯却没有跟他们结伴而去。他又吹嘘起三位一体教义来了。“这是神秘的。”他振振有词。
“对我来说，这并不神秘。然而我尊重那些由衷地感到它神秘的人。”
莫瑞斯感到不自在，瞧着自己这双厚实棕色的手。对他来说，三位一体真是神秘的吗？除了受坚振礼的时候，关于三位一体，他哪怕动过五分钟的脑筋呢？其他同学来过之后，他冷静下来，再也不感情用事了。他扫视了自己的头脑，它看上去像他这双手，毫无疑问，很耐用，又健康，具有发展的潜力。然而，它不够高雅，从未有过神秘的感觉，对旁的很多东西也都是这样。它是厚实棕色的。
“我采取这么个态度，”他顿了一下，接着大声说，“我不相信三位一体教义，在这一点上，我让步。另一方面，那句‘这样就首尾一敛了，，我说得不对，首尾并不一致。然而，不相信三位一体教义，并不意味着我不是个基督教徒。”
“你相信什么？”德拉姆逼问道。
“基——基督教的本质。”
“诸如……”
莫瑞斯低声说：“耶稣赎罪。”他从未在教会之外的地方这么说过，于是激动得热血沸腾。但是，正如他不相信三位一体教义，他也并不相信耶稣赎罪。他知道德拉姆会看破这一点。耶稣赎罪是一张将牌，然而这一局打的是无将牌，他的朋友用一张非将牌就能把它吃掉。
当时德拉姆只说了句：“但丁（译注：但丁(1265-1321)是意大利最伟大的诗人、散文作家、政治思想家。其杰杰作《神曲》采取了中古梦幻文学形式，分《地狱》、《炼狱》、《天国》三部分。“三”这个数字，作为”三位一体”的象征，经常出现于全书。）曾相信三位一体教义。”他从书架上找到了《天国》的最后部分。他把有关三道彩虹交叉处浮现出一张人脸的那几行读给莫瑞斯听。诗使莫瑞斯感到厌烦，但是快要读完的时候，他大声问：“是谁的脸？”
“神的，这不是很明显的事吗？”
“然而那诗不是假托幻梦来写的吗？”
霍尔这家伙头脑糊涂，德拉姆并不想弄懂他这句话的含义。他更无从知晓莫瑞斯正在想着自己在公学时期曾做过的那场梦的事，以及告诉他“这是你的朋友”的那个声音。
“但丁没说过那是梦，他宁愿把它说成是醒悟。”
“那么你认为浮想联翩是天经地义的？”
“信仰一向是天经地义的，”德拉姆边回答边把那本书放回去，“它是天经地义的，又是一贯正确的。每一个人都在心灵的某处有着某种信仰，他可以为之献出生命。不过，这会不会是你的父母和监护教给你的呢？倘若有信仰的话，是否应该成为你本人的肉身与灵魂的一部分呢？你得向我证实你是有信仰的。别再现趸现卖．耶稣赎罪’或‘三位一体’了。”
“我已经放弃三位一体了。”
“还有耶稣赎罪呢。”
“你太苛刻了，”莫瑞斯说，“我一向知道自己的脑筋迟钝，从来就是如此。里斯利那帮人对你更合适，你最好跟他们谈。”
德拉姆面泛尴尬的神色。他终于感到窘困，无言以对了，于是听任莫瑞斯萎靡不振地溜走。第二天，他们照平素那样见了面。他们二人昨天并没有拌嘴，只是面前猛地出现了个陡坡。攀上坡顶后，他们走得更快了。他们又讨论起神学来，莫瑞斯为耶稣赎罪进行辩护。他败在德拉姆手下。他认识到自己对基督的存在以及基督的善良产生不了真实的感觉。倘若果真有基督这么个人，他实在感到抱歉。他对基督教的厌恶与日俱增，越来越深。不出十天，他就决定不再领圣餐了。三个星期之内，凡是他敢于溜号儿的礼拜仪式，他一概不参加了。他的变化快得让德拉姆感到困惑。他们两个人都有困惑之感。莫瑞斯尽管败下阵来，放弃了他所有的见解，却尝到一种奇妙的陶醉感。他认为自己实际上是赢了，正持续着上学期打响的战斗。
如今德拉姆已经不再对他感到厌烦了。德拉姆已经离不开他了，任何时候都能发现德拉姆在莫瑞斯屋里蜷做一团，不停地想跟他争辩。这太不像德拉姆的为人了。德拉姆一向是矜持的，不是个辩论家。他反驳莫瑞斯的见解的借口是：“那是无稽之谈，霍尔。这里的其他任何人都具有作为绅士的信仰。”这是完全真实的？在他这种新姿态和他对传统信仰发动的攻击的后面，没有其他的什么了吗？莫瑞斯觉得其中有点儿什么。表面上他退却了，却认为自己失掉信仰这个棋子还是很合算的，因为为了得到它，德拉姆袒露了心迹。
这个学期即将结束的时候，他们接触到一个更敏感的问题。他们两个人正在上学监的翻译课，有个学生小声把希腊文口译成英文。康沃利斯先生却用低沉平稳的声调说：“省略。这一段涉及希腊人那难以启齿的罪恶。（译注：指同性爱。）”德拉姆事后说，此人虚伪，应予开除教职。
莫瑞斯笑了。
“我认为这正是纯粹的学术研究的核心问题。希腊人，也就是说，绝大多数希腊人都有那样一种倾向。把它省略了，就等于省略了雅典社会的主流。”
“是这样的吗？”
“你读过《会饮篇》（译注：《会饮篇》是古希腊客观唯心主义哲学家柏拉图（前427一前347）的作品，用对话形式写理想的爱与绝对的美。）吗？”
莫瑞斯没读过。他不曾补充说，自己倒是探索过马提雅尔。
“书里面都是这方面内容——当然不宜给孩子看，可你应该读。这次的假期里就读吧。”
当时没再说下去，然而从此他有权谈另一个问题了，而那个话题是他跟任何人之间都从未涉及过的。他不曾想过竟能谈这种事。当德拉姆在阳光照耀下的院子里谈及此事时，他接触到了一股自由的气息。

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Chapter 8
On reaching home he talked about Durham until the fact that he had a friend penetrated into the minds of his family. Ada wondered whether it was brother to a certain Miss Durham—not but what she was an only child—while Mrs Hall confused it with a don named Cumberland. Maurice was deeply wounded. One strong feeling arouses another, and a pro-found irritation against his womenkind set in. His relations with them hitherto had been trivial but stable, but it seemed iniqui-tous that anyone should mispronounce the name of the man who was more to him than all the world. Home emasculated every-thing.
It was the same with his atheism. No one felt as deeply as he expected. With the crudity of youth he drew his mother apart and said that he should always respect her religious prejudices and those of the girls, but that his own conscience permitted him to attend church no longer. She said it was a great misfor-tune.
"I knew you would be upset. I cannot help it, mother dearest. I am made that way and it is no good arguing."
"Your poor father always went to church."
"I'm not my father."
"Morrie, Morrie, what a thing to say."
"Well, he isn't," said Kitty in her perky way. "Really, mother, come."
"Kitty, dear, you here," cried Mrs Hall, feeling that disap-proval was due and unwilling to bestow it on her son. "We were talking about things not suited, and you are perfectly wrong be-sides, for Maurice is the image of his father—Dr Barry said so."
"Well, Dr Barry doesn't go to church himself," said Maurice, falling into the family habit of talking all over the shop.
"He is a most clever man," said Mrs Hall with finality, "and Mrs Barry's the same."
This slip of their mother's convulsed Ada and Kitty. They would not stop laughing at the idea of Mrs Barry's being a man, and Maurice's atheism was forgotten. He did not communicate on Easter Sunday, and supposed the row would come then, as in Durham's case. But no one took any notice, for the suburbs no longer exact Christianity. This disgusted him; it made him look at society with new eyes. Did society, while professing to be so moral and sensitive, really mind anything?
He wrote often to Durham—long letters trying carefully to express shades of feeling. Durham made little of them and said so. His replies were equally long. Maurice never let them out of his pocket, changing them from suit to suit and even pinning them in his pyjamas when he went to bed. He would wake up and touch them and, watching the reflections from the street lamp, remember how he used to feel afraid as a little boy.
Episode of Gladys Olcott.
Miss Olcott was one of their infrequent guests. She had been good to Mrs Hall and Ada in some hydro, and, receiving an in-vitation, had followed it up. She was charming—at least the women said so, and male callers told the son of the house he was a lucky dog. He laughed, they laughed, and having ignored her at first he took to paying her attentions.
Now Maurice, though he did not know it, had become an at-tractive young man. Much exercise had tamed his clumsiness. He was heavy but alert, and his face seemed following the ex-ample of his body. Mrs Hall put it down to his moustache— "Maurice's moustache will be the making of him"—a remark more profound than she realized. Certainly the little black line of it did pull his face together, and show up his teeth when he smiled, and his clothes suited him also: by Durham's advice he kept to flannel trousers, even on Sunday.
He turned his smile on Miss Olcott—it seemed the proper thing to do. She responded. He put his muscles at her service by taking her out in his new side-car. He sprawled at her feet. Find-ing she smoked, he persuaded her to stop behind with him in the dining-room and to look between his eyes. Blue vapour quivered and shredded and built dissolving walls, and Maurice's thoughts voyaged with it, to vanish as soon as a window was opened for fresh air. He saw that she was pleased, and his family, servants and all, intrigued; he determined to go further.
Something went wrong at once. Maurice paid her compli-ments, said that her hair etc. was ripping. She tried to stop him, but he was insensitive, and did not know that he had annoyed her. He had read that girls always pretended to stop men who complimented them. He haunted her. When she excused herself from riding with him on the last day he played the domineering male. She was his guest, she came, and having taken her to some scenery that he considered romantic he pressed her little hand between his own.
It was not that Miss Olcott objected to having her hand pressed. Others had done it and Maurice could have done it had he guessed how. But she knew something was wrong. His touch revolted her. It was a corpse's. Springing up she cried, "Mr Hall, don't be silly. I meandon't be silly. I am not saying it to make you sillier."
"Miss Olcott—Gladys—I'd rather die than offend—" growled the boy, trying to keep it up.
"I must go back by train," she said, crying a little. "I must, I'm awfully sorry." She arrived home before him with a sensible little story about a headache and dust in her eyes, but his family also knew that something had gone wrong.
Except for this episode the vac passed pleasantly. Maurice did some reading, following his friend's advice rather than his tutor's, and he asserted in one or two ways his belief that he was grown up. At his instigation his mother dismissed the Howells who had long paralyzed the outdoor department, and set up a motor-car instead of a carriage. Everyone was impressed, in-cluding the Howells. He also called upon his father's old partner. He had inherited some business aptitude and some money, and it was settled that when he left Cambridge he should enter the firm as an unauthorized clerk; Hill and Hall, Stock Brokers. Maurice was stepping into the niche that England had prepared for him.
莫瑞斯回家后，总是念叨德拉姆，直到全家人都把他有个朋友的事铭刻在心中。艾达想象着他或许是一位德拉姆小姐的哥哥，不过，她记得那位小姐是独生女。霍尔太太则把德拉姆和一位姓坎伯兰（译注：德拉姆是英格兰东北部一郡。坎伯兰是英格兰西北部一郡。）的大学教师混淆起来了。莫瑞斯深受伤害。受伤害的强烈感情激起了另一种感情。心灵深处，他对家中的女眷感到不快。迄今他和她们的关系虽然平凡却是稳定的。但是无论谁竟然把对他来说比全世界还重要的友人的姓名搞错，在他看来简直是不可饶恕的。一切东西的主要内容都被家庭生活抽掉了。
他的无神论也遭到同样的下场。任何人都没像他所料想的那样把他的话当真。凭借年轻人的任性，他将母亲拉到一边，说他今后也尊重母亲和妹妹们的宗教偏见，然而他本人的良心再也不容许他进教堂了。她说，这真是天大的不幸。
“最亲爱的妈妈，我知道这会让您心烦意乱。我天生就是这样一个人，您说服不了我。”
“你那可怜的爸爸一向是进教堂的。”
“我不是我爸爸。”
“莫瑞，莫瑞，你怎么能这么说话呢。”
“喏，哥哥确实不是爸爸，”吉蒂照例出言不逊，“一点儿不假。妈妈，您过来吧。”
“吉蒂，亲爱的，你呀，”霍尔太太大声说。她感到应该对儿子的言论表示不以为然，却又不愿意跟他摊牌。“我们在谈一个深奥的问题。而且你也完全错了，因为莫瑞斯简直就像是他爸爸，巴里大夫这么说过。”
“喏，巴里大夫本人也不进教堂呀。”莫瑞斯说。这一家人说话一向是东拉西扯，他也受了影响。
“他是一位无比聪明的绅士。”霍尔太太斩钉截铁地说，“巴里太太也一样。”
母亲的口误使艾达和吉蒂笑得前仰后合。一想到巴里太太居然成了一位绅士，她们就笑个不停，莫瑞斯的无神论被抛到脑后了。在星期日，复活节这一天，他没有领圣餐。他原以为会像德拉姆那样会引起一番争吵，然而任何人都没有理会，因为在郊外，人们对基督教已经不再重视了。这令他反感透了，他用新的眼光看待社会。世人道貌岸然，看上去能体贴旁人的感情，难道骨子里竟对什么都漠不关心吗？
他经常给德拉姆写信——一封封长信，试图细腻地表达感情的荫翳。德拉姆把这看得无足轻重，而且坦诚相告。德拉姆的回信也一样冗长。莫瑞斯总是随身携带着它们，每次换衣服就把它们移到另一件衣服的兜里。睡觉时，甚至用别针别在睡衣上。半夜里醒来，他抚摸它们，留心观察着在街灯映照下的天花板上的投影，并想起自己还是个小男孩时，曾经多么害怕过。
还发生了一件关于格拉迪斯·奥尔科特小姐的事情。
奥尔科特小姐是他们家不常来往的客人中的一个。在一家水疗旅馆里，她曾对霍尔太太和艾达照顾得无微不至，因此应邀而来。她是个妩媚的姑娘，至少女人们都这么说。男客们则对这家的儿子说，他是个幸运儿。他笑了，他们笑了。起初，莫瑞斯没把她看在眼里、自此对她献起殷勤来了。
莫瑞斯本人没有意识到，他已成为一个英俊的青年。大量的体育锻炼使得他不再那么笨手笨脚了。身体很重，但动作敏捷，面部好像也随着变得线条优美。霍尔太太把这归功于他嘴唇上面那一簇小胡子。“莫瑞斯的小胡子可以造就他。”她这句评语比她所意识到的要深刻。那一小道黑线确实使他脸上的表情富于魅力，从而他微笑的时候牙齿就很显眼了。莫瑞斯还很会穿衣服，在德拉姆的劝告下，即使在星期天他也一直穿法兰绒长裤。
他朝着奥尔科特小姐微笑——好像应该这么做，她以笑脸相迎。他用体力为她效劳，让她坐在他那辆簇新的摩托车挎斗里，带她出去兜风。他伸开四肢，躺在她脚下。他发现她抽烟．就说服她跟他一起留在饭厅里。只剩他们两个人后，他要她凝视他的眼睛。蓝色水雾颤动着，一缕一缕的，融化成一堵堵墙壁，莫瑞斯也随着浮想联翩。新鲜空气从一扇打开的窗户飘进来，一切突然都消失了。他看出她是满意的。他的母亲、妹妹们以及仆人们，也被激起极大的好奇心。他打定主意继续做下去。
紧接着就失败了。莫瑞斯恭维她说，她的一头秀发非常好等等。她试图制止他，然而他不敏感，不知道自己惹恼了她。他在书中读到过，女孩总是假装制止那些向她们说奉承话的男人。他缠住她。最后一天，她托辞不肯坐进他那辆摩托车的挎斗．，于是他扮演了盛气凌人的大男子汉角色。奥尔科特小姐是来做客的，只好跟着他去兜风。他把她带到他认为富于浪漫色彩的风景区，用双手攥住她那两只小小的手。
奥尔科特小姐并不反对自己的手被攥住。别的男人也这么做过，只要莫瑞斯懂得该怎样做，她是不会感到不满的。但是她觉得有些不正常，他的触摸使她反感，那种感觉像是来自于尸体的。她跳起来喊道：“霍尔先生，别这么愚蠢。我的意思是说，别这么傻。我不是为了让你做出更傻的事才这么说的。”
“奥尔科特小姐——格拉迪斯——我宁肯死掉，也不愿意得罪你——”小伙子低声吼叫，他打算继续跟她周旋。
“我得乘火车回去。”她边抽泣边说，“我非坐火车不可，请原谅。”她比他先到了家，撒了个适当的小谎，头痛啦，眼睛里进了沙子啦。然而他的家人觉察到出了什么问题。
除了这段插曲，假期过得挺愉快。莫瑞斯读了些书，与其说是在导师的指教下，不如说是接受了德拉姆的建议。他确信自己已长大成人，为了证实这一点，他做了一两件事。他鼓动母亲将多年来使全家人的户外活动陷于瘫痪状态的豪厄尔夫妇解雇，并把马车换成小轿车。每一个人都心悦诚服，包括豪厄尔夫妇。他还拜访了父亲的一位老搭档。莫瑞斯从父亲那里继承了点儿从事商业的才能以及一笔钱。于是莫瑞斯决定从剑桥毕业后，就作为一名不持有股东资格的社员进入希尔与霍尔证券交易公司。他将迈入英国为他准备的、非常适合他的领域。

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4071鲜花 1鸡蛋

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举报只看该作者 9楼发表于: 2013-12-20 0

Chapter 9
During the previous term he had reached an unusual level mentally, but the vac pulled him back towards public-schoolishness. He was less alert, he again behaved as he supposed he was supposed to behave—a perilous feat for one who is not dowered with imagination. His mind, not obscured totally, was often crossed by clouds, and though Miss Olcott had passed, the insincerity that led him to her remained. His family were the main cause of this. He had yet to realize that they were stronger than he and influenced him incalculably. Three weeks in their company left him untidy, sloppy, victorious in every item, yet defeated on the whole. He came back thinking, and even speaking, like his mother or Ada.
Till Durham arrived he had not noticed the deterioration. Durham had not been well, and came up a few days late. When his face, paler than usual, peered round the door, Maurice had a spasm of despair, and tried to recollect where they stood last term, and to gather up the threads of the campaign. He felt him-self slack, and afraid of action. The worst part of him rose to the surface, and urged him to prefer comfort to joy.
"Hullo, old man," he said awkwardly.
Durham slipped in without speaking.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing"; and Maurice knew that he had lost touch. Last term he would have understood this silent entrance.
"Anyhow, take a pew."
Durham sat upon the floor beyond his reach. It was late after-noon. The sounds of the May term, the scents of the Cambridge year in flower, floated in through the window and said to Mau-rice, "You are unworthy of us." He knew that he was three parts dead, an alien, a yokel in Athens. He had no business here, nor with such a friend.
"I say, Durham—"
Durham came nearer. Maurice stretched out a hand and felt the head nestle against it. He forgot what he was going to say. The sounds and scents whispered, "You are we, we are youth." Very gently he stroked the hair and ran his fingers down into it as if to caress the brain.
"I say, Durham, have you been all right?"
"Have you?"
"No."
"You wrote you were." I wasn t.
The truth in his own voice made him tremble. "A rotten vac and I never knew it," and wondered how long he should know it. The mist would lower again, he felt sure, and with an unhappy sigh he pulled Durham's head against his knee, as though it was a talisman for clear living. It lay there, and he had accomplished a new tenderness—stroked it steadily from temple to throat. Then, removing both hands, he dropped them on either side of him and sat sighing.
"Hall." . Maurice looked.
"Is there some trouble?"
He caressed and again withdrew. It seemed as certain that he hadn't as that he had a friend.
"Anything to do with that girl?"
"No."
"You wrote you liked her."
"I didn't—don't."
Deeper sighs broke from him. They rattled in his throat, turn-ing to groans. His head fell back, and he forgot the pressure of Durham on his knee, forgot that Durham was watching his turbid agony. He stared at the ceiling with wrinkled mouth and eyes, understanding nothing except that man has been created to feel pain and loneliness without help from heaven.
Now Durham stretched up to him, stroked his hair. They clasped one another. They were lying breast against breast soon, head was on shoulder, but just as their cheeks met someone called "Hall" from the court, and he answered: he always had answered when people called. Both started violently, and Dur-ham sprang to the mantelpiece where he leant his head on his arm. Absurd people came thundering up the stairs. They wanted tea. Maurice pointed to it, then was drawn into their conversa-tion, and scarcely noticed his friend's departure. It had been an ordinary talk, he told himself, but too sentimental, and he culti-vated a breeziness against their next meeting.
This took place soon enough. With half a dozen others he was starting for the theatre after hall when Durham called him.
"I knew you read theSymposium in the vac," he said in a low voice.
Maurice felt uneasy.
"Then you understand—without me saying more—"
"How do you mean?"
Durham could not wait. People were all around them, but with eyes that had gone intensely blue he whispered, "I love you."
Maurice was scandalized, horrified. He was shocked to the bottom of his suburban soul, and exclaimed, "Oh, rot!" The words, the manner, were out of him before he could recall them.
"Durham, you're an Englishman. I'm another. Don't talk non-sense. I'm not offended, because I know you don't mean it, but it's the only subject absolutely beyond the limit as you know, it's the worst crime in the calendar, and you must never mention it again. Durham! a rotten notion really—"
But his friend was gone, gone without a word, flying across the court, the bang of his door heard through the sounds of spring.
上学期莫瑞斯曾在精神方面达到非同凡响的水平，然而假期又把他拖回到公学学生的程度。他没那么机敏了，重新按照他认为人们所期待的那样来行动——对于未被赋予想象力的人而言，这是危险的。他的精神并未处于完全的阴暗中，云影经常从上面掠过。奥尔科特小姐的事已成为过去，把他引到她身边的那种虚伪仍然存在。他的家族是发生这件事的主要缘由。这一次，他不得不认识到她们比他强大，对他有难以估量的影响力。跟她们相处三周，他的思路没有了条理，感情变得脆弱。看上去每一件事都取得了胜利，从整体来看却一败涂地。他回到学校时，不论考虑问题还是谈吐都跟他的母亲或艾达如出一辙。
德拉姆返校之前，莫瑞斯不曾意识到自己退化了。德拉姆因身体不好，迟几天才回来。当他那张比平时更显苍白的脸出现在门口朝屋里看时。一阵绝望袭上莫瑞斯的心头。他试图想起他们二人上学期曾伫立过的地方，为了继续开展战斗找线索。他感到自己已经懒惰了，害怕采取行动。他的精神世界的最坏的部分浮到表面上来了，怂恿他宁可得到慰藉，也不愿意寻求快乐。
“喂，老兄！”他局促不安地说。
德拉姆一声不响地溜进来了。
“你怎么啦？”
“没怎么。”莫瑞斯说罢，明白了自己业已失掉线索。在上学期，他是了解德拉姆为什么默默地走进来的。
“先坐下来吧。”
德拉姆找了个莫瑞斯伸手够不着的角落，在地板上坐下来。已经到了黄昏时分，五月这个学期的声音，剑桥景色里的花香，从窗户飘进来对莫瑞斯说：“你不配做我们当中的一员。”他知道自己的身体已死掉四分之三，在剑桥是个异邦人，是步人雅典的一个乡下人。他没有资格跟这样一个友人待在一起。
“喂，德拉姆……”
德拉姆凑近了他。莫瑞斯伸出一只手，感觉出德拉姆将头靠在他的胳膊上。他忘记自己想说什么来着。声音和花香悄声说：“你是我们当中的一个，我们朝气蓬勃。”他无比温柔地抚摩德拉姆的头发，犹如爱抚德拉姆的头脑一般，将自己的手指插到德拉姆的头发之间。
“喂，德拉姆，你一直都好吗？”
“你呢？”
“不好。”
“你在信里说你很好。”
“一点儿都不好。”
他的嗓音流露出的真情使他浑身发颤。“假期过得糟透了，而我自己居然没察觉。”莫瑞斯想知道自己究竟能领悟多少呢。他确信雾又会降下来，于是闷闷不乐地叹了口气，将德拉姆的脑袋拉到他的膝头，就好像那是个法宝，可以使他明智地活下去似的。德拉姆的头一动不动地待在那儿。莫瑞斯发现了表达柔情的一种新方式一不断地从德拉姆的鬓角抚摸到喉咙。接着，他将双手挪开，耷拉在身体两侧，坐在那儿叹气。
“霍尔。”
莫瑞斯将视线移向德拉姆的脸。
“你有什么心事吗？”
莫瑞斯又爱抚一番，随后缩回手。看起来他肯定连一个朋友都没有。
“跟那个姑娘有什么关系吗？”
“没有。”
“你在信上说过你喜欢她。”
“我没喜欢过她——现在也不喜欢。”
他爆发出几声更深的叹息。它们在他的喉咙里咯咯作响，变成呻吟声。他把头往后仰，忘记德拉姆的头压在他的膝上，忘记了德拉姆在留心观察着他那混乱的苦恼。他睁大眼睛看着天花板，嘴边满是皱纹，眼角出现了鱼尾纹。人是在得不到老天保佑的情况下，为了感受痛苦和孤独而被创造的，除此以外他什么也不理解。
这时德拉姆伸过手来，爱抚他的头发。他们二人相互搂抱在一起。不一会儿，他们就胸挨着胸躺在那儿了，彼此把头靠在对方的肩上。然而，他们二入刚把脸蛋儿贴在一块儿，有人在院子里喊了声“霍尔”，他就答应了。只要有人喊他，他一向马上就答应。两个人都剧烈地动弹了一下，德拉姆一个箭步蹿到壁炉架跟前，用胳膊托着头。一帮蠢材乱哄哄地冲上楼梯。他们提出喝茶的要求，莫瑞斯指了指茶具在哪儿，接着就被拖进他们的谈话，几乎没理会到朋友的告辞。他告诉自己，他跟德拉姆之间谈的是一些普普通通的话，只不过是太带伤感情绪了。他做好思想准备，下次跟德拉姆见面时，要装出一副毫不在意、快快活活的样子。
他们很快就相遇了。会餐后，莫瑞斯和五六个人结伴向剧场走去。德拉姆将他叫住了。
“我知道你在假期里读过《会饮篇》。”他低声说。
莫瑞斯感到不安。
“那么，你就该明白了——用不着我再说什么。”
“你这话是什么意思？”
德拉姆已经迫不及待，尽管周围有那么多人，他那双蓝眼睛热情到极点，对莫瑞斯耳语道：“我爱你。”
莫瑞斯感到愤慨，毛骨悚然。他那郊区居民的狭隘灵魂深深地受到震惊，大声说：“哦，别胡说！”他无法抑制自己的言行。“德拉姆，你是个英国人，我也是。不要说荒谬的话。你并没有伤害我的感情，因为我晓得你是言不由衷。然而，你要知道，这是惟一绝对被禁忌的话题。它是列在大学要览里的最严重的犯罪行为。你千万不要再说了。德拉姆！这确实是一种可鄙的非分之想……”
但是他的朋友已经走了，一句话也没说就走掉了。德拉姆飞也似地跑过院子，穿过春天的喧哗，传来了他那间屋的外门“砰”地关上的响声。

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木有有木

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4071鲜花 1鸡蛋

等级: 热心会员

举报只看该作者 10楼发表于: 2013-12-20 0

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。

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4071鲜花 1鸡蛋

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举报只看该作者 11楼发表于: 2013-12-20 0

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！”

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举报只看该作者 12楼发表于: 2013-12-20 0

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。

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4071鲜花 1鸡蛋

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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。

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4071鲜花 1鸡蛋

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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。

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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。

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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。

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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。

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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。

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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。”

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