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雙語·月亮與六便士 第五十八章

所屬教程:譯林版·月亮與六便士

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2022年04月28日

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The time came for my departure from Tahiti. According to the gracious custom of the island, presents were given me by the persons with whom I had been thrown in contact-baskets made of the leaves of the coconut tree, mats of pandanus, fans;and Tiaré gave me three little pearls and three jars of guava-jelly made with her own plump hands.When the mail-boat, stopping for twenty-four hours on its way from Wellington to San Francisco, blew the whistle that warned the passengers to get on board, Tiaré clasped me to her vast bosom, so that I seemed to sink into a billowy sea, and pressed her red lips to mine.Tears glistened in her eyes.And when we steamed slowly out of the lagoon, making our way gingerly through the opening in the reef, and then steered for the open sea, a certain melancholy fell upon me.The breeze was laden still with the pleasant odours of the land.Tahiti is very far away, and I knew that I should never see it again.A chapter of my life was closed, and I felt a little nearer to inevitable death.

Not much more than a month later I was in London;and after I had arranged certain matters which claimed my immediate attention, thinking Mrs. Strickland might like to hear what I knew of her husband's last years, I wrote to her.I had not seen her since long before the war, and I had to look out her address in the telephone-book.She made an appointment, and I went to the trim little house on Campden Hill which she now inhabited.She was by this time a woman of hard on sixty, but she bore her years well, and no one would have taken her for more than ffty.Her face, thin and not much lined, was of the sort that ages gracefully, so that you thought in youth she must have been a much handsomer woman than in fact she was.Her hair, not yet very grey, was becomingly arranged, and her black gown was modish.I remembered having heard that her sister, Mrs.MacAndrew, outliving her husband but a couple of years, had left money to Mrs.Strickland;and by the look of the house and the trim maid who opened the door I judged that it was a sum adequate to keep the widow in modest comfort.

When I was ushered into the drawing-room I found that Mrs. Strickland had a visitor, and when I discovered who he was, I guessed that I had been asked to come at just that time not without intention.The caller was Mr.Van Busche Taylor, an American, and Mrs.Strickland gave me particulars with a charming smile of apology to him.

“You know, we English are so dreadfully ignorant. You must forgive me if it's necessary to explain.”Then she turned to me.“Mr.Van Busche Taylor is the distinguished American critic.If you haven't read his book your education has been shamefully neglected, and you must repair the omission at once.He's writing something about dear Charlie, and he's come to ask me if I can help him.”

Mr. Van Busche Taylor was a very thin man with a large, bald head, bony and shining;and under the great dome of his skull his face, yellow, with deep lines in it, looked very small.He was quiet and exceedingly polite.He spoke with the accent of New England, and there was about his demeanour a bloodless frigidity which made me ask myself why on earth he was busying himself with Charles Strickland.I had been slightly tickled at the gentleness which Mrs.Strickland put into her mention of her husband's name, and while the pair conversed I took stock of the room in which we sat.Mrs.Strickland had moved with the times.Gone were the Morris papers and gone the severe cretonnes, gone were the Arundel prints that had adorned the walls of her drawingroom in Ashley Gardens;the room blazed with fantastic colour, and I wondered if she knew that those varied hues, which fashion had imposed upon her, were due to the dreams of a poor painter in a South Sea island.She gave me the answer herself.

“What wonderful cushions you have,”said Mr. Van Busche Taylor.

“Do you like them?”she said, smiling.“Bakst, you know.”

And yet on the walls were coloured reproductions of several of Strickland's best pictures, due to the enterprise of a publisher in Berlin.

“You're looking at my pictures,”she said, following my eyes.“Of course, the originals are out of my reach, but it's a comfort to have these. The publisher sent them to me himself.They're a great consolation to me.”

“They must be very pleasant to live with,”said Mr. Van Busche Taylor.

“Yes;they're so essentially decorative.”

“That is one of my profoundest convictions,”said Mr. Van Busche Taylor.“Great art is always decorative.”

Their eyes rested on a nude woman suckling a baby, while a girl was kneeling by their side holding out a fower to the indifferent child. Looking over them was a wrinkled, scraggy hag.It was Strickland's version of the Holy Family.I suspected that for the fgures had sat his household above Taravao, and the woman and the baby were Ata and his frst son.I asked myself if Mrs.Strickland had any inkling of the facts.

The conversation proceeded, and I marvelled at the tact with which Mr. Van Busche Taylor avoided all subjects that might have been in the least embarrassing, and at the ingenuity with which Mrs.Strickland, without saying a word that was untrue, insinuated that her relations with her husband had always been perfect.At last Mr.Van Busche Taylor rose to go.Holding his hostess's hand, he made her a graceful, though perhaps too elaborate, speech of thanks, and left us.

“I hope he didn't bore you,”she said, when the door closed behind him.“Of course it's a nuisance sometimes, but I feel it's only right to give people any information I can about Charlie. There's a certain responsibility about having been the wife of a genius.”

She looked at me with those pleasant eyes of hers, which had remained as candid and as sympathetic as they had been more than twenty years before. I wondered if she was making a fool of me.

“Of course you've given up your business?”I said.

“Oh, yes,”she answered airily.“I ran it more by way of a hobby than for any other reason, and my children persuaded me to sell it. They thought I was overtaxing my strength.”

I saw that Mrs. Strickland had forgotten that she had ever done anything so disgraceful as to work for her living.She had the true instinct of the nice woman that it is only really decent for her to live on other people's money.

“They're here now,”she said.“I thought they'd, like to hear what you had to say about their father. You remember Robert, don't you?I'm glad to say he's been recommended for the Military Cross.”

She went to the door and called them. There entered a tall man in khaki, with the parson's collar, handsome in a somewhat heavy fashion,but with the frank eyes that I remembered in him as a boy.He was followed by his sister.She must have been the same age as was her mother when frst I knew her, and she was very like her.She too gave one the impression that as a girl she must have been prettier than indeed she was.

“I suppose you don't remember them in the least,”said Mrs. Strickland, proud and smiling.“My daughter is now Mrs.Ronaldson.Her husband's a Major in the Gunners.”

“He's by way of being a pukka soldier, you know,”said Mrs. Ronaldson gaily.“That's why he's only a Major.”

I remembered my anticipation long ago that she would marry a soldier. It was inevitable.She had all the graces of the soldier's wife.She was civil and affable, but she could hardly conceal her intimate conviction that she was not quite as others were.Robert was breezy.

“It's a bit of luck that I should be in London when you turned up,”he said.“I've only got three days'leave.”

“He's dying to get back,”said his mother.

“Well, I don't mind confessing it, I have a rattling good time at the front. I've made a lot of good pals.It's a frst-rate life.Of course war's terrible, and all that sort of thing;but it does bring out the best qualities in a man, there's no denying that.”

Then I told them what I had learned about Charles Strickland in Tahiti. I thought it unnecessary to say anything of Ata and her boy, but for the rest I was as accurate as I could be.When I had narrated his lamentable death I ceased.For a minute or two we were all silent.Then Robert Strickland struck a match and lit a cigarette.

“The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small,”he said, somewhat impressively.

Mrs. Strickland and Mrs.Ronaldson looked down with a slightly pious expression which indicated, I felt sure, that they thought the quotation was from Holy Writ.Indeed, I was unconvinced that Robert Strickland did not share their illusion.I do not know why I suddenly thought of Strickland's son by Ata.They had told me he was a merry, lighthearted youth.I saw him, with my mind's eye, on the schooner on which he worked, wearing nothing but a pair of dungarees;and at night, when the boat sailed along easily before a light breeze, and the sailors were gathered on the upper deck, while the captain and the supercargo lolled in deck-chairs, smoking their pipes, I saw him dance with another lad, dance wildly, to the wheezy music of the concertina.Above was the blue sky, and the stars, and all about the desert of the Pacifc Ocean.

A quotation from the Bible came to my lips, but I held my tongue, for I know that clergymen think it a little blasphemous when the laity poach upon their preserves. My Uncle Henry, for twenty-seven years Vicar of Whitstable, was on these occasions in the habit of saying that the devil could always quote scripture to his purpose.He remembered the days when you could get thirteen Royal Natives for a shilling.

[1] A Modern Artist:Notes on the Work of Charles Strickland, by Edward Leggatt, A.R.H.A.Martin Secker,1917.

[2] Karl Strickland:sein Leben und seine Kunst, by Hugo Weitbrecht-Rotholz, Ph.D.Schwingel und Hanisch.Leipzig,1914.

[3] Strickland:The Man and His Work, by his son, Robert Strickland.Wm.Heinemann,1913.

[4] This was described in Christie’s catalogue as follows:A nude woman, a native of the Society Islands, is lying on the ground beside a brook.Behind is a tropical landscape with palm-trees, bananas, etc.,60 in.,by 48 in.

[5] This picture, formerly in the possession of a wealthy manufacturer at Lille, who fed from that city on the approach of the Germans, is now in the National Gallery at Stockholm.The Swede is adept at the gentle pastime of fshing in troubled waters.

到了我跟塔希提島說再見的時候了。按照島上好客的習俗,凡是跟我有過交往的人都會送給我禮物——用椰樹葉編織的籃子,露兜樹葉編織的墊子、扇子等。蒂亞瑞送給我三顆小珍珠,還有用她胖乎乎的雙手做的三罐番石榴醬。郵船在從惠靈頓到舊金山的航行途中,要在塔希提島停留二十四個小時,此時,船拉響了汽笛,提醒乘客們趕緊登船了。蒂亞瑞把我緊緊抱在她那寬闊的胸口之間,我感覺到自己似乎沉入了波濤洶涌的大海,而且把她紅紅的嘴唇壓在了我的唇上,淚水在她的眼眶中打轉。當船噴著蒸汽緩緩駛出環(huán)礁湖,小心翼翼地繞過湖口的礁石,然后駛向茫茫大海,一種悲愴之情在我心中油然而生。微風拂面,吹來陸地上舒爽的氣息。塔希提島在視線中越來越遠,我也清楚我應該和它永遠不會再見了,我生命中的一章已經翻過了頁,我覺得離無從逃避的死神又近了一小步。

一個月過后沒多久,我就又回到了倫敦。在處理完某些不得不立即辦的事情之后,想到斯特里克蘭太太也許會愿意聽聽她丈夫最后歲月的故事,我給她寫了一封信。戰(zhàn)前我很長一段時間沒看見她了,所以我不得不在電話號碼簿上尋找她的地址。她定了一個見面的時間,于是我去了她現(xiàn)在住的,在坎普頓山的一棟整齊利落的小房子。這個時候,她已經快六十歲了,但是保養(yǎng)得很好,沒人會把她當成五十好幾的人。她的面容,雖然瘦削但沒有多少皺紋,屬于那種歲月只留下了優(yōu)雅而沒有雕刻滄桑的類型,所以你會猜想她年輕時一定很好看,比她實際相貌要漂亮得多。她的頭發(fā)還沒有完全灰白,梳理得很精致,黑色長裙也很入時。我記得聽人說過她的姐姐,麥克安德魯太太,比她的丈夫還多活了幾年,死后把所有財產都留給了斯特里克蘭太太。看到這棟房子的外表和開門用人整潔的打扮,我能判斷出這筆遺產數(shù)目不菲,足夠讓這個寡婦過著體面的舒適生活。

我被領進客廳的時候,發(fā)現(xiàn)斯特里克蘭太太正有一位客人。當我發(fā)現(xiàn)這個人的身份后,就知道通知我這個時候來不是沒有原因的。這位客人是馮·布舍·泰勒先生,一個美國人,斯特里克蘭太太一邊向他展現(xiàn)迷人的滿含歉意的笑容,一邊向我詳細地介紹了他的情況。

“你知道,我們英國人孤陋寡聞,真是太可怕了。如果我不得不做些解釋的話,您一定要原諒我?!彪S后,她轉過身對著我說:“馮·布舍·泰勒先生是著名的美國評論家,如果你沒讀過他的書的話,說明你的教育還有缺憾,你得立即補上這一課。他正打算寫有關親愛的查理的一些東西。他來拜訪正是問我有沒有可以幫助他的地方。”

馮·布舍·泰勒先生人很瘦,腦袋卻挺大,禿頭,腦門突出,頭皮閃閃發(fā)亮;在寬闊的前額之下,是一張黃黃的,有著很深皺紋的臉,看上去很小。他很安靜和彬彬有禮,他說話帶著新英格蘭地區(qū)的口音。他的言談舉止冰冷、死板,讓我禁不住暗自思忖,究竟為什么他要忙活研究查爾斯·斯特里克蘭呢。斯特里克蘭太太一提到她丈夫的名字,就顯出一副溫情脈脈的樣子,讓我忍不住想笑。當他們兩個人交談的時候,我把我們落座的這間屋子好好打量了一番。斯特里克蘭太太是個緊跟時代步伐的人。與阿什利花園客廳的裝飾相比,風格全變了,原來墻上貼的莫里斯墻紙已經不見了,素氣的印花棉布窗簾也不見了,在四面墻上阿倫德爾版畫也拿掉了?,F(xiàn)在這間屋子閃耀著光怪陸離的色彩,我想知道她是否知道那些不同的色彩,對她來說是趕時髦,實際上來自于南太平洋島上一個可憐畫家的夢境。她自己解答了我這個疑問。

“你用的這些靠墊多棒呀!”馮·布舍·泰勒先生說道。

“您喜歡它們嗎?”她笑著問道,“巴克斯特[132]設計的,您知道?!?/p>

然而,在墻上,掛著很多斯特里克蘭最好作品的彩色復制品,是柏林一家出版社的創(chuàng)新。

“你正在看我的畫?!彼f道,并順著我的目光望去,“當然了,我沒法搞到原作,但是有這些也挺不錯啦。出版社親自送給我的,它們給我?guī)砹司薮蟮陌参??!?/p>

“生活中有了它們,可以說是賞心悅目。”馮·布舍·泰勒先生說道。

“是的,它們非常具有裝飾的效果?!?/p>

“那就是我深信不疑的看法之一,”馮·布舍·泰勒先生說道,“偉大的藝術總是有裝飾的效果?!?/p>

他們的目光落在一幅畫上,畫上一個裸體女人正在給一個嬰兒喂奶,一個女孩跪在他們的腳邊,正舉著一支鮮花給那個無動于衷的嬰兒。遠處一個滿臉皺紋、骨瘦如柴的丑老太婆正在看著他們,那是斯特里克蘭所畫的“神圣家庭”[133]版本。我懷疑一家人坐在一起的人物,原型是在塔拉瓦奧上面大山中的一家人,畫上的女人和孩子是愛塔和他的第一個兒子,我暗自思量,斯特里克蘭太太是否想到過這一層事實。

我們繼續(xù)著談話。我對馮·布舍·泰勒先生說話的滴水不漏感到驚奇,凡是會引起哪怕是一丁點兒尷尬的話題,他都回避掉了。同時我也驚奇于斯特里克蘭太太說話的圓滑,盡管她說的話沒有一個字是假的,但是話里話外透著她和她丈夫的關系總是很融洽。最后,馮·布舍·泰勒先生站起身來準備告辭,他握著女主人的一只手,他向她說了一大篇文雅。雖然可能有點太咬文嚼字的感謝話,然后就離開了我們。

“我希望他沒有讓你感到厭煩,”當門在他身后關上了以后,她說道,“當然,有時這也是樁麻煩事兒,但是我覺得能夠給人們提供一些查理的情況是我義不容辭的責任。這也是作為一個天才的妻子理所應當?shù)呢熑??!?/p>

她用她那雙討人喜歡的眼睛看著我,還是那么坦誠、那么富有同情心,和二十多年前沒有什么兩樣。我有點懷疑她是不是把我當成了傻瓜。

“想必你已經不再做打字的生意了吧?”我問道。

“哦,那是當然,”她漫不經心地答道,“我開辦那個生意主要是因為興趣,而不是別的什么原因。而且我的孩子們也勸說我把它賣掉,他們認為太耗費我的精力和體力了。”

我明白斯特里克蘭太太已經忘了她曾經為生計做過不大體面的營生。她有這樣一種真切的本能,那就是好女人只有依靠別人的錢生活,對她來說才是真正體面的事。

“他們現(xiàn)在都在家,”她說道,“我想他們愿意聽聽你要講述的有關他們父親的情況。你應該還記得羅伯特吧?我很高興地告訴你,他已經被推薦獲得陸軍十字勛章了?!?/p>

她走到門邊,喊了他們一聲。隨即進來了一個身穿卡其布軍服的高個男子,脖子上系著牧師戴的硬領,英俊而且很有派頭,一雙直率的眼睛仍然和他還是個孩子的時候一模一樣。他的身后跟著他的妹妹,她這時一定和我初次結識她母親時她母親的年齡相仿。她長得很像斯特里克蘭太太,也給人一種印象,那就是她身為姑娘時,長得一定比她實際上漂亮得多。

“我估計你完全記不得他們了,”斯特里克蘭太太說道,驕傲地笑了笑,“我女兒現(xiàn)在是羅納爾森太太了,她丈夫是炮兵團的少校?!?/p>

“他是純粹從士兵一步步升上來的,你知道?!绷_納爾森太太快活地說道,“那就是為什么他還只是個少校的原因?!?/p>

我仍然記得很久以前,我對她的預測,她一定會嫁給一個軍人的。這是不可避免的事。她現(xiàn)在的舉止做派儼然一副軍人家屬的樣子,她一方面對人彬彬有禮、和藹可親,另一方面又很難掩飾她內心的信念,她就要與眾不同,而羅伯特活潑風趣。

“真是緣分,您這次來,正好趕上我也在倫敦,”他說,“我只有三天的假期?!?/p>

“他老是著急回去?!彼哪赣H說道。

“好吧,這話倒是真的,我得承認,我在前線過得很棒,我交了很多好朋友,那真是一流的生活狀態(tài)。當然,戰(zhàn)爭是可怕的,是要死人的,但是它也培養(yǎng)了人最好的品質,這一點毋庸置疑?!?/p>

接下來,我告訴了他們我所了解的查爾斯·斯特里克蘭在塔希提島的情況。我想沒有必要提愛塔和她孩子的事情,除了這個事實,剩下的我都一五一十地告訴了他們。當我講到他的慘死后,就沒有再往下說了。有那么一兩分鐘,我們都沉默了。后來,羅伯特·斯特里克蘭劃著一根火柴,點亮了一支香煙。

“上帝的磨盤磨得很慢,但會磨得很細?!彼f道,顯得有點玩深沉。

斯特里克蘭太太和羅納爾森太太低著頭,帶著些許虔誠的表情,我敢肯定,這種表情表明她們認為羅伯特剛講的話來自《圣經》[134]。的確,我就不相信羅伯特·斯特里克蘭就沒有她們倆的那種錯覺。不知為什么,我突然想到了斯特里克蘭和愛塔生的那個兒子。他們告訴我,他是個快樂、開朗的年輕人。在我的腦海中,仿佛看見他正在縱帆船上工作,他上身什么也沒穿,只在下身套了一件粗藍布工裝褲;夜晚,船在清風的吹動下,輕快地滑行;水手們聚集在上層甲板上,船長和押運員懶洋洋地坐在帆布躺椅上,抽著他們的煙斗。斯特里克蘭和愛塔的兒子正在和另外一個小伙子跳舞,在手風琴呼哧帶喘的音樂伴奏下,舞跳得很狂野。頭頂上是藍天,還有滿天星斗,以及空曠無垠的太平洋。

《圣經》中的一句話滑到了嘴邊,但是我還是管住了舌頭,因為我知道,牧師們認為俗人要是在他們的自留地上竊取果實,是有那么一點褻瀆上帝的。我的叔叔亨利,在威特斯泰堡教區(qū)做了二十七年牧師,在這些場合下,會習慣性地說,惡魔要干壞事,總是要引用《圣經》上的話。他一直念念不忘一個先令能買十三只大牡蠣的日子。

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