雙語《馬丁·伊登》 第六章

CHAPTER VI

A terrible restlessness that was akin to hunger afflicted Martin Eden. He was famished for a sight of the girl whose slender hands had gripped his life with a giant’s grasp. He could not steel himself to call upon her. He was afraid that he might call too soon, and so be guilty of an awful breach of that awful thing called etiquette. He spent long hours in the Oakland and Berkeley libraries, and made out application blanks for membership for himself, his sisters Gertrude and Marian, and Jim, the latter’s consent being obtained at the expense of several glasses of beer. With four cards permitting him to draw books, he burned the gas late in the servant’s room, and was charged fifty cents a week for it by Mr. Higginbotham.

The many books he read but served to whet his unrest. Every page of every book was a peep-hole into the realm of knowledge. His hunger fed upon what he read, and increased. Also, he did not know where to begin, and continually suffered from lack of preparation. The commonest references, that he could see plainly every reader was expected to know, he did not know. And the same was true of the poetry he read which maddened him with delight. He read more of Swinburne than was contained in the volume Ruth had lent him;and “Dolores” he understood thoroughly. But surely Ruth did not understand it, he concluded. How could she, living the refined life she did? Then he chanced upon Kipling’s poems, and was swept away by the lilt and swing and glamour with which familiar things had been invested. He was amazed at the man’s sympathy with life and at his incisive psychology.Psychology was a new word in Martin’s vocabulary. He had bought a dictionary, which deed had decreased his supply of money and brought nearer the day on which he must sail in search of more. Also, it incensed Mr. Higginbotham, who would have preferred the money taking the form of board.

He dared not go near Ruth’s neighborhood in the daytime, but night found him lurking like a thief around the Morse home, stealing glimpses at the windows and loving the very walls that sheltered her. Several times he barely escaped being caught by her brothers, and once he trailed Mr. Morse downtown and studied his face in the lighted streets, longing all the while for some quick danger of death to threaten so that he might spring in and save her father. On another night, his vigil was rewarded by a glimpse of Ruth through a second-story window. He saw only her head and shoulders, and her arms raised as she fixed her hair before a mirror. It was only for a moment, but it was a long moment to him, during which his blood turned to wine and sang through his veins. Then she pulled down the shade. But it was her room—he had learned that; and thereafter he strayed there often, hiding under a dark tree on the opposite side of the street and smoking countless cigarettes. One afternoon he saw her mother coming out of a bank, and received another proof of the enormous distance that separated Ruth from him. She was of the class that dealt with banks. He had never been inside a bank in his life, and he had an idea that such institutions were frequented only by the very rich and the very powerful.

In one way, he had undergone a moral revolution. Her cleanness and purity had reacted upon him, and he felt in his being a crying need to be clean. He must be that if he were ever to be worthy of breathing the same air with her. He washed his teeth, and scrubbed his hands with a kitchen scrub-brush till he saw a nail-brush in a drug-store window and divined its use. While purchasing it, the clerk glanced at his nails, suggested a nail-file, and so he became possessed of an additional toilet-tool. He ran across a book in the library on the care of the body, and promptly developed a penchant for a cold-water bath every morning, much to the amazement of Jim, and to the bewilderment of Mr. Higginbotham, who was not in sympathy with such high-fangled notions and who seriously debated whether or not he should charge Martin extra for the water. Another stride was in the direction of creased trousers. Now that Martin was aroused in such matters, he swiftly noted the difference between the baggy knees of the trousers worn by the working class and the straight line from knee to foot of those worn by the men above the working class. Also, he learned the reason why, and invaded his sister’s kitchen in search of irons and ironing-board. He had misadventures at first, hopelessly burning one pair and buying another, which expenditure again brought nearer the day on which he must put to sea.

But the reform went deeper than mere outward appearance. He still smoked, but he drank no more. Up to that time, drinking had seemed to him the proper thing for men to do, and he had prided himself on his strong head which enabled him to drink most men under the table. Whenever he encountered a chance shipmate, and there were many in San Francisco, he treated them and was treated in turn, as of old, but he ordered for himself root beer or ginger ale and good-naturedly endured their chaffing. And as they waxed maudlin he studied them, watching the beast rise and master them and thanking God that he was no longer as they. They had their limitations to forget, and when they were drunk, their dim, stupid spirits were even as gods, and each ruled in his heaven of intoxicated desire. With Martin the need for strong drink had vanished. He was drunken in new and more profound ways—with Ruth, who had fired him with love and with a glimpse of higher and eternal life; with books, that had set a myriad maggots of desire gnawing in his brain; and with the sense of personal cleanliness he was achieving, that gave him even more superb health than what he had enjoyed and that made his whole body sing with physical well-being.

One night he went to the theatre, on the blind chance that he might see her there, and from the second balcony he did see her. He saw her come down the aisle, with Arthur and a strange young man with a football mop of hair and eyeglasses, the sight of whom spurred him to instant apprehension and jealousy. He saw her take her seat in the orchestra circle, and little else than her did he see that night—a pair of slender white shoulders and a mass of pale gold hair, dim with distance. But there were others who saw, and now and again, glancing at those about him, he noted two young girls who looked back from the row in front, a dozen seats along, and who smiled at him with bold eyes. He had always been easy-going. It was not in his nature to give rebuff. In the old days he would have smiled back, and gone further and encouraged smiling. But now it was different. He did smile back, then looked away, and looked no more deliberately. But several times, forgetting the existence of the two girls, his eyes caught their smiles. He could not rethumb himself in a day, nor could he violate the intrinsic kindliness of his nature; so, at such moments, he smiled at the girls in warm human friendliness. It was nothing new to him. He knew they were reaching out their women’s hands to him. But it was different now. Far down there in the orchestra circle was the one woman in all the world, so different, so terrifically different, from these two girls of his class, that he could feel for them only pity and sorrow. He had it in his heart to wish that they could possess, in some small measure, her goodness and glory. And not for the world could he hurt them because of their outreaching. He was not flattered by it; he even felt a slight shame at his lowliness that permitted it. He knew, did he belong in Ruth’s class, that there would be no overtures from these girls; and with each glance of theirs he felt the fingers of his own class clutching at him to hold him down.

He left his seat before the curtain went down on the last act, intent on seeing Her as she passed out. There were always numbers of men who stood on the sidewalk outside, and he could pull his cap down over his eyes and screen himself behind some one’s shoulder so that she should not see him. He emerged from the theatre with the first of the crowd; but scarcely had he taken his position on the edge of the sidewalk when the two girls appeared. They were looking for him, he knew; and for the moment he could have cursed that in him which drew women. Their casual edging across the sidewalk to the curb, as they drew near, apprised him of discovery. They slowed down, and were in the thick of the crowd as they came up with him. One of them brushed against him and apparently for the first time noticed him. She was a slender, dark girl, with black, defiant eyes. But they smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“Hello,” he said.

It was automatic; he had said it so often before under similar circumstances of first meetings. Besides, he could do no less. There was that large tolerance and sympathy in his nature that would permit him to do no less. The black-eyed girl smiled gratification and greeting, and showed signs of stopping, while her companion, arm linked in arm, giggled and likewise showed signs of halting. He thought quickly. It would never do for Her to come out and see him talking there with them. Quite naturally, as a matter of course, he swung in alongside the dark-eyed one and walked with her. There was no awkwardness on his part, no numb tongue. He was at home here, and he held his own royally in the badinage, bristling with slang and sharpness, that was always the preliminary to getting acquainted in these swift-moving affairs. At the corner where the main stream of people flowed onward, he started to edge out into the cross street. But the girl with the black eyes caught his arm, following him and dragging her companion after her, as she cried:—

“Hold on, Bill! What’s yer rush? you’re not goin’ to shake us so sudden as all that?”

He halted with a laugh, and turned, facing them. Across their shoulders he could see the moving throng passing under the street lamps. Where he stood it was not so light, and, unseen, he would be able to see Her as she passed by. She would certainly pass by, for that way led home.

“What’s her name?” he asked of the giggling girl, nodding at the dark-eyed one.

“You ask her,” was the convulsed response.

“Well, what is it?” he demanded, turning squarely on the girl in question.

“You ain’t told me yours, yet,” she retorted.

“You never asked it,” he smiled. “Besides, you guessed the first rattle. It’s Bill, all right, all right.”

“Aw, go ’long with you.” She looked him in the eyes, her own sharply passionate and inviting. “What is it, honest?”

Again she looked. All the centuries of woman since sex began were eloquent in her eyes. And he measured her in a careless way, and knew, bold now, that she would begin to retreat, coyly and delicately, as he pursued, ever ready to reverse the game should he turn faint-hearted. And, too, he was human, and could feel the draw of her, while his ego could not but appreciate the flattery of her kindness. Oh, he knew it all, and knew them well, from A to Z. Good, as goodness might be measured in their particular class, hard-working for meagre wages and scorning the sale of self for easier ways, nervously desirous for some small pinch of happiness in the desert of existence, and facing a future that was a gamble between the ugliness of unending toil and the black pit of more terrible wretchedness, the way whereto being briefer though better paid.

“Bill,” he answered, nodding his head. “Sure, Pete, Bill an’ no other.”

“No joshin’?” she queried.

“It ain’t Bill at all,” the other broke in.

“How do you know?” he demanded. “You never laid eyes on me before.”

“No need to, to know you’re lyin’,” was the retort.

“Straight, Bill, what is it?” the first girl asked.

“Bill’ll do,” he confessed.

She reached out to his arm and shook him playfully. “I knew you was lyin’, but you look good to me just the same.”

He captured the hand that invited, and felt on the palm familiar markings and distortions.

“When’d you chuck the cannery?” he asked.

“How’d yeh know?” and, “My, ain’t cheh a mind-reader!” the girls chorussed.

And while he exchanged the stupidities of stupid minds with them, before his inner sight towered the book-shelves of the library, filled with the wisdom of the ages. He smiled bitterly at the incongruity of it, and was assailed by doubts. But between inner vision and outward pleasantry he found time to watch the theater crowd streaming by. And then he saw Her, under the lights, between her brother and the strange young man with glasses, and his heart seemed to stand still. He had waited long for this moment. He had time to note the light, fluffy something that hid her queenly head, the tasteful lines of her wrapped figure, the gracefulness of her carriage and of the hand that caught up her skirts; and then she was gone and he was left staring at the two girls of the cannery, at their tawdry attempts at prettiness of dress, their tragic efforts to be clean and trim, the cheap cloth, the cheap ribbons, and the cheap rings on the fingers. He felt a tug at his arm, and heard a voice saying:—

“Wake up, Bill! What’s the matter with you?”

“What was you sayin’?” he asked.

“Oh, nothin’,” the dark girl answered, with a toss of her head. “I was only remarkin’—”

“What?”

“Well, I was whisperin’ it’d be a good idea if you could dig up a gentleman friend—for her” (indicating her companion), “and then, we could go off an’ have ice-cream soda somewhere, or coffee, or anything.”

He was afflicted by a sudden spiritual nausea. The transition from Ruth to this had been too abrupt. Ranged side by side with the bold, defiant eyes of the girl before him, he saw Ruth’s clear, luminous eyes, like a saint’s, gazing at him out of unplumbed depths of purity. And, somehow, he felt within him a stir of power. He was better than this. Life meant more to him than it meant to these two girls whose thoughts did not go beyond ice-cream and a gentleman friend. He remembered that he had led always a secret life in his thoughts. These thoughts he had tried to share, but never had he found a woman capable of understanding—nor a man. He had tried, at times, but had only puzzled his listeners. And as his thoughts had been beyond them, so, he argued now, he must be beyond them. He felt power move in him, and clenched his fists. If life meant more to him, then it was for him to demand more from life, but he could not demand it from such companionship as this. Those bold black eyes had nothing to offer. He knew the thoughts behind them—of ice-cream and of something else. But those saint’s eyes alongside—they offered all he knew and more than he could guess. They offered books and painting, beauty and repose, and all the fine elegance of higher existence. Behind those black eyes he knew every thought process. It was like clockwork. He could watch every wheel go around. Their bid was low pleasure, narrow as the grave, that palled, and the grave was at the end of it. But the bid of the saint’s eyes was mystery, and wonder unthinkable, and eternal life. He had caught glimpses of the soul in them, and glimpses of his own soul, too.

“There’s only one thing wrong with the program,” he said aloud. “I’ve got a date already.”

The girl’s eyes blazed her disappointment.

“To sit up with a sick friend, I suppose?” she sneered.

“No, a real honest date with—” he faltered, “with a girl.”

“You’re not stringin’ me?” she asked earnestly.

He looked her in the eyes and answered: “It’s straight, all right. But why can’t we meet some other time? You ain’t told me your name yet. An’ where d’ye live?”

“Lizzie,” she replied, softening toward him, her hand pressing his arm, while her body leaned against his. “Lizzie Connolly. And I live at Fifth an’ Market.”

He talked on a few minutes before saying good night. He did not go home immediately; and under the tree where he kept his vigils he looked up at a window and murmured: “That date was with you, Ruth. I kept it for you.”

第六章

一種近乎饑餓感的不安情緒在折磨著馬丁·伊登。他渴望見到那位以纖巧的手有力控制著他生活的姑娘，但他鼓不起勇氣登門看望她，生怕操之過急會犯下錯誤，觸犯那種被稱為“禮節(jié)”的可怕東西。在奧克蘭圖書館及伯克利圖書館，他花去了大量的時間，為他自己、他姐姐葛特露、妹妹瑪麗安和吉姆填寫領取借書證的申請表格。他請吉姆喝了幾杯啤酒，才征得了他的同意。用四張借書證把書借來，他就在用人的房間里挑燈夜讀，為此希金波森先生每星期收他五角錢的燈油費。

書讀得愈多，他心情便愈加不安。每一頁書都是一個窺視孔，從中可以看得到知識王國。書中的內容滋養(yǎng)著他的求知欲，使之逐漸膨脹。不過，他不知從何處入手，常常為自己的基礎淺薄而苦惱。一些最一般性的知識——顯而易見，每位讀者均應該掌握的知識——他都一無所知。至于他所讀到的那些令他高興得發(fā)狂的詩篇，也是同樣一種情形。他不但讀了露絲借給他的那冊斯溫伯恩詩集，還讀了斯溫伯恩的另外一些作品，其中，他理解比較深的是《陶洛蘭絲》。他認為，露絲肯定理解不透這首詩。她過的是溫文爾雅的生活，怎么能理解得透呢？后來，他偶然看到了吉卜林的詩，看到吉卜林對熟悉景物的描繪那般富有韻律、節(jié)奏和魅力，于是不由給迷住了。詩人對生活的共鳴以及深刻的心理描寫，使他大感驚訝?！靶睦怼弊鳛橐粋€新詞，貯存進了馬丁的詞匯庫。他買了一部詞典，這項開支減少了他的積蓄，使他不得不出海掙錢的日期有所提前。而且，這件事令希金波森先生也大為光火，因為希金波森先生巴不得他能用這筆錢支付膳宿費。

白天，他不敢走近露絲的家，可到了夜里他就像小偷一樣埋伏在摩斯府邸的周圍，偷偷觀望那一扇扇的窗口，用愛的目光打量那為她遮風擋雨的屋墻。有幾回，他險些讓她的弟弟們撞上；一次，他尾隨摩斯先生進了鬧市區(qū)，在燈火通明的街上端詳著后者的面孔，心里一直盼著她的父親突然會遇上死亡的威脅，這樣他便可以跳出來舍身相救。另外有一天晚上，他總算沒有白辛苦，透過二樓的一扇窗口瞧見了露絲的倩影。他只看到了她的頭部和肩膀，當她對著鏡子梳頭時又看到了她揚起的胳脾。那僅僅是一瞬間的事情，可對他來說卻是長長的一瞬間——在這一瞬間，他的熱血化成了美酒，歡快地在他的血管里沸騰。后來，她拉下了窗簾。但他已經(jīng)發(fā)現(xiàn)，那兒就是她的房間。此后，他常常到那兒去，躲在街對面黑魆魆的樹影里，沒完沒了地抽煙。一天下午，他看到她的母親從一家銀行走了出來，這件事又一次證明他和露絲之間存在著巨大的距離。只有她的那個階層和銀行打交道，而他一輩子都沒進過銀行，認為到那種地方去的僅僅是有財有勢的人。

從某方面而言，他經(jīng)歷了一場思想上的革命。她干凈的外表和純潔的品性對他產(chǎn)生了影響，于是他覺得自己的體內迸發(fā)出一種強烈的愿望，想把自己洗得干干凈凈。他必須這樣做，否則他就不配和她相處。他又是刷牙，又是用廚房里的板刷洗手，后來在一家雜貨店的櫥窗里看到指甲刷子，便立刻聯(lián)想到了它的用途。買刷子時，店員瞧了瞧他的指甲，建議他買一把指甲銼，這樣一來他又多了一件梳洗用具。在圖書館，他看了一本有關保養(yǎng)身體的書，便立刻開始培養(yǎng)每天早晨洗冷水浴的習慣。吉姆見了又驚又奇，而希金波森先生大為困惑，他看不慣這種趕時髦的舉措，于是便認真地考慮起是否應該對馬丁加收水費。還有一項行動與褲子的折縫有關。馬丁既然對這類事情發(fā)生了興趣，他很快便注意到：工人階級的褲子，膝部總是鼓囊囊的，而高居工人階級之上的那些人所穿的褲子，從膝部到腳面都是筆挺的。而且他還找出了原因，于是便潛入姐姐的廚房尋找熨斗和燙衣板。一開始他就出了亂子，笨手笨腳地熨糊了一條褲子，只好再買一條，而這筆花銷又把出海的日期提前了許多。

這樣的自我改造不僅局限于外表。他雖然還是抽煙，但卻把酒戒掉了。在此之前，他一直認為喝酒是男人的體面，并以自己的海量感到驕傲，因為大多數(shù)男人都不是他的對手。舊金山有許多他的水手朋友；每每碰上這些人，他都要照老規(guī)矩宴請一頓，對方也回請他；可他給自己要的不是淡啤酒就是姜汁酒，聽到伙伴們的嘲笑，他也毫不動氣。待他們發(fā)起酒瘋，他便靜靜觀察，看著他們丑態(tài)百出和失去理性，心里暗暗慶幸自己已不再和他們是同一類人。他們借酒消愁，一旦喝醉，頭腦便變得模糊和遲鈍，感到飄飄欲仙，陶醉于天堂幻境之中。而馬丁對烈性酒的渴望已經(jīng)消失。他以新的更美好的方式得到陶醉——追求露絲，因為是露絲使他燃起了愛情的火焰，使他看到了高尚和永恒的生活；博覽群書，因為是書籍在他心中激起了強烈的求知欲；渴望搞好個人衛(wèi)生，因為這樣可以使他更加強健，令他通體舒泰，在體質上達到完美。

一天晚上他到劇院去瞎碰運氣，期望在那兒看到她；他從二號樓廳望去，果然看到了她。他見她同阿瑟以及一個陌生的年輕人沿過道走了過來，那人蓬松著一頭足球狀的亂發(fā)，還戴著一副眼鏡，一看見他，馬丁便頓生憂慮和忌妒之心。只見她在樂池前坐了下來，而他在這個晚上除了她之外，任什么都視而不見——只顧看她那纖美、雪白的膀子以及她淡黃色的秀發(fā)，不過由于距離太遠，這些只能看個模模糊糊?？墒强此膮s大有人在；他不時要掃一眼周圍的人，結果發(fā)現(xiàn)前排有兩個姑娘，隔著十幾個座位，眼睛里帶著大膽的神情沖著他微笑。他向來都比較隨和，天性不愿給人難堪。要是在過去，他會回以微笑，而且不僅如此，還會鼓勵對方的笑容?？涩F(xiàn)在情況發(fā)生了變化。他雖然沖姑娘們笑了笑，但隨后便把目光掉開，再沒有著意去觀望她們。他忘卻了這兩個姑娘的存在，可是有好幾次，他的目光都撞上了她們的笑臉。他不可能在一天之內便脫胎換骨，也不可能違背自己固有的善良天性；于是，在這種時刻，他便沖姑娘們發(fā)出了溫和、友好及通情達理的微笑。這檔子事兒對他并不陌生，他知道她們在向他伸出女性的手。可眼下的情況有所不同，他的心全在遠處樂池前的那個世界上獨一無二的女人身上——那女人和他自己階層中的這兩位姑娘天差地別，是如此不同，使他由不得對這兩位姑娘產(chǎn)生了憐憫和悲哀的心情。他衷心希望她們能有幾分她的典雅和高貴，不過，他絕不會因為她們做得太過分而傷害她們的自尊心。他的內心并不高興，甚至覺得有些羞愧，因為正是由于他出身卑賤才引出了這種現(xiàn)象。他知道，自己如果屬于露絲的階層，這兩位姑娘就不會對他含情脈脈了；她們每沖他瞟一眼，他就覺得自己的階層在用手把他朝低處拉。

演到最后一個劇情，未等落幕，他便離開了座位，指望著能在她朝出口走時，一睹其芳姿。門外的人行道上總是站立著許多人，他可以把帽檐拉低遮住眼睛，躲到別人的身后，讓她看不到他。他隨著第一股人流出了劇院，可是在人行道邊沿處立足未穩(wěn)，就見那兩位姑娘跟了來。她們是來找他的。當時他恨不得把自己臭罵一頓，怪自己具有吸引女人的魅力。她們穿過人行道向這邊漫不經(jīng)心地徐徐走來，愈靠愈近，眼看就要發(fā)現(xiàn)他了。她們把步子放得越加緩慢，裹在人群里來到了他跟前，其中的一個用身子碰了碰他，樣子像是剛剛看到他。這姑娘身材苗條、皮膚黝黑，生著一雙烏黑高傲的眼睛。但這雙眼睛在沖他微笑，于是他也笑了笑。

“你好?！彼f。

他說話不假思索，因為以前在和別人初次見面的同樣的情況下，他不知把這話都說過多少遍了。再說，他只能這樣做。他天性寬宏厚道、富于同情心，容不得他怠慢他人。黑眼睛姑娘喜滋滋地笑了笑，給他打了聲招呼，露出了想站住的樣子，而挽著她胳膊的那個同伴咯咯一笑，也顯出了止步的意圖。他飛快地轉動著大腦，心想絕不能讓她出來時看到他在和她們聊天。于是，他非常自然，一點也不做作地靠到黑眼睛姑娘身旁，和她一道朝前走。他絲毫不覺得尷尬，舌頭根也不打絆了。他如魚得水，說出串串俚語和警句，同姑娘打情罵俏，而這在過眼煙云般的戀情中通常是相互了解的前奏。到了街拐角，人流繼續(xù)向前行進，而他想擠出人群，到橫街上去。可黑眼睛姑娘拽住他的胳膊，緊跟著他，而且把女友也拖著一起走，嘴里叫喊著：

“等等，比爾！急什么呢？就這么一下子想把我們甩掉？”

他哈哈一笑收住了腳步，朝她們轉過身來。越過她們的肩頭，他可以看到人群在路燈下川流不息地移動。他站的地方光線不太亮，如果她從此處走過，他可以看見她，而對方卻瞅不到他。她一定會經(jīng)過的，因為這條道路通向她的家。

“她叫什么名字？”他問那個咯咯笑的姑娘，同時沖著黑眼睛姑娘點了點頭。

“你問她自己好啦。”對方說著，笑得前仰后合。

“喂，你叫什么？”他把臉轉過來對著那個不知名的姑娘，問道。

“你還沒把你的名字告訴我呢?！彼樹h相對地說。

“你可從來沒問過呀，”他笑了笑說，“再說，你剛才一下子就猜出來了呀。我叫比爾，沒錯，就是這樣?！?/p>

“嘖，見你的鬼吧?！彼o盯住他的眼睛，而她自己的眼睛含情脈脈，勾人魂魄，“老實講，到底叫什么！”

接著，她又投來一個飛眼。自打人類產(chǎn)生了情欲，世世代代沿襲下來的女性魅力在她的眼中清晰可辨。他大大咧咧地打量著她，膽氣也壯了，因為他知道自己一旦步步進逼，她便會羞怯和巧妙地撤退；可如果他畏縮不前，她勢必將局面顛倒過來。不過，他畢竟是個男人，感覺得到她的吸引力，內心由不得對她那討人喜歡的美意產(chǎn)生了好感。是啊，他了解這類事情，也十分了解她們，理解她們的一言一行。用她們的那個階層的標準來衡量，她們可以說是好女人，為了微薄的工資辛勤勞作，不愿為了追求舒適的生活出賣自己，一心一意希求能在生活的荒漠里得到一丁點幸福；她們所面臨的前途猶如一場賭博，一邊是沒完沒了的可怕苦役，而另一邊則是更為可怕的凄慘的火坑——走這條路雖然報酬較為豐厚，但長久不了。

“我叫比爾，”他點著頭回答道，“這是真的，我的確叫比爾?！?/p>

“不是在哄人吧？”她問道。

“他根本不叫比爾！”另一位姑娘插嘴說。

“你怎么知道？”他責問道，“你以前可從沒見過我呀?！?/p>

“沒這個必要，反正我知道你在撒謊。”對方反駁說。

“直說吧，比爾，你到底叫什么？”第一個姑娘問。

“就是叫比爾呀?！彼Z氣肯定地說。

她伸手抓住他的胳膊，淘氣地搖晃著說：“明明知道你在撒謊，可我還是覺得你相當不錯?！?/p>

他握住了那只多情的手，在掌心摸到了他所熟悉的疤痕以及變了形的骨頭。

“你是什么時候離開罐頭廠的？”他問。

“你怎么知道？”“好樣的，你可真是洞察秋毫啊！”兩個姑娘異口同聲地說。

他一邊和她們瞎扯些傻里傻氣的閑淡話，一邊浮想聯(lián)翩，想到了圖書館里那滿載著千秋萬代智慧的一架子一架子的書。想到這前后的差異，他不由苦笑起來，心中產(chǎn)生了種種疑問?？杀M管他內心苦思冥想、嘴上談笑風生，他還是留意觀看著從他身旁經(jīng)過的看完戲的人流。最后他終于在路燈下瞧見了她，看見她夾在她弟弟以及那個戴眼鏡的陌生小伙子中間，頓時，他的心臟似乎停止了跳動。這一時刻他已等了許久。他注意到她那高貴的頭上裹著一條毛茸茸、薄薄的頭巾，注意到她那穿著衣服的身軀仍顯出典雅的線條，還注意到了她那雍容的舉止以及提起裙邊的優(yōu)美的手。轉眼之間，她就不見了蹤影，撇下他一人望著跟前的這兩位罐頭廠的姑娘發(fā)呆。這兩位姑娘既庸俗又可悲，拼命想把自己打扮得漂亮些，穿得整齊干凈些，可無論是身上的衣料、頭上的絲帶還是手上的戒指，都是廉價品。他感到胳膊被人拉了一下，接著聽到一個聲音說道：

“醒醒，比爾！你這是怎么啦？”

“你說什么？”他問道。

“噢，沒什么，”黑眼睛姑娘甩了甩腦袋，答道，“我只是說——”

“說什么？”

“我說，如果你能為她（此處指她的女友）物色一位男朋友，那就太棒了。這樣，咱們可以找個地方喝冰淇淋蘇打水，或者咖啡什么的?！彼睦锿蝗桓械揭魂噮拹?。從露絲那兒轉換到這個場景，顯得過于急劇。跟前的這個姑娘一雙大膽、高傲的眼睛，在這雙眼睛的旁邊他看到了露絲那清澈明亮的眼睛，像圣女的眼睛一樣無比純潔，正緊緊盯著他。不知怎么，他感到體內有一種力量在涌動。他有一種優(yōu)越感，覺得他的生活意義要高于這兩位姑娘，因為她們的思想總是圍著冰淇淋和男朋友兜圈子。他記得自己在內心始終過著一種秘密的生活。他曾經(jīng)試圖把心里的想法和別人分享，卻怎么也找不到能夠理解他的女人或男人。他屢次嘗試，但只會讓聽者迷惘困惑。這時他心想，既然他的思想已經(jīng)超越了他們，那他本人也必須與眾不同。他攥緊拳頭，覺得力量在體內運動。假如生活對他有較大的意義，他就應該向生活索取更多，但索取也不能從這類伙伴身上索取。這雙大膽的黑眼睛沒有什么可以提供給他。他知道，這雙眼睛的背后隱藏的無非是冰淇淋之類的念頭。而旁邊的那雙圣女的眼睛卻能夠提供他所知道的一切以及他連想也想不到的東西；可以提供書本和繪畫的知識，提供美和安寧，以及上流社會所有高貴和典雅。那雙黑眼睛背后的每一個思維過程他都了如指掌，因為那種思維似鐘表般有規(guī)律，可以看得到每個齒輪的轉動。它們要求的是低級享受，和墓坑一樣狹窄，叫人心生厭惡，到頭來等待它們的正是這種墓坑。而這雙圣女的眼睛要求的則是生活之謎、不可思議的奇跡和永生。他在這雙眼睛里看到了她的靈魂，也看到了他自己的靈魂。

“麻煩就麻煩在一件事情上，”他出聲地說，“我已經(jīng)有約會了?！?/p>

姑娘的眼睛里露出了失望的神情。

“我想，是陪生病的朋友吧？”她譏諷道。

“不對，是一個真正的約會——”他停頓了一下，“是跟一位姑娘?！?/p>

“你不是在騙我吧？”她認真地問。

他望著她的眼睛，說道：“不騙你，這是實話。咱們可以改個時間再見面嘛，你還沒把你的名字告訴我呢。還有，你住在哪兒？”

“我叫麗茜，”她說著，態(tài)度軟了下來，拉住他的胳膊，用身子貼緊他，“麗茜·康諾萊，家住第五大街和市場街之間?！?/p>

他又聊了幾分鐘，然后便和她們分了手。他沒有立即回家去，而是來到了那棵他夜夜守望的樹下，抬頭望著一扇窗口，喃喃地說：“那個約會就是跟你呀，露絲，我把它留給了你?！?/p>