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雙語(yǔ)《馬丁·伊登》 第二十六章

所屬教程:譯林版·馬丁·伊登

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2022年07月08日

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CHAPTER XXVI

Martin Eden did not go out to hunt for a job in the morning. It was late afternoon before he came out of his delirium and gazed with aching eyes about the room. Mary, one of the tribe of Silva, eight years old, keeping watch, raised a screech at sight of his returning consciousness. Maria hurried into the room from the kitchen. She put her work-calloused hand upon his hot forehead and felt his pulse.

“You lika da eat?” she asked.

He shook his head. Eating was farthest from his desire, and he wondered that he should ever have been hungry in his life.

“I’m sick, Maria,” he said weakly. “What is it? Do you know?”

“Grip,” she answered. “Two or three days you alla da right. Better you no eat now. Bimeby plenty can eat, tomorrow can eat maybe.”

Martin was not used to sickness, and when Maria and her little girl left him, he essayed to get up and dress. By a supreme exertion of will, with rearing brain and eyes that ached so that he could not keep them open, he managed to get out of bed, only to be left stranded by his senses upon the table. Half an hour later he managed to regain the bed, where he was content to lie with closed eyes and analyze his various pains and weaknesses. Maria came in several times to change the cold cloths on his forehead. Otherwise she left him in peace, too wise to vex him with chatter. This moved him to gratitude, and he murmured to himself, “Maria, you getta da milka ranch, all righta, all right.”

Then he remembered his long-buried past of yesterday. It seemed a life-time since he had received that letter from the Transcontinental,a life-time since it was all over and done with and a new page turned. He had shot his bolt, and shot it hard, and now he was down on his back. If he hadn’t starved himself, he wouldn’t have been caught by La Grippe. He had been run down,and he had not had the strength to throw off the germ of disease which had invaded his system. This was what resulted.

“What does it profit a man to write a whole library and lose his own life?” he demanded aloud. “This is no place for me. No more literature in mine. Me for the counting-house and ledger, the monthly salary, and the little home with Ruth.”

Two days later, having eaten an egg and two slices of toast and drunk a cup of tea, he asked for his mail, but found his eyes still hurt too much to permit him to read.

“You read for me, Maria,” he said. “Never mind the big, long letters. Throw them under the table. Read me the small letters.”

“No can,” was the answer. “Teresa, she go to school, she can.”

So Teresa Silva, aged nine, opened his letters and read them to him. He listened absently to a long dun from the typewriter people, his mind busy with ways and means of finding a job. Suddenly he was shocked back to himself.

“‘We offer you forty dollars for all serial rights in your story,’”Teresa slowly spelled out, “’provided you allow us to make the alterations suggested.’”

“What magazine is that?” Martin shouted. “Here, give it to me!”

He could see to read, now, and he was unaware of the pain of the action. It was the White Mouse that was offering him forty dollars, and the story was “The Whirlpool,” another of his early horror stories. He read the letter through again and again. The editor told him plainly that he had not handled the idea properly, but that it was the idea they were buying because it was original. If they could cut the story down one-third, they would take it and send him forty dollars on receipt of his answer.

He called for pen and ink, and told the editor he could cut the story down three-thirds if he wanted to, and to send the forty dollars right along.

The letter despatched to the letter-box by Teresa, Martin lay back and thought.It wasn’t a lie,after all.The White Mouse paid on acceptance.There were three thousand words in “The Whirlpool.” Cut down a third, there would be two thousand. At forty dollars that would be two cents a word. Pay on acceptance and two cents a word—the newspapers had told the truth. And he had thought the White Mouse a third-rater!It was evident that he did not know the magazines.He had deemed the Transcontinental a first-rater,and it paid a cent for ten words.He had classed the White Mouse as of no account, and it paid twenty times as much as the Transcontinental and also had paid on acceptance.

Well, there was one thing certain: when he got well, he would not go out looking for a job. There were more stories in his head as good as “The Whirlpool,” and at forty dollars apiece he could earn far more than in any job or position. Just when he thought the battle lost, it was won. He had proved for his career.The way was clear.Beginning with the White Mouse he would add magazine after magazine to his growing list of patrons. Hack-work could be put aside. For that matter, it had been wasted time, for it had not brought him a dollar. He would devote himself to work, good work, and he would pour out the best that was in him. He wished Ruth was there to share in his joy, and when he went over the letters left lying on his bed, he found one from her. It was sweetly reproachful, wondering what had kept him away for so dreadful a length of time. He reread the letter adoringly, dwelling over her handwriting, loving each stroke of her pen, and in the end kissing her signature.

And when he answered, he told her recklessly that he had not been to see her because his best clothes were in pawn. He told her that he had been sick, but was once more nearly well, and that inside ten days or two weeks (as soon as a letter could travel to New York City and return) he would redeem his clothes and be with her.

But Ruth did not care to wait ten days or two weeks. Besides, her lover was sick. The next afternoon, accompanied by Arthur, she arrived in the Morse carriage, to the unqualified delight of the Silva tribe and of all the urchins on the street, and to the consternation of Maria. She boxed the ears of the Silvas who crowded about the visitors on the tiny front porch, and in more than usual atrocious English tried to apologize for her appearance. Sleeves rolled up from soap-flecked arms and a wet gunny-sack around her waist told of the task at which she had been caught. So flustered was she by two such grand young people asking for her lodger, that she forgot to invite them to sit down in the little parlor. To enter Martin’s room, they passed through the kitchen, warm and moist and steamy from the big washing in progress. Maria, in her excitement, jammed the bedroom and bedroom-closet doors together, and for five minutes, through the partly open door, clouds of steam, smelling of soap-suds and dirt, poured into the sick chamber.

Ruth succeeded in veering right and left and right again, and in running the narrow passage between table and bed to Martin’s side; but Arthur veered too wide and fetched up with clatter and bang of pots and pans in the corner where Martin did his cooking. Arthur did not linger long. Ruth occupied the only chair, and having done his duty, he went outside and stood by the gate, the centre of seven marvelling Silvas, who watched him as they would have watched a curiosity in a side-show. All about the carriage were gathered the children from a dozen blocks, waiting and eager for some tragic and terrible denouement. Carriages were seen on their street only for weddings and funerals. Here was neither marriage nor death: therefore, it was something transcending experience and well worth waiting for.

Martin had been wild to see Ruth. His was essentially a love-nature, and he possessed more than the average man’s need for sympathy. He was starving for sympathy, which, with him, meant intelligent understanding;and he had yet to learn that Ruth’s sympathy was largely sentimental and tactful, and that it proceeded from gentleness of nature rather than from understanding of the objects of her sympathy. So it was while Martin held her hand and gladly talked, that her love for him prompted her to press his hand in return, and that her eyes were moist and luminous at sight of his helplessness and of the marks suffering had stamped upon his face.

But while he told her of his two acceptances, of his despair when he received the one from the Transcontinental,and of the corresponding delight with which he received the one from the White Mouse, she did not follow him. She heard the words he uttered and understood their literal import, but she was not with him in his despair and his delight. She could not get out of herself. She was not interested in selling stories to magazines. What was important to her was matrimony. She was not aware of it, however, any more than she was aware that her desire that Martin take a position was the instinctive and preparative impulse of motherhood. She would have blushed had she been told as much in plain, set terms, and next, she might have grown indignant and asserted that her sole interest lay in the man she loved and her desire for him to make the best of himself. So, while Martin poured out his heart to her, elated with the first success his chosen work in the world had received, she paid heed to his bare words only, gazing now and again about the room, shocked by what she saw.

For the first time Ruth gazed upon the sordid face of poverty. Starving lovers had always seemed romantic to her,—but she had had no idea how starving lovers lived. She had never dreamed it could be like this. Ever her gaze shifted from the room to him and back again. The steamy smell of dirty clothes, which had entered with her from the kitchen, was sickening. Martin must be soaked with it, Ruth concluded, if that awful woman washed frequently. Such was the contagiousness of degradation. When she looked at Martin, she seemed to see the smirch left upon him by his surroundings. She had never seen him unshaven, and the three days’ growth of beard on his face was repulsive to her. Not alone did it give him the same dark and murky aspect of the Silva house, inside and out, but it seemed to emphasize that animal-like strength of his which she detested. And here he was, being confirmed in his madness by the two acceptances he took such pride in telling her about. A little longer and he would have surrendered and gone to work. Now he would continue on in this horrible house, writing and starving for a few more months.

“What is that smell?” she asked suddenly.

“Some of Maria’s washing smells, I imagine,” was the answer. “I am growing quite accustomed to them.”

“No, no; not that. It is something else. A stale, sickish smell.”

Martin sampled the air before replying.

“I can’t smell anything else, except stale tobacco smoke,” he announced.

“That’s it. It is terrible. Why do you smoke so much, Martin?”

“I don’t know, except that I smoke more than usual when I am lonely. And then, too, it’s such a long-standing habit. I learned when I was only a youngster.”

“It is not a nice habit, you know,” she reproved. “It smells to heaven.”

“That’s the fault of the tobacco. I can afford only the cheapest. But wait until I get that forty-dollar check. I’ll use a brand that is not offensive even to the angels. But that wasn’t so bad, was it, two acceptances in three days? That forty-five dollars will pay about all my debts.”

“For two years’ work?” she queried.

“No, for less than a week’s work. Please pass me that book over on the far corner of the table, the account book with the gray cover.” He opened it and began turning over the pages rapidly. “Yes, I was right. Four days for ‘The Ring of Bells,’ two days for ‘The Whirlpool.’ That’s forty-five dollars for a week’s work, one hundred and eighty dollars a month. That beats any salary I can command. And, besides, I’m just beginning. A thousand dollars a month is not too much to buy for you all I want you to have. A salary of five hundred a month would be too small. That forty-five dollars is just a starter. Wait till I get my stride. Then watch my smoke.”

Ruth misunderstood his slang, and reverted to cigarettes.

“You smoke more than enough as it is, and the brand of tobacco will make no difference. It is the smoking itself that is not nice, no matter what the brand may be. You are a chimney, a living volcano, a perambulating smokestack, and you are a perfect disgrace, Martin dear, you know you are.”

She leaned toward him, entreaty in her eyes, and as he looked at her delicate face and into her pure, limpid eyes, as of old he was struck with his own unworthiness.

“I wish you wouldn’t smoke any more,” she whispered. “Please, for—my sake.”

“All right, I won’t,” he cried. “I’ll do anything you ask, dear love, anything; you know that.”

A great temptation assailed her. In an insistent way she had caught glimpses of the large, easy-going side of his nature, and she felt sure, if she asked him to cease attempting to write, that he would grant her wish. In the swift instant that elapsed, the words trembled on her lips. But she did not utter them. She was not quite brave enough; she did not quite dare. Instead, she leaned toward him to meet him, and in his arms murmured:—

“You know, it is really not for my sake, Martin, but for your own. I am sure smoking hurts you; and besides, it is not good to be a slave to anything, to a drug least of all.”

“I shall always be your slave,” he smiled.

“In which case, I shall begin issuing my commands.”

She looked at him mischievously, though deep down she was already regretting that she had not preferred her largest request.

“I live but to obey, your majesty.”

“Well, then, my first commandment is, Thou shalt not omit to shave every day. Look how you have scratched my cheek.”

And so it ended in caresses and love-laughter. But she had made one point, and she could not expect to make more than one at a time. She felt a woman’s pride in that she had made him stop smoking. Another time she would persuade him to take a position, for had he not said he would do anything she asked?

She left his side to explore the room, examining the clothes-lines of notes overhead, learning the mystery of the tackle used for suspending his wheel under the ceiling, and being saddened by the heap of manuscripts under the table which represented to her just so much wasted time. The oil-stove won her admiration, but on investigating the food shelves she found them empty.

“Why, you haven’t anything to eat, you poor dear,” she said with tender compassion. “You must be starving.”

“I store my food in Maria’s safe and in her pantry,” he lied. “It keeps better there. No danger of my starving. Look at that.”

She had come back to his side, and she saw him double his arm at the elbow, the biceps crawling under his shirt-sleeve and swelling into a knot of muscle, heavy and hard. The sight repelled her. Sentimentally, she disliked it. But her pulse, her blood, every fibre of her, loved it and yearned for it, and, in the old, inexplicable way, she leaned toward him, not away from him. And in the moment that followed, when he crushed her in his arms, the brain of her, concerned with the superficial aspects of life, was in revolt; while the heart of her, the woman of her, concerned with life itself, exulted triumphantly. It was in moments like this that she felt to the uttermost the greatness of her love for Martin, for it was almost a swoon of delight to her to feel his strong arms about her, holding her tightly, hurting her with the grip of their fervor. At such moments she found justification for her treason to her standards, for her violation of her own high ideals, and, most of all, for her tacit disobedience to her mother and father. They did not want her to marry this man. It shocked them that she should love him. It shocked her, too, sometimes, when she was apart from him, a cool and reasoning creature. With him, she loved him—in truth, at times a vexed and worried love; but love it was, a love that was stronger than she.

“This La Grippe is nothing,” he was saying. “It hurts a bit, and gives one a nasty headache, but it doesn’t compare with break-bone fever.”

“Have you had that, too?” she queried absently, intent on the heaven-sent justification she was finding in his arms.

And so, with absent queries, she led him on, till suddenly his words startled her.

He had had the fever in a secret colony of thirty lepers on one of the Hawaiian Islands.

“But why did you go there?” she demanded.

Such royal carelessness of body seemed criminal.

“Because I didn’t know,” he answered. “I never dreamed of lepers. When I deserted the schooner and landed on the beach, I headed inland for some place of hiding. For three days I lived off guavas, ohia-apples, and bananas, all of which grew wild in the jungle. On the fourth day I found the trail—a mere foot-trail. It led inland, and it led up. It was the way I wanted to go, and it showed signs of recent travel. At one place it ran along the crest of a ridge that was no more than a knife-edge. The trail wasn’t three feet wide on the crest, and on either side the ridge fell away in precipices hundreds of feet deep. One man, with plenty of ammunition, could have held it against a hundred thousand.

“It was the only way in to the hiding-place. Three hours after I found the trail I was there, in a little mountain valley, a pocket in the midst of lava peaks. The whole place was terraced for taro-patches, fruit trees grew there, and there were eight or ten grass huts. But as soon as I saw the inhabitants I knew what I’d struck. One sight of them was enough.”

“What did you do?” Ruth demanded breathlessly, listening, like any Desdemona, appalled and fascinated.

“Nothing for me to do. Their leader was a kind old fellow, pretty far gone, but he ruled like a king. He had discovered the little valley and founded the settlement—all of which was against the law. But he had guns, plenty of ammunition, and those Kanakas, trained to the shooting of wild cattle and wild pig, were dead shots. No, there wasn’t any running away for Martin Eden. He stayed—for three months.”

“But how did you escape?”

“I’d have been there yet, if it hadn’t been for a girl there, a half-Chinese, quarter-white, and quarter-Hawaiian. She was a beauty, poor thing, and well educated. Her mother, in Honolulu, was worth a million or so. Well, this girl got me away at last. Her mother financed the settlement, you see, so the girl wasn’t afraid of being punished for letting me go. But she made me swear, first, never to reveal the hiding-place; and I never have. This is the first time I have even mentioned it. The girl had just the first signs of leprosy. The fingers of her right hand were slightly twisted, and there was a small spot on her arm. That was all. I guess she is dead, now.”

“But weren’t you frightened? And weren’t you glad to get away without catching that dreadful disease?”

“Well,” he confessed, “I was a bit shivery at first; but I got used to it. I used to feel sorry for that poor girl, though. That made me forget to be afraid. She was such a beauty, in spirit as well as in appearance, and she was only slightly touched; yet she was doomed to lie there, living the life of a primitive savage and rotting slowly away. Leprosy is far more terrible than you can imagine it.”

“Poor thing,” Ruth murmured softly. “It’s a wonder she let you get away.”

“How do you mean?” Martin asked unwittingly.

“Because she must have loved you,” Ruth said, still softly. “Candidly, now, didn’t she?”

Martin’s sunburn had been bleached by his work in the laundry and by the indoor life he was living, while the hunger and the sickness had made his face even pale; and across this pallor flowed the slow wave of a blush. He was opening his mouth to speak, but Ruth shut him off.

“Never mind, don’t answer; it’s not necessary,” she laughed.

But it seemed to him there was something metallic in her laughter, and that the light in her eyes was cold. On the spur of the moment it reminded him of a gale he had once experienced in the North Pacific. And for the moment the apparition of the gale rose before his eyes—a gale at night, with a clear sky and under a full moon, the huge seas glinting coldly in the moonlight. Next, he saw the girl in the leper refuge and remembered it was for love of him that she had let him go.

“She was noble,” he said simply. “She gave me life.”

That was all of the incident, but he heard Ruth muffle a dry sob in her throat, and noticed that she turned her face away to gaze out of the window. When she turned it back to him, it was composed, and there was no hint of the gale in her eyes.

“I’m such a silly,” she said plaintively. “But I can’t help it. I do so love you, Martin, I do, I do. I shall grow more catholic in time, but at present I can’t help being jealous of those ghosts of the past, and you know your past is full of ghosts.”

“It must be,” she silenced his protest. “It could not be otherwise. And there’s poor Arthur motioning me to come. He’s tired waiting. And now goodby, dear.”

“There’s some kind of a mixture, put up by the druggists, that helps men to stop the use of tobacco,” she called back from the door, “and I am going to send you some.”

The door closed, but opened again.

“I do, I do,” she whispered to him; and this time she was really gone.

Maria, with worshipful eyes that none the less were keen to note the texture of Ruth’s garments and the cut of them (a cut unknown that produced an effect mysteriously beautiful), saw her to the carriage. The crowd of disappointed urchins stared till the carriage disappeared from view, then transferred their stare to Maria, who had abruptly become the most important person on the street. But it was one of her progeny who blasted Maria’s reputation by announcing that the grand visitors had been for her lodger. After that Maria dropped back into her old obscurity and Martin began to notice the respectful manner in which he was regarded by the small fry of the neighborhood. As for Maria, Martin rose in her estimation a full hundred per cent, and had the Portuguese grocer witnessed that afternoon carriage-call he would have allowed Martin an additional three-dollars-and-eighty-five-cents’ worth of credit.

第二十六章

這天早晨,馬丁沒(méi)有出去找工作。直至傍晚時(shí)分,他才從昏迷中蘇醒,用發(fā)痛的眼睛望了望四周。西爾瓦家一個(gè)叫瑪麗的八歲孩子一直守候在旁邊,這時(shí)見(jiàn)他恢復(fù)了知覺(jué),便尖聲叫喊起來(lái)?,旣悂喡劼晱膹N房趕來(lái),用干活干得滿(mǎn)是老繭的手摸摸他滾燙的額頭,又替他量了量脈搏。

“想吃點(diǎn)東西嗎?”她問(wèn)。

他搖了搖頭。他沒(méi)有一點(diǎn)想進(jìn)食的欲望,不知自己這輩子是不是還會(huì)有饑餓感。

“我病了,瑪麗亞,”他有氣無(wú)力地說(shuō),“你知道是什么病嗎?”

“是流行性感冒,”她答道,“過(guò)兩三天就會(huì)好的?,F(xiàn)在最好吃點(diǎn)東西。多吃點(diǎn),也許明天胃口就開(kāi)了?!?/p>

馬丁對(duì)生病是不習(xí)慣的,待瑪麗亞帶著小女兒離開(kāi)后,就想起床穿衣服。他頭腦發(fā)暈,眼睛痛得睜都睜不開(kāi),靠著意志的力量,才掙扎著起了床,但伏到案頭便又昏迷了過(guò)去。半個(gè)小時(shí)后,他回到床上,只好閉起眼睛躺在那兒,把自己的種種疼痛和虛弱思來(lái)想去?,旣悂唩?lái)過(guò)幾次,為他更換敷在額頭上的濕布,除此之外不來(lái)打攪他,因?yàn)樗莻€(gè)明白人,不愿嘮嘮叨叨地惹他心煩。他對(duì)此感激不盡,喃喃自語(yǔ)地說(shuō):“瑪麗亞,你會(huì)得到奶牛場(chǎng)的,會(huì)的,一定會(huì)的?!?/p>

后來(lái),他記起了已遺忘許久的昨日的往事。自從收到《橫貫大陸月刊》的那封信,好像已經(jīng)過(guò)了一輩子,因?yàn)樗X(jué)得過(guò)去的歷史已經(jīng)完結(jié),打算重新開(kāi)始生活。他盡了自己的努力,而且是拼命的努力,現(xiàn)在只落得仰面朝天臥倒病榻。如果不是把自己餓得死去活來(lái),他就不會(huì)患流感。他垮了下來(lái),無(wú)力擊退侵入肌體的病菌。這就是他的下場(chǎng)。

“一個(gè)人即便著作滿(mǎn)天飛,卻命喪黃泉,又有什么用呢?”他出聲地問(wèn),“這不是我的事業(yè),再也不能從事文學(xué)寫(xiě)作了。我只配進(jìn)會(huì)計(jì)室管管賬目,按月領(lǐng)薪水,跟露絲過(guò)小日子。”

兩天過(guò)后,他吃了個(gè)雞蛋和兩片烤面包,又喝了杯茶,然后讓把他的郵件拿來(lái),可眼睛還是痛得厲害,無(wú)法看信。

“你給我讀讀,瑪麗亞,”他說(shuō),“別去管那些又大又長(zhǎng)的信件,把它們?nèi)拥阶雷拥紫隆〉男偶罱o我聽(tīng)。”

“我不會(huì)讀信,”對(duì)方答道,“特麗莎會(huì)讀,她已經(jīng)上學(xué)了?!?/p>

于是,九歲的特麗莎·西爾瓦拆開(kāi)信,讀了起來(lái)。他心不在焉地聽(tīng)著打字機(jī)租賃店寄來(lái)的冗長(zhǎng)的催債信,腦子里卻在思索著如何去找工作。猛然之間,他驚得醒過(guò)了神。

“如果同意做適當(dāng)修改,”特麗莎慢吞吞地讀道,“我們?cè)赋鏊氖畨K錢(qián)買(mǎi)下你的小說(shuō)連載權(quán)?!?/p>

“這是哪家雜志社?”馬丁喊叫了起來(lái),“來(lái),把信遞給我!”

他一下子可以看信了,連疼痛也不覺(jué)得了。愿出四十塊錢(qián)給他的是《白鼠》雜志社,他們想買(mǎi)下《漩渦》——也是他早期寫(xiě)的恐怖小說(shuō)。他把信看了一遍又一遍。編輯坦率地指出,他對(duì)素材的處理并不完美,他們之所以要買(mǎi)這篇小說(shuō),是因?yàn)槔锩娌环Κ?dú)特的觀點(diǎn)。如果同意他們刪掉三分之一的內(nèi)容,他們就定稿,而且一接到回音就給他寄來(lái)四十塊錢(qián)。

他要來(lái)筆墨,寫(xiě)信告訴那位編輯,說(shuō)他如果高興,可以刪掉三分之三的內(nèi)容,只要把四十塊錢(qián)馬上寄來(lái)就行了。

信由特麗莎拿去投進(jìn)郵箱,而馬丁又躺回床上,陷入了沉思??磥?lái),事情并非騙局。《白鼠》一采用稿件就付錢(qián)?!朵鰷u》共三千字,刪掉三分之一,還剩下兩千字,稿酬每字按兩分錢(qián)計(jì)算,剛好是四十塊錢(qián)。一用稿件就付錢(qián),每字兩分錢(qián)——報(bào)上講的全是實(shí)話(huà)。他原來(lái)還以為《白鼠》是三流雜志呢!顯然他并不了解雜志界的情況。他以前把《橫貫大陸月刊》視為一流雜志,可是它每十個(gè)字才付一分錢(qián)的稿酬。他總把《白鼠》看得一錢(qián)不值,然而它付的稿酬卻高出《橫貫大陸月刊》二十倍,而且一用稿就付錢(qián)。

現(xiàn)在,有一點(diǎn)可以肯定:病好后,他不打算出外找工作了。他的頭腦中可以發(fā)掘出更多和《漩渦》同樣好的文章,每篇按四十塊錢(qián)取酬,他的收入會(huì)比干任何工作、從事任何職業(yè)都高。正當(dāng)他以為戰(zhàn)敗的時(shí)候,卻獲得了勝利。經(jīng)證明,他是干事業(yè)的料。道路已經(jīng)暢通。從《白鼠》起始,他要把各家雜志社列成一份長(zhǎng)長(zhǎng)的主顧名單。賣(mài)錢(qián)的文章可以暫且擱置一旁。說(shuō)實(shí)在的,那純粹是浪費(fèi)時(shí)間,未給他帶來(lái)一塊錢(qián)的收入。他要獻(xiàn)身于事業(yè),寫(xiě)出好文章來(lái),把內(nèi)心最出色的構(gòu)思展現(xiàn)于紙面。他希望露絲能在跟前和他分享喜悅;他翻閱放在床頭的信件時(shí),發(fā)現(xiàn)了一封露絲的來(lái)信。她在信中嬌嗔地責(zé)備他,問(wèn)他到底出了什么事,這么長(zhǎng)時(shí)間不去看她。他把信愛(ài)不釋手地又讀了一遍,仔細(xì)欣賞她的筆跡,對(duì)她的每一道筆畫(huà)都充滿(mǎn)了愛(ài)心,最后還吻了吻她的簽名。

他回信時(shí)不顧后果地告訴她,他把最好的衣服送進(jìn)了當(dāng)鋪,所以才沒(méi)有去看她。他還說(shuō)自己染上了病,不過(guò)現(xiàn)在已快康復(fù),用不了十天或兩個(gè)星期(這是一封信到紐約市去打個(gè)來(lái)回的時(shí)間),待把衣服贖回來(lái),他就回到她身旁。

然而,露絲可不愿等十天或兩個(gè)星期。再說(shuō),她的戀人在生病呢。第二天下午,在阿瑟的陪同下,她乘著摩斯府內(nèi)的馬車(chē)不期而至,這讓西爾瓦家的孩子以及街上的那幫頑童喜不自勝,但是卻叫瑪麗亞慌了手腳。她扇了自家孩子幾記耳光,因?yàn)樗麄償D在小前廊里圍觀客人。隨后,她用比平時(shí)更糟糕的英語(yǔ)充滿(mǎn)歉意地說(shuō)自己的衣著不成體統(tǒng)。從她那高高挽起的袖子、沾著肥皂沫的胳膊以及系在腰間的濕麻袋片便可以看得出,她剛才在干什么活。這兩位高貴的年輕人向她問(wèn)起她的房客時(shí),慌得她六神無(wú)主,竟忘了請(qǐng)他們到小客廳坐坐。要到馬丁的房間去,得穿過(guò)廚房,此刻那兒由于正在大規(guī)模洗衣服,被弄得溫暖潮濕、霧氣騰騰?,旣悂喖?dòng)之中猛一推臥室的門(mén),使房門(mén)和室內(nèi)小櫥的門(mén)卡在了一起,結(jié)果一團(tuán)團(tuán)帶有肥皂水和塵土氣息的水蒸氣透過(guò)半開(kāi)的門(mén)直往病人的房間灌,足足灌了有五分鐘。

露絲右拐左轉(zhuǎn),然后再向右調(diào)頭,沿著桌與床之間的狹窄通道順利地來(lái)到了馬丁身旁;可是阿瑟轉(zhuǎn)的彎太大,把放在馬丁做飯的那個(gè)墻角的盆盆罐罐碰得叮當(dāng)響。阿瑟沒(méi)在屋里多待。僅有的一把椅子給露絲坐了,他見(jiàn)自己的任務(wù)已經(jīng)完成,便走出去守立在大門(mén)口。西爾瓦家的七個(gè)孩子好奇地將他圍在中間,不住眼地打量著他,就像觀看雜技團(tuán)的一個(gè)奇特節(jié)目。十幾個(gè)街區(qū)的孩子都跑了來(lái),把馬車(chē)圍了個(gè)水泄不通,急切地等待著什么悲慘嚇人的事情發(fā)生。在他們這條街上,只有遇到婚喪大事才可以看得到馬車(chē)。這次既沒(méi)人結(jié)婚又無(wú)人死亡,所以肯定出了什么他們沒(méi)經(jīng)歷過(guò)的事,值得一等。

馬丁早就盼望著能見(jiàn)到露絲。從根本上來(lái)說(shuō),他天性多情,比普通人更需要同情。他朝思暮想的同情對(duì)他意味著明智的理解;但他全然不知,露絲所懷有的大半是多愁善感和禮節(jié)性的同情,與其說(shuō)是出于對(duì)同情對(duì)象的理解,倒不如說(shuō)是出自于她那善良的天性。所以,當(dāng)馬丁拉著她的手高興地說(shuō)話(huà)時(shí),她在愛(ài)情的驅(qū)使下也握緊了他的手,而且一看到孤苦、艱難的生活在他臉上烙下的痕跡,眼睛里便發(fā)濕,閃動(dòng)著淚花。

他告訴她,他的兩篇文章已被采用,說(shuō)他在接到《橫貫大陸月刊》的來(lái)信時(shí)是怎樣陷入了絕望,而收到《白鼠》的來(lái)信又是多么高興,然而她卻沒(méi)有仔細(xì)傾聽(tīng)。她聽(tīng)到了他說(shuō)的話(huà),也理解這些話(huà)的字面含義,可是對(duì)他的絕望和高興卻缺乏共鳴。她無(wú)法擺脫自己的看法,對(duì)賣(mài)文章給雜志社這種事不感興趣。對(duì)她來(lái)說(shuō),成家立業(yè)才是重要的。不過(guò),她當(dāng)時(shí)并未意識(shí)到這一點(diǎn),也未意識(shí)到自己希望馬丁謀個(gè)職業(yè)是出自一個(gè)向往做母親的女人本能的沖動(dòng)。要是有人用清楚、肯定的語(yǔ)言把這話(huà)向他講明,她會(huì)臉發(fā)燒,鬧不定還會(huì)惱羞成怒,一口咬定她只對(duì)自己愛(ài)戀的人感興趣,只希望他有一個(gè)錦繡前程。所以,當(dāng)馬丁向她傾吐衷曲,為自己選中的事業(yè)在這個(gè)世界上嶄露頭角而揚(yáng)揚(yáng)得意時(shí),她只是聽(tīng)聽(tīng)表面的意思,還時(shí)不時(shí)四處張望,為自己看到的景象吃驚不已。

露絲平生第一次看到了貧困生活的凄慘面目。以前,她總以為餓肚子的戀人富有浪漫色彩,卻不知餓肚子的戀人是怎樣生活。萬(wàn)萬(wàn)想不到會(huì)是這樣一種情形。她的目光游移不定,一會(huì)兒掃視房間,一會(huì)兒打量馬丁。隨著她一道從廚房進(jìn)來(lái)的帶有水蒸氣的臟衣服味令人作嘔。露絲心想,如果那個(gè)可怕的女人經(jīng)常洗衣服,馬丁身上一定浸透了這種氣味。墮落的生活就是這樣侵蝕人的。她望望馬丁,似乎看到了周?chē)h(huán)境在他身上留下的污痕。以前她所見(jiàn)到的他總是把臉修得干干凈凈,而今他臉上那三天未刮的胡須叫她覺(jué)得反感。那胡須不僅使他顯得又黑又臟,和西爾瓦家的屋里屋外一樣,還突出了他身上那種令她厭惡的獸性??墒撬麉s揚(yáng)揚(yáng)得意地炫耀自己的兩篇文章已被采用,對(duì)自己瘋狂的追求更加堅(jiān)定了信念。這轉(zhuǎn)機(jī)要是晚來(lái)一些,他肯定會(huì)認(rèn)輸,老老實(shí)實(shí)去找職業(yè)?,F(xiàn)在,他卻要繼續(xù)留在這幢可怕的房子里,再過(guò)上幾個(gè)月忍饑挨餓的寫(xiě)作生活。

“這是什么味兒?”她突然問(wèn)。

“我想是瑪麗亞洗衣服散發(fā)出的味,”對(duì)方答道,“我已經(jīng)聞慣了?!?/p>

“不,不,不是那種味,而是別的什么氣味,是一種發(fā)腐的難聞氣味。”

馬丁先用鼻子嗅了嗅,才做出了回答。

“除了發(fā)腐的煙草味,別的聞不出什么來(lái)。”他說(shuō)。

“正是煙草味,真是難聞死啦。你為什么要抽這么多煙呢,馬???”“不知道。我只知道感到寂寞時(shí),就比平時(shí)抽得多。再說(shuō),這是多年養(yǎng)成的老習(xí)慣了。小的時(shí)候我就會(huì)抽煙?!?/p>

“這習(xí)慣不好,你要知道,”她責(zé)備道,“煙味要多難聞?dòng)卸嚯y聞?!薄斑@得怪煙不好,因?yàn)槲抑荒苜I(mǎi)得起最低廉的煙。等我拿到那四十塊錢(qián)的支票,就買(mǎi)好牌子的煙抽,那時(shí)連天使聞到也不會(huì)討厭。要說(shuō)三天之內(nèi)就有兩篇稿子被采用,成績(jī)不算壞吧?四十五塊錢(qián)的稿酬差不多可以還清我所有的債務(wù)?!?/p>

“兩年的心血就為的是這個(gè)?”她問(wèn)。

“不對(duì),應(yīng)該是不足一個(gè)星期的心血。請(qǐng)把桌子角的那本書(shū)遞給我,就是那個(gè)灰色封面的賬簿?!彼蜷_(kāi)賬簿,一頁(yè)頁(yè)飛快翻動(dòng)著?!肮艺f(shuō)的一點(diǎn)不錯(cuò)。寫(xiě)《嘹亮的鐘聲》用了四天,《漩渦》用了兩天。一星期掙四十五塊錢(qián),一個(gè)月就是一百八十塊錢(qián),比我干任何工作都強(qiáng)。再說(shuō),我這是剛剛起步。我要給你買(mǎi)許多東西,所以每月就是掙一千塊錢(qián)也不嫌多。每月五百塊錢(qián)的薪水就太低了。這四十五塊錢(qián)僅僅是個(gè)開(kāi)始。等走上正軌,那時(shí)再瞧我的本事吧。[1]”

露絲誤解了他最后的這句俚語(yǔ),便把話(huà)題又扯到了抽煙上。

“你抽煙抽得太厲害啦,問(wèn)題并不在于更換煙的牌子。抽煙本身是有害的,不管什么牌子的煙都是如此。你真是個(gè)大煙囪、活火山和會(huì)走路的排煙筒,實(shí)在不成體統(tǒng),親愛(ài)的馬丁,你要明白這一點(diǎn)?!?/p>

她把身子朝著他靠過(guò)去,眼睛里閃出祈求的神情;他望著她嬌嫩的臉蛋,望著她純潔、清澈的眼睛,又像過(guò)去一樣,覺(jué)得自己是那樣卑微。

“希望你以后不要再抽煙了,”她悄語(yǔ)道,“求求你,看在我的分上?!薄昂冒桑也怀榱?。”他高聲說(shuō),“你讓我干什么我就干什么,無(wú)論是任何事情,親愛(ài)的,這你應(yīng)該知道?!?/p>

她聽(tīng)后芳心大動(dòng)。她清清楚楚看到了他天性中寬厚及隨和的一面,堅(jiān)信只要她要求他放棄寫(xiě)作,他一定會(huì)滿(mǎn)足她愿望。在短暫的一瞬間,這種話(huà)在她的唇邊顫抖。但她沒(méi)把話(huà)說(shuō)出來(lái),因?yàn)樗€不夠大膽,仍然缺乏這份勇氣。她迎著他湊過(guò)身去,偎在他懷里喃喃低語(yǔ):“你知道,實(shí)際上這并不是為了我,馬丁,而是為了你自己。我覺(jué)得抽煙對(duì)你是有害的;最好不要當(dāng)任何東西的奴隸,尤其不要當(dāng)麻醉品的奴隸?!薄拔乙肋h(yuǎn)當(dāng)你的奴隸?!彼⑿χf(shuō)。

“那我可就要發(fā)號(hào)施令嘍。”

她以頑皮的目光望著他,但內(nèi)心深處已經(jīng)在后悔沒(méi)提出自己最大的要求。

“愿聽(tīng)候吩咐,王后陛下?!?/p>

“我的第一道旨令是要你別忘了天天刮臉。你的胡子把我的臉扎得生疼。”

接著,兩人相互撫摸,發(fā)出愛(ài)的歡笑。她已經(jīng)達(dá)到了一個(gè)目的,一次一個(gè),不能貪多。她涌起一股女性的自豪感,因?yàn)樗顾淞藷?。下一次,她要?jiǎng)袼ブ\個(gè)職業(yè)。他不是說(shuō)過(guò),她讓他干什么他就干什么嗎?

她從他身旁走開(kāi),去巡視整個(gè)房間。她仔細(xì)查看頭頂晾繩上掛的筆記,還琢磨那架用來(lái)把自行車(chē)往天花板上吊的神秘滑車(chē)??吹阶老露逊e如山的手稿,她黯然神傷,覺(jué)得那里面耗費(fèi)了太多的時(shí)間。那只油爐贏得了她的敬慕,但在檢查食品架時(shí),卻發(fā)現(xiàn)那兒空無(wú)一物。

“天哪,一點(diǎn)吃的東西都沒(méi)有,可憐的親人兒,”她又體貼又同情地說(shuō),“你一定餓壞了?!?/p>

“我的食物都存在瑪麗亞的柜子里和廚房里,”他扯了個(gè)謊說(shuō),“存在那種地方比較好。不要擔(dān)心我會(huì)餓肚子,你瞧瞧這個(gè)就知道了?!?/p>

她回到他身邊,看他彎起胳膊肘,衣袖下的二頭肌隆起和膨脹,變成了一大團(tuán)堅(jiān)硬的肌肉。那情形令她厭惡。從感情上講,她不喜歡那肌肉。可是,她身上的脈搏、血液和每一根神經(jīng)卻喜歡它,向往它。于是,她又如昔日一般,產(chǎn)生了一種說(shuō)不清道不明的感覺(jué),非但沒(méi)有躲開(kāi),而是把身體貼了過(guò)去。緊接著,他將她緊緊摟在懷里。此刻,她那只考慮生活表面現(xiàn)象的大腦感到的是嫌惡,而她那顆對(duì)生活本身感興趣的心以及她的女性本能卻喜不自禁。在這種時(shí)刻,她才強(qiáng)烈地感受到自己對(duì)馬丁的愛(ài)是多么深沉,因?yàn)楫?dāng)馬丁用有力的胳膊緊緊地?fù)肀?、狂熱地?fù)肀阉龘У蒙砩习l(fā)疼時(shí),她高興得幾乎要暈過(guò)去。在這種時(shí)刻,她覺(jué)得背叛自己的原則、違背自己的崇高理想,尤其是暗地違抗父母,完全是正確行動(dòng)。父母不愿讓她嫁給這個(gè)男人,為她愛(ài)上他而感到震驚。有時(shí)她一離開(kāi)他,就會(huì)變得冷靜和理智,這一點(diǎn)也讓她震驚。和他在一起時(shí),她愛(ài)他——老實(shí)講,她的愛(ài)里時(shí)時(shí)摻雜著煩惱和憂(yōu)慮;但這畢竟是愛(ài)情,是一種比她本人堅(jiān)強(qiáng)的愛(ài)情。

“這種流感算不了什么,”他說(shuō),“它只是讓人感到有點(diǎn)疼痛,讓人腦袋痛得難受,但和登革熱相比便是小巫見(jiàn)大巫了。”

“怎么,你還患過(guò)登革熱?”她一邊在他的懷里尋覓天賜的超脫感,一邊心不在焉地問(wèn)。

就這樣,她以心不在焉的提問(wèn)引著他朝下說(shuō)。直到最后,他的一席話(huà)令她猛然吃了一驚。

原來(lái),他是在夏威夷的一個(gè)島嶼上,三十個(gè)麻風(fēng)病人秘密居住的地方染上這種熱病的。

“你為什么到那兒去?”她問(wèn)。

這樣拿自己的身體不當(dāng)一回事,簡(jiǎn)直就是犯罪。

“我當(dāng)時(shí)并不知道會(huì)是那樣的情形,”他答道,“我怎么也想不到會(huì)有麻風(fēng)病人。我逃離帆船后,登上沙灘,往島嶼的腹地走,想找個(gè)藏身的地方。我游蕩了三天,靠叢林中野生的番石榴、馬來(lái)蘋(píng)果以及香蕉活命。第四天,我發(fā)現(xiàn)了一條小路——那只不過(guò)是條羊腸小徑。它深入腹地,沿山而上。我正要到那個(gè)方向去,而且看出不久前有人在小徑上走過(guò)。走到一處地方,小徑爬上了一道山脊,那兒窄得猶如刀口劍鋒。山脊上的小徑寬不足三英尺,兩旁是萬(wàn)丈深淵。只要彈藥充足,一人把關(guān),十萬(wàn)人也攻不過(guò)去。

“那可是通向藏身之地的唯一道路。沿著小徑走了三個(gè)小時(shí),我總算走到了一個(gè)小山谷里,那兒四周都圍著熔巖山峰。整個(gè)谷地都筑成了梯田種植芋頭,那兒還栽有果樹(shù),坐落著八九間乃至十間茅草屋。但是一看到當(dāng)?shù)氐木用?,我就知道自己遇到了什么命運(yùn),只要瞧一眼就全明白了。”

“后來(lái)怎么樣呢?”露絲問(wèn)道。她聽(tīng)得氣也透不出來(lái)了,就像苔絲德夢(mèng)娜[2]那樣,既吃驚又入迷。

“我無(wú)計(jì)可施。他們的頭兒是個(gè)善良的老叟,雖已病入膏肓,但還像君王一樣統(tǒng)治著他們。小山谷是他發(fā)現(xiàn)的,居民點(diǎn)也是他創(chuàng)建的。這樣做是違法的,但他有槍支和大量的彈藥,而且那些卡拿加人打慣了野牛和野豬,個(gè)個(gè)都是神槍手。在那種情況下,馬丁·伊登是絕對(duì)逃不出去的。于是,他在那兒待了三個(gè)月?!?/p>

“后來(lái)你是怎么逃走的呢?”

“多虧了當(dāng)?shù)氐囊粋€(gè)一半中國(guó)血統(tǒng)、四分之一白人血統(tǒng)和四分之一夏威夷血統(tǒng)的姑娘鼎力相助,不然現(xiàn)在我還被扣在那兒呢。她是個(gè)可憐的美人兒,受過(guò)良好的教育。她母親住在檀香山,擁有百萬(wàn)家產(chǎn)。就是這樣一位姑娘最后解救了我。你要知道,居民點(diǎn)是她母親資助興辦的,所以她不害怕因放我走而遭懲罰。不過(guò),她讓我發(fā)誓永不泄露那個(gè)秘密的地方;我一直信守著諾言。這是我第一次吐露,以前可提也沒(méi)向人提過(guò)。那姑娘剛露出麻風(fēng)病的初期癥狀,右手指微微彎曲,胳膊上有個(gè)小斑點(diǎn),就是這些,想來(lái)她現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)死了。”

“你當(dāng)時(shí)就不害怕嗎?你僥幸脫逃,沒(méi)染上那種可怕的病,你就不感到高興嗎?”

“嗯,”他承認(rèn)道,“起初我有點(diǎn)心驚肉跳,后來(lái)就習(xí)慣了。不過(guò),我倒常常為那位姑娘感到惋惜;這使我忘記了害怕。她的心靈和外表都是那樣美,而且只是稍微受了點(diǎn)感染;可是她注定要留在那兒,過(guò)一種原始野人的生活,慢慢地死去。麻風(fēng)病真是太可怕了,可怕得令你無(wú)法想象。”

“可憐的姑娘?!甭督z用一種溫柔的聲音說(shuō)道,“奇怪的是,她竟然放走了你?!?/p>

“這話(huà)是什么意思?”馬丁漫不經(jīng)心地問(wèn)。

“她一定愛(ài)上了你,”露絲說(shuō)道,聲音仍很溫柔,“老實(shí)說(shuō),難道她不愛(ài)你嗎?”

馬丁的那張臉在洗衣店干活時(shí)脫去了太陽(yáng)曬出的黑色,后來(lái)足不出戶(hù),且受到饑餓和疾病的折磨,甚至蒙上了一層蒼白;這當(dāng)兒,他蒼白的臉上慢慢涌起了紅潮。他張口欲言,卻被露絲擋了回去。

“沒(méi)關(guān)系,別回答了;沒(méi)有這個(gè)必要。”她笑著說(shuō)。

他覺(jué)得她的笑聲有些生硬,眼睛里的閃光也冰冷冷的。剎那間,這讓他想起了他在北太平洋經(jīng)歷過(guò)的一場(chǎng)大風(fēng)。立時(shí),大風(fēng)的魔影浮現(xiàn)在他眼前——那場(chǎng)大風(fēng)起于夜間,當(dāng)時(shí)萬(wàn)里無(wú)云、滿(mǎn)月當(dāng)空,浩瀚的大海在月光下閃耀著冰冷冷的光。緊接著,他仿佛看到了麻風(fēng)病人隱居地的那位姑娘,想起她正是由于愛(ài)他,才放了他一條生路。

“她是個(gè)崇高的女子,”他直率地說(shuō),“是她救了我的命。”

事情的全部經(jīng)過(guò)就是這樣。他聽(tīng)見(jiàn)露絲咽下了喉管里的一聲啜泣,發(fā)現(xiàn)她轉(zhuǎn)過(guò)臉去朝窗外眺望。待她把臉扭回來(lái)時(shí),表情已恢復(fù)了平靜,從她的眼睛里再也看不到大風(fēng)的蹤影。

“我這是在冒傻氣,”她凄哀地說(shuō),“但我欲禁不能,因?yàn)槲姨珢?ài)你了。是的,我愛(ài)你,馬丁。我早晚會(huì)變得寬宏大量的,可現(xiàn)在我還是不能不忌妒過(guò)去的那些鬼魂。你知道,你的過(guò)去被鬼魂所充斥?!?/p>

“情況肯定是這樣,”她未容他反駁,繼續(xù)說(shuō)道,“不可能會(huì)是別的一種樣子。唉,可憐的阿瑟在打手勢(shì)喚我走呢,他等得不耐煩了。再見(jiàn)吧,親愛(ài)的?!?/p>

“藥劑師配制出一種藥,有助于戒煙,”她走到門(mén)口回過(guò)身來(lái)說(shuō),“到時(shí)候我給你送一些來(lái)。”

房門(mén)合上了,但又被打開(kāi)了。

“我愛(ài)你,我愛(ài)你?!彼穆暃_著他低語(yǔ);話(huà)一說(shuō)完,她真的走了。

瑪麗亞送她上馬車(chē),目光中充滿(mǎn)了崇拜但也不失敏銳,注意到了她衣服的質(zhì)地和款式(這種款式從未見(jiàn)過(guò),所產(chǎn)生的效果具有神奇的美)。那群頑童失望地目送著馬車(chē)從視野中消失,然后把目光轉(zhuǎn)移到瑪麗亞身上,她一下子變成了街上最了不起的人物??墒?,她自己的一個(gè)孩子卻對(duì)大伙兒說(shuō)那兩位高貴的客人是來(lái)找他們家房客的,這一下算毀掉了她的聲望?,旣悂営殖闪嗽鹊哪莻€(gè)默默無(wú)聞的人,而馬丁卻發(fā)現(xiàn)鄰里的小孩子們開(kāi)始以畢恭畢敬的態(tài)度對(duì)待他。至于瑪麗亞,馬丁在她眼里的身價(jià)足足提高了一倍。那個(gè)葡萄牙食品商要是目睹了這天下午客人乘馬車(chē)來(lái)訪(fǎng)的場(chǎng)景,準(zhǔn)會(huì)允許馬丁再賒三元八角五分錢(qián)的賬。

* * *

[1] Watch my smoke(瞧我的本事),按字面可被誤解為“瞧我抽煙”。

[2] 莎劇《奧賽羅》中的女主人公,被奧賽羅講述的英勇經(jīng)歷迷住,終于不顧種族的不同嫁給了他。

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