嘉莉妹妹(Sister Carrie) 第十三章-英语小说-

嘉莉妹妹(Sister Carrie) 第十三章-英语小说- 嘉莉妹妹(Sister Carrie) 第十三章 更多英语小说-请点击这里获得 Chapter 13 HIS CREDENTIALS ACCEPTED--A BABEL OF TONGUES It was not quite two days after the scene between Carrie and Hurstwood in the Ogden Place parlour before he again put in his appearance. He had been thinking almost uninterruptedly of her. Her leniency had, in a way, inflamed his regard. He felt that he must succeed with her, and that speedily. The reason for his interest, not to say fascination, was deeper than mere desire. It was a flowering out of feelings which had been withering in dry and almost barren soil for many years. It is probable that Carrie represented a better order of woman than had ever attracted him before. He had had no love affair since that which culminated in his marriage, and since then time and the world had taught him how raw and erroneous was his original judgment. Whenever he thought of it, he told himself that, if he had it to do over again, he would never marry such a woman. At the same time, his experience with women in general had lessened his respect for the sex. He maintained a cynical attitude, well grounded on numerous experiences. Such women as he had known were of nearly one type, selfish, ignorant, flashy. The wives of his friends were not inspiring to look upon. His own wife had developed a cold, commonplace nature which to him was anything but pleasing. What he knew of that under-world where grovel the beat-men of society (and he knew a great deal) had hardened his nature. He looked upon most women with suspicion--a single eye to the utility of beauty and dress. He followed them with a keen, suggestive glance. At the same time, he was not so dull but that a good woman commanded his respect. Personally, he did not attempt to analyse the marvel of a saintly woman. He would take off his hat, and would silence the light-tongued and the vicious in her presence--much as the Irish keeper of a Bowery hall will humble himself before a Sister of Mercy, and pay toll to charity with a willing and reverent hand. But he would not think much upon the question of why he did so. A man in his situation who comes, after a long round of worthless or hardening experiences, upon a young, unsophisticated, innocent soul, is apt either to hold aloof, out of a sense of his own remoteness, or to draw near and become fascinated and elated by his discovery. It is only by a roundabout process that such men ever do draw near such a girl. They have no method, no understanding of how to ingratiate themselves in youthful favour, save when they find virtue in the toils. If, unfortunately, the fly has got caught in the net, the spider can come forth and talk business upon its own terms. So when maidenhood has wandered into the moil of the city, when it is brought within the circle of the "rounder" and the roue, even though it be at the outermost rim, they can come forth and use their alluring arts. Hurstwood had gone, at Drouet's invitation, to meet a new baggage of fine clothes and pretty features. He entered, expecting to indulge in an evening of lightsome frolic, and then lose track of the newcomer forever. Instead he found a woman whose youth and beauty attracted him. In the mild light of Carrie's eye was nothing of the calculation of the mistress. In the diffident manner was nothing of the art of the courtesan. He saw at once that a mistake had been made, that some difficult conditions had pushed this troubled creature into his presence, and his interest was enlisted. Here sympathy sprang to the rescue, but it was not unmixed with selfishness. He wanted to win Carrie because he thought her fate mingled with his was better than if it were united with Drouet's. He envied the drummer his conquest as he had never envied any man in all the course of his experience. Carrie was certainly better than this man, as she was superior, mentally, to Drouet. She came fresh from the air of the village, the light of the country still in her eye. Here was neither guile nor rapacity. There were slight inherited traits of both in her, but they were rudimentary. She was too full of wonder and desire to be greedy. She still looked about her upon the great maze of the city without understanding. Hurstwood felt the bloom and the youth. He picked her as he would the fresh fruit of a tree. He felt as fresh in her presence as one who is taken out of the flash of summer to the first cool breath of spring. Carrie, left alone since the scene in question, and having no one with whom to counsel, had at first wandered from one strange mental conclusion to another, until at last, tired out, she gave it up. She owed something to Drouet, she thought. It did not seem more than yesterday that he had aided her when she was worried and distressed. She had the kindliest feelings for him in every way. She gave him credit for his good looks, his generous feelings, and even, in fact, failed to recollect his egotism when he was absent; but she could not feel any binding influence keeping her for him as against all others. In fact, such a thought had never had any grounding, even in Drouet's desires. The truth is, that this goodly drummer carried the doom of all enduring relationships in his own lightsome manner and unstable fancy. He went merrily on, assured that he was alluring all, that affection followed tenderly in his wake, that things would endure unchangingly for his pleasure. When he missed some old face, or found some door finally shut to him, it did not grieve him deeply. He was too young, too successful. He would remain thus young in spirit until he was dead. As for Hurstwood, he was alive with thoughts and feelings concerning Carrie. He had no definite plans regarding her, but he was determined to make her confess an affection for him. He thought he saw in her drooping eye, her unstable glance, her wavering manner, the symptoms of a budding passion. He wanted to stand near her and make her lay her hand in his--he wanted to find out what her next step would be--what the next sign of feeling for him would be. Such anxiety and enthusiasm had not affected him for years. He was a youth again in feeling-a cavalier in action. In his position opportunity for taking his evenings out was excellent. He was a most faithful worker in general, and a man who commanded the confidence of his employers in so far as the distribution of his time was concerned. He could take such hours off as he chose, for it was well known that he fulfilled his managerial duties successfully, whatever time he might take. His grace, tact, and ornate appearance gave the place an air which was most essential, while at the same time his long experience made him a most excellent judge of its stock necessities. Bartenders and assistants might come and go, singly or in groups, but, so long as he was present, the host of old-time customers would barely notice the change. He gave the place the atmosphere to which they were used. Consequently, he arranged his hours very much to suit himself, taking now an afternoon, now an evening, but invariably returning between eleven and twelve to witness the last hour or two of the day's business and look after the closing details. "You see that things are safe and all the employees are out when you go home, George," Moy had once remarked to him, and he never once, in all the period of his long service, neglected to do this. Neither of the owners had for years been in the resort after five in the afternoon, and yet their manager as faithfully fulfilled this request as if they had been there regularly to observe. On this Friday afternoon, scarcely two days after his previous visit, he made up his mind to see Carrie. He could not stay away longer. "Evans," he said, addressing the head barkeeper, "if any one calls, I will be back between four and five." He hurried to Madison Street and boarded a horse-car, which carried him to Ogden Place in half an hour. Carrie had thought of going for a walk, and had put on a light grey woollen dress with a jaunty double-breasted jacket. She had out her hat and gloves, and was fastening a white lace tie about her throat when the housemaid brought up the information that Mr. Hurstwood wished to see her. She started slightly at the announcement, but told the girl to say that she would come down in a moment, and proceeded to hasten her dressing. Carrie could not have told herself at this moment whether she was glad or sorry that the impressive manager was awaiting her presence. She was slightly flurried and tingling in the cheeks, but it was more nervousness than either fear or favour. She did not try to conjecture what the drift of the conversation would be. She only felt that she must be careful, and that Hurstwood had an indefinable fascination for her. Then she gave her tie its last touch with her fingers and went below. The deep-feeling manager was himself a little strained in the nerves by the thorough consciousness of his mission. He felt that he must make a strong play on this occasion, but now that the hour was come, and he heard Carrie's feet upon the stair, his nerve failed him. He sank a little in determination, for he was not so sure, after all, what her opinion might be. When she entered the room, however, her appearance gave him courage. She looked simple and charming enough to strengthen the daring of any lover. Her apparent nervousness dispelled his own. "How are you?" he said, easily. "I could not resist the temptation to come out this afternoon, it was so pleasant." "Yes," said Carrie, halting before him, "I was just preparing to go for a walk myself." "Oh, were you?" he said. "Supposing, then, you get your hat and we both go?" They crossed the park and went west along Washington Boulevard, beautiful with its broad macadamised road, and large frame houses set back from the sidewalks. It was a street where many of the more prosperous residents of the West Side lived, and Hurstwood could not help feeling nervous over the publicity of it. They had gone but a few blocks when a livery stable sign in one of the side streets solved the difficulty for him. He would take her to drive along the new Boulevard. The Boulevard at that time was little more than a country road. The part he intended showing her was much farther out on this same West Side, where there was scarcely a house. It connected Douglas Park with Washington or South Park, and was nothing more than a neatly MADE road, running due south for some five miles over an open, grassy prairie, and then due east over the same kind of prairie for the same distance. There was not a house to be encountered anywhere along the larger part of the route, and any conversation would be pleasantly free of interruption. At the stable he picked a gentle horse, and they were soon out of range of either public observation or hearing. "Can you drive?" he said, after a time. "I never tried," said Carrie. He put the reins in her hand, and folded his arms. "You see there's nothing to it much," he said, smilingly. "Not when you have a gentle horse," said Carrie. "You can handle a horse as well as any one, after a little practice," he added, encouragingly. He had been looking for some time for a break in the conversation when he could give it a serious turn. Once or twice he had held his peace, hoping that in silence her thoughts would take the colour of his own, but she had lightly continued the subject. Presently, however, his silence controlled the situation. The drift of his thoughts began to tell. He gazed fixedly at nothing in particular, as if he were thinking of something which concerned her not at all. His thoughts, however, spoke for themselves. She was very much aware that a climax was pending. "Do you know," he said, "I have spent the happiest evenings in years since I have known you?" "Have you?" she said, with assumed airiness, but still excited by the conviction which the tone of his voice carried. "I was going to tell you the other evening," he added, "but somehow the opportunity slipped away." Carrie was listening without attempting to reply. She could think of nothing worth while to say. Despite all the ideas concerning right which had troubled her vaguely since she had last seen him, she was now influenced again strongly in his favour. "I came out here to-day," he went on, solemnly, "to tell you just how I feel--to see if you wouldn't listen to me." Hurstwood was something of a romanticist after his kind. He was capable of strong feelings--often poetic ones--and under a stress of desire, such as the present, he waxed eloquent. That is, his feelings and his voice were coloured with that seeming repression and pathos which is the essence of eloquence. "You know," he said, putting his hand on her arm, and keeping a strange silence while he formulated words, "that I love you?" Carrie did not stir at the words. She was bound up completely in the man's atmosphere. He would have churchlike silence in order to express his feelings, and she kept it. She did not move her eyes from the flat, open scene before her. Hurstwood waited for a few moments, and then repeated the words. "You must not say that," she said, weakly. Her words were not convincing at all. They were the result of a feeble thought that something ought to be said. He paid no attention to them whatever. "Carrie," he said, using her first name with sympathetic familiarity, "I want you to love me. You don't know how much I need some one to waste a little affection on me. I am practically alone. There is nothing in my life that is pleasant or delightful. It's all work and worry with people who are nothing to me." As he said this, Hurstwood really imagined that his state was pitiful. He had the ability to get off at a distance and view himself objectively--of seeing what he wanted to see in the things which made up his existence. Now, as he spoke, his voice trembled with that peculiar vibration which is the result of tensity. It went ringing home to his companion's heart. "Why, I should think," she said, turning upon him large eyes which were full of sympathy and feeling, "that you would be very happy. You know so much of the world." "That is it," he said, his voice dropping to a soft minor, "I know too much of the world." It was an important thing to her to hear one so well-positioned and powerful speaking in this manner. She could not help feeling the strangeness of her situation. How was it that, in so little a while, the narrow life of the country had fallen from her as a garment, and the city, with all its mystery, taken its place? Here was this greatest mystery, the man of money and affairs sitting beside her, appealing to her. Behold, he had ease and comfort, his strength was great, his position high, his clothing rich, and yet he was appealing to her. She could formulate no thought which would be just and right. She troubled herself no more upon the matter. She only basked in the warmth of his feeling, which was as a grateful blaze to one who is cold. Hurstwood glowed with his own intensity, and the heat of his passion was already melting the wax of his companion's scruples. "You think," he said, "I am happy; that I ought not to complain? If you were to meet all day with people who care absolutely nothing about you, if you went day after day to a place where there was nothing but show and indifference, if there was not one person in all those you knew to whom you could appeal for sympathy or talk to with pleasure, perhaps you would be unhappy too. He was striking a chord now which found sympathetic response in her own situation. She knew what it was to meet with people who were indifferent, to walk alone amid so many who cared absolutely nothing about you. Had not she? Was not she at this very moment quite alone? Who was there among all whom she knew to whom she could appeal for sympathy? Not one. She was left to herself to brood and wonder. "I could be content," went on Hurstwood, "if I had you to love me. If I had you to go to; you for a companion. As it is, I simply move about from place to place without any satisfaction. Time hangs heavily on my hands. Before you came I did nothing but idle and drift into anything that offered itself. Since you came--well, I've had you to think about." The old illusion that here was some one who needed her aid began to grow in Carrie's mind. She truly pitied this sad, lonely figure. To think that all his fine state should be so barren for want of her; that he needed to make such an appeal when she herself was lonely and without anchor. Surely, this was too bad. "I am not very bad," he said, apologetically, as if he owed it to her to explain on this score. "You think, probably, that I roam around, and get into all sorts of evil? I have been rather reckless, but I could easily come out of that. I need you to draw me back, if my life ever amounts to anything." Carrie looked at him with the tenderness which virtue ever feels in its hope of reclaiming vice. How could such a man need reclaiming? His errors, what were they, that she could correct? Small they must be, where all was so fine. At worst, they were gilded affairs, and with what leniency are gilded errors viewed. He put himself in such a lonely light that she was deeply moved. "Is it that way?" she mused. He slipped his arm about her waist, and she could not find the heart to draw away. With his free hand he seized upon her fingers. A breath of soft spring wind went bounding over the road, rolling some brown twigs of the previous autumn before it. The horse paced leisurely on, unguided. "Tell me," he said, softly, "that you love me." Her eyes fell consciously. "Own to it, dear," he said, feelingly; "you do, don't you?" She made no answer, but he felt his victory. "Tell me," he said, richly, drawing her so close that their lips were near together. He pressed her hand warmly, and then released it to touch her cheek. "You do?" he said, pressing his lips to her own. For answer, her lips replied. "Now," he said, joyously, his fine eyes ablaze, "you're my own girl, aren't you?" By way of further conclusion, her head lay softly upon his shoulder. 第十三章 暗结同心:困惑和迷茫 嘉莉和赫斯渥在奥登公寓会客室会见相隔不到两天，赫斯渥又来求见了。他几乎无时无刻不在思念她。在一定程度上，她的宽容态度也煽起了他的爱慕之情。他感到他必须得到她，而且很快得到她。 他对她的兴趣，简直可以说是神魂颠倒，并非是单纯的性欲。这是多年在干旱贫瘠的土壤中不断枯萎的情感，又发出了新芽，开出新花。这也许是因为嘉莉不同于他以往爱慕的女人:她比她们更优秀。自从那次恋爱结婚以来，他再没有谈过恋爱。而自那以来，时间和阅历已使他认识到他当初的择偶是多么草率和错误。每次想到这一点，他就暗暗地想，要是可以重新来过，他是绝不会娶这种女人的。与此同时，他和女性的来往总的来说大大降低了他对女性的敬意。 无数次的经验使他对她们抱着一种讥嘲不屑的态度。他以往认识的女性几乎都属于同一类型:自私、无知、俗艳。他朋友们的妻子也让他看不上眼。他自己的太太已养成了一种冷漠和庸俗的品性，这一点是绝对不会讨人喜欢的。下层社会那些禽兽般的男人们卑劣取乐的事情他知道的不少。这使他的心肠变硬了。他用怀疑的目光打量大多数妇女--他只注意她们的姿色和服饰的效果，用一种锐利和调情的目光看着她们。不过他的心还没有完全麻木，因此当他发现一个善良女子时，他油然起敬。就个人而言，他并没有费心去分析圣洁女子这种奇妙事物。在她面前，他只是脱帽致敬，并让那些轻薄恶少们闭上嘴--就像巴沃莱大街上下等娱乐场所的爱尔兰老板会在天主教慈惠会的修女面前谦恭地低下头，用虔诚的手心甘情愿地献上慈善捐款。但是他并不愿意去多想他为什么这样做。 处于他这种地位的男人，在经历了一连串无聊或让人心肠变硬的事情以后，一旦遇上一个年少单纯、纯洁无邪的女子，他也许会出于双方差异悬殊的考虑而和她保持距离;但他也可能被这种意外发现迷住了，为自己的发现欣喜若狂，于是被吸引了过去。这种人用迂回曲折的手段接近她们，他们不会也不懂如何取悦这种姑娘，除非他们发现这天真的姑娘入了圈套。假如苍蝇不幸落入蜘蛛网，蜘蛛就会走上前去，提条款开谈判。所以那些少女们流落到大城市时，一旦落入了这些浪子和登徒子之流的圈套，即使只是碰到了圈套的最边缘，他们也会走上前来，施展勾搭引诱的花招。 赫斯渥原是应杜洛埃的邀请，去看他新到手的女人，猜想那不过是又一个绣花枕头而已;姿色出众，衣服鲜亮，肚子里一包草。他进门时，只期待着度过一个寻欢作乐的轻松夜晚，然后就把这个新结识的女人丢在脑后。出乎他意料，他见到了一个年轻美丽让他动心的女人。在嘉莉温柔的目光中，他看不到一丁点情妇们精于算计的眼神。她羞怯的举止迥然不同于妓女的惺惺作态。他立刻看出自己弄错了。他看出这不幸的少女是被某些困境推到了他的面前，这引起了他的兴趣。他的同情心油然而生，不过这里面也夹杂着个人的打算。他想把嘉莉弄到手，因为她相信嘉莉如果和他结合在一起，她的命运会比和杜洛埃在一起好一些。现在他对这个推销员的妒忌超出了有生以来他对任何人的妒忌。 嘉莉当然要比杜洛埃这家伙强，因为她在精神上要比他高尚。她刚从农村来，身上还带着乡村的气息，目光中还保留着乡村的光芒。在她身上没有狡诈和贪婪。她的天性中继承了一丁点儿这些坏毛病，但那只不过是一些残痕。她现在充满了惊奇和渴望，当然不会有贪婪的念头。她打量着周围像迷宫一般的城市市容。仍然感到一片茫然。赫斯渥在她身上看到了花苞初放的青春，他要摘取她，就像摘取树上的鲜果。在她面前，他感到精神振奋，就好像一个人从夏天的烈日下来到了初春的清新空气中。 自从上次见面以后，嘉莉孤零零一个人，没有人可以商量。脑子里一会儿这么想，一会儿那么想，想不出一个结果。最后 想累了，干脆搁到一边去了。她觉得她欠了杜洛埃一份人情。杜洛埃帮助她摆脱困难和烦恼仿佛还是昨天的事。她对他各方面都怀着最美好的感情，她承认他相貌英俊，为人慷慨大方。他不在身边时，她甚至不去想他的自我主义。但是她感到他们之间并不存在一种束缚力限制她和别人来往。事实上，和杜洛埃厮守一辈子的想法是毫无根据的，甚至杜洛埃本人也没这种打算。 说实在的，这个讨人喜欢的推销员不可能维持任何持久的关系。他无忧无虑情感多变，日子过得兴高采烈，自以为人人为他着迷，到处有情人盼他回去，事情会永远不变，供他取乐开心。如果个老相识不再谋面或者某位老朋友不肯再接待他，他并不感到很伤心。他正青春年少，一帆风顺。他到老死也会保留着这颗年轻人的心。 关于赫斯渥，他心里充满着关于嘉莉的种种思绪和情感。 他对嘉莉并没有明确的打算，但是他决心要让她吐露她对他的爱。从她低垂的眼睛，躲闪的目光和游离的神态中，他认为他已经看到了初萌的爱情的迹象。他要站在她身边握着她的手--他想知道下一步她会怎么样--下一步她会怎么流露她的感情。已有多年他没有感受到这么大的焦虑和这么深的热情了。在情感上他又成了年轻人--一个驰骋情场的骑士。 由于他的职务之便，他晚上要出外很方便。一般来说，他非常忠于职守。因此他在时间支配上很得老板的信赖，他想什么时候离开一会都没问题，店里都知道他的经理职责完成得很出色。他的翩翩风度、圆活态度和华丽外表给了这个地方一种高雅气氛，这一点对酒店的成功是至关重要的。他有长期的工作经验，在决定购货储备上很精明。酒保和招待可以换了一茬又一茬，不管单个的变动还是整批的变动，但是只要有他在，那些老顾客几乎没注意到任何变化，他使这地方有了一种他们熟悉的气氛。因此在时间安排上，他往往根据个人的需要，有时下午出去，有时晚上离开一下，但是总是在晚上十一二点之间回到店里，监督一天最后一两个小时的生意，照料打烊的种种琐事。 “乔治，你一定要等一切事情弄妥了，所有的雇员都走了，你才走。”莫埃曾对他这么说。自那以来，在他长期的任职期间，他没有一次忽略过这个要求。两个老板已有好多年没有在下午,点以后到店里来过了。但是他们的经理仍忠实地履行着这个规定，就好像他们会经常到店里来视察一样。 这个星期五下午，离上次拜望相隔还没到两天，他就决定去看嘉莉。他无法再等了。 “伊文思，”他对酒柜领班说，“如果有人找我，就说我四五点钟会回来的。”他急急走到麦迪生大街，坐上公共马车，半小 时后来到了奥登广常嘉莉正打算去散步。她已穿上淡灰羊毛女装，外罩一件时髦的双排扣上装。帽子和手套也已取出来了，正在脖上系一条白色花边领饰。就在这时公寓女仆上来禀告说赫斯渥来访。 嘉莉微微吃了一惊，不过她要女个仆下去说，她马上下来，一边加紧穿衣打扮。 嘉莉自己也不知道对于这位仪表堂堂的经理来访究竟是高兴还是遗憾。她突然一阵心慌，两颊微微发烧。不过这是出于紧张，而不是害怕或喜爱。她没有去想他们可能聊些什么，她只感觉到她必须当心一点，因为赫斯渥对她有一种说不清的吸引力。她用手指最后整理了一下领饰就下楼去了。 那位一往情深的经理心里也有那么一点紧张，因为他充分明瞭自己此行的目的，他感到这一次他一定要采取果敢行动。可是事到临头，听到楼梯上传来嘉莉的脚步声，他又有点胆怯了。他的决心不像刚才那么大了，因为他毕竟并不知道她的想法会是什么。 可是当她走进房间时，她的容貌给了他勇气。她看上去那么清纯可爱，足以给任何一个情人以勇气。看得出她心里紧张，于是他的紧张就消失了。 “你好吗,”他从容地说，“今天下午天气这么好，我克 制不住就想出来走走。”“是呀，”嘉莉说着来到了他的面前，"我本来也打算去散散步。”“噢，是吗,”他说，“那么你拿上帽子，我们一起去走走怎么样,”他们穿过公园，沿着华盛顿大街往西走。那是一条漂亮的碎石子铺的路，两旁宽敞的木头房屋和人行道隔了一些距离。 西区好些有钱人家住在这里，因此赫斯渥不由担心招人耳目。 不过他们还没走过几条马路，就在一条横马路上看见一家出租马车的招牌，这给他解决了难题:他要带她坐马车逛逛新的林荫大道。 那条林荫大道当时和一条乡村大路差不多。他想带她去看的那段路在西区以外，那里几乎没有什么房子。这条路把道格拉斯公园和华盛顿公园(也就是南公园)联结起来，完全是一条规划整齐的道路。往正南穿过一片开阔的草地，大约有五英里的距离，然后折向正东，穿过同样距离的草地。这条路上大部分地段看不到一栋房子，可以放心地谈话，不用怕人打扰。 在马厩里他挑了一匹温顺的马，他们不久就驶出了可能被人看见或听见的地段。 “你会驾马车吗,”过了一会儿他说。 “我没试过，”嘉莉回答。 他把缰绳放在她手里，自己两手一抱，坐在一旁。 “你瞧，这没什么难的，”他含笑说道。 “马很温顺，当然就不难了，”嘉莉说。 “稍微练习一下，你驾车的本领就不会比谁差了。”他鼓励地又加了一句。 他一直在寻找机会把谈话往正题上引。有一两次他保持沉默，希望在沉默中她的思绪会受到他的感染。但是她仍然轻松地谈着原来的话题。不过，没过多大功夫，他的沉默起了作用，他的思路开始影响她的情绪。他的目光久久凝视着前方，并不特别看什么东西，好像他在想一些完全和她无关的事。但是他的心事是很明显的。她清楚地意识到决定他们关系的关键时刻说来就来了。“你知道吗,”他说，“我和你在一起的那几个夜晚是我多年来最幸福的时光。”“真的吗,”她假装不在意地说道。但是他的口气却让她相信他说的是实话，心里不由得激动起来。 “这些话那天晚上我就想告诉你的，”他补充说，“但是 不知怎么错过了机会。”嘉莉专心听着，没打算回答，她想不出什么值得说的话。 尽管自上次见面以后，她心里一直隐隐感到苦恼，不知道这件事对不对，她现在又被他深深迷住了。 “我今天到这里来，”他继续神情严肃地说，“是为了告诉你我对你的感情，我不知道你是不是肯听我说这些。”赫斯渥按其本性实在是一个浪漫派人物。他具有热烈的情感，经常是很富有诗意的情感。在欲望的驱使下，就像眼下，他的口才大增。他的感情和声音似乎带上压抑苦闷和忧伤缠绵的色彩，这一点正是语言具有感人力量的实质。 “你一定已经知道，”他说着把手放在她的手臂上。在想着该怎么往下说时，他保持着奇异的沉默，"我爱上了你。"嘉莉听了这话一动也没动，她被这个男人创造的气氛迷住了。为了表达他的感情，他需要一种教堂般的肃穆，而她就让这种肃穆气氛笼罩了，目光仍然看着眼前开阔平坦的景色。 过了两分钟，赫斯渥又把他的话重复了一遍。 “你不该说这话的，”她软弱无力地说。 她这话缺乏说服力，她这么说只是她隐隐想到她该说些什么。他对她的话不加理睬。 “嘉莉，”他用亲密熟悉的口吻叫着她的小名，“我要你爱我。你无法想象我多么需要有人给我一点爱。我真的很孤单。” “我的生活中没有一点愉快和欢乐，只有工作和为不相干的人操劳。”当他说这话时，他真的以为他的处境非常可怜。赫斯渥具有一种以旁观者的身份客观看待自己的能力，他能看到他愿意看到的他的生活的各个方面。他说话时，由于紧张的缘故，声音里带着一种特别的颤抖和振动。这声音激起了他的女伴心中的同情。 “哎呀，在我看来，”她说话时用她那双充满同情和感慨的大眼睛看着他，“你应该感到很幸福才对。你有那么丰富的人生阅历。”“就是这个原因，”他的声音变得轻柔低沉，“就是因为我看到的太多了一点。”这么一个有权有势的人物对她说这些话，这对嘉莉来说可不是一件无关痛痒的小事。她不由感到自己的处境奇特。这是怎么啦,难道在这么短的时间里，她的狭隘的乡村生活经历就像一件衣服从她身上掉了下来，换上了一件神秘的城市外衣,她眼前就是一个最大的城市之谜:这个有钱有势的男人坐在她身旁，在向她恳求。瞧，他的日子轻松舒适，他的势力很大，地位很高，衣服很讲究，然而他却在向她恳求，她没法就这事形成一个正确公正的想法，于是她就不再费心去想这件事。 她让自己沐浴在他的情感带给她的温暖中，就像一个挨冻受寒的人来到一盆炉火旁感到感激。赫斯渥的热情在炽热地燃烧，在他的激情感化下，他的女伴的种种顾忌就像蜡一样溶化了。 “你以为我很幸福，”他说，“所以我不该抱怨，是吗,如果你也像我一样，整天要和那些对你漠不关心的人打交道，如果你也像我一样，日复一日要到一个冷漠无情只讲排场的地方去，找不到一个可以指望得到他的同情的人或者一个你可以和他愉快聊聊的人，也许你也会感到不快乐的。”他的话叩击着她的同情的心弦，使她想到她自己的处境。 她知道和漠不关心的人打交道是怎么一回事，在那些冷漠无情的人群中孤独无依又是什么滋味。她曾经不就是那样的吗, 她现在不仍然是孤苦零仃吗,在所有她认识的人中，她可以向谁请求同情呢,没有一个人。她只有独自一个在那里沉思和惊讶。 “如果我有你爱我，”赫斯渥继续说，“我就会满足了。只要我能和你在一起，有你作伴。事实上，我现在只是到处转悠，得不到一点满足，日子很难打发。在见到你以前，我只是在无聊地混日子，得过且过而已。自从见了你以后，--你知道，我一直在想你。” 就像她曾经幻想的那样，嘉莉脑子里开始以为她终于遇到了一个需要她的帮助的人。她真的可怜起这个悲伤孤独的人来了。想想吧，他那么优越的境况，就因为少了她，弄得了无生趣。想想看他竟然得这么哀哀恳求她，可她自己也感到那么孤独无依。这一切不是太糟了吗, “我并不是一个很坏的人，”他道歉似地说，好像他有必要在这点上对她作些解释似的，“你该不会认为我在各处混，一定干尽坏事了,我做事有些鲁莽轻率，但是我很容易改的。我需要你拉我一把，这样我的生活才会有点意义。”嘉莉温柔地望着他，希望以自己的德行感化这个迷途羔羊。这么一个了不起的人怎么还需要别人拯救呢,他会有些什么错误需要她的纠正呢,他的一切是那么出色，他的错误一定是微不足道的。它们至多不过是些有钱人无伤大雅的错误，而对这些镀了金的错误，人们一向是宽宏大量的。 他把自己说得那么可怜巴巴的，使她深受感动。 “真是这样的吗,”她沉思着。 他用一个胳膊搂住了她的腰，而她狠不下心来挣脱。他用另一只手握住了她的手指。一阵柔和的春风在路上欢快地吹过，卷起前一年秋天落下的黄叶枯枝。马没有人驾驭，自己悠悠哉哉地往前走着。 “告诉我，”他轻轻地说，“说你爱我。” 她羞答答地垂下了眼睛。 “承认吧，亲爱的，”他情意绵绵地说，“你爱我，是不是,”她没有回答，但是他感到自己胜利了。 “告诉我吧，”他用圆润的声音说。他把她拉得那么近，他们的嘴唇几乎连在了一起。他热烈地握住她的手，然后放开手去抚摸她的脸蛋。 “你爱我，对吗,”他说着，就把自己的嘴唇按在她的唇上。 作为回答，她的嘴唇回吻了他。 “现在，”他欢乐地说，漂亮的眼睛兴奋得发出光来，“你现在是我的情人了，是吗,”作为进一步的证实，她把头温柔地靠在他的肩上。 本文章由异次元猫猫收集整理