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马丁·伊登|Martin Eden

第五章|CHAPTER V|Chapter 5

属类： 双语小说 【分类】双语小说 -[作者: 杰克-伦敦] 阅读：[1927]
马丁（卢卡·马里内利 Luca Marinelli 饰）出生在贫穷的家庭之中，没有上过几年的学，如今和姐姐过着相依为命的日子，并且成为了一名终日漂泊在茫茫大海之上的水手。一天，马丁邂逅了名为爱莲娜（杰西卡·塞西 Jessica Cressy 饰）的千金大小姐，爱莲娜将法国诗人波德莱尔的诗集借给马丁看。马丁这辈子从来都没有看过这样的文字，一下子便被深深的吸引了，在海上漂泊的漫长时光里，他如饥似渴的吸收着这些知识，并且渐渐开始产生了自己写作的念头。　　马丁失业了，借此机会，他决定正式走上写作的道路。他不断的投稿，又不断的遭遇退稿，唯一没有想过的就是放弃。最终，马丁的小说被出版了，这令他收获了无数的名誉和财富。
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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次日早晨，他从玫瑰色的梦境中醒来，回到弥漫着水蒸气的环境里，这儿散发着肥皂水和脏衣服的气味，回响着杂乱的生活所具有的刺耳噪音。走出房间时，他听到了哗啦哗啦的搅水声、尖厉的叫喊声和响亮的掴耳光的声音，那是他姐姐在拿众多儿女中的一个出气。孩子的哭叫声像刀子一样扎在他的心头。他觉得周围的一切，包括他所呼吸的空气，都叫人感到厌恶和不舒服。他心想，这与露丝家的那种美好和宁静的气氛有着多么大的差异。那儿的一切都属于精神世界，而这里的一切却如此现实，现实得令人作呕。

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“到这里来，阿尔弗雷德。”他对那个哭哭啼啼的孩子叫道，同时把手伸进了裤袋里。他的钱就放在那儿，随随便便的，和他平日自由散漫的生活方式一样。他把一张二角五分的钞票放在孩子的手里，然后将孩子搂在怀里，哄着他，叫他不要再哭。“去吧，去买点糖果吃，别忘了分给弟弟妹妹一些。记住，要买最经吃的那种。”

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他姐姐从洗衣盆上抬起涨红的脸，望了他一眼。

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“五分钱就够了，”她说，“瞧你这个样子，一点也不知道珍惜钱。让孩子吃那么多，会把他吃出病的。”

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“没什么，姐姐，”他乐呵呵地说，“我会节省着花钱的。要不是你这么忙，我会亲亲你，向你道个早安。”

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他很想对他的这个姐姐表示自己的一片温情，因为她是个好人；他知道，她在以她的方式爱着他。可是，不知怎么，随着时光一年年地流逝，她变得愈来愈不像过去的她，愈来愈难以叫人捉摸。他觉得，全是由于繁重的家务、成群的孩子以及丈夫的唠叨，她才变了样。他突生异想，认为她的天性似乎遭到了腐烂的蔬菜和难闻的肥皂水的污染，遭到了她在零售店的柜台上收下的一角一分钱币的污染。

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“去吃你的早饭吧！”她尽管心里很高兴，但说话的语调却粗声粗气。在分布各地的所有的兄弟中，她一直最疼爱的就是这个。“我真想吻吻你啊。”她说，心里突然感到一阵激动。

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她用拇指和食指抹去一条胳膊上滴下来的肥皂水，接着又去抹另一条胳膊。他把两条臂膀搂在她粗大的腰肢上，吻了吻她那湿漉漉、水汽蒙蒙的嘴唇。泪水在她的眼眶里打转转——这可不全是因为感情冲动，多是由于过度疲劳，身体虚弱的缘故。她一把将他从身边推开，可他还是瞧见了她那泪水模糊的眼睛。

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“你的早饭在炉子上热着，”她慌忙说道，“吉姆这个时候也该起来了。我今天起了个大早，因为要把衣服洗出来。汤姆不干了，找不到人手，伯纳德只好亲自去赶大车，今天绝不会有好脸。”

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马丁怀着沉重的心情走进了厨房。姐姐红涨的面孔和邋遢的身段像硫酸一样蚀入了他的大脑。他敢肯定，她如果能有点闲暇，会好好疼他的，可惜她干起活辛苦得要命，因为伯纳德·希金波森是个畜生，把她逼得太狠。但话又说回来，他总觉得她的吻里没有一丝一毫美好的成分。不错，这是一个不同寻常的吻，因为多年来，只有当他航海归来或出海时，她才吻他。不过，这个吻带着肥皂水味，而且他还注意到她的嘴唇松弛无力，缺乏亲吻时应该具有的热情和活力。她的吻是精疲力竭的吻，因为她长期以来辛苦劳作，已忘掉了该怎样亲吻。记得她结婚之前当姑娘的时候，在洗衣坊辛苦了一天，还要和最出色的男孩通宵达旦地跳舞，丝毫不理会自己跳完舞后还要干一天重活。接着，他又想到了露丝，想到她的芳唇一定有一种凉丝丝、甜蜜蜜的味儿，因为她浑身上下都散发出这种芳香。她的吻一定像她的握手或打量人的眼神，坚定而坦率。他放大胆幻想着她的芳唇印在了他的嘴唇上，而且这一想象异常逼真，使得他飘飘欲仙，仿佛穿行在玫瑰花瓣组成的云彩之间，闻到的净是芬芳的花香。

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在厨房里，他看到另一个房客吉姆正在慢吞吞地喝麦片粥，眼睛里露出一种病态的恍惚神情。吉姆给一个管道工当学徒，尖尖的下巴，乐呵呵的性格，有点神经质和傻里傻气的，一看就知道在人生的角逐场上是个没出息的人。

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“怎么不吃呢？”他见马丁郁郁寡欢地用羹勺一个劲搅动冷冰冰的煮得半生不熟的麦片粥，便问道，“昨天晚上又喝酒啦？”

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马丁摇了摇头。他心情沉重，因为他觉得所有的一切都是那样庸俗。露丝·摩斯似乎离他更加遥远了。

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“我倒是喝了酒，一直都灌到了嗓子眼儿。”吉姆吹嘘道，同时神经质地哧哧一笑，“啊，她真是个美人儿。还是比利把我送回家的呢。”

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马丁点点头，表示自己在听着——他生来就有这样一种习惯，不管是任何人跟他讲话，他都侧耳倾听——然后斟了一杯温吞吞的咖啡。

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“今晚一块到莲花俱乐部跳舞吧？”吉姆问，“那儿可以喝到啤酒。台美斯加尔那帮人如果也去，准会闹个天翻地覆。不过，我不在乎，照样带女朋友去。见鬼，我嘴里怎么有一股味儿！”

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他扮了个鬼脸，喝了口咖啡，想把嘴里的异味除掉。

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“你认识朱莉亚吧？”

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马丁摇了摇头。

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“她是我的女朋友，长得可漂亮啦，”吉姆解释道，“我把她引见给你，只是你别将她抢走。不知姑娘们看上了你哪一点，这我的确弄不懂。你抢别人女朋友的手段实在叫人厌恶。”

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“我可从未抢过你的女朋友。”马丁丝毫不感兴趣地说，心里巴不得赶快把这顿饭吃完。

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“不对，我的女朋友你也抢过，”对方激动了起来，口气坚定地说，“就拿玛吉来说吧。”

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“我与她没任何关系，那天晚上除外，从来没跟她跳过舞。”

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“对啊，问题就出在那天晚上。”吉姆嚷嚷道，“你和她跳了跳舞，瞧了她几眼，一切就都完了。当然，你是无心的，可是却永远断送了我。她再没正眼看过我，老是问到你。如果你当时有那个意思，她会迫不及待地和你幽会。”

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“可我当时并没那个意思。”

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“反正都一样，我受到了冷落。”吉姆羡慕地望着他，问道，“你是怎么得手的，马特[1]？”

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“靠的是对她们不理不睬。”马丁答道。

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“你是说装着不理睬她们？”吉姆急切地问。

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马丁考虑了片刻，然后回答说：“那样也许可以成功，可我觉得我的情况略有不同。我从来就不管那回事——不太管那回事。倘若你能够装得像，也可以，很可能会得手。”

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“昨天晚上你要是到赖利家参加谷仓舞会就好啦，”吉姆前言不对后语地宣称，“在场的人都大打出手。西奥克兰来了个顶呱呱的家伙，人称‘耗子’，身手矫健敏捷，谁也近身不得。我们当时都希望你能在那儿。你到底上哪里去了？”

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“上奥克兰去了。”马丁说。

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“去看演出？”

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马丁将餐盘推开，立起了身。

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“今晚一块去跳舞吧？”对方冲着他的背影问。

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“不去，我不想去。”他回答说。

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他下了楼，来到街上，大口地呼吸着空气。刚才的气氛实在沉闷，那位学徒的唠叨逼得他要发疯。有时候，他得全力克制自己，才不至于伸手把吉姆的那张脸按到粥盘上。吉姆愈唠叨，他就觉得露丝离他愈远。和这样的人为伍，他怎么能配得上她呢？摆在面前的问题令他失去了胆量，而他的劳动阶级身份压得他直不起腰。他的姐姐、姐姐的住房和家庭、学徒工吉姆以及他所认识的每一个人、生活中每一层关系——所有的一切都在拖他的后腿。他所品尝到的生活并不美好。在这之前，他和周围的人们一样埋头生活，把生活当作一种美好的东西。对于生活，除非是在看书的时候，否则他从不提出疑问；可书毕竟是书，神话故事毕竟是神话故事，描绘的是奇妙和不可能存在的世界。不过，他现在亲眼看到了那个世界，明显而真实，最中央有一位叫露丝的如花似玉的女人；从今往后，他难免会品尝到辛酸和剧烈的痛苦，产生强烈的渴望和绝望心情——这种绝望会给他一些满足，因为它建立在希望之上。

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起初他举棋不定，不知是到伯克利公共图书馆还是奥克兰公共图书馆好，结果选择了后一个，因为露丝就住在奥克兰。图书馆是她最可能去的地方，也许在那儿能见到她。这谁说得准呢？他不了解图书馆的布局，在一排排小说书架之间转个没完，后来，一位五官小巧玲珑、看起来像是负责人的法国人模样的姑娘告诉他说参考书都在楼上。他也不知道问一声桌旁的管理员，就钻进哲学书室瞎闯起来。他听说过哲学这门科学，但没想到竟有如此之多的哲学书籍。大部分的著作充斥了高高的书架，使他自叹才疏学浅，同时又令他兴奋不已，因为这些书可以为他那充满活力的大脑提供用武之地。在数学书库，他拿起几本有关三角学的书，边翻阅，边望着那些看也看不懂的公式和图形发呆。他认得英语，但书上看到的却是一种陌生的语言。诺曼和阿瑟懂得这种语言，因为他听到他们讲过，那两人可是她的弟弟呀。走出书库时，他陷入了绝望之中。那些书似乎从四面八方向他压来，像是要把他压死。想不到人类积累的知识竟如此浩瀚，他一下子给唬住了，他的大脑怎么能够消化得完呢？过了一会儿，他记起有些人，或不少人，已经掌握了这些知识。于是，他怀着激昂的心情低声发了一个冲天大誓：凡是别人的大脑能够办得到的事，他的大脑也能办得到。

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他就这么到处游荡，望着那些满载着智慧的书架，忽儿沮丧忽儿高兴，心情变化个不停。在一个杂类书库，他找到了一本《诺利氏备要》，便恭敬地翻阅起来。从某个方面来说，这本书和他用的是同一类语言，都属于海洋语言。随后，他又找到一部鲍迪奇[2]的著作，以及几本莱基和马歇尔的作品。这下可好啦，他可以自学航海术，把酒戒掉，一步一步朝上努力，当一名船长。刹那间，他觉得露丝离他近在咫尺。当上船长，他就可以娶她（如果她愿意嫁他的话）。假如她不愿嫁他，他也会为了她好好做人，把酒戒掉。接着，他突然想起来，作为船长就得为水险商及船主效劳，而这两种主子利益截然相反，弄不好就可以并且准会毁掉他。他将眼光四下扫了扫，看到那成千上万册的书，不由合上了眼帘。不，不能再航海了。这浩瀚的书海里蕴藏着极大的力量。要想建立丰功伟业，就得在陆地上干。再说，船长是不允许携带妻子一道出海的。

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时间到了中午，接着就是下午。他忘记了吃饭，继续寻找有关礼节的书籍。因为，除了事业，他还在苦苦思考一个非常具体的简单问题：如果你结识了一位小姐，她请你去看她，那么，应该何时登门造访呢？他就是这样在询问自己。可是，等他找到了那个书架，却白忙活一场，怎么也寻觅不到答案。关于礼节的讲究竟如此之大，吓得他目瞪口呆。上流社会那一套传递名片的礼仪错综复杂，使他感到困惑迷惘。他放弃了努力。他没有找到要找的东西，只发现了一点：要想讲究礼仪，就得花一生的时间去研究；他必须先活上一辈子，才能学得礼致彬彬。

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“你需要的书找到了吗？”他朝外走时，桌旁的管理员这样问他。

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“找到了，先生，”他答道，“你们的图书馆真好。”

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那人点了点头。“欢迎你常来。你是水手吧？”

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“嘿，他是怎么知道的？”马丁下楼时，不由问自己。

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在穿过第一个街段时，他的步子迈得呆板和笨拙，后来他陷入沉思，忘掉了自我，才恢复了雄壮、优美的步态。

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He awoke next morning from rosy scenes of dream to a steamy atmosphere that smelled of soapsuds and dirty clothes, and that was vibrant with the jar and jangle of tormented life. As he came out of his room he heard the slosh of water, a sharp exclamation, and a resounding smack as his sister visited her irritation upon one of her numerous progeny. The squall of the child went through him like a knife. He was aware that the whole thing, the very air he breathed, was repulsive and mean. How different, he thought, from the atmosphere of beauty and repose of the house wherein Ruth dwelt. There it was all spiritual. Here it was all material, and meanly material.

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"Come here, Alfred," he called to the crying child, at the same time thrusting his hand into his trousers pocket, where he carried his money loose in the same large way that he lived life in general. He put a quarter in the youngster’s hand and held him in his arms a moment, soothing his sobs. "Now run along and get some candy, and don’t forget to give some to your brothers and sisters. Be sure and get the kind that lasts longest."

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His sister lifted a flushed face from the wash-tub and looked at him.

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"A nickel’d ha’ ben enough," she said. "It’s just like you, no idea of the value of money. The child’ll eat himself sick."

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"That’s all right, sis," he answered jovially. "My money’ll take care of itself. If you weren’t so busy, I’d kiss you good morning."

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He wanted to be affectionate to this sister, who was good, and who, in her way, he knew, loved him. But, somehow, she grew less herself as the years went by, and more and more baffling. It was the hard work, the many children, and the nagging of her husband, he decided, that had changed her. It came to him, in a flash of fancy, that her nature seemed taking on the attributes of stale vegetables, smelly soapsuds, and of the greasy dimes, nickels, and quarters she took in over the counter of the store.

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"Go along an’ get your breakfast," she said roughly, though secretly pleased. Of all her wandering brood of brothers he had always been her favorite. "I declare I WILL kiss you," she said, with a sudden stir at her heart.

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With thumb and forefinger she swept the dripping suds first from one arm and then from the other. He put his arms round her massive waist and kissed her wet steamy lips. The tears welled into her eyes - not so much from strength of feeling as from the weakness of chronic overwork. She shoved him away from her, but not before he caught a glimpse of her moist eyes.

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"You’ll find breakfast in the oven," she said hurriedly. "Jim ought to be up now. I had to get up early for the washing. Now get along with you and get out of the house early. It won’t be nice to-day, what of Tom quittin’ an’ nobody but Bernard to drive the wagon."

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Martin went into the kitchen with a sinking heart, the image of her red face and slatternly form eating its way like acid into his brain. She might love him if she only had some time, he concluded. But she was worked to death. Bernard Higginbotham was a brute to work her so hard. But he could not help but feel, on the other hand, that there had not been anything beautiful in that kiss. It was true, it was an unusual kiss. For years she had kissed him only when he returned from voyages or departed on voyages. But this kiss had tasted soapsuds, and the lips, he had noticed, were flabby. There had been no quick, vigorous lip-pressure such as should accompany any kiss. Hers was the kiss of a tired woman who had been tired so long that she had forgotten how to kiss. He remembered her as a girl, before her marriage, when she would dance with the best, all night, after a hard day’s work at the laundry, and think nothing of leaving the dance to go to another day’s hard work. And then he thought of Ruth and the cool sweetness that must reside in her lips as it resided in all about her. Her kiss would be like her hand-shake or the way she looked at one, firm and frank. In imagination he dared to think of her lips on his, and so vividly did he imagine that he went dizzy at the thought and seemed to rift through clouds of rose-petals, filling his brain with their perfume.

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In the kitchen he found Jim, the other boarder, eating mush very languidly, with a sick, far-away look in his eyes. Jim was a plumber’s apprentice whose weak chin and hedonistic temperament, coupled with a certain nervous stupidity, promised to take him nowhere in the race for bread and butter.

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"Why don’t you eat?" he demanded, as Martin dipped dolefully into the cold, half-cooked oatmeal mush. "Was you drunk again last night?"

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Martin shook his head. He was oppressed by the utter squalidness of it all. Ruth Morse seemed farther removed than ever.

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"I was," Jim went on with a boastful, nervous giggle. "I was loaded right to the neck. Oh, she was a daisy. Billy brought me home."

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Martin nodded that he heard, - it was a habit of nature with him to pay heed to whoever talked to him, - and poured a cup of lukewarm coffee.

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"Goin’ to the Lotus Club dance to-night?" Jim demanded. "They’re goin’ to have beer, an’ if that Temescal bunch comes, there’ll be a rough-house. I don’t care, though. I’m takin’ my lady friend just the same. Cripes, but I’ve got a taste in my mouth!"

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He made a wry face and attempted to wash the taste away with coffee.

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"D’ye know Julia?"

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Martin shook his head.

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"She’s my lady friend," Jim explained, "and she’s a peach. I’d introduce you to her, only you’d win her. I don’t see what the girls see in you, honest I don’t; but the way you win them away from the fellers is sickenin’."

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"I never got any away from you," Martin answered uninterestedly. The breakfast had to be got through somehow.

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"Yes, you did, too," the other asserted warmly. "There was Maggie."

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"Never had anything to do with her. Never danced with her except that one night."

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"Yes, an’ that’s just what did it," Jim cried out. "You just danced with her an’ looked at her, an’ it was all off. Of course you didn’t mean nothin’ by it, but it settled me for keeps. Wouldn’t look at me again. Always askin’ about you. She’d have made fast dates enough with you if you’d wanted to."

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"But I didn’t want to."

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"Wasn’t necessary. I was left at the pole." Jim looked at him admiringly. "How d’ye do it, anyway, Mart?"

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"By not carin’ about ’em," was the answer.

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"You mean makin’ b’lieve you don’t care about them?" Jim queried eagerly.

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Martin considered for a moment, then answered, "Perhaps that will do, but with me I guess it’s different. I never have cared - much. If you can put it on, it’s all right, most likely."

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"You should ’a’ ben up at Riley’s barn last night," Jim announced inconsequently. "A lot of the fellers put on the gloves. There was a peach from West Oakland. They called ’m ’The Rat.’ Slick as silk. No one could touch ’m. We was all wishin’ you was there. Where was you anyway?"

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"Down in Oakland," Martin replied.

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"To the show?"

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Martin shoved his plate away and got up.

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"Comin’ to the dance to-night?" the other called after him.

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"No, I think not," he answered.

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He went downstairs and out into the street, breathing great breaths of air. He had been suffocating in that atmosphere, while the apprentice’s chatter had driven him frantic. There had been times when it was all he could do to refrain from reaching over and mopping Jim’s face in the mush-plate. The more he had chattered, the more remote had Ruth seemed to him. How could he, herding with such cattle, ever become worthy of her? He was appalled at the problem confronting him, weighted down by the incubus of his working-class station. Everything reached out to hold him down - his sister, his sister’s house and family, Jim the apprentice, everybody he knew, every tie of life. Existence did not taste good in his mouth. Up to then he had accepted existence, as he had lived it with all about him, as a good thing. He had never questioned it, except when he read books; but then, they were only books, fairy stories of a fairer and impossible world. But now he had seen that world, possible and real, with a flower of a woman called Ruth in the midmost centre of it; and thenceforth he must know bitter tastes, and longings sharp as pain, and hopelessness that tantalized because it fed on hope.

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He had debated between the Berkeley Free Library and the Oakland Free Library, and decided upon the latter because Ruth lived in Oakland. Who could tell? - a library was a most likely place for her, and he might see her there. He did not know the way of libraries, and he wandered through endless rows of fiction, till the delicate-featured French-looking girl who seemed in charge, told him that the reference department was upstairs. He did not know enough to ask the man at the desk, and began his adventures in the philosophy alcove. He had heard of book philosophy, but had not imagined there had been so much written about it. The high, bulging shelves of heavy tomes humbled him and at the same time stimulated him. Here was work for the vigor of his brain. He found books on trigonometry in the mathematics section, and ran the pages, and stared at the meaningless formulas and figures. He could read English, but he saw there an alien speech. Norman and Arthur knew that speech. He had heard them talking it. And they were her brothers. He left the alcove in despair. From every side the books seemed to press upon him and crush him.

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He had never dreamed that the fund of human knowledge bulked so big. He was frightened. How could his brain ever master it all? Later, he remembered that there were other men, many men, who had mastered it; and he breathed a great oath, passionately, under his breath, swearing that his brain could do what theirs had done.

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And so he wandered on, alternating between depression and elation as he stared at the shelves packed with wisdom. In one miscellaneous section he came upon a "Norrie’s Epitome." He turned the pages reverently. In a way, it spoke a kindred speech. Both he and it were of the sea. Then he found a "Bowditch" and books by Lecky and Marshall. There it was; he would teach himself navigation. He would quit drinking, work up, and become a captain. Ruth seemed very near to him in that moment. As a captain, he could marry her (if she would have him). And if she wouldn’t, well - he would live a good life among men, because of Her, and he would quit drinking anyway. Then he remembered the underwriters and the owners, the two masters a captain must serve, either of which could and would break him and whose interests were diametrically opposed. He cast his eyes about the room and closed the lids down on a vision of ten thousand books. No; no more of the sea for him. There was power in all that wealth of books, and if he would do great things, he must do them on the land. Besides, captains were not allowed to take their wives to sea with them.

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Noon came, and afternoon. He forgot to eat, and sought on for the books on etiquette; for, in addition to career, his mind was vexed by a simple and very concrete problem: WHEN YOU MEET A YOUNG LADY AND SHE ASKS YOU TO CALL, HOW SOON CAN YOU CALL? was the way he worded it to himself. But when he found the right shelf, he sought vainly for the answer. He was appalled at the vast edifice of etiquette, and lost himself in the mazes of visiting-card conduct between persons in polite society. He abandoned his search. He had not found what he wanted, though he had found that it would take all of a man’s time to be polite, and that he would have to live a preliminary life in which to learn how to be polite.

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"Did you find what you wanted?" the man at the desk asked him as he

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was leaving.

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"Yes, sir," he answered. "You have a fine library here."

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The man nodded. "We should be glad to see you here often. Are you a sailor?"

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"Yes, sir," he answered. "And I’ll come again."

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Now, how did he know that? he asked himself as he went down the stairs.

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And for the first block along the street he walked very stiff and straight and awkwardly, until he forgot himself in his thoughts, whereupon his rolling gait gracefully returned to him.

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