THE BRANGWENS went home to Beldover, the wedding-party gathered at Shortlands, the Criches’ home. It was a long, low old house, a sort of manor farm, that spread along the top of a slope just beyond the narrow little lake of Willey Water. Shortlands looked across a sloping meadow that might be a park, because of the large, solitary trees that stood here and there, across the water of the narrow lake, at the wooded hill that successfully hid the colliery valley beyond, but did not quite hide the rising smoke. Nevertheless, the scene was rural and picturesque, very peaceful, and the house had a charm of its own.
It was crowded now with the family and the wedding guests. The father, who was not well, withdrew to rest. Gerald was host. He stood in the homely entrance hall, friendly and easy, attending to the men. He seemed to take pleasure in his social functions, he smiled, and was abundant in hospitality.
The women wandered about in a little confusion, chased hither and thither by the three married daughters of the house. All the while there could be heard the characteristic, imperious voice of one Crich woman or another calling `Helen, come here a minute,’ `Marjory, I want you -- here.’ `Oh, I say, Mrs Witham --.’ There was a great rustling of skirts, swift glimpses of smartly-dressed women, a child danced through the hall and back again, a maidservant came and went hurriedly.
Meanwhile the men stood in calm little groups, chatting, smoking, pretending to pay no heed to the rustling animation of the women’s world. But they could not really talk, because of the glassy ravel of women’s excited, cold laughter and running voices. They waited, uneasy, suspended, rather bored. But Gerald remained as if genial and happy, unaware that he was waiting or unoccupied, knowing himself the very pivot of the occasion.
Suddenly Mrs Crich came noiselessly into the room, peering about with her strong, clear face. She was still wearing her hat, and her sac coat of blue silk.
`And you don’t like strangers?’ laughed Birkin. `I myself can never see why one should take account of people, just because they happen to be in the room with one: why should I know they are there?’
`Why indeed, why indeed!’ said Mrs Crich, in her low, tense voice. `Except that they are there. I don’t know people whom I find in the house. The children introduce them to me -- "Mother, this is Mr So-and-so." I am no further. What has Mr So-and-so to do with his own name? -- and what have I to do with either him or his name?’
She looked up at Birkin. She startled him. He was flattered too that she came to talk to him, for she took hardly any notice of anybody. He looked down at her tense clear face, with its heavy features, but he was afraid to look into her heavyseeing blue eyes. He noticed instead how her hair looped in slack, slovenly strands over her rather beautiful ears, which were not quite clean. Neither was her neck perfectly clean. Even in that he seemed to belong to her, rather than to the rest of the company; though, he thought to himself, he was always well washed, at any rate at the neck and ears.
He smiled faintly, thinking these things. Yet he was tense, feeling that he and the elderly, estranged woman were conferring together like traitors, like enemies within the camp of the other people. He resembled a deer, that throws one ear back upon the trail behind, and one ear forward, to know what is ahead.
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“别人其实无所谓。”他有点不想说话,搭讪着说。
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`People don’t really matter,’ he said, rather unwilling to continue.
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这位母亲猛然带着深深的疑问抬起头看看他,似乎怀疑他的诚意。
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The mother looked up at him with sudden, dark interrogation, as if doubting his sincerity.
`Not many people are anything at all,’ he answered, forced to go deeper than he wanted to. `They jingle and giggle. It would be much better if they were just wiped out. Essentially, they don’t exist, they aren’t there.’
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她在他说话时一直凝视着他。
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She watched him steadily while he spoke.
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“我们才不想象他们的存在呢!”她刻薄地说。
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`But we didn’t imagine them,’ she said sharply.
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“没什么好想象的,他们不存在。”
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`There’s nothing to imagine, that’s why they don’t exist.’
`Well,’ she said, `I would hardly go as far as that. There they are, whether they exist or no. It doesn’t rest with me to decide on their existence. I only know that I can’t be expected to take count of them all. You can’t expect me to know them, just because they happen to be there. As far as I go they might as well not be there.’
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“没错儿,”他答道。
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`Exactly,’ he replied.
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“是吗?”她又问。
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`Mightn’t they?’ she asked again.
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“就跟没来一样,”他重复道。说到这儿他们都停下来不说话了。
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`Just as well,’ he repeated. And there was a little pause.
`Except that they are there, and that’s a nuisance,’ she said. `There are my sons-inlaw,’ she went on, in a sort of monologue. `Now Laura’s got married, there’s another. And I really don’t know John from James yet. They come up to me and call me mother. I know what they will say -- "how are you, mother?" I ought to say, "I am not your mother, in any sense." But what is the use? There they are. I have had children of my own. I suppose I know them from another woman’s children.’
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“应该这样,”伯金说。
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`One would suppose so,’ he said.
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她有些吃惊地看看他,或许她早忘了是在跟谁说话。她说话的线索被打断了。
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She looked at him, somewhat surprised, forgetting perhaps that she was talking to him. And she lost her thread.
`Ay,’ she said, in an incomprehensiblemonosyllable, that sounded profoundly cynical. Birkin felt afraid, as if he dared not realise. And Mrs Crich moved away, forgetting him. But she returned on her traces.
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“我很愿意他有个朋友,”她说,“他从来就没有朋友。”
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`I should like him to have a friend,’ she said. `He has never had a friend.’
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伯金低下头盯着她那双蓝色的凝眸,他理解不了她的目光。“我是我弟弟的看护人吗?”他轻声地自言自语道。
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Birkin looked down into her eyes, which were blue, and watching heavily. He could not understand them. `Am I my brother’s keeper?’ he said to himself, almost flippantly.
Then he remembered, with a slight shock, that that was Cain’s cry. And Gerald was Cain, if anybody. Not that he was Cain, either, although he had slain his brother. There was such a thing as pure accident, and the consequences did not attach to one, even though one had killed one’s brother in such wise. Gerald as a boy had accidentally killed his brother. What then? Why seek to draw a brand and a curse across the life that had caused the accident? A man can live by accident, and die by accident. Or can he not? Is every man’s life subject to pure accident, is it only the race, the genus, the species, that has a universal reference? Or is this not true, is there no such thing as pure accident? Has everything that happens a universal significance? Has it? Birkin, pondering as he stood there, had forgotten Mrs Crich, as she had forgotten him.
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他不相信有偶然这回事。在最深刻的意义上说,这些都交织在一起。
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He did not believe that there was any such thing as accident. It all hung together, in the deepest sense.
Just as he had decided this, one of the Crich daughters came up, saying:`Won’t you come and take your hat off, mother dear? We shall be sitting down to eat in a minute, and it’s a formal occasion, darling, isn’t it?’ She drew her arm through her mother’s, and they went away. Birkin immediately went to talk to the nearest man.
The gong sounded for the luncheon. The men looked up, but no move was made to the dining-room. The women of the house seemed not to feel that the sound had meaning for them. Five minutes passed by. The elderly manservant, Crowther, appeared in the doorway exasperatedly. He looked with appeal at Gerald. The latter took up a large, curved conch shell, that lay on a shelf, and without reference to anybody, blew a shattering blast. It was a strange rousing noise, that made the heart beat. The summons was almost magical. Everybody came running, as if at a signal. And then the crowd in one impulse moved to the dining-room.
Gerald waited a moment, for his sister to play hostess. He knew his mother would pay no attention to her duties. But his sister merely crowded to her seat. Therefore the young man, slightly too dictatorial, directed the guests to their places.
There was a moment’s lull, as everybody looked at the bors d’oeuvres that were being handed round. And out of this lull, a girl of thirteen or fourteen, with her long hair down her back, said in a calm, self-possessed voice:`Gerald, you forget father, when you make that unearthly noise.’
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“是吗?”他冲大伙儿说,“我父亲躺下休息了,他不太舒服。”
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`Do I?’ he answered. And then, to the company, `Father is lying down, he is not quite well.’
`How is he, really?’ called one of the married daughters, peeping round the immense wedding cake that towered up in the middle of the table shedding its artificial flowers.
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“他没病,只是感到疲劳。”留披肩发的温妮弗莱德回答道。
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`He has no pain, but he feels tired,’ replied Winifred, the girl with the hair down her back.
The wine was filled, and everybody was talking boisterously. At the far end of the table sat the mother, with her loosely-looped hair. She had Birkin for a neighbour. Sometimes she glanced fiercely down the rows of faces, bending forwards and staring unceremoniously. And she would say in a low voice to Birkin:`Who is that young man?’
`I don’t think so. I haven’t,’ he replied. And she was satisfied. Her eyes closed wearily, a peace came over her face, she looked like a queen in repose. Then she started, a little social smile came on her face, for a moment she looked the pleasant hostess. For a moment she bent graciously, as if everyone were welcome and delightful. And then immediately the shadow came back, a sullen, eagle look was on her face, she glanced from under her brows like a sinister creature at bay, hating them all.
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“妈妈,”迪安娜叫道,“我可以喝酒吗?”迪安娜比温妮弗莱德年长些,很漂亮。
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`Mother,’ called Diana, a handsome girl a little older than Winifred, `I may have wine, mayn’t I?’
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“行,你喝吧,”母亲木然地回答,她对这个问题压根儿不感兴趣。
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`Yes, you may have wine,’ replied the mother automatically, for she was perfectly indifferent to the question.
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于是迪安娜示意下人为她斟酒。
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And Diana beckoned to the footman to fill her glass.
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“杰拉德不该限制我喝酒嘛,”她平静地对在座的人们说。
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`Gerald shouldn’t forbid me,’ she said calmly, to the company at large.
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“好了,迪,”哥哥和蔼地说。迪安娜一边喝酒一边挑战般地扫了哥哥一眼。
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`All right, Di,’ said her brother amiably. And she glanced challenge at him as she drank from her glass.
There was a strange freedom, that almost amounted to anarchy, in the house. It was rather a resistance to authority, than liberty. Gerald had some command, by mere force of personality, not because of any granted position. There was a quality in his voice, amiable but dominant, that cowed the others, who were all younger than he.
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赫麦妮正同新郎官讨论民族问题。
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Hermione was having a discussion with the bridegroom about nationality.
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“不,”她说,“我认为提倡爱国主义是一种错误,国与国之间的竞争就象商行与商行间的竞争一样。”
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`No,’ she said, `I think that the appeal to patriotism is a mistake. It is like one house of business rivalling another house of business.’
`Well you can hardly say that, can you?’ exclaimed Gerald, who had a real passion for discussion. `You couldn’t call a race a business concern, could you? -- and nationality roughly corresponds to race, I think. I think it is meant to.’
Birkin knew she was waiting for him to participate. And dutifully he spoke up.`I think Gerald is right -- race is the essential element in nationality, in Europe at least,’ he said.
Again Hermione paused, as if to allow this statement to cool. Then she said with strange assumption of authority:`Yes, but even so, is the patriotic appeal an appeal to the racial instinct? Is it not rather an appeal to the proprietory instinct, the commercial instinct? And isn’t this what we mean by nationality?’
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“也许是,”伯金说,他心里感到现在讨论这个问题不合时宜,地点也不对。
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`Probably,’ said Birkin, who felt that such a discussion was out of place and out of time.
`A race may have its commercial aspect,’ he said. `In fact it must. It is like a family. You must make provision. And to make provision you have got to strive against other families, other nations. I don’t see why you shouldn’t.’
Again Hermione made a pause, domineering and cold, before she replied: `Yes, I think it is always wrong to provoke a spirit of rivalry. It makes bad blood. And bad blood accumulates.’
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“可是你能够取消竞争精神吗?”杰拉德问。“竞争是生产与改进所必须的一种刺激。”
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`But you can’t do away with the spirit of emulation altogether?’ said Gerald. `It is one of the necessary incentives to production and improvement.’
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“没错,”赫麦妮轻描淡写地答道,“不过我觉得没有竞争也行。”
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`Yes,’ came Hermione’s sauntering response. `I think you can do away with it.’
`I must say,’ said Birkin, `I detest the spirit of emulation.’ Hermione was biting a piece of bread, pulling it from between her teeth with her fingers, in a slow, slightly derisive movement. She turned to Birkin.`You do hate it, yes,’ she said, intimate and gratified.
`But,’ Gerald insisted, `you don’t allow one man to take away his neighbour’s living, so why should you allow one nation to take away the living from another nation?’
There was a long slow murmur from Hermione before she broke into speech, saying with a laconic indifference:`It is not always a question of possessions, is it? It is not all a question of goods?’
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杰拉德被她话语中流露出的庸俗唯物主义惹恼了。
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Gerald was nettled by this implication of vulgar materialism.
`Yes, more or less,’ he retorted. `If I go and take a man’s hat from off his head, that hat becomes a symbol of that man’s liberty. When he fights me for his hat, he is fighting me for his liberty.’
`Yes,’ she said, irritated. `But that way of arguing by imaginary instances is not supposed to be genuine, is it? A man does not come and take my hat from off my head, does he?’
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“那是因为刑法制止了他这样做。”杰拉德说。
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`Only because the law prevents him,’ said Gerald.
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“不对,”伯金说,“百分之九十九的人不想要我的帽子。”
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`Not only,’ said Birkin. `Ninety-nine men out of a hundred don’t want my hat.’
`And if he does want my hat, such as it is,’ said Birkin, `why, surely it is open to me to decide, which is a greater loss to me, my hat, or my liberty as a free and indifferent man. If I am compelled to offer fight, I lose the latter. It is a question which is worth more to me, my pleasant liberty of conduct, or my hat.’
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“对,”赫麦妮奇怪地望着伯金说,“对。”
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`Yes,’ said Hermione, watching Birkin strangely. `Yes.’
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“那么,你允许有人过来夺走你头上的帽子吗?”新娘问赫麦妮。
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`But would you let somebody come and snatch your hat off your head?’ the bride asked of Hermione.
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这位高大、身板挺直的女人渐渐转过身来,似乎对这位插话人的问题麻木不仁。
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The face of the tall straight woman turned slowly and as if drugged to this new speaker.
`Oh, we’re quite out of our depths with these old hats,’ cried Laura Crich. `Dry up now, Gerald. We’re going to drink toasts. Let us drink toasts. Toasts -- glasses, glasses -- now then, toasts! Speech! Speech!’
Birkin, thinking about race or national death, watched his glass being filled with champagne. The bubbles broke at the rim, the man withdrew, and feeling a sudden thirst at the sight of the fresh wine, Birkin drank up his glass. A queer little tension in the room roused him. He felt a sharp constraint.
`Did I do it by accident, or on purpose?’ he asked himself. And he decided that, according to the vulgar phrase, he had done it `accidentally on purpose.’ He looked round at the hired footman. And the hired footman came, with a silent step of cold servant-like disapprobation. Birkin decided that he detested toasts, and footmen, and assemblies, and mankind altogether, in most of its aspects. Then he rose to make a speech. But he was somehow disgusted.
At length it was over, the meal. Several men strolled out into the garden. There was a lawn, and flower-beds, and at the boundary an iron fence shutting off the little field or park. The view was pleasant; a highroad curving round the edge of a low lake, under the trees. In the spring air, the water gleamed and the opposite woods were purplish with new life. Charming Jersey cattle came to the fence, breathing hoarsely from their velvet muzzles at the human beings, expecting perhaps a crust.
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伯金倚着栅栏,一头母牛往他手上喷着热气。
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Birkin leaned on the fence. A cow was breathing wet hotness on his hand.
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“漂亮,这牛真漂亮,”克里奇家的一位女婿马歇尔说,“这种牛的奶质量最好了。”
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`Pretty cattle, very pretty,’ said Marshall, one of the brothers-in-law. `They give the best milk you can have.’
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“对,”伯金说。
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`Yes,’ said Birkin.
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“啊,我的小美人儿,哦,小美人儿!”马歇尔假声假气地说,这奇怪的声调让伯金笑得喘不过气来。
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`Eh, my little beauty, eh, my beauty!’ said Marshall, in a queer high falsetto voice, that caused the other man to have convulsions of laughter in his stomach.
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“你们那阵子赛跑,谁胜了,鲁普顿?”伯金问新郎,以掩盖自己的笑声。
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`Who won the race, Lupton?’ he called to the bridegroom, to hide the fact that he was laughing.
`The race?’ he exclaimed. Then a rather thin smile came over his face. He did not want to say anything about the flight to the church door. `We got there together. At least she touched first, but I had my hand on her shoulder.’
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“说什么呢?”杰拉德问。
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`What’s this?’ asked Gerald.
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伯金告诉他说的是刚才新郎新娘赛跑的事。
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Birkin told him about the race of the bride and the bridegroom.
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“哼!”杰拉德不满地说,“你怎么会迟到呢?”
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`H’m!’ said Gerald, in disapproval. `What made you late then?’
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“鲁普顿先是谈论了一阵子灵魂不朽,”伯金说,“然后我们找不到钮扣钩了。”
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`Lupton would talk about the immortality of the soul,’ said Birkin, `and then he hadn’t got a button-hook.’
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“天啊!”马歇尔叫道,“在你结婚的日子里谈什么灵魂不朽!你脑子里就没别的事好想了吗?”
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`Oh God!’ cried Marshall. `The immortality of the soul on your wedding day! Hadn’t you got anything better to occupy your mind?’
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“这有什么错儿?”面庞修饰得干干净净的海军军官敏感地红了脸问。
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`What’s wrong with it?’ asked the bridegroom, a clean-shaven naval man, flushing sensitively.
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“听起来你不是来结婚的,倒象是被处死。谈哪门子灵魂不死!”这位连襟加重语气说。
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`Sounds as if you were going to be executed instead of married. The immortality of the soul!’ repeated the brother-in-law, with most killing emphasis.
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他的话太无聊了。
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But he fell quite flat.
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“那你得出了什么结论?”杰拉德问,竖起耳朵来准备听一场玄学讨论。
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`And what did you decide?’ asked Gerald, at once pricking up his ears at the thought of a metaphysical discussion.
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“今天你并不需要灵魂吧,小伙子?”马歇尔说,“它会妨碍你的。”
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`You don’t want a soul today, my boy,’ said Marshall. `It’d be in your road.’
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“行了!马歇尔,去跟别人聊吧。”杰拉德突然不耐烦地叫道。
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`Christ! Marshall, go and talk to somebody else,’ cried Gerald, with sudden impatience.
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“我保证,我是真心,”马歇尔有点发脾气地说,“说太多的灵魂——”
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127
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`By God, I’m willing,’ said Marshall, in a temper. `Too much bloody soul and talk altogether --’
He withdrew in a dudgeon, Gerald staring after him with angry eyes, that grew gradually calm and amiable as the stoutly-built form of the other man passed into the distance.
`We were late. Laura was at the top of the churchyard steps when our cab came up. She saw Lupton bolting towards her. And she fled. But why do you look so cross? Does it hurt your sense of the family dignity?’
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134
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“是的,有点儿,”杰拉德说,“做什么事都要有个分寸才是,要是没法儿做得有分寸就别做什么事。”
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134
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`It does, rather,’ said Gerald. `If you’re doing a thing, do it properly, and if you’re not going to do it properly, leave it alone.’
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135
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“真是极妙的格言。”伯金说。
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135
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`Very nice aphorism,’ said Birkin.
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136
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“你不同意我这样说吗?”杰拉德问。
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136
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`Don’t you agree?’ asked Gerald.
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137
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“很同意,”伯金说,“只是当你用格言式的口吻说话让我感到别扭。”
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137
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`Quite,’ said Birkin. `Only it bores me rather, when you become aphoristic.’
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138
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“该死的卢伯特,你是想让所有的格言都为你自家垄断起来。”杰拉德说。
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138
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`Damn you, Rupert, you want all the aphorisms your own way,’ said Gerald.
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139
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“不,我要让什么格言都滚开,可你总让它们挡路。”
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139
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`No. I want them out of the way, and you’re always shoving them in it.’
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140
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杰拉德对这种幽默付之一笑,然后又扬扬眉毛表示不屑一顾。
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140
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Gerald smiled grimly at this humorism. Then he made a little gesture of dismissal, with his eyebrows.
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141
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“你不相信有什么行为准则吗?”他苛刻地向伯金提出挑战。
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141
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`You don’t believe in having any standard of behaviour at all, do you?’ he challenged Birkin, censoriously.
`I mean just doing what you want to do. I think it was perfect good form in Laura to bolt from Lupton to the church door. It was almost a masterpiece in good form. It’s the hardest thing in the world to act spontaneously on one’s impulses -- and it’s the only really gentlemanly thing to do -- provided you’re fit to do it.’
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145
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“你别指望我会认真对待你的话,你以为我会吗?”杰拉德问。
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145
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`You don’t expect me to take you seriously, do you?’ asked Gerald.
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146
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“是的,杰拉德,我只指望极少数人这样认真待我,你就是其中之一。”
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146
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`Yes, Gerald, you’re one of the very few people I do expect that of.’
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147
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“恐怕在这儿我无法满足你的期待,无论如何不能。你可是认为人人都可以自行其是。”
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147
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`Then I’m afraid I can’t come up to your expectations here, at any rate. You think people should just do as they like.’
`I think they always do. But I should like them to like the purely individual thing in themselves, which makes them act in singleness. And they only like to do the collective thing.’
`And I,’ said Gerald grimly, `shouldn’t like to be in a world of people who acted individually and spontaneously, as you call it. We should have everybody cutting everybody else’s throat in five minutes.’
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150
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“那就是说你想杀人,”伯金说。
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150
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`That means you would like to be cutting everybody’s throat,’ said Birkin.
`No man,’ said Birkin, `cuts another man’s throat unless he wants to cut it, and unless the other man wants it cutting. This is a complete truth. It takes two people to make a murder: a murderer and a murderee. And a murderee is a man who is murderable. And a man who is murderable is a man who in a profound if hidden lust desires to be murdered.’
`Sometimes you talk pure nonsense,’ said Gerald to Birkin. `As a matter of fact, none of us wants our throat cut, and most other people would like to cut it for us -some time or other --’
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154
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“这种观点真叫恶心,杰拉德,”伯金说,“怪不得你惧怕自己,害怕自己的幸福生活。”
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154
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`It’s a nasty view of things, Gerald,’ said Birkin, `and no wonder you are afraid of yourself and your own unhappiness.’
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155
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“我何以惧怕自己?”杰拉德说,“再说我并不认为自己幸福。”
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155
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`How am I afraid of myself?’ said Gerald; `and I don’t think I am unhappy.’
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156
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“你心里似乎潜伏着一种欲望,希望你的内脏被人剖开,于是你就想象别人的袖子里藏着刀子。”伯金说。
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156
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`You seem to have a lurking desire to have your gizzardslit, and imagine every man has his knife up his sleeve for you,’ Birkin said.
There was a pause of strange enmity between the two men, that was very near to love. It was always the same between them; always their talk brought them into a deadly nearness of contact, a strange, perilousintimacy which was either hate or love, or both. They parted with apparent unconcern, as if their going apart were a trivial occurrence. And they really kept it to the level of trivial occurrence. Yet the heart of each burned from the other. They burned with each other, inwardly. This they would never admit. They intended to keep their relationship a casual freeand-easy friendship, they were not going to be so unmanly and unnatural as to allow any heart-burning between them. They had not the faintest belief in deep relationship between men and men, and their disbelief prevented any development of their powerful but suppressed friendliness.