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美丽新世界|Brave New World

第九章|Chapter Nine

属类： 双语小说 【分类】双语小说 阅读：[24064]
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经历了一天的古怪遭遇和惊吓之后，列宁娜觉得自己有权享受一个完完全全、货真价实的假期。他们一回到宾馆，她就吞了六片半克的唆麻，躺在床上，不到十分钟，她就启程前往月球享受无尽的假期了。至少要十八个小时之后，她才能回到现实呢。

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同时，伯纳德在黑暗中躺着，眼睛睁得大大的，心事重重。午夜过后许久，他才终于睡着了，是的，午夜过后许久。但是，他的失眠并不是毫无成果的，他想出了一个计划。

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第二天上午，十点钟，那个穿绿制服的八分之一黑白混血儿准时走出直升机。伯纳德正在龙舌兰丛中等他。

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“克朗小姐去度唆麻假了，”他解释道，“五点钟之前很难回来。我们有七个小时的时间。”

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他可以飞到圣菲，去做他必须做的那些事情，在她醒来之前再回到玛尔帕斯。

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“她一个人在这里安全吗？”

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“和直升机一样安全。”黑白混血儿向他保证。

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他们爬进飞机，立刻出发了。十点三十四分，他们降落在圣菲邮局的楼顶上；十点三十七分，伯纳德已经接通了白厅的世界控制官办公室的电话；十点三十九分，他已经在与福下的四等私人秘书通话了；十点四十四分，他已经在对一等秘书重复同样的话了；十点四十七分半，他耳畔响着的就已经是穆斯塔法·蒙德那深沉响亮的声音了。

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“我斗胆想，”伯纳德结结巴巴地说，“福下您也许会觉得这件事具有足够的科研价值……”

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“是的，我确实觉得这事很有科研价值。”那深沉的声音说，“你把那两个人都带回伦敦吧。”

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“福下，您知道，我需要一个特别许可证……”

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“必要的命令，”穆斯塔法·蒙德说，“现在正发往保留地总监那里。你现在要立即去他的办公室。上午好，马克斯先生。”

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之后就毫无声息了。伯纳德放下电话，匆匆跑上楼顶。

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“总监办公室。”他对穿伽马绿色的黑白混血儿说。

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十点五十四分，伯纳德已经在和总监握手。

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“非常高兴，马克斯先生，非常高兴，”他嗡嗡的声音恭恭敬敬。“我们刚刚收到了特别命令……”

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“我知道，”伯纳德打断他的话，“刚才我和福下通电话了。”他的声音里透着倦怠，好像他习惯于每天和福下通电话一样。他坐到椅子上。“如果您能尽快采取必要的步骤，尽快。”他强调性地重复了一遍。他非常享受这一时刻。

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十一点过三分，他就已经把所有必要的文件揣进口袋了。

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“再见，”他居高临下地对总监说，总监一直陪他走到电梯门，“再见。”

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他走向宾馆，洗了个澡，做了个真空振动按摩，用电动刮胡刀刮了胡子，听了听今天早晨的新闻，看了半小时电视，悠闲地吃了个午餐。两点半，他与那个黑白混血儿一起飞回了玛尔帕斯。

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那个年轻人站在伯纳德宾馆房间的门口。

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“伯纳德，”他叫道，“伯纳德！”没有人回答。

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他穿着鹿皮靴的脚步无声无息，他跑上台阶，推了推门。门是锁着的。

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他们走了！走了！这是他遭遇过的最糟糕的事情。她请他过来看看他们，现在，他们却走了。他坐在台阶上，哭了。

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半小时后，他才想起来透过窗户往里看一看。他看见了一件东西，那是一个绿色手提箱，箱子盖上印着她名字的首字母L.C.。他内心的喜悦像一团火苗腾地升起来。他捡起一块小石头。砸碎的玻璃哗啦啦掉在地板上。片刻之后，他就在房间里面了。他打开绿色手提箱，列宁娜的香气扑鼻而来，他的肺里充满了她的存在。他的心怦怦乱跳，有一阵，他似乎要晕过去了。然后，他俯身在这宝贵的箱子上，摸了摸，举到光线下面，审视着。起初，列宁娜那条备用的绿色黏胶短裤上的拉链对他来讲是个难题，问题解决后，就是惊喜了。他滋啦啦地拉过来，又滋啦啦地拉过去，很着迷。她的绿拖鞋是他见过的最漂亮的东西了。他展开一条带拉链的内衣，羞红了脸，赶紧又收起来，但他亲吻了一条人造丝手绢，将一条围巾搭在自己的脖子上。他打开一个小盒子，香粉像一团雾散了出来，他的手沾上了这面粉一样的东西。他把它们擦在胸脯上，肩膀上，裸露的胳膊上。美妙的香气！他闭上眼睛，将脸颊在擦了粉的胳膊上蹭了蹭。他的脸触到了光滑的皮肤，鼻子闻着麝香味，好像她就在这里。“列宁娜，”他低声私语，“列宁娜！”

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一阵响动吓了他一跳，他胆战心惊地转过身。他把偷偷拿出来的东西赶紧塞进手提箱，把箱盖盖好。他聆听着，又看了看。没有一丝活动的迹象，也没有一丝声音。可是，他刚才确确实实地听到了什么声音，像是叹气声，或者木板的吱嘎声。他踮着脚尖来到门口，小心地打开门，发现自己正面对着一个宽敞的平台。在平台的另一侧还有一道门，虚掩着。他走过去，推开门，偷偷往里面看。

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在低矮的床上，床单掀开来，正躺着酣睡的列宁娜，她穿着连体式的粉色拉链睡衣裤，卷曲的头发散落在脸的周围，看起来是那么美丽，那粉色的脚趾头和安详沉睡的脸庞看起来像孩子一般动人，而她松垂的双手和柔软的四肢，看起来又是那么无助、那么安心。他的眼泪不自觉地涌了出来。

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怀着无尽的小心——尽管这并不必要，因为不到预定的时间，只有手枪声才可能将列宁娜从唆麻假期中拉回来——他走进房间。他跪在床边的地板上，凝视着她。他两手攥得紧紧的，嘴唇嚅动着。“她的眼睛。”他喃喃自语，

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“你告诉我，她是多么美丽，

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她的眼睛、她的头发、她的面庞、

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她的步态、她的语调。

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啊！一切洁白的东西，

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和她的玉手一比，

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都会变成墨水一样黝黑，

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受到它们自己的谴责；

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比起她的盈盈一握来，

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天鹅的绒毛都是坚硬的……”(1)

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(1) 引自《特洛伊罗斯与克瑞西达》，特洛伊罗斯在谈论克瑞西达。
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一只苍蝇围着列宁娜嗡嗡乱飞，他把它赶走了，“苍蝇，”他记起来了：

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“……都可以接触亲爱的朱丽叶的皎洁的玉手，

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从她的嘴唇上偷取天堂中的幸福，

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那两片嘴唇是这样的纯洁贞淑，

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永远含着娇羞，

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好像觉得它们自身的相吻也是一种罪恶；”(2)

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(2) 引自《罗密欧与朱丽叶》，罗密欧将要被赶出维罗纳，他在思念着朱丽叶。
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他缓缓地伸出手，犹犹豫豫地，好像要去触摸一只害羞而且可能非常危险的鸟儿。在离那些柔软的手指一英寸左右的时候，即将触碰到的时候，他的手停住了，颤抖着。他敢吗？敢用他这只最卑贱的手去亵渎那……(3)不，他不敢。那只鸟儿太危险了。他的手缩了回来。她多么美丽啊！多么美丽！

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(3) 出处同上，罗密欧与朱丽叶首次见面时罗密欧的话。
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突然，他发觉自己在想，如果抓住她脖子后面的拉链，往下使劲地一拉……他闭上眼睛，摇摇头，就像一只刚从水里出来的狗甩动着耳朵。卑鄙的想法！他感到很羞愧。纯洁贞淑……

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空中传来了嗡嗡的声音。又一只要从她嘴唇上偷取天堂般幸福的苍蝇吗？黄蜂吗？他看了看，什么都没有。嗡嗡声越来越大，在百叶窗外停住了。是飞机！他慌了，连滚带爬地站起来，跑进另外一个房间，跳过敞开的窗户，沿着高高的龙舌兰之间的小路跑去。他刚好赶上伯纳德·马克斯从直升机上爬出来。

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Lenina felt herself entitled, after this day of queerness and horror, to a complete and absolute holiday. As soon as they got back to the rest-house, she swallowed six half-gramme tablets of soma, lay down on her bed, and within ten minutes had embarked for lunar eternity. It would be eighteen hours at the least before she was in time again.

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Bernard meanwhile lay pensive and wide-eyed in the dark. It was long after midnight before he fell asleep. Long after midnight; but his insomnia had not been fruitless; he had a plan.

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Punctually, on the following morning, at ten o’clock, the green-uniformed octoroon stepped out of his helicopter. Bernard was waiting for him among the agaves.

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“Miss Crowne’s gone on soma-holiday,” he explained. “Can hardly be back before five. Which leaves us seven hours.”

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He could fly to Santa Fé, do all the business he had to do, and be in Malpais again long before she woke up.

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“She’ll be quite safe here by herself?”

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“Safe as helicopters,” the octoroon assured him.

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They climbed into the machine and started off at once. At ten thirty-four they landed on the roof of the Santa Fé Post Office; at ten thirty-seven Bernard had got through to the World Controller’s Office in Whitehall; at ten thirty-seven he was speaking to his fordship’s fourth personal secretary; at ten forty-four he was repeating his story to the first secretary, and at ten forty-seven and a half it was the deep, resonant voice of Mustapha Mond himself that sounded in his ears.

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“I ventured to think,” stammered Bernard, “that your fordship might find the matter of sufficient scientific interest…”

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“Yes, I do find it of sufficient scientific interest,” said the deep voice. “Bring these two individuals back to London with you.”

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“Your fordship is aware that I shall need a special permit…”

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“The necessary orders,” said Mustapha Mond, “are being sent to the Warden of the Reservation at this moment. You will proceed at once to the Warden’s Office. Good-morning, Mr. Marx.”

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There was silence. Bernard hung up the receiver and hurried up to the roof.

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“Warden’s Office,” he said to the Gamma-green octoroon.

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At ten fifty-four Bernard was shaking hands with the Warden.

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“Delighted, Mr. Marx, delighted.” His boom was deferential. “We have just received special orders…”

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“I know,” said Bernard, interrupting him. “I was talking to his fordship on the phone a moment ago.” His bored tone implied that he was in the habit of talking to his fordship every day of the week. He dropped into a chair. “If you’ll kindly take all the necessary steps as soon as possible. As soon as possible,” he emphatically repeated. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.

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At eleven three he had all the necessary papers in his pocket.

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“So long,” he said patronizingly to the Warden, who had accompanied him as far as the lift gates. “So long.”

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He walked across to the hotel, had a bath, a vibro-vac massage, and an electrolytic shave, listened in to the morning’s news, looked in for half an hour on the televisor, ate a leisured luncheon, and at half-past two flew back with the octoroon to Malpais.

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The young man stood outside the rest-house.

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“Bernard,” he called. “Bernard!” There was no answer.

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Noiseless on his deerksin moccasins, he ran up the steps and tried the door. The door was locked.

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They were gone! Gone! It was the most terrible thing that had ever happened to him. She had asked him to come and see them, and now they were gone. He sat down on the steps and cried.

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Half an hour later it occurred to him to look through the window. The first thing he saw was a green suitcase, with the initials L.C. painted on the lid. Joy flared up like fire within him. He picked up a stone. The smashed glass tinkled on the floor. A moment later he was inside the room. He opened the green suit-case; and all at once he was breathing Lenina’s perfume, filling his lungs with her essential being. His heart beat wildly; for a moment he was almost faint. Then, bending over the precious box, he touched, he lifted into the light, he examined. The zippers on Lenina’s spare pair of viscose velveteen shorts were at first a puzzle, then solved, a delight. Zip, and then zip; zip, and then zip; he was enchanted. Her green slippers were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He unfolded a pair of zippicamiknicks, blushed, put them hastily away again; but kissed a perfumed acetate handkerchief and wound a scarf round his neck. Opening a box, he spilt a cloud of scented powder. His hands were floury with the stuff. He wiped them on his chest, on his shoulders, on his bare arms. Delicious perfume! He shut his eyes; he rubbed his cheek against his own powdered arm. Touch of smooth skin against his face, scent in his nostrils of musky dust—her real presence. “Lenina,” he whispered. “Lenina!”

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A noise made him start, made him guiltily turn. He crammed up his thieveries into the suit-case and shut the lid; then listened again, looked. Not a sign of life, not a sound. And yet he had certainly heard something—something like a sigh, something like the creak of a board. He tiptoed to the door and, cautiously opening it, found himself looking on to a broad landing. On the opposite side of the landing was another door, ajar. He stepped out, pushed, peeped.

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There, on a low bed, the sheet flung back, dressed in a pair of pink one-piece zippyjamas, lay Lenina, fast asleep and so beautiful in the midst of her curls, so touchingly childish with her pink toes and her grave sleeping face, so trustful in the helplessness of her limp hands and melted limbs, that the tears came to his eyes.

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With an infinity of quite unnecessary precautions—for nothing short of a pistol shot could have called Lenina back from her soma-holiday before the appointed time—he entered the room, he knelt on the floor beside the bed. He gazed, he clasped his hands, his lips moved. “Her eyes,” he murmured,

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“Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice;

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Handlest in thy discourse, O! that her hand,

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In whose comparison all whites are ink

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Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure

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The cygnet’s down is harsh…”

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A fly buzzed round her; he waved it away. “Flies,” he remembered,

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“On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand, may seize

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And steal immortal blessing from her lips,

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Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,

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Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.”

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Very slowly, with the hesitating gesture of one who reaches forward to stroke a shy and possibly rather dangerous bird, he put out his hand. It hung there trembling, within an inch of those limp fingers, on the verge of contact. Did he dare? Dare to profane with his unworthiest hand that…No, he didn’t. The bird was too dangerous. His hand dropped back. How beautiful she was! How beautiful!

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Then suddenly he found himself reflecting that he had only to take hold of the zipper at her neck and give one long, strong pull…He shut his eyes, he shook his head with the gesture of a dog shaking its ears as it emerges from the water. Detestable thought! He was ashamed of himself. Pure and vestal modesty…

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There was a humming in the air. Another fly trying to steal immortal blessings? A wasp? He looked, saw nothing. The humming grew louder and louder, localized itself as being outside the shuttered windows. The plane! In a panic, he scrambled to his feet and ran into the other room, vaulted through the open window, and hurrying along the path between the tall agaves was in time to receive Bernard Marx as he climbed out of the helicopter.

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序号 英文/音标 中文解释 更多操作

eternity

[ɪ’tɜːnəti]

n.永远;来世;不朽;漫长的时间

fruitless

[’fruːtləs]

adj.不成功的;无结果的

agave

[ə’ɡeɪvi]

n.龙舌兰属植物

Santa

[ˈsæntə]

圣诞老人

octoroon

[ˌɒktə’ruːn]

n.黑人血统有八分之一的混血儿

Whitehall

[’waɪthɔːl]

n.白厅(英国政府)

stammer

[’stæmə(r)]

vi.口吃;结巴

Warden

[’wɔːdn]

n.看守人

deferential

[ˌdefə’renʃl]

adj.恭敬的;顺从的

thorough

[’θʌrə]

adj.彻底的;完全的;详尽的;细致深入的

moccasin

[’mɒkəsɪn]

n.鹿皮鞋;软(拖)鞋

peep

[piːp]

n.瞥见;偷看;初现

limp

[lɪmp]

n.跛行

murmur

[’mɜːmə(r)]

n. 低沉连续的声音(如风的沙沙声、流水的淙淙声等);

gait

[ɡeɪt]

n.步态;步法

reproach

[rɪ’prəʊtʃ]

n.责备;耻辱

buzz

[bʌz]

vi.发出嗡嗡声;充满;匆忙

immortal

[ɪ’mɔːtl]

adj.不朽的;永世的

modesty

[’mɒdəsti]

n.谦逊;虚心;端庄;朴实;中肯

blush

[blʌʃ]

n.脸红;羞愧

unworthy

[ʌn’wɜːði]

adj.无价值的;没有优点的;不值得的;不应得的

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