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贡献

TO
伯特伦·阿兰森

行情

L'extrême félicité à peine séparée par
极端的颤栗之声
désespoir,n’est-ce pas la vie?

圣伯夫。

第一章•太平洋 •300字
立即订购

太平洋就像人的灵魂一样变幻莫测。有时它像比奇角附近的英吉利海峡一样呈灰色,波涛汹涌,有时又波涛汹涌,上面覆盖着白色的波峰,波涛汹涌。平静而忧郁的情况并不常见。那么,确实,蓝色是傲慢的。阳光从万里无云的天空中猛烈地照耀着。信风进入你的血液,你对未知充满了不耐烦。波涛汹涌,波澜壮阔,向你四面延伸,你忘记了逝去的青春,忘记了那些残酷而甜蜜的记忆,对生活焦躁不安、难以忍受。当尤利西斯寻找快乐群岛时,他就是在这样的大海上航行的。但也有太平洋像湖一样的日子。海面平坦,波光粼粼。飞鱼在明亮的镜子上投射出一道道阴影,在下降时会形成闪闪发光的小喷泉。地平线上有蓬松的云朵,日落时它们呈现出奇怪的形状,让人无法不相信你看到的是连绵的高山。它们是您梦想国家的山脉。您在神奇的海洋上航行,穿过难以想象的寂静。时不时的几只海鸥表明陆地就在不远处,一座隐藏在荒野水域中的被遗忘的岛屿;但海鸥,忧郁的海鸥,是你所拥有的唯一标志。你看不到一个流浪汉,冒着友好的烟雾,没有庄严的树皮或整齐的纵帆船,甚至没有一艘渔船:这是一片空旷的沙漠;不久,这种空虚感让你充满了一种模糊的预感。

第二章·麦金托什 •13,600字

他在海里溅了几分钟;水太浅了,无法在里面游泳,而且由于害怕鲨鱼,他无法走出自己的深度。然后他下了车,进浴室去洗澡。淡水的冰凉在太平洋的咸水粘稠之后令人欣慰,虽然才七点刚过,但还是很温暖,在里面洗澡并不能让你精神焕发,反而会增加你的倦怠感。当他擦干身子,穿上浴衣后,他对中国厨师喊道,他五分钟后就可以吃早餐了。他赤脚走过那片粗草丛,管理员沃克自豪地认为那是草坪,来到自己的住处,穿好衣服。这并没有花太长时间,因为他只穿了一件衬衫和一条鸭腿裤,然后去了大院另一边的酋长家。两人一起吃饭,但中国厨师告诉他,沃克五点钟就骑马出发了,一个小时后才会回来。

麦金托什睡得很不好,他厌恶地看着摆在他面前的木瓜、鸡蛋和培根。那天晚上,蚊子让人抓狂。它们在他睡觉的网里飞来飞去,数量如此之多,以至于它们的嗡嗡声,无情而险恶,具有无限拉长的音符的效果,在远处的风琴上演奏,每当他打瞌睡时,他都会因信仰而惊醒那东西已经钻进了他的窗帘里。天太热了,他赤身裸体地躺着。他从一边转向另一边。渐渐地,礁石上的浪花沉闷的轰鸣声,如此不间断,如此有规律,以至于一般你听不到它,在他的意识中变得清晰,它的节奏敲击着他疲惫的神经,他用紧握的双手努力承受。它。一想到没有什么能阻止那声音,因为它会永远持续下去,他几乎无法忍受,而且,仿佛他的力量可以与无情的自然力量相媲美,他有一种疯狂的冲动想要做一些暴力的事情。他觉得自己必须保持自制力,否则他就会发疯。现在,当他望向窗外的泻湖和礁石上的泡沫条时,他因对这辉煌景象的憎恨而颤抖。万里无云的天空就像一个倒置的碗,将周围包围起来。他点燃烟斗,翻阅了几天前从阿皮亚运来的一堆奥克兰文件。其中最新的一个已经三周大了。他们给人一种极其沉闷的印象。

然后他走进办公室。这是一间空荡荡的大房间,里面有两张桌子,一侧有一张长凳。上面坐着一些当地人,还有几位妇女。他们在等待管理员时闲聊,当麦金托什进来时,他们向他打招呼。

塔洛法李。=

他回应了他们的问候,然后在办公桌前坐下。他开始写作,撰写一份萨摩亚总督一直要求的报告,而沃克却因为一贯的拖延而忽略了准备该报告。麦金托什在做笔记时,怀恨在心地反映,沃克迟到了他的报告,因为他是个文盲,对任何与笔和纸有关的东西都怀有一种无可奈何的厌恶;他对纸和笔的厌恶程度很高。现在,当它终于准备好、简洁、正式时,他会接受下属的作品,不说任何赞赏的话,而是带着冷笑或嘲笑,然后将其发送给自己的上级,就好像这是他自己的作品一样。他一个字也写不出来。麦金托什愤怒地想,如果他的上司用铅笔插入一些内容,那么它的表达就会很幼稚,语言也会有缺陷。如果他提出抗议或试图将自己的意思表达为可理解的短语,沃克就会勃然大怒并大声喊道:

“我到底关心语法什么?这就是我想说的,这就是我想说的。”

沃克终于进来了。他一进来,当地人就围住了他,试图引起他的立即注意,但他粗鲁地转向他们,让他们坐下来,闭嘴。他威胁说,如果他们不安静,他会把他们全部都赶出去,那天就见不到他们。他向麦金托什点点头。

“你好,麦克;终于起来了?我不知道你怎么能把一天中最美好的时光浪费在床上。你应该像我一样天亮前起床。懒惰的乞丐。”

他重重地坐到椅子上,用一条大头巾擦脸。

“老天爷啊,我渴了。”

他转向站在门口的警察,穿着白色夹克的身影如画, 熔岩熔岩,萨摩亚人的腰布,并告诉他带上 卡瓦。 该 卡瓦 碗放在房间角落的地板上,警察装了半个椰子壳,递给沃克。他倒了几滴在地上,对着众人低声说了几句惯用的话,津津有味地喝了下去。然后他告诉警察为等待的当地人服务,贝壳按照出生或重要性的顺序交给每个人,并以相同的仪式倒空。

然后他就开始了今天的工作。他是个小个子,比中等身高低得多,而且非常粗壮。他有一张又大又肉的脸,胡子刮得干干净净,脸颊两侧挂着大片的露珠,还有三个巨大的下巴。他的小五官都溶解在脂肪里了。而且,除了后脑勺有一弯新月形的白发,他已经完全秃顶了。他让你想起匹克威克先生。他很怪诞,是一个有趣的人物,但奇怪的是,他并非没有尊严。大大的金边眼镜后面有一双蓝眼睛,精明而活泼,脸上透着坚毅。他已经六十岁了,但他与生俱来的活力战胜了岁月的流逝。尽管他很肥胖,但他的动作却很快,走路时步伐沉重而坚定,仿佛他试图将自己的重量印在大地上。他说话声音响亮、粗哑。

麦金托什被任命为沃克的助手已经两年了。沃克担任塔鲁阿岛(萨摩亚群岛中较大岛屿之一)的管理者已有四分之一个世纪的时间,无论是亲自还是通过报道,他在整个南海都广为人知。麦金托什怀着强烈的好奇心期待着与他的第一次会面。出于某种原因,他在上任之前在阿皮亚待了几周,在卓别林的酒店和英格兰俱乐部,他听到了无数关于这位管理员的故事。他现在讽刺地想到自己对它们的兴趣。从那时起,他已经从沃克本人那里听过一百次了。沃克知道自己是一个有性格的人,并且为自己的名声感到自豪,故意表现得如此。他嫉妒他的“传奇”,并渴望你知道有关他的任何著名故事的确切细节。他对任何错误地告诉陌生人他们的人感到可笑的愤怒。

沃克有一种粗暴的真诚,麦金托什起初觉得这很有吸引力,沃克很高兴有一个听众,他所说的一切都是新鲜的,他竭尽全力。他性格开朗、热情、体贴。麦金托什一直在伦敦过着政府官员的庇护生活,直到三十四岁时,一场肺炎的发作,使他受到肺结核的威胁,迫使他去太平洋寻找一个职位,沃克的存在似乎格外浪漫。他开始征服环境的冒险精神是这个人的典型特征。十五岁那年,他逃到了海上,一年多的时间里,他一直在煤船上铲煤。他是个身材矮小的男孩,男人和同伴都对他很好,但船长出于某种原因对他怀有一种强烈的厌恶。他对这个小伙子的虐待十分残忍,以至于他经常被拳打脚踢,四肢疼痛得睡不着觉。他从心底里厌恶船长。然后他得到了一些比赛的小费,并设法从他在贝尔法斯特认识的一个朋友那里借了二十五英镑。他把它放在马身上,作为一个局外人,在很困难的情况下。如果他输了,他没有办法还钱,但他从来没有想过自己会输。他觉得自己很幸运。马赢了,他发现自己得到了一千多英镑的现金。现在他的机会来了。他发现谁是镇上最好的律师——这艘煤船当时位于爱尔兰海岸的某个地方——去找他,并告诉他,他听说这艘船正在出售,请他为他安排购买事宜。律师被他的小委托人逗乐了,他才十六岁,看起来也不那么老,也许是出于同情,答应不仅会帮他安排这件事,而且会保证他讨价还价。过了一会儿,沃克发现自己就是这艘船的主人。他回到她身边,经历了他所说的一生中最光荣的时刻,当时他向船长发出通知,告诉他必须下船。 他的 半小时内发货。他任命了大副船长,并在煤船上又航行了九个月,最后他将她卖掉以获利。

二十六岁时,他来到岛屿上当种植园主。他是德国占领期间定居在塔鲁阿的少数白人之一,当时已经对当地人产生了一定的影响。德国人任命他为行政长官,这个职位他担任了二十年,当该岛被英国人占领后,他的职位得到确认。他专制地统治着该岛,但取得了圆满成功。这一成功的声望是麦金托什对他感兴趣的另一个原因。

但这两个人本来就不适合相处。麦金托什相貌丑陋,举止笨拙,个子又高又瘦,胸口狭窄,肩膀低垂。他脸色蜡黄,凹陷下去,眼睛又大又阴沉。他是一位伟大的读者,当他的书到达并打开包装时,沃克来到他的住处并查看了它们。然后他转向麦金托什,粗声笑道。

“你带这么多垃圾到底是为了什么?”他问。

麦金托什的脸涨得通红。

“我很抱歉你认为这很糟糕。我带来了我的书,因为我想读它们。”

“当你说你会收到很多书时,我以为会有一些东西可供我读。你没有侦探小说吗?”

“我对侦探小说不感兴趣。”

“那你就是个大傻瓜了。”

“我很高兴你能这么想。”

每封邮件都给沃克带来了大量的期刊文献、新西兰的论文和美国的杂志,麦金托什对这些短暂出版物的蔑视激怒了他。他对那些占用麦金托什闲暇时间的书没有耐心,认为读吉本的书只是一种姿态。 衰亡 或伯顿的 忧郁的解剖。而且由于他从来没有学会如何克制自己的舌头,所以他很随意地表达了自己对助手的看法。麦金托什开始看到真正的人,在喧闹的好心情下,他看到了令人憎恶的粗俗狡诈。他虚荣又专横,奇怪的是,他却有一种害羞的感觉,这使他不喜欢那些不合他胃口的人。他天真地根据别人的语言来评判他们,如果没有他自己谈话中大部分内容的咒骂和猥亵的话,他就会用怀疑的眼光看待他们。晚上,两个人打皮球。他打得不好,但很虚荣,赢了就夸奖对手,输了就发脾气。在极少数情况下,几个种植园主或商人会开车过来打桥牌,然后沃克就会以麦金托什认为典型的方式展现自己。他不顾自己的搭档,大声喊出自己想玩的牌,并无休止地争论,用响亮的声音击败反对者。他不断地撤销,当他撤销时,他会带着讨好的哀鸣说:“哦,你不会把它算在一个几乎看不见的老人身上。”他是否知道他的对手认为留在他的右侧也是不错的选择,而犹豫是否要坚持比赛的严格性?麦金托什冷冷地蔑视地看着他。比赛结束后,他们一边抽烟斗、喝威士忌,一边开始讲故事。沃克津津有味地讲述了他的婚姻故事。他在婚宴上喝得酩酊大醉,新娘逃走了,从此他再也没有见过她。他与岛上的女人有过无数次的冒险经历,既平凡又肮脏,他描述这些经历时对自己的能力感到自豪,这对麦金托什挑剔的耳朵来说是一种冒犯。他是一个粗俗、感性的老人。他认为麦金托什是个可怜的家伙,因为他不愿分享自己的淫乱情事,而且在大家喝醉的时候却保持清醒。

他还因为他做公务时的井然有序而鄙视他。麦金托什喜欢这样做。他的办公桌总是整洁,他的文件总是整齐地归档,他可以把手放在任何需要的文件上,他的手指末端有他们管理业务所需的所有法规。

“忽悠,忽悠,”沃克说。 “我已经经营这个岛二十年了,没有任何繁文缛节,现在我不想了。”

“当你想要一封信时,你必须花半个小时才能找到它,这对你来说是否更容易?”麦金托什回答道。

“你不过是个该死的官员。但你并不是一个坏人;当你在这里呆了一两年后,你就会没事了。你的问题是你不会喝酒。如果你每周被浸湿一次,那你就不算坏人了。”

奇怪的是,沃克完全没有意识到他的下属心中对他的厌恶情绪逐月增加。虽然他嘲笑他,但随着习惯了他,他几乎开始喜欢他了。他对他人的怪癖有一定的宽容度,他认为麦金托什是一条奇怪的鱼。也许他不知不觉地喜欢他,因为他能逗他开心。他的幽默充满粗俗的玩笑,他想要一个屁股。麦金托什的严谨、他的道德、他的清醒,都是富有成效的主题。他的苏格兰名字为有关苏格兰的常见笑话提供了机会。当有两三个人在场的时候,他就玩得很开心,他可以让他们都嘲笑麦金托什。他会对当地人说一些关于他的可笑的话,而麦金托什对萨摩亚语的了解仍然不完善,当沃克对他做出猥亵的提及时,他会看到他们无拘无束的欢笑。他幽默地微笑着。

“我会替你说这句话,麦克,”沃克会用粗哑的响亮声音说,“你可以开个玩笑。”

“这是个玩笑吗?”麦金托什微笑着。 “我不知道。”

“苏格兰人哈!”沃克大声笑道。 “只有一种方法可以让苏格兰人看笑话,那就是外科手术。”

沃克并不知道麦金托什最不能容忍的就是糠秕。他会在夜里醒来,在雨季令人喘不过气来的夜晚,闷闷不乐地思考沃克几天前漫不经心地说出的嘲笑。这让人恼火。他的心中充满了愤怒,他心里想象着如何向这个恶霸报仇。他曾试图回答他,但沃克有一种机智的机答天赋,粗俗而明显,这给了他一个优势。他的智力迟钝,使他对脆弱的轴无动于衷。他的自我满足使他不可能受伤。他响亮的声音,他的笑声,都是麦金托什无法反击的武器,他知道最明智的做法就是永远不要流露出他的愤怒。他学会了控制自己。但他的仇恨与日俱增,甚至变成了偏执狂。他以一种疯狂的警惕看着沃克。他通过沃克的每一次卑鄙行为,每一次孩子气的虚荣心、狡猾和粗俗的表现来满足自己的自尊。沃克吃得贪婪、吵闹、肮脏,麦金托什满意地看着他。他注意到自己所说的愚蠢的话和语法错误。他知道沃克不太尊重他,而他的首领对他的评价让他感到苦涩的满足。这增加了他对这个狭隘、自满的老人的蔑视。知道沃克完全没有意识到自己对他的仇恨,这让他感到异常高兴。他是一个喜欢受人欢迎的傻瓜,他平淡地以为每个人都崇拜他。有一次,麦金托什无意中听到沃克谈到他。

“当我把他舔干净后,他就会好起来的,”他说。 “它是一只好狗,它爱它的主人。”

麦金托什默默地、长长地、开朗地笑了,他那张蜡黄的长脸一动不动。

但他的仇恨并不是盲目的;而是充满仇恨的。相反,他的眼光特别敏锐,对沃克的能力判断得十分精准。他高效地统治着他的小王国。他公正而诚实。有了赚钱的机会,他比刚上任时更穷了,他晚年唯一的依靠就是他最终从官场退休时所期望的养老金。他感到自豪的是,在一名助手和一名混血职员的帮助下,他能够比由官员军队管理的乌波卢岛更有能力管理该岛,阿皮亚是乌波卢岛的主要城镇。他有一些当地警察来维持他的权威,但他没有使用他们。他以虚张声势和爱尔兰式幽默来统治。

“他们坚持要为我建一座监狱,”他说。 “我到底为什么要坐牢?我不会把当地人关进监狱。如果他们做错了,我知道如何处理他们。”

他与阿皮亚上级当局的争吵之一是他声称对岛上的土著拥有全部管辖权。无论他们犯了什么罪,他都不会将他们交给有能力处理他们的法院,他和乌波卢岛总督之间曾多次发出愤怒的信件。因为他视当地人为自己的孩子。这就是这个粗俗、庸俗、自私的人的奇妙之处。他满怀热情地热爱着他生活了这么久的这个岛屿,对当地人有一种奇怪的粗暴的温柔,这是非常美妙的。

他喜欢骑着他那匹老灰母马在岛上兜风,而且他对岛上的美丽永远不会感到厌倦。他沿着椰子树间的青草小路漫步,时不时停下来欣赏美丽的景色。时不时地,他会来到一个故乡,停下来,村长给他端来一碗饭。 卡瓦。他看着那一小群钟形的小屋,茅草屋顶高高的,像蜂巢一样,他那张肥胖的脸上就会露出微笑。他的目光愉快地停留在面包果树上那片蔓延开来的绿色上。

“乔治,这就像伊甸园。”

有时,他骑马沿着海岸行驶,穿过树林,他瞥见广阔的大海,空荡荡的,没有帆来打扰孤独;有时,他会爬上一座小山,一大片乡村,高大的树木中坐落着小村庄,展现在他面前,就像世界王国一样,他会欣喜若狂地坐上一个小时。但他无法用言语来表达自己的感受,为了缓解这种情绪,他只能说一些下流的笑话;就好像他的情绪如此强烈,需要粗俗的语言来打破紧张。

麦金托什冷冷地蔑视着这种情绪。沃克一直是个酒鬼,当他在阿皮亚过夜时,他为自己能在桌子底下看到年龄只有他一半的男人而感到自豪,而且他还有酒鬼般的多愁善感。他可以为杂志上读到的故事而哭泣,但却会拒绝向某个他认识了二十年的陷入困境的交易员提供贷款。他对金钱很亲近。有一次麦金托什对他说:

“没有人可以指责你捐钱。”

他把这当作一种恭维。他对自然的热情不过是酒鬼的胡言乱语。麦金托什也不同情他的酋长对当地人的感情。他爱他们,因为他们在他的权力之下,就像一个自私的人爱他的狗一样,他的心态与他们的一样。他们的幽默很下流,而他从来没有因为这些下流的言论而不知所措。他理解他们,他们也理解他。他为自己对他们的影响力感到自豪。他视他们为自己的孩子,并介入他们的所有事务。但他非常嫉妒自己的权威。如果他用铁杆统治他们,不容许任何矛盾,他就不会允许岛上的任何白人利用他们。他怀疑地看着传教士,如果他们做了他不赞成的事情,他就会让他们的生活变得难以忍受,如果他不能把他们赶走,他们就会很高兴自己离开。他对当地人的权力如此之大,以至于他们会根据他的诺言拒绝为他们的牧师提供劳动和食物。另一方面,他没有给商人任何好处。他小心翼翼地防止他们欺骗当地人。他看到他们的工作和干椰肉得到了公平的回报,而商人也没有从他们出售的商品中获得过高的利润。他对他认为不公平的交易毫不留情。有时,商人会在阿皮亚抱怨他们没有获得公平的机会。他们因此而受苦。沃克毫不犹豫地用诽谤、无耻的谎言来报复他们,他们发现,如果他们不仅想和平生活,而且想生存,就必须按照他自己的条件接受这种情况。一个令他厌恶的商人的商店不止一次被烧毁,而这件事恰好表明这是管理员煽动的。有一次,一个瑞典混血种姓因焚烧而身败名裂,他去找他,严厉指责他纵火。沃克当面大笑。

“你这个肮脏的狗。你的母亲是当地人,而你却试图欺骗当地人。如果你的破旧商店被烧毁,那是上天的审判;这就是它的本质,这是上帝的判断。出去。”

当那人被两名当地警察赶出去时,管理员哈哈大笑。

“上帝的审判。”

现在麦金托什看着他开始一天的工作。他从病人开始,因为沃克在他的其他活动中增加了看病,他在办公室后面有一个小房间,里面装满了药物。一位年长的男子走上前来,他有一头卷曲的灰色头发,穿着蓝色的衣服。 熔岩熔岩身上有精心设计的纹身,身上的皮肤像酒袋一样皱巴巴的。

“你来干什么?”沃克突然问他。

那人用哀怨的声音说,他吃不下东西就会呕吐,而且这里疼,那里也疼。

“去找传教士,”沃克说。 “你知道我只治疗小孩子。”

“我去过传教士那里,但他们对我没有任何好处。”

“然后回家,做好受死的准备。你活了这么久还想活下去吗?你是一个傻瓜。”

这名男子开始抱怨,但沃克指着一名怀里抱着生病孩子的妇女,让她把孩子带到他的办公桌前。他问她问题,看着孩子。

“我会给你药,”他说。他转向混血职员。 “去药房给我拿一些甘汞药丸。”

他让孩子吞下一颗,然后又给了母亲另一颗。

“把孩子抱走,保暖。明天它就会死掉或者更好。”

他靠在椅子上,点燃了烟斗。

“好东西,甘汞。我用它拯救的生命比阿皮亚所有医院医生加起来还要多。”

沃克对自己的技术非常自豪,并且由于无知而教条主义,对医学界的成员没有耐心。

“我喜欢的病例,”他说,“所有医生都认为没有希望而放弃的病例。当医生说他们无法治愈你时,我对他们说,‘来找我吧。’我有没有告诉过你那个患有癌症的人的事?”

“经常,”麦金托什说。

“我在三个月内就找到了他。”

“你从来没有告诉过我你没有治愈的人的事。”

他完成了这部分工作,然后继续剩下的工作。这是一场奇怪的混合比赛。有一个女人和她的丈夫合不来,一个男人抱怨他的妻子离他而去。

“幸运狗,”沃克说。 “大多数男人都希望他们的妻子也能这么做。”

为了几码土地的所有权,他们发生了长期复杂的争吵。一场关于渔获分配的争论。有人对一名白人商人提出投诉,因为他给出了短期措施。沃克认真听取了每一个案例,很快就做出了决定,并做出了决定。然后他就什么也听不到了;如果申诉人继续说下去,他就会被警察赶出办公室。麦金托什闷闷不乐地听着这一切。总的来说,也许可以承认,粗略的正义已经得到了伸张,但是,他的上司相信自己的直觉而不是证据,这激怒了助手。他不听道理。他威吓目击者,当他们看不到他希望他们看到的东西时,他们就称他们为小偷和骗子。

他把坐在房间角落里的一群人留在了最后。他故意忽略了他们。一行人中有一位老首领,身材高大,威严,留着一头白发,穿着一身新衣。 熔岩熔岩带着一缕巨大的苍蝇作为官徽的他、他的儿子和村里六位重要人物。沃克与他们有仇,还殴打过他们。按照他的性格,他现在打算扩大自己的胜利,因为他让他们从他们的无助中获利。事实很奇特。沃克热衷于修建道路。当他来到塔鲁阿时,这里那里只有几条小路,但随着时间的推移,他在全国各地开辟了道路,将村庄连接在一起,岛上的繁荣在很大程度上归功于此。在过去,不可能将土地上的农产品(主要是干椰肉)运到海岸,然后用帆船或汽艇运往阿皮亚,而现在运输变得轻松简单。他的目标是修建一条环岛公路,目前公路的大部分已经建成。

“两年内我就会做到这一点,然后我可以死,或者他们可以解雇我,我不在乎。”

他的道路是他内心的快乐,他不断地游览以确保道路保持井然有序。它们很简单,宽阔的小路,覆盖着青草,穿过灌木丛或种植园。但是树木必须被连根拔起,岩石必须被挖出或炸毁,并且必须到处平整。他感到自豪的是,他凭借自己的能力克服了这些困难。他对自己对它们的处置感到高兴,因为它们不仅方便,而且展示了他灵魂所爱的岛屿的美丽。当他谈到他的道路时,他几乎是一位诗人。他们蜿蜒穿过那些美丽的景色,沃克注意让他们时而走直线,穿过高大的树木,给你一片绿色的远景,时而转弯,让心得到休息。多样性。令人惊奇的是,这个粗俗而感性的人竟然运用如此微妙的聪明才智来达到他的想象所暗示的效果。他在修建道路时运用了日本园丁的所有精湛技艺。他从总部获得了一笔用于这项工作的拨款,但奇怪的是,他只使用了其中的一小部分,而前一年只花了分配给他的一千英镑中的一百英镑。

“他们要钱做什么?”他大声说道。 “他们只会把钱花在各种他们不想要的垃圾上;也就是说,传教士留给他们的东西。”

没有什么特别的原因,除了对他的政府的经济感到自豪,以及希望将他的效率与阿皮亚当局的浪费方法进行对比之外,他让当地人做他想要的工作,而工资几乎是名义上的。正因为如此,他最近与村里的头目们来见他时发生了一些麻烦。酋长的儿子已经在乌波卢岛呆了一年,回来后告诉他的人民阿皮亚为公共工程支付的巨额款项。他在冗长而无意义的谈话中点燃了他们对利益的渴望。他向他们展示了巨大财富的愿景,他们想到了他们可以购买的威士忌——它很贵,因为有法律规定不得将威士忌出售给当地人,因此他们的花费是白人必须支付的两倍为此,他们想到了存放财宝的檀香木大盒子、香皂和盆栽鲑鱼,这些都是卡纳卡人愿意出卖灵魂的奢侈品;因此,当管理员派人来找他们,告诉他们他想要一条从他们的村庄到沿海某个地点的道路并给他们二十英镑时,他们向他要了一百英镑。酋长的儿子名叫马努玛。他是个高大英俊的小伙子,古铜色的皮肤,毛茸茸的头发被石灰染成了红色,脖子上戴着一圈红色浆果的花环,耳后有一朵花,在他棕色的脸上映衬着猩红的火焰。他上身赤裸,但为了表明他不再是野蛮人,因为他住在阿皮亚,所以他穿了一条背带裤,而不是上衣。 熔岩熔岩。他告诉他们,如果他们团结起来,管理员将有义务接受他们的条件。他一心想修路,当他发现他们不愿意为更少的钱工作时,他就会满足他们的要求。但他们不能动;无论他说什么,他们都不能放弃自己的主张;他们已经要求了一百个,而且他们必须遵守。当他们提到那个身影时,沃克突然爆发出一声长长的、低沉的笑声。他告诉他们不要出丑,要立即开始工作。因为那天他心情很好,他答应等路修好后,请他们吃一顿大餐。但当他发现没有人试图开始工作时,他就到村子里问那些人在玩什么愚蠢的游戏。马努玛对他们进行了很好的指导。他们很平静,他们没有试图争论——而争论是卡纳卡人的一种热情——他们只是耸了耸肩:只要一百英镑,他们就愿意做,如果他不给他们,他们就不会做任何工作。他可以取悦自己。他们不在乎。然后沃克就爆发了热情。那时他很丑。他又短又胖的脖子不祥地肿了起来,红脸变紫,口吐白沫。他对当地人进行谩骂。他很清楚如何伤害和羞辱。他很可怕。老人们脸色苍白,神色不安。他们犹豫了。如果没有马努玛,他对这个伟大世界的了解,以及他们对他嘲笑的恐惧,他们就会屈服。回答沃克的是马努玛。

“付给我们一百英镑,我们就会工作。”

沃克向他挥舞着拳头,用他能想到的每一个名字称呼他。他对他充满了蔑视。马努玛一动不动地坐着,微笑着。他的笑容里或许更多的是虚张声势,而不是自信,但他必须在其他人面前表现得很好。他重复了一遍他的话。

“付给我们一百英镑,我们就会工作。”

他们认为沃克会扑向他。这并不是他第一次亲手殴打当地人。他们知道他的力量,尽管沃克的年龄是这个年轻人的三倍,而且矮了六英寸,但他们并不怀疑他比马努马更胜一筹。没有人想过要反抗管理员的野蛮攻击。但沃克什么也没说。他咯咯笑起来。

“我不会把时间浪费在一群傻瓜身上,”他说。 “再说一遍。你知道我提供了什么。如果你一周内还没有开始,那就要小心了。”

他转身走出了酋长的小屋。他解开了老母马,这是他和当地人之间典型的关系:其中一位年长的人抓住马镫,而沃克则从一块方便的巨石上沉重地坐上马鞍。

当天晚上,当沃克按照他的习惯沿着经过他家的道路漫步时,他听到有什么东西从他身边呼啸而过,砰的一声撞到了一棵树上。有东西向他扔来。他本能地躲开。一声大喊:“那是谁”?他跑向导弹发射的地方,听到一个人从灌木丛中逃走的声音。他知道在黑暗中追击是无望的,而且他很快就气喘吁吁,所以他停下来,走回路上。他四处寻找扔出的东西,但什么也没找到。天很黑。他很快回到家,给麦金托什和那个中国男孩打电话。

“其中一个恶魔向我扔了一些东西。来吧,让我们看看那是什么。”

他让男孩带上灯笼,三人就回到了那里。他们在地面上寻找,却找不到他们想要的东西。突然,男孩发出一声喉咙般的哭声。他们扭头看去。他举起灯笼,在刺破周围黑暗的光芒中,有一把长刀插在椰子树干上。它被扔得很用力,需要费很大的力气才能把它拉出来。

“乔治,如果他没有想念我,我的状态就会很好。”

沃克握着刀。这是其中一把刀,是仿制一百年前第一批白人带到岛上的水手刀而制成的,用来将椰子分成两半,以便将椰干晒干。这是一把凶器,剑身十二寸长,十分锋利。沃克轻轻一笑。

“恶魔,无礼的恶魔。”

他毫不怀疑是马努玛扔了刀。他离死亡仅差三英寸。他没有生气。相反,他的兴致很高;这次冒险让他兴奋不已,当他们回到家,要饮料时,他高兴地搓着手。

“我会让他们付出代价的!”

他的小眼睛闪闪发光。他像一只火鸡一样把自己引爆了,并在半小时内第二次坚持告诉麦金托什这件事的每一个细节。然后他请他玩皮皮球,当他们玩的时候,他吹嘘自己的意图。麦金托什听着,嘴唇紧闭。

“但是你为什么要把它们磨成这样呢?”他问。 “对于你想让他们做的工作来说,二十英镑是微不足道的。”

“他们应该非常感激我给他们的一切。”

“都挂了吧,这又不是你自己的钱。政府分配给你合理的金额。如果你花掉的话,他们不会抱怨的。”

“他们是阿皮亚的一群傻瓜。”

麦金托什看出沃克的动机只是虚荣心。他耸耸肩。

“以牺牲自己的生命为代价来击败阿皮亚的同伴,对你没有多大好处。”

“上帝保佑,他们不会伤害我,这些人。他们离不开我。他们崇拜我。马努玛是个傻瓜。他扔那把刀只是为了吓唬我。”

第二天,沃克再次骑马来到村庄。它被称为马塔乌图。他没有下马。当他到达酋长的家时,他看到那些人围坐在地板上围成一圈,说话,他猜他们又在讨论道路的问题。萨摩亚的小屋是这样形成的:细长的树干以大约五六英尺的间隔排成一圈;中间有一棵高大的树,茅草屋顶从这棵树向下倾斜。椰子叶制成的百叶窗可以在夜间或下雨时拉下。一般情况下,小屋四周都是敞开的,以便微风可以自由吹过。沃克骑马来到小屋边缘,向酋长喊道。

“哦,那里,唐加图,你儿子昨晚把刀落在树上了。我已经给你带回来了。”

他把它扔到圆圈中间的地上,然后低声笑了一声,慢慢走开了。

周一,他出去看看他们是否开始工作。没有任何迹象。他骑马穿过村庄。居民们都从事着他们平常的爱好。有些人正在用露兜树叶编席子,一位老人正在忙着做菜。 卡瓦 碗里,孩子们在玩耍,妇女们则忙着做家务。沃克嘴角挂着微笑,来到了酋长的家里。

塔洛法利,”酋长说。

塔洛法”沃克回答道。

马努玛正在织网。他坐在那里,嘴里叼着一支香烟,抬头看着沃克,脸上带着胜利的微笑。

“你决定不再上路了?”

酋长回答道。

“除非你付给我们一百英镑。”

“你会后悔的。”他转向马努玛。 “而你,我的小伙子,我不应该怀疑你的背在你年纪大之前是否很酸痛。”

他笑着骑车走了。 他让当地人隐约感到不安。 他们害怕这个又胖又罪恶的老人,无论是传教士对他的虐待,还是马努马在阿皮亚学到的蔑视,都没有让他们忘记他有邪恶的狡猾,没有人敢于与他勇敢,从长远来看,没有人会因此而受苦。 。 他们在二十四小时内就查出了他设计的计划。 这是有特色的。 第二天早上,一大群男人、女人和孩子来到村子里,酋长们说他们已经与沃克达成协议,要修建这条路。 他给了他们二十英镑,他们接受了。 狡猾之处在于,波利尼西亚人制定了具有法律效力的待客规则。绝对严格的礼仪使得村里的人不仅要为陌生人提供住宿,而且只要他们愿意留下来,就为他们提供食物和饮料。 马塔乌图的居民被愚弄了。 每天早上,工人们兴高采烈地出去,砍树,炸石,到处平整,晚上又踏着脚步回来,吃喝玩乐,吃得饱饱的,跳舞,唱赞美诗,享受生活。 对他们来说这是一次野餐。 但很快,他们的主人就开始拉长脸了。陌生人的胃口很大,大蕉和面包果在他们的贪婪面前消失了。鳄鱼梨树的果实被送到阿皮亚可以卖个好价钱,但现在却被剥光了。 毁灭就在他们面前。 然后他们发现陌生人工作得很慢。 他们是否收到沃克的暗示,可以慢慢来? 照这样下去,到修完路的时候,村子里就不会有一点粮食了。 更糟糕的是,他们成了笑柄。当他们中的一个或另一个去某个遥远的小村庄出差时,他发现这个故事已经在他之前到达了,他遇到了嘲笑的笑声。 卡纳卡人最不能忍受的就是嘲笑。 不久之后,受害者之间就开始了许多愤怒的议论。 马努玛不再是英雄;他是英雄。他不得不忍受大量的直言不讳,有一天,沃克所建议的事情发生了:一场激烈的争论变成了一场争吵,六名年轻人袭击了酋长的儿子,并给了他一顿殴打。他在露兜树的垫子上躺了一个星期,遍体鳞伤,浑身酸痛。 他左顾右盼,却找不到一丝轻松。 每隔一两天,管理员就会骑着他的老母马过来,观察道路的进展情况。 他不是一个能够抵制嘲笑倒下的敌人的诱惑的人,他不放过任何机会让马塔乌图蒙羞的居民感受到他们屈辱的痛苦。 他摧毁了他们的精神。 一天早上,他们把骄傲装在口袋里,这是一种比喻,因为他们没有口袋,他们和陌生人一起出发,开始在路上干活。 如果他们想节省一点粮食,就必须尽快完成,全村人都加入了进来。 但他们默默地工作,心中充满愤怒和屈辱,就连孩子们也在默默地劳作。 妇女们搬走一捆捆的柴草时哭了。 当沃克看到他们时,他笑得差点从马鞍上滚下来。 消息很快传开,岛上人民高兴极了。 这是最大的笑话,是那个狡猾的白人老人的最高胜利,任何卡纳卡都无法绕过他。他们带着妻子和孩子从遥远的村庄赶来,看看那些拒绝付二十英镑修路而现在却被迫白干的愚蠢的人们。 但他们越努力,客人就越轻松。 当他们不花钱就能得到好食物,而且他们花的时间越长,笑话就越好听时,他们为什么要着急呢? 可怜的村民们终于再也忍受不了了,今天早上他们就来请求管理员将这些陌生人送回自己的家中。 如果他愿意的话,他们答应自己免费修完这条路。 对他来说,这是一次完全的、无条件的胜利。 他们感到谦卑。 他那张赤裸的大脸上流露出一种傲慢自满的神情,他在椅子上似乎像一只巨大的牛蛙一样膨胀起来。 他的样子有些阴险,让麦金托什厌恶得浑身发抖。

“我修这条路是为了我好吗?你认为我能从中得到什么好处?它适合您,让您可以舒适地行走并舒适地携带您的椰干。我愿意支付你的工作报酬,尽管工作是为了你自己而完成的。我提出慷慨地付钱给你。现在 必须付款。如果你能修完这条路并支付我必须付给他们的二十英镑,我就会送马努阿人民回家。”

一片哗然。他们试图与他讲道理。他们告诉他他们没有钱。但对于他们所说的一切,他都用残酷的嘲笑来回答。然后时钟敲响了。

“晚饭时间到了,”他说。 “把他们都赶出去。”

他重重地从椅子上站起来,走出了房间。当麦金托什跟着他时,发现他已经坐在餐桌旁,脖子上系着餐巾,拿着刀叉,准备迎接中国厨师即将端来的饭菜。他精神抖擞。

“我把它们打倒了,”麦金托什坐下时他说道。 “从此之后,我的路就不会再遇到太多麻烦了。”

“我想你是在开玩笑,”麦金托什冷冷地说。

“你是什么意思?”

“你真的不会让他们付二十英镑吗?”

“你用你的生命打赌我是。”

“我不确定你是否有权利这么做。”

“你不是吗?我想我有权在这个岛上做任何我喜欢做的事。”

“我觉得你已经欺负他们够多了。”

沃克大笑起来。他不在乎麦金托什怎么想。

“当我需要你的意见时,我会征求你的意见。”麦金托什变得非常苍白。痛苦的经历让他知道,除了保持沉默,他什么也做不了,而强烈的自我控制使他感到恶心和晕倒。他无法吃眼前的食物,他厌恶地看着沃克把肉铲进他的大嘴里。他是一个肮脏的喂食者,和他一起坐在餐桌旁需要一个强大的胃。麦金托什浑身发抖。他有一种强烈的欲望想要羞辱这个粗鄙而残忍的人。他愿意付出世界上的一切,只要看到他在尘土中,承受着他给别人带来的痛苦。他从来没有像现在这样厌恶这个恶霸。

日子一天天过去了。麦金托什晚饭后想睡觉,但内心的激情阻止了他;他试图阅读,但字母在他眼前游动。太阳无情地晒着,他渴望下雨;但他知道下雨并不会带来凉爽;它只会让天气变得更热、更热气腾腾。他是阿伯丁人,他的心突然渴望吹过这座城市花岗岩街道的冰冷的风。在这里,他是一名囚犯,不仅被那片平静的大海所囚禁,而且被他对那个可怕的老人的仇恨所囚禁。他把手按在疼痛的头上。他想杀了他。但他振作起来。他必须做点什么来分散他的注意力,而且由于他不识字,他想他应该整理一下他的私人文件。这是一项他早就想做却又不断推迟的工作。他打开办公桌抽屉,拿出几封信。他看到了他的左轮手枪。他的脑海中突然闪现出一种冲动,他想用子弹射穿他的脑袋,从而逃离难以忍受的生活束缚,但他很快就将其搁置一旁。他发现在潮湿的空气中左轮手枪有些生锈,他拿起一块抹布开始擦拭。就在他正忙着的时候,他意识到有人在门口偷偷摸摸。他抬起头,喊道:

“谁在那儿?”

停顿了一会儿,然后马努玛现身了。

“你想要什么?”

酋长的儿子站了一会儿,闷闷不乐,一言不发,说话时声音沙哑。

“我们付不起二十英镑。我们没有钱。”

“我是什么做的?”麦金托什说。 “你听到沃克先生说的话了。”

马努马开始恳求,一半用萨摩亚语,一半用英语。这是一种单调的呜咽声,带着乞丐般颤抖的语调,这让麦金托什充满了厌恶。这个人竟然让自己如此崩溃,这让他很愤怒。他是一个可怜的对象。

“我无能为力,”麦金托什烦躁地说。 “你知道沃克先生是这里的主人。”

马努玛再次沉默了。他仍然站在门口。

“我病了,”他最后说道。 “给我一些药。”

“你怎么了?”

“我不知道。我病了。我的身体有些疼痛。”

“别站在那里,”麦金托什严厉地说。 “进来让我看看你。”

马努玛走进小房间,站在书桌前。

“我这里和这里都很痛。”

他双手放在腰间,脸上露出痛苦的表情。突然,麦金托什意识到,当马努玛出现在门口时,男孩的眼睛正落在他放在桌子上的左轮手枪上。两人之间陷入了沉默,对麦金托什来说,这是无尽的沉默。他似乎读出了卡纳卡心中的想法。他的心剧烈地跳动着。然后他感觉好像有什么东西占据了他,以至于他在一种外来意志的强迫下行事。自己做出的动作并不是身体的动作,而是一种令他陌生的力量。他的喉咙突然有些干燥,他机械地把手放在喉咙上,以帮助他说话。他被迫避开马努玛的目光。

“你在这里等一下,”他说,他的声音听起来就像有人抓住了他的气管,“我去药房给你拿点东西。”

他起来了。难道是他的错觉让他踉踉跄跄吗?马努玛静静地站着,尽管他一直没有移开目光,但麦金托什知道他正呆呆地看着门外。是这个附体的人将他赶出了房间,但自己却抓起一把乱七八糟的纸片,扔到左轮手枪上,以将其隐藏起来。他去了药房。他拿了一颗药丸,倒了一些蓝色的药水到一个小瓶子里,然后来到了院子里。他不想回到自己的平房,所以他打电话给马努马。

“过来。”

他给了他药物并说明如何服用。他不知道是什么让他无法看向卡纳卡。当他和他说话的时候,他的眼睛一直盯着他的肩膀。马努玛拿着药,偷偷溜出了大门。

麦金托什走进餐厅,再次翻阅旧报纸。但他看不懂它们。房子里非常安静。沃克在楼上自己的房间里睡觉,中国厨师在厨房忙碌,两名警察出去钓鱼。房子里似乎笼罩着一种超凡脱俗的寂静,麦金托什的脑海里不断浮现出一个问题:左轮手枪是否还躺在他原来放的地方。他无法让自己去看。不确定性是可怕的,但确定性会更可怕。他出汗了。最后,他再也忍受不了这种沉默了,他决定沿着路去商人那里,商人名叫杰维斯,他在大约一英里外有一家商店。他是混血儿,但即使有那么多的白血统也能让他交谈。他想离开他的平房,桌子上堆满了凌乱的文件,文件下面有什么东西,或者什么也没有。他沿着路走。当他经过一位酋长的精美小屋时,有人向他打招呼。然后他来到了商店。柜台后面坐着商人的女儿,一个皮肤黝黑、五官宽阔的女孩,穿着粉色衬衫和白色斜纹布裙子。杰维斯希望他能娶她。他有钱,而且他告诉麦金托什,他女儿的丈夫会很富裕。当她看到麦金托什时,脸红了一点。

“父亲刚刚拆开今天早上收到的一些箱子。我会告诉他你在这里。”

他坐下来,女孩就从商店后面出去了。不一会儿,她的母亲摇摇晃晃地走了进来,她是一位身材高大的老妇人,是一位酋长,她自己拥有很多土地。并向他伸出了手。她的巨大肥胖是一种冒犯,但她设法给人留下了尊严的印象。她待人亲切,没有谄媚之意;和蔼可亲,但很清楚自己的地位。

“你真是个陌生人,麦金托什先生。特蕾莎今天早上才说:‘为什么,我们现在再也见不到麦金托什先生了。’”

想到自己是那个老土人的女婿,他不禁打了个寒颤。众所周知,尽管她的丈夫是白人,但她却以严厉的手段统治着他。她是权威,她是业务负责人。对于白人来说,她可能只不过是杰维斯夫人,但她的父亲曾是皇室血统的首领,他的父亲和他父亲的父亲都曾作为国王统治过。商人进来了,他的妻子身材矮小,身旁是他威风凛凛的妻子。妻子身材黝黑,黑胡子变灰白,穿着鸭绒服,眼睛漂亮,牙齿闪闪发光。他非常英国化,说话也很俚语,但你感觉他说英语就像外语一样;他与家人一起使用他的母语。他是一个卑躬屈膝、卑躬屈膝的人。

“啊,麦金托什先生,这是一个令人高兴的惊喜。特蕾莎,来一杯威士忌;麦金托什先生将和我们一起漱口。”

他讲述了阿皮亚的所有最新消息,同时看着客人的眼睛,以便他知道该说些什么欢迎的话。

“沃克怎么样?我们最近才见到他。这周的某一天,杰维斯太太会送他一只乳猪。”

“我今天早上看到他骑车回家,”特蕾莎说。

“方法是这样的,”杰维斯举起威士忌说道。

麦金托什喝了酒。两个女人坐着看着他,杰维斯夫人穿着她的黑色母亲哈伯德,平静而傲慢,而特蕾莎,每当她看到他的目光时就急于微笑,而商人则令人难以忍受地闲聊。

“他们在阿皮亚说沃克是时候退休了。他已经不像以前那么年轻了。自从他第一次来到这些岛屿以来,事情已经发生了变化,但他并没有随之改变。”

“他太过分了,”老酋长说。 “当地人不满意。”

“这是关于这条路的一个很好的笑话,”商人笑着说。 “当我在阿皮亚告诉他们这件事时,他们哈哈大笑。好样的老沃克。”

麦金托什恶狠狠地看着他。他用这种方式谈论他是什么意思?对于混血商人来说,他就是沃克先生。他本想对这种无礼行为发出严厉的斥责。他不知道是什么阻碍了他。

“当他离开时,我希望你能接替他的位置,麦金托什先生,”杰维斯说。 “岛上的我们都喜欢你。你了解当地人。他们现在受过教育,他们必须受到与过去不同的待遇。它现在需要一个受过教育的人来担任管理者。沃克只是一个和我一样的交易员。”

特蕾莎的眼睛闪闪发光。

“当时机成熟时,如果有人可以在这里做任何事情,你可以用你的最低美元打赌我们会做的。我会让所有的酋长都去阿皮亚请愿。”

麦金托什感到非常恶心。他没有想到,如果沃克出了什么事,他可能会接替他。确实,在他的官方职位上,没有人对这座岛屿如此了解。他突然起身,几乎没有告辞就走回了大院。现在他径直走进了自己的房间。他快速地看了一眼自己的办公桌。他在文件中翻找。

左轮手枪不在那里。

他的心猛烈地撞击着肋骨。他到处寻找左轮手枪。他在椅子和抽屉里寻找。他绝望地寻找,他一直知道自己不会找到它。突然,他听到沃克粗暴而热情的声音。

“你到底想干什么,麦克?”

他开始。沃克站在门口,本能地转过身来隐藏桌上的东西。

“整理?”沃克询问道。 “我告诉他们把灰色的东西放进陷阱里。我要去塔福尼洗澡。你最好也一起来。”

“好吧,”麦金托什说。

只要他和沃克在一起,就不会发生任何事情。他们要去的地方大约三英里远,那里有一个淡水池,中间被一层薄薄的岩石屏障与大海隔开,是管理员炸开的,让当地人在里面洗澡。岛上各处有泉水的地方;与海水粘稠的温暖相比,淡水显得凉爽而充满活力。他们沿着寂静的青草路行驶,时不时地穿过海水强行涌入的浅滩,经过几个土著村庄,钟形的小屋宽敞地间隔开来,中间有一座白色的教堂,最远处是一座白色的教堂。第三个村子,他们摆脱了陷阱,拴好马,走到了水池边。陪同他们的还有四五个女孩和十几个孩子。很快,他们就都溅起了水花,又喊又笑,而沃克则穿着一身水花。 熔岩熔岩,像笨重的海豚一样来回游动。他和女孩们开下流的玩笑,当他试图抓住她们时,她们就潜入他身下,扭动着走开,以此取乐。当他累了的时候,他就躺在一块岩石上,女孩和孩子们围着他。这是一个幸福的家庭;那个老人身材高大,一头新月形的白发,戴着闪亮的秃顶,看上去就像某个古老的海神。有一次,麦金托什在他眼中看到了一种奇怪的柔和神情。

“他们是亲爱的孩子,”他说。 “他们视我为他们的父亲。”

然后他毫不犹豫地转向其中一个女孩,说了一句下流的话,引得她们全都笑了起来。麦金托什开始穿衣服。他的细腿和细臂使他成为一个怪诞的人物,一个险恶的堂吉诃德,沃克开始对他开粗俗的玩笑。人们用压抑的笑声承认了他们。麦金托什挣扎着穿衬衫。他知道自己看起来很荒唐,但他讨厌被人嘲笑。他沉默地站着,怒目而视。

“如果你想准时回来吃晚饭,就应该快点来。”

“你不是一个坏人,麦克。唯独你是个傻子。当你在做一件事时,你总是想做另一件事。这不是生活方式。”

但尽管如此,他还是慢慢地站了起来,开始穿衣服。他们漫步回到村子,喝了一碗 卡瓦 和酋长一起,然后,在所有懒惰的村民们愉快地告别之后,开车回家了。

晚饭后,沃克按照习惯,点着雪茄,准备出去散步。麦金托什突然感到恐惧。

“你不觉得现在晚上一个人出去很不明智吗?”

沃克用圆圆的蓝眼睛盯着他。

“魔鬼是什么意思?”

“记住那天晚上的那把刀。你得到了那些家伙的支持。”

“呸!他们不敢。”

“以前有人敢。”

“那只是虚张声势。他们不会伤害我。他们视我为父亲。他们知道我所做的一切都是为了他们好。”

麦金托什心中充满轻蔑地看着他。这个人的自满激怒了他,但不知是什么让他坚持了下来。

“记住今天早上发生的事情。今晚呆在家里不会对你造成什么影响。我陪你玩皮球。”

“等我回来,我就和你一起玩皮球。卡纳卡还没出生,谁能让我改变计划呢。”

“你最好让我陪你一起去。”

“你呆在原地。”

麦金托什耸耸肩。他已经向那人发出了充分的警告。如果他不注意的话,那就是他自己的了望。沃克戴上帽子走了出去。麦金托什开始读书;但随后他想到了一件事;或许最好还是清楚自己的行踪吧。他走到厨房,找了个借口和厨师聊了几分钟。然后他拿出留声机,放了一张唱片,但当它唱出忧郁的曲子时,伦敦音乐厅的一些滑稽歌曲,他的耳朵却在夜色中紧张地聆听着远处的声音。他手边的唱片发出响亮的声音,声音沙哑,但他周围却似乎笼罩在一种诡异的寂静之中。他听到海浪拍击礁石发出沉闷的轰鸣声。他听见微风在远处的椰子树树叶间叹息。需要多长时间?太糟糕了。

他听到一声沙哑的笑声。

“奇迹永远不会停止。你很少给自己弹奏曲子,麦克。”

沃克站在窗前,红着脸,坦率而快乐。

“好吧,你看我还活着,而且还在踢。你打球是为了什么?”

沃克进来了。

“神经有点神经质,嗯?弹奏一首曲子来让你的鸡鸡保持向上?”

“我正在演奏你的安魂曲。”

“那是什么鬼?”

“‘阿尔夫·苦’和一品脱黑啤酒。”

“也是一首非常好听的歌曲。我不介意多久听到一次。现在我准备好生气地从你身上拿走你的钱了。”

他们比赛时,沃克以欺凌的方式取得了胜利,他虚张声势,嘲笑他,嘲笑他的错误,直到每一次闪避,威吓他,欣喜若狂。不久,麦金托什恢复了冷静,站在他自己之外,他能够从观察这位专横的老人和他自己冷酷的保留中获得一种超然的乐趣。马努玛静静地坐在某处等待机会。

沃克赢得了一场又一场的比赛,并在晚上结束时以高度幽默的方式将奖金收入囊中。

“你必须长大一点,才有机会对抗我,麦克。事实上,我有打牌的天赋。”

“我不知道当我碰巧发给你十四张 A 时,这有什么礼物。”

“好牌属于好玩家,”沃克反驳道。 “如果有你的手,我就赢了。”

他继续讲述了他在各种场合与臭名昭著的牌手打牌的长篇故事,令他们惊愕的是,他从他们身上拿走了所有的钱。他吹嘘道。他夸奖自己。麦金托什全神贯注地听着。他现在想要满足他的仇恨;沃克所说的一切,每一个动作,都让他变得更加可憎。沃克终于站了起来。

“好吧,我要睡觉了,”他打着哈欠说道。 “明天我将度过漫长的一天。”

“你会怎样做?”

“我正开车去岛的另一边。我会在五点钟开始,但我预计我不会很晚才回来吃晚饭。”

他们一般七点钟吃饭。

“那我们最好七点半到。”

“我想也是这样吧。”

麦金托什看着他敲掉烟斗里的灰烬。他的生命力粗暴而旺盛。死亡笼罩着他,这感觉很奇怪。麦金托什阴冷的双眸中闪过一丝淡淡的微笑。

“你想让我跟你一起去吗?”

“以上帝的名义,我要这个做什么?我用的是母马,她有足够的事情来驮我;她不想拖你走三十英里的路。”

“也许你不太明白在马塔乌图是什么感觉。我觉得我和你一起去会比较安全。”

沃克爆发出轻蔑的笑声。

“你在废料中会有很大的用处。我不擅长煽风点火。”

现在,微笑从麦金托什的眼睛转移到了嘴唇。它痛苦地扭曲了他们。

Quem deus vult perdere prius dementat。=

“这他妈到底是什么?”沃克说。

“拉丁语。”麦金托什出去时回答道。

现在他笑了。他的心情变了。他已经尽力了,一切都掌握在命运的手中。他睡得比几个星期以来都睡得更香。第二天早上他醒来的时候就出去了。经过一个美好的夜晚后,他在清晨的新鲜空气中感到一种愉快的兴奋。大海比平常更加蔚蓝,天空更加灿烂,信风清新,微风拂过泻湖,就像天鹅绒拂过错误的方向,泻湖上泛起涟漪。他感觉自己更强壮、更年轻。他满怀热情地开始了一天的工作。午餐后,他又睡了,夜幕降临时,他给海湾装上马鞍,漫步穿过灌木丛。他似乎用新的眼光看待这一切。他感觉更正常了。非凡的是,他能够把沃克完全抛在脑后。就他而言,他可能根本不存在。

他回来晚了,骑行后很热,又洗了个澡。然后他坐在阳台上,抽着烟斗,看着泻湖上的天色渐渐暗下来。夕阳下的泻湖,玫瑰色、紫色、绿色,非常美丽。他对世界和自己感到平静。当厨师出来说晚饭已经准备好了,并问他是否应该等待时,麦金托什用友好的眼神对他微笑。他看着他的手表。

“现在七点半了。最好不要等待。不知道老板什么时候回来。”

男孩点点头,麦金托什立刻看见他端着一碗热气腾腾的汤穿过院子。他懒洋洋地起身,走进餐厅,吃晚饭。它发生了吗?这种不确定性很有趣,麦金托什在沉默中咯咯笑起来。食物看起来并不像平常那​​么单调,尽管有汉堡牛排,当厨师的糟糕发明失败时,他的不变菜肴,它的味道却奇迹般地多汁和五香。晚饭后,他懒洋洋地漫步到他的平房去拿一本书。他喜欢这种强烈的宁静,夜幕降临,星星在天空中闪烁。他大声喊着要一盏灯,不一会儿,中国人就光着脚啪嗒啪嗒地走了过来,一道光芒刺破了黑暗。他把台灯放在桌上,悄无声息地溜出了房间。麦金托什站在地板上,因为他的左轮手枪被杂乱的文件半遮住了。他的心剧烈地跳动着,冷汗直冒。那时就完成了。

他用颤抖的手拿起左轮手枪。其中四个房间是空的。他停顿了一下,疑惑地望向外面的夜色,但那里空无一人。他迅速将四颗子弹塞进空弹匣中,并将左轮手枪锁在抽屉里。

他坐下来等待。

一个小时过去了,第二个小时过去了。什么都没有。他坐在书桌前,好像在写字,但他既不写也不读。他只是听着。他竖起耳朵聆听从远处传来的声音。最后他听到了犹豫的脚步声,知道是中国厨师。

“阿成,”他喊道。

男孩来到门口。

“老板迟到了,”他说。 “晚饭不好吃。”

麦金托什盯着他,想知道他是否知道发生了什么事,以及当他知道时,他是否会意识到他和沃克之间的关系。他干着自己的事,潇洒、沉默、微笑,谁能知道他的想法呢?

“我想他已经在路上吃过晚饭了,但无论如何你都必须让汤保持热度。”

话刚出口,寂静突然被一阵混乱、哭声和赤脚的急促拍打声打破。许多当地人跑进了院子,有男人、女人和孩子。他们围在麦金托什周围,同时议论纷纷。他们难以理解。他们又兴奋又害怕,有的人还哭了。麦金托什挤过他们,来到了大门前。虽然他几乎听不懂他们在说什么,但他很清楚发生了什么事。当他到达门口时,狗车就到了。老母马由一匹高大的卡纳卡牵着,马车里蹲着两个人,试图扶起沃克。一小群当地人包围了它。

母马被牵进院子,当地人也跟着涌了进来。麦金托什大声叫他们退后,两名警察突然从天知道从哪里跳出来,猛烈地把他们推到一边。现在他已经明白了,一些正在钓鱼的小伙子在回村的路上,在浅滩的家乡一侧遇到了那辆马车。母马用鼻子蹭着草丛,在黑暗中,他们只能看到老人巨大的白色躯体沉入座椅和仪表板之间。起初他们以为他喝醉了,笑着往里看,但后来他们听到他呻吟了一声,猜想出了什么问题。他们跑到村子里寻求帮助。当他们在半百人的陪同下返回时,发现沃克已被枪杀。

麦金托什突然感到一阵恐惧,问自己是否已经死了。无论如何,第一件事就是把他从车里救出来,由于沃克肥胖,这是一项艰巨的工作。需要四个大力士才把他抬起来。他们摇晃着他,他发出沉闷的呻吟声。他还活着。最后,他们把他抬进屋,上楼梯,放在床上。然后麦金托什就能看到他了,因为院子里只有六盏防风灯照亮,一切都被遮住了。沃克的白鸭子沾满了血,抬着他的人用手掌擦着又红又粘的手。 熔岩。麦金托什举起了灯。他没想到老者脸色如此苍白。他的眼睛闭着。他的呼吸还算平稳,脉搏也能感觉到,但显然他已经快要死了。麦金托什没有料到恐惧的冲击让他浑身抽搐。他看到当地的店员在那里,声音因恐惧而沙哑,让他去药房拿皮下注射所需的东西。一名警察端出了威士忌,麦金托什强行塞了一点到老人嘴里。房间里挤满了当地人。他们坐在地板上,惊恐得说不出话来,时不时有人放声痛哭。天气很热,麦金托什却感觉很冷,手脚都像冰一样,他必须使劲才让四肢不发抖。他不知道该怎么办。他不知道沃克是否还在流血,如果是,他该如何止血。

店员拿来了皮下注射针。

“你把它给他,”麦金托什说。 “你比我更习惯这种事情。”

他的头疼得厉害。感觉好像有各种野蛮的小东西在里面跳动,试图逃脱。他们观察注射的效果。过了一会儿,沃克缓缓睁开了眼睛。他似乎不知道自己在哪里。

“保持安静,”麦金托什说。 “你在家里。你很安全。”

沃克的嘴角勾勒出一抹阴暗的微笑。

“他们抓住了我,”他低声说道。

“我会让杰维斯立即派他的摩托艇去阿皮亚。明天下午我们就会派医生出去。”

沉默良久,老人才回答道:

“到时候我就死了。”

麦金托什苍白的脸上闪过一丝可怕的表情。他强迫自己笑起来。

“什么烂东西!你保持安静,你就会像雨一样正常。”

“给我一杯饮料,”沃克说。 “一个僵硬的。”

麦金托什用颤抖的手倒出威士忌和水,一半对一半,然后端着杯子,沃克则贪婪地喝着。似乎让他恢复了。他长长地叹了口气,肉乎乎的大脸上泛起一丝血色。麦金托什感到异常无助。他站起来,盯着老人。

“如果你告诉我该怎么做,我就会这么做,”他说。

“没什么可做的。别管我了。我已经完蛋了。”

他躺在大床上,看上去十分可怜,是一个身材魁梧、浮肿的老人。但如此苍白、如此虚弱,令人心碎。当他休息的时候,他的头脑似乎变得更加清晰。

“你是对的,麦克,”他立刻说道。 “你警告过我。”

“我希望上帝能和你一起去。”

“你是个好人,麦克,只是你不喝酒。”

又是一阵长时间的沉默,很明显沃克正在下沉。发生了内出血,即使是无知的麦金托什也不能看不到他的首领只剩下一两个小时的生命了。他站在床边一动不动。沃克也许闭着眼睛躺了半个小时,然后才睁开眼睛。

“他们会把我的工作给你,”他慢慢地说。 “上次我在阿皮亚时,我告诉他们你没事。走完我的路。我想那会完成的。环岛各处。”

“我不想要你的工作。你会好起来的。”

沃克疲倦地摇摇头。

“我已经度过了愉快的一天。公平地对待他们,这就是伟大的事情。他们是孩子。你必须永远记住这一点。你必须对他们坚定,但也必须友善。而且你必须是公正的。我从来没有用它们做过鲍勃。二十年来我还没攒下一百英镑。路是一件伟大的事情。把路修好。”

麦金托什发出了类似抽泣的声音。

“你是个好人,麦克。我一直很喜欢你。”

他闭上眼睛,麦金托什认为他再也不会睁开眼睛了。他的嘴太干了,他必须给自己找点东西喝。中餐厨师默默地给他放了一张椅子。他在床边坐下来等待。他不知道时间过去了多久。夜晚是无尽的。突然,坐在那里的一个男人像个孩子一样无法控制地大声抽泣,麦金托什意识到此时房间里挤满了当地人。他们坐在地板上,男人女人都有,盯着床。

“这些人都在这里做什么?”麦金托什说。 “他们没有权利。把他们都赶出去,把他们都赶出去。”

他的话似乎惊醒了沃克,他再次睁开眼睛,眼中一片迷蒙。他想说话,但他太虚弱了,麦金托什不得不竖起耳朵才能听清他说的话。

“让他们留下来吧。他们是我的孩子。他们应该在这里。”

麦金托什转向当地人。

“保持你原有位置。他想要你。但请保持沉默。”

老者苍白的脸上浮现出淡淡的笑容。

“靠近点,”他说。

麦金托什向他弯下腰。他闭着眼睛,他说的话就像一阵风吹过椰子树的叶子。

“再给我一杯。我有话要说。”

这次麦金托什给了他纯净的威士忌。沃克用最后的意志力积攒了力量。

“别为这件事大惊小怪。九十五年,当出现麻烦时,白人被杀,舰队来炮轰村庄。许多与此事无关的人被杀。他们在阿皮亚真是该死的傻瓜。如果他们大惊小怪,他们只会惩罚错误的人。我不希望任何人受到惩罚。”

他停下来休息了一会儿。

“你必须说这是一次意外。没有人应该受到责备。答应我吧。”

“我会做任何你喜欢做的事,”麦金托什低声说道。

“好小伙子。最好的之一。他们是孩子。我是他们的父亲。父亲只要力所能及,就不会让自己的孩子陷入麻烦。”

他的喉咙里发出一声轻笑。这是非常奇怪和可怕的。

“你是个虔诚的教徒,麦克。原谅他们有什么意义?你知道。”

麦金托什好一会儿没有回答。他的嘴唇颤抖着。

“原谅他们吧,因为他们不知道自己在做什么?”

“这是正确的。原谅他们。我爱他们,你知道,一直爱他们。”

他叹了口气。他的嘴唇微弱地动了动,现在麦金托什必须把耳朵贴得很近才能听清。

“握住我的手,”他说。

麦金托什倒吸了一口气。他的心似乎很痛苦。他握住老人的手,那只手如此冰冷、虚弱、粗糙、粗糙,握在自己的手里。他就这样坐着,直到差点从座位上站起来,因为一阵长长的嘎嘎声突然打破了沉默。这太可怕了,太不可思议了。沃克死了。随后,当地人爆发出大声的叫喊声。泪水从他们的脸上流下来,他们捶胸顿足。

麦金托什松开了死者的手,像一个熟睡的醉汉一样摇摇晃晃地走出了房间。他走到写字台上锁的抽屉前,拿出左轮手枪。他走到海边,走进泻湖;他小心翼翼地涉水而出,以免被珊瑚礁绊倒,直到水没到他的腋窝为止。然后他用一颗子弹射穿了他的头部。

一个小时后,六条细长的棕色鲨鱼在他跌倒的地方溅起水花,挣扎着。

第三章·爱德华·巴纳德的垮台 •12,600字

贝特曼·亨特睡得很不好。在将他从塔希提岛带到旧金山的船上的两周里,他一直在思考他必须讲述的故事,而在火车上的三天里,他一直在对自己重复他打算讲述的话语。但几个小时后他就会到达芝加哥,疑虑笼罩着他。他的良心一向很敏感,却不安宁。他不确定自己是否已经做了所有可能的事情,做超出可能的事情是为了他的荣誉,想到这一点就令人不安,在一件几乎触及他自己利益的事情上,他让自己的利益占了上风。超越他的堂吉诃德式。自我牺牲如此强烈地激发了他的想象力,以至于无法运用自我牺牲让他产生了一种幻灭感。他就像一位慈善家,怀着利他的动机为穷人建造样板房,结果发现自己做了一笔利润丰厚的投资。他无法阻止自己对那百分之十的满足感,因为这百分之十是他撒在水面上的面包的奖励,但他有一种尴尬的感觉,这在某种程度上削弱了他美德的味道。贝特曼·亨特知道他的心是纯洁的,但他不太确定当他向她讲述他的故事时,他能多么坚定地忍受伊莎贝尔·朗斯塔夫冷静的灰色眼睛的审视。他们是有远见、有智慧的。她以自己一丝不苟的正直来衡量别人的标准,对于不符合她严格准则的行为,她以冷漠的沉默表达了她的不满,没有什么比这更大的谴责​​了。她的判断没有任何上诉之处,因为她下了决心,就从未改变过。但贝特曼也不会让她与众不同。他不仅爱她亭亭玉立、昂首挺胸的身材之美,更爱她心灵的美丽。她的诚实,她严格的荣誉感,她无畏的态度,在他看来,她身上集结了他的同胞妇女中最令人钦佩的一切。但他在她身上看到的不仅仅是美国女孩的完美类型,他觉得她的精致在某种程度上与她的环境不同,他确信除了芝加哥之外,世界上没有哪个城市能产生她。当他想起自己必须对她的自尊造成如此惨重的打击时,他感到一阵剧痛;当他想到爱德华·巴纳德时,他的心中怒火熊熊。

但火车终于驶进了芝加哥,当他看到长长的街道上布满灰色房屋时,他欣喜若狂。一想到国家和瓦巴什拥挤的人行道、熙熙攘攘的交通和噪音,他就无法忍受自己的不耐烦。他在家。他很高兴自己出生在美国最重要的城市。旧金山是地方性的,纽约是衰弱的;美国的未来取决于其经济可能性的发展,而芝加哥凭借其地位和公民的活力,注定会成为美国真正的首都。

“我想我会活得足够长,能够看到它成为世界上最大的城市,”贝特曼走上站台时自言自语道。

父亲来接他,热情地握手后,两人身材高挑,身材修长,五官同样清秀,嘴唇薄薄,走出了车站。亨特先生的汽车已经在等他们了,他们上了车。亨特先生看到儿子望着街道时骄傲而幸福的目光。

“很高兴回来,儿子?”他问。

“我应该认为我是,”贝特曼说。

他的目光吞噬了这不安的景象。

“我想这里的交通量比你们南海岛屿上的要多一些,”亨特先生笑着说。 “你喜欢那里吗?”

“给我芝加哥,爸爸,”贝特曼回答。

“你还没有把爱德华·巴纳德带回来。”

“没有。”

“他怎么样?”

贝特曼沉默了片刻,英俊而敏感的脸色阴沉下来。

“我最好不要谈论他,爸爸,”他最后说道。

“没关系,我的儿子。我想你妈妈今天会是一个幸福的女人。”

他们穿过卢普区拥挤的街道,沿着湖边行驶,直到来到那座雄伟的房子前,这是亨特先生几年前亲手建造的卢瓦尔河城堡的复制品。当贝特曼独自一人待在房间里时,他就打电话要了一个号码。当他听到回答他的声音时,他的心狂跳起来。

“早上好,伊莎贝尔,”他高兴地说。

“早上好,贝特曼。”

“你是怎么认出我的声音的?”

“距离我上次听到这个消息还没有多久。再说了,我也在等你呢。”

“我什么时候可以见到你?”

“除非你有更好的事要做,否则今晚你可能会和我们一起吃饭。”

“你很清楚,我不可能有更好的事情可做。”

“我想你一定有很多新闻吧?”

他觉得他从她的声音中听出了一丝忧虑。

“是的。”他回答。

“好吧,你今晚必须告诉我。再见。”

她挂断了电话。她的特点是,她应该能够等待这么多不必要的时间来了解她如此关心的事情。对于贝特曼来说,她的克制中蕴含着令人钦佩的毅力。

晚餐时,除了他和伊莎贝尔之外,除了她的父亲和母亲之外,没有人在场,他看着她将谈话引向温文尔雅的闲聊,他突然想到,以这种方式,一位侯爵夫人将在断头台的影子玩弄着明天将不知道的事情。她精致的面容、贵族式的短上唇和浓密的金发再次让人想起了侯爵夫人,而且很明显,即使不是臭名昭著,她的血管里流淌着芝加哥最好的血液。餐厅与她脆弱的美丽相得益彰,因为伊莎贝尔让一位英国专家按照路易十五的风格装修了这座威尼斯大运河上宫殿的复制品。而与这位多情君主的名字联系在一起的优雅装饰,增强了她的可爱感,同时也赋予了她更深刻的意义。因为伊莎贝尔的头脑很丰富,她的谈话无论多么轻松,却从不轻率。她现在谈到 音乐 她和她母亲下午去听了一位英国诗人在礼堂的演讲,政治形势,以及她父亲最近在纽约花五万美元买来的《古典大师》。听到她的声音,贝特曼感到很安慰。他感觉自己再次来到了文明世界,处于文化和名誉的中心。某些令人烦恼却又违背他意愿的声音最终在他心中沉寂下来。

“哎呀,但回到芝加哥真是太好了,”他说。

晚餐终于结束了,当他们走出餐厅时,伊莎贝尔对她的母亲说:

“我要带贝特曼去我的书房。我们有各种各样的事情要谈。”

“很好,亲爱的,”朗斯塔夫太太说。 “等你结束后,你会在杜巴里夫人的房间里找到你父亲和我。”

伊莎贝尔领着年轻人上楼,带他走进了那个给他留下了许多美好回忆的房间。尽管他很清楚这一点,但他还是无法抑制他总是发出的喜悦之声。她微笑着环顾四周。

“我认为这是成功的,”她说。 “最重要的是它是对的。连烟灰缸都不是那个时代的。”

“我想这就是它如此美妙的原因。就像你所做的一切一样,这是非常正确的。”

他们在篝火前坐下,伊莎贝尔用平静而严肃的眼睛看着他。

“现在你有什么话要对我说?”她问。

“我几乎不知道如何开始。”

“爱德华·巴纳德回来了吗?”

“没有。”

在贝特曼再次开口之前,沉默了很长一段时间,每个人都充满了许多想法。这是一个他不得不讲的故事,因为里面的一些事情对她敏感的耳朵来说是如此的冒犯,他无法忍受告诉他们,但为了对她公平,不亚于对他自己公平,他必须告诉她全部真相。

这一切都始于很久以前,当时他和还在上大学的爱德华·巴纳德在一次向社会介绍伊莎贝尔·朗斯塔夫的茶会上认识了她。当她还是个孩子的时候,他们就认识了她,他们都是长腿男孩,但她已经在欧洲完成学业两年了,他们惊讶地高兴地再次认识了这个回来的可爱女孩。他们两人都深深地爱上了她,但贝特曼很快就发现她的眼里只有爱德华,而出于对朋友的忠诚,他放弃了自己的知己角色。他度过了痛苦的时刻,但他不能否认爱德华配得上他的好运,而且,他担心任何事情都不会损害他如此珍视的友谊,因此他小心翼翼地从不暗示透露自己的感受。六个月后,这对年轻夫妇订婚了。但他们还很年轻,伊莎贝尔的父亲决定至少在爱德华毕业之前他们不应该结婚。他们不得不等待一年。贝特曼记得伊莎贝尔和爱德华即将结婚的那个冬天,那个冬天充满了舞会、戏剧晚会和非正式的欢乐活动,而他,这个固定的老三,总是在场。他对她的爱丝毫不减,因为她很快就会成为他朋友的妻子。她的微笑,她对他说的话,她对他的信任,都让他高兴不已。他有些沾沾自喜地庆幸自己,因为他并不羡慕他们的幸福。然后发生了意外。一家大银行倒闭,交易所出现恐慌,爱德华·巴纳德的父亲发现自己破产了。一天晚上,他回到家,告诉妻子自己身无分文,晚餐后,他走进书房开枪自杀。

一周后,爱德华·巴纳德满脸疲倦、苍白地去找伊莎贝尔,请求她释放他。她唯一的回答就是用双臂搂住他的脖子,放声大哭。

“别让我变得更难了,亲爱的,”他说。

“你觉得我现在可以放你走吗?我爱你。”

“我怎样才能向你求婚呢?整个事情是没有希望的。你父亲永远不会让你这么做。我一分钱都没有。”

“我在乎什么?我爱你。”

他告诉她他的计划。他必须立即赚钱,他家的老朋友乔治·布劳恩施密特提出要带他进入自己的生意。他是一位南海商人,在太平洋的许多岛屿上都设有代理机构。他建议爱德华应该去塔希提岛待一两年,在那里,在他最好的经理的指导下,他可以了解各种交易的细节,在那段时间结束时,他向这个年轻人承诺在芝加哥提供一个职位。这是一个绝佳的机会,当他解释完后,伊莎贝尔再次满面笑容。

“你这个傻孩子,为什么要让我难受呢?”

听到她的话,他的脸亮了起来,眼睛里闪烁着光芒。

“伊莎贝尔,你不是说要等我吗?”

“你不觉得你值得吗?”她笑了。

“啊,现在别笑我了。我恳求你认真点。可能会持续两年。”

“没有恐惧。我爱你,爱德华。等你回来我就娶你。”

爱德华的雇主是一个不喜欢拖延的人,他告诉他,如果他接受了他提供的职位,他必须在一周的那一天从旧金山出发。爱德华和伊莎贝尔度过了最后一个晚上。晚饭后,朗斯塔夫先生说他想和爱德华说句话,就带他走进了吸烟室。朗斯塔夫先生善意地接受了女儿告诉他的安排,爱德华无法想象他现在要进行什么神秘的交流。看到主人的尴尬,他不禁感到困惑。他支吾着。他谈到了一些琐碎的事情。最后他脱口而出。

“我猜你听说过阿诺德·杰克逊,”他皱着眉头看着爱德华说道。

爱德华犹豫了。他天生的诚实迫使他承认他很乐意否认的知识。

“是的,我有。但这是很久以前的事了。我想我没有太注意。”

“在芝加哥,没有多少人没有听说过阿诺德·杰克逊,”朗斯塔夫先生痛苦地说,“如果有的话,他们会毫不费力地找到一个愿意告诉他们的人。你知道他是朗斯塔夫夫人的弟弟吗?”

“是的,我知道。”

“当然,我们已经很多年没有和他联系了。他一有机会就离开了这个国家,我想这个国家对于见到他的最后一个人并不感到遗憾。我们了解到他住在塔希提岛。我对你的建议是对他敬而远之,但如果你确实听到了任何关于他的消息,朗斯塔夫夫人和我会很高兴让我们知道。”

“当然。”

“这就是我想对你说的一切。现在我敢说你也想加入女士们的行列。”

很少有家庭的成员中没有一个人,如果邻居允许的话,他们会心甘情愿地忘记,而当一两代人的逝去为他的变幻莫测赋予了浪漫的魅力时,他们是幸运的。但当他真正活着的时候,如果他的怪癖不是那种可以用“他不是任何人的敌人,而是他自己的敌人”这句话来宽恕的,那么当罪魁祸首没有比酗酒或飘忽不定的感情更糟糕的罪魁祸首时,这是一个安全的说法。 ,唯一可能的办法就是沉默。朗斯塔夫家族也正是这样对待阿诺德·杰克逊的。他们从来没有谈论过他。他们甚至不会经过他曾经住过的那条街。他们太仁慈了,不会让他的妻子和孩子因为他的罪行而受苦,他们多年来一直支持他们,但前提是他们应该住在欧洲。他们竭尽全力抹去阿诺德·杰克逊的所有记忆,但也意识到这个故事在公众心目中就像丑闻第一次爆发在一个巨大的世界上时一样新鲜。阿诺德·杰克逊是任何家庭都可能遭受的害群之马。一位富有的银行家,在教会中声名显赫,一位慈善家,一位受到所有人尊敬的人,不仅因为他的关系(他的血管里流淌着芝加哥的贵族血统),而且因为他正直的性格,他有一天因指控被捕欺诈;审判所揭露的不诚实行为并不是那种突然的诱惑就能解释的。这是经过深思熟虑和系统化的。阿诺德·杰克逊是个流氓。当他被关进监狱七年时,几乎没有人认为他没有轻易逃脱。

当最后一晚结束时,这对恋人分开时,表达了许多的忠诚。伊莎贝尔泪流满面,她对爱德华热烈的爱的确信感到稍稍安慰。她有一种奇怪的感觉。与他分开让她很痛苦,但她很高兴,因为他爱她。

这是两年多前的事了。

从那时起,他就通过每封邮件给她写信,总共二十四封信,因为邮件每月只寄一次,而他的信已经是一封情人的信了。他们亲密而迷人,有时很幽默,尤其是最近,而且很温柔。起初他们暗示他想家,他们充满了他想回到芝加哥和伊莎贝尔的愿望;她有点焦急地写信恳求他坚持下去。她担心他会放弃机会,飞回来。她不想让自己的爱人缺乏忍耐力,她向他引用了这样的台词:

“亲爱的,我无法如此爱你,
爱我没有更多的荣誉。”

但不久他似乎安定下来,伊莎贝尔很高兴地看到他越来越热衷于将美国方法引入世界上那个被遗忘的角落。但她了解他,到了年底,这是他在塔希提岛停留的最短时间,她预计必须利用她所有的影响力阻止他回家。如果他能彻底了解这行生意就更好了,如果他们能够等一年,似乎没有理由不再等一年。她与贝特曼·亨特(Bateman Hunter)讨论了这件事,贝特曼·亨特一直是最慷慨的朋友(在爱德华走后的最初几天里,她不知道如果没有他她会做什么),他们决定爱德华的未来必须高于一切。随着时间的流逝,她发现他并没有提出要回来的建议,这让她松了口气。

“他很出色,不是吗?”她对贝特曼喊道。

“他是彻头彻尾的白人。”

“从他信的字里行间,我知道他讨厌那里,但他坚持了下来,因为……”

她脸红了一点,贝特曼脸上严肃的笑容很迷人,替她说完了这句话。

“因为他爱你。”

“这让我感到很谦卑,”她说。

“你太棒了,伊莎贝尔,你太棒了。”

但第二年过去了,伊莎贝尔每个月都继续收到爱德华的来信,不久之后,他没有说要回来,这似乎有点奇怪。他的写作就好像他已经在塔希提岛定居了,而且舒适地定居了。她很惊讶。然后她又读了一遍他的信,所有的信都读了好几遍。现在,她确实从字里行间看出,她很困惑地发现自己没有注意到的变化。后来的信和第一封信一样温柔、愉快,但语气不同。她对他们的幽默有些怀疑,她本能地对自己的性别不信任,因为这种不负责任的品质,她现在在他们身上发现了一种令她困惑的轻率。她不太确定现在写信给她的爱德华就是她认识的那个爱德华。一天下午,一封从塔希提岛寄来的邮件的第二天,当她和贝特曼一起开车时,贝特曼对她说:

“爱德华在航行时告诉过你吗?”

“不,他没有提到这一点。我想他可能对你说了一些关于这件事的事情。”

“一言不发。”

“你知道爱德华是个什么样的人,”她笑着回答,“他没有时间观念。如果你下次写信时想到,你可以问他什么时候想来。”

她的态度如此漠不关心,只有贝特曼敏锐的敏感度才能看出她的请求中有一个非常迫切的愿望。他轻笑道。

“是的。我去问他。我无法想象他在想什么。”

几天后,再次见到他时,她发现他有些不安。自从爱德华离开芝加哥后,他们就经常在一起。他们都对他很忠诚,每个人都渴望谈论不在场的人,都找到了一位愿意倾听的人。结果是伊莎贝尔知道贝特曼脸上的每一个表情,而他的否认现在对她敏锐的本能毫无用处。她觉得他那副苦恼的表情与爱德华有关,直到让他坦白为止,她才休息。

“事实是,”他最后说道,“我拐弯抹角地听说爱德华不再为布伦施密特公司工作,昨天我借此机会询问了布伦施密特先生本人。”

“好?”

“爱德华大约一年前就离开了他们。”

“他竟然对此只字未提,真是奇怪啊!”

贝特曼犹豫了,但他现在已经太过分了,不得不告诉其余的事情。这让他感到非常尴尬。

“他被解雇了。”

“看在老天爷的份上,这是为了什么?”

“看来他们警告过他一两次,最后他们让他滚出去。他们说他懒惰且无能。”

“爱德华?”

他们沉默了一会儿,然后他看到伊莎贝尔在哭。他本能地握住了她的手。

“哦,亲爱的,不要,不要,”他说。 “我不忍心看到它。”

她是如此的放松,以至于她把自己的手放在了他的手上。他试图安慰她。

“这很难理解,不是吗?这和爱德华很不一样。我不禁觉得这其中一定有什么错误。”

她一时间没有说话,说话的时候也有些犹豫。

“你有没有觉得他最近的信里有什么奇怪的地方?”她移开视线,问道,眼睛里闪烁着泪光。

他不太知道该如何回答。

“我注意到他们的变化,”他承认。 “他似乎失去了我非常钦佩的那种高度严肃性。人们几乎会认为重要的事情——好吧,并不重要。”

伊莎贝尔没有回答。她心里隐约有些不安。

“也许他在回信时会说他什么时候回家。我们能做的就是等待。”

爱德华又给他们每人写了一封信,但他仍然没有提到他回来的事。但当他写信时,他不可能收到贝特曼的询问。下一封邮件会给他们带来答案。下一封邮件来了,贝特曼给伊莎贝尔带来了他刚刚收到的信。但第一眼看到他的脸就足以让她知道他很不安。她仔细地读了一遍,然后微微抿紧嘴唇,又读了一遍。

“这是一封非常奇怪的信,”她说。 “我不太明白。”

“人们几乎会认为他是在跟我开玩笑,”贝特曼红着脸说道。

“虽然字面意思是这样,但一定是无意的。这太不像爱德华了。”

“他没有说要回来。”

“如果我对他的爱不是那么有信心,我应该想……我几乎不知道自己应该怎么想。”

就在那时,贝特曼提出了下午在他脑子里形成的计划。这家公司是由他父亲创办的,他现在是该公司的合伙人,该公司生产各种机动车辆,即将在檀香山、悉尼和惠灵顿设立代理机构;贝特曼建议他自己去代替所建议的经理。他可以经塔希提岛返回;事实上,从惠灵顿出发,这样做是不可避免的;他可以看到爱德华。

“这里面有一些谜团,我要去解开它。这是唯一的方法。”

“哦,贝特曼,你怎么能这么善良呢?”她惊呼道。

“你知道世界上我最想要的就是你的幸福,伊莎贝尔。”

她看着他,把手递给了他。

“你很棒,贝特曼。我不知道世界上还有像你这样的人。我该如何感谢你呢?”

“我不需要你的感谢。我只是想被允许帮助你。”

她垂下眼睛,脸有些红。她太习惯他了,以至于忘记了他有多帅。他和爱德华一样高,身材也很好,但他肤色黝黑,脸色苍白,而爱德华则面色红润。她当然知道他爱她。这触动了她。她对他感觉非常温柔。

贝特曼·亨特正是从这次旅程中回来的。

商务部分花费的时间比他预期的要长一些,他有很多时间思考他的两个朋友。他得出的结论是,可能没有什么严重的事情阻止了爱德华回家,也许是一种骄傲,这让他决定在娶到他心爱的新娘之前先做好功课;也许,这让他感到骄傲。但这是一种必须讲道理的骄傲。伊莎贝尔很不高兴。爱德华必须和他一起回到芝加哥并立即娶她。他可以在亨特汽车牵引和汽车公司找到一个职位。贝特曼怀着一颗流血的心,为以牺牲自己的利益为代价,为世界上他最爱的两个人带来幸福而欣喜若狂。他永远不会结婚。他将成为爱德华和伊莎贝尔孩子们的教父,许多年后,当他们都去世时,他会告诉伊莎贝尔的女儿,他很久很久以前就爱过她的母亲。当贝特曼想象这一幕时,他的眼睛里充满了泪水。

为了让爱德华大吃一惊,他没有发电报宣布他的到来,当他最终降落在塔希提岛时,他允许一个自称是该家族的儿子的年轻人带他去了德拉弗勒尔酒店。当他想到他的朋友看到​​他这个最意想不到的访客走进他的办公室时的惊讶之情时,他笑了。

“顺便问一下,”他们一边走一边问道,“你能告诉我在哪里可以找到爱德华·巴纳德先生吗?”

“巴纳德?”年轻人说道。 “我好像知道这个名字。”

“他是美国人。一个身材高大的家伙,有着浅棕色的头发和蓝色的眼睛。他在这里已经两年多了。”

“当然。现在我知道你指的是谁了。你是说杰克逊先生的侄子。”

“谁的侄子?”

“阿诺德·杰克逊先生。”

“我认为我们说的不是同一个人。”贝特曼冷冷地回答。

他吓了一跳。奇怪的是,众所周知的阿诺德·杰克逊竟然以他被定罪的可耻名字住在这里。但贝特曼无法想象他冒充侄子的人是谁。朗斯塔夫夫人是他唯一的妹妹,他从未有过兄弟。他身旁的年轻人滔滔不绝地用带有外语语调的英语说话,贝特曼斜眼一瞥,发现他以前没有注意到的一点是,他身上有很多东西。原生血脉。他的举止不由自主地带有一丝傲慢。他们到达了酒店。当他安排好自己的房间后,贝特曼要求带他去布劳恩施密特公司的住所。他们在前面,面朝泻湖,在海上航行了八天后,很高兴能感觉到脚下坚实的土地,他漫步下来通往水边的阳光之路。找到他要找的地方后,贝特曼把名片交给经理,然后被领着穿过一个高耸的谷仓般的房间,一半是商店,一半是仓库,来到一间办公室,里面坐着一个矮胖、戴着眼镜、秃头的男人。

“你能告诉我在哪里可以找到爱德华·巴纳德先生吗?我知道他在这个办公室已经有一段时间了。”

“就是这样。我不知道他在哪里。”

“但我认为他是带着布劳恩施密特先生的特别推荐来到这里的。我非常了解布劳恩施密特先生。”

胖子用精明而怀疑的眼神看着贝特曼。他叫住仓库里的一名男孩。

“亨利,巴纳德现在在哪儿,你知道吗?”

“我想他在卡梅伦家工作。”一个懒得搬家的人回答道。

胖子点点头。

“如果你离开这里后向左转,大约三分钟后你就会到达卡梅伦家。”

贝特曼犹豫了。

“我想我应该告诉你,爱德华·巴纳德是我最好的朋友。当我听说他离开布伦施密特公司时,我感到非常惊讶。”

胖子的眼睛收缩得像针尖,这种审视让贝特曼浑身不舒服,脸都红了。

“我猜布伦施密特公司和爱德华·巴纳德在某些问题上意见不一致,”他回答道。

贝特曼不太喜欢这个家伙的态度,所以他起身,不失尊严,并为打扰他而道歉,并向他道了日安。离开这个地方时,他有一种奇怪的感觉,觉得刚刚采访的那个人有很多话要告诉他,但却无意说出来。他按照指示的方向走去,很快就到了卡梅伦家。这是一家贸易商店,他在路上经过了六家这样的商店,当他走进去时,他看到的第一个人就是爱德华,他穿着衬衣袖子,量着一段贸易棉花。看到他从事如此卑微的职业,他吃了一惊。但他刚出现,爱德华就抬起头来,看到了他,惊喜地大叫起来。

“贝特曼!谁想到会在这里见到你?”

他将手臂伸过柜台,握住贝特曼的手。他的举止中没有任何不自然的感觉,而尴尬全都在贝特曼这边。

“等我把这个包裹包好。”

他满怀信心地用剪刀剪过这些东西,把它折叠起来,做成一个包裹,然后递给了深色皮肤的顾客。

“请到柜台付款。”

然后,他微笑着,眼睛明亮,转向贝特曼。

“你怎么出现在这里?哎呀,很高兴见到你。坐下吧,老头子。请随便一点,就像在自己家一样。”

“我们不能在这里说话。来我的酒店吧。我想你能逃脱吧?”

他带着一些忧虑补充了这一点。

“我当然可以逃脱。我们不像塔希提岛那么务实。”他向站在对面柜台后面的一个中国人喊道。 “阿铃,老板来了就告诉他,我有一个朋友刚从美国回来,我跟他出去排水了。”

“全是光,”中国人笑着说道。

爱德华穿上外套,戴上帽子,陪贝特曼走出商店。贝特曼试图用玩笑的方式来表达这件事。

“我没想到你会把三码半的烂棉花卖给一个油腻的黑鬼,”他笑着说。

“布伦施密特解雇了我,你知道,我认为这和其他事情一样有效。”

爱德华的坦率让贝特曼感到非常惊讶,但他认为继续这个话题是不明智的。

“我猜你在现在的地方不会发大财,”他回答道,语气有些干巴巴。

“我猜不会。但我的收入足以维持身体和灵魂的健康,我对此很满意。”

“两年前你不会是这样的。”

“随着年龄的增长,我们会变得更加聪明。”爱德华高兴地反驳道。

贝特曼看了他一眼。爱德华穿着一套破旧的白鸭子套装,不太干净,戴着一顶土产的大草帽。他比以前更瘦了,被太阳晒得很深,但他的样子确实比以前好看了。但他的外表有些让贝特曼感到不安。他走路时神情焕然一新。他的举止中有一种漫不经心的态度,一种对任何特别的事情都感到高兴的态度,贝特曼不能完全责怪这一点,但这让他非常困惑。

“如果我能看到他为什么这么高兴,我就很高兴了,”他对自己说。

他们到达酒店,坐在露台上。一个中国男孩给他们带来了鸡尾酒。爱德华非常渴望听到芝加哥的所有消息,并用急切的问题轰炸了他的朋友。他的兴趣是自然而真诚的。但奇怪的是,它似乎在众多主题中均等地分配。他和伊莎贝尔在做什么一样渴望知道贝特曼的父亲怎么样。他谈起她时没有一丝尴尬,但她既可能是他的妹妹,也可能是他的未婚妻;在贝特曼分析完爱德华言论的确切含义之前,他发现谈话已经转移到他自己的工作和他父亲最近建造的建筑物上。他决心把话题拉回到伊莎贝尔身上,正寻找时机,就看到爱德华亲切地挥了挥手。露台上一个男人正向他们走来,但贝特曼背对着他,看不到他。

“过来坐下,”爱德华高兴地说。

新来的人走近了。他是个又高又瘦的男人,穿着白色鸭绒服,有一头漂亮的白色卷发。他的脸又瘦又长,有一个大鹰钩鼻和一张美丽而富有表情的嘴巴。

“这是我的老朋友贝特曼·亨特。我已经告诉过你他的事了。”爱德华说道,嘴角始终挂着微笑。

“我很高兴认识你,亨特先生。我以前认识你父亲。”

陌生人伸出手,友好而有力地握住了年轻人的手。直到这时,爱德华才提到了对方的名字。

“阿诺德·杰克逊先生。”

贝特曼脸色煞白,感觉双手变冷。这是伪造者,罪犯,这是伊莎贝尔的叔叔。他不知道该说什么。他试图掩饰自己的困惑。阿诺·杰克逊用闪烁的眼睛看着他。

“我敢说我的名字你一定很熟悉。”

贝特曼不知道该说是还是不是,更尴尬的是杰克逊和爱德华似乎都被逗乐了。强迫他认识岛上一个他宁愿避免的人已经够糟糕的了,更糟糕的是发现他被愚弄了。然而,也许他得出这个结论的速度太快了,因为杰克逊毫不停顿地补充道:

“我知道你对长斯塔夫一家非常友好。玛丽·朗斯塔夫是我的妹妹。”

现在贝特曼问自己,阿诺德·杰克逊是否会认为他对芝加哥有史以来最可怕的丑闻一无所知。但杰克逊把手放在爱德华的肩膀上。

“我不能坐下,泰迪,”他说。 “我很忙。不过你们两个小伙子今晚还是过来吃饭吧。”

“那就好,”爱德华说。

“杰克逊先生,您真是太好了,”贝特曼冷冷地说,“但我在这里待的时间太短了;你知道,我的船明天启航;我想如果你能原谅我,我就不会来了。”

“哦,废话。我会给你一顿当地的晚餐。我妻子是一位很棒的厨师。泰迪会给你带路。早点来,以便看到日落。如果你们愿意的话,我可以对你们俩进行一次整顿。”

“我们当然会来,”爱德华说。 “船到达的那天晚上,酒店里总会发生争吵,我们可以在平房里好好聊聊。”

“我不能放过你,亨特先生,”杰克逊极其热情地继续说道。 “我想听听有关芝加哥和玛丽的一切。”

贝特曼还没来得及再说一句话,他点点头就走开了。

“在塔希提岛,我们不接受拒绝。”爱德华笑着说。 “此外,你还会吃到岛上最好的晚餐。”

“他说他的妻子厨艺很好是什么意思?我碰巧知道他的妻子在日内瓦。”

“对于一个妻子来说,这太遥远了,不是吗?”爱德华说。 “而且他已经很久没有见到她了。我猜他说的是另一个妻子。”

贝特曼沉默了一段时间。他的脸上布满了严肃的皱纹。但他抬起头,看到了爱德华眼中有趣的表情,他的脸顿时涨得通红。

“阿诺德·杰克逊是一个卑鄙的流氓,”他说。

“我非常担心他是这样,”爱德华微笑着回答。

“我不明白任何一个正派的人怎么可能和他有任何关系。”

“也许我不是一个正派的人。”

“你经常见到他吗,爱德华?”

“是的,相当多。他收我为侄子。”

贝特曼向前倾身,用他探寻的目光注视着爱德华。

“你喜欢他吗?”

“非常。”

“但是你难道不知道,这里的每个人都不知道,他是一个伪造者,而且他曾经是一个罪犯吗?他应该被逐出文明社会。”

爱德华看着一圈烟从他的雪茄中飘散到静止、芳香四溢的空气中。

“我认为他是一个十足的无赖,”他最后说道。 “我不能自欺欺人地说,对他的罪行的任何悔改都为宽恕他们提供了借口。他是一个骗子和一个伪君子。你无法摆脱它。我从未遇到过比这更令人愉快的伴侣。他教会了我我所知道的一切。”

“他教了你什么?”贝特曼惊讶地叫道。

“如何生活。”

贝特曼讽刺地笑了起来。

“一位优秀的大师。难道是因为他的教训,你才失去了现在在十毛店柜台前谋生的机会吗?”

“他的个性很棒,”爱德华和蔼地微笑着说道。 “也许今晚你就会明白我的意思。”

“如果你是这个意思的话,我不会和他一起吃饭。没有什么能吸引我踏进那个人的房子。”

“来帮帮我吧,贝特曼。我们是这么多年的朋友,当我有求于你的时候,你不会拒绝我的。”

爱德华的语气对贝特曼来说是一种全新的感觉。它的温柔非常有说服力。

“如果你这么说,爱德华,我一定会来的,”他微笑着。

此外,贝特曼认为最好还是了解一下阿诺德·杰克逊的情况。很明显,他比爱德华有很大的优势,如果要与之对抗,就必须弄清楚它到底包含什么。他与爱德华交谈得越多,他就越意识到自己发生了变化。他有一种直觉,认为他应该小心翼翼地行走,并且他决定在更清楚地看清自己的路之前,不要透露他此行的真正目的。他开始谈论一件事又另一件事,谈论他的旅程和他所取得的成就,谈论芝加哥的政治,谈论这个共同的朋友,谈论他们在大学里一起度过的日子。

最后爱德华说他必须回去工作,并提议他五点钟去接贝特曼,这样他们就可以一起开车去阿诺德·杰克逊家。

“顺便说一句,我还以为你会住在这家酒店,”贝特曼一边说,一边和爱德华一起走出花园。 “我知道这是这里唯一像样的。”

“我不是,”爱德华笑道。 “这对我来说太伟大了。我在城外租了一个房间。它既便宜又干净。”

“如果我没记错的话,当你住在芝加哥时,这些对你来说似乎并不是最重要的。”

“芝加哥!”

“我不知道你这是什么意思,爱德华。这是世界上最伟大的城市。”

“我知道,”爱德华说。

贝特曼飞快地看了他一眼,但他的脸色却深不可测。

“你什么时候回来?”

“我经常想知道,”爱德华微笑着说。

这个答案及其方式让贝特曼大吃一惊,但在他能够要求解释之前,爱德华向一个开着一辆路过的汽车的混血儿挥了挥手。

“查理,载我们一程吧,”他说。

他向贝特曼点点头,然后追着停在前面几码处的机器跑去。贝特曼只能拼凑出大量令人困惑的印象。

爱德华在一匹老母马拉的摇摇晃晃的陷阱里呼唤他,他们沿着一条临海的道路行驶。两边都是种植园,种植着椰子和香草。他们时不时地看到一个巨大的芒果,它的果实在浓密的绿色叶子中呈黄色、红色和紫色。他们时不时地瞥见泻湖,光滑而蓝色,到处都有一个小岛,优雅地长着高大的棕榈树。阿诺德·杰克逊的房子坐落在一座小山上,只有一条小路通往那里,所以他们解开母马,把它绑在树上,把陷阱留在路边。对贝特曼来说,这似乎是一种无忧无虑的做事方式。但当他们走进房子时,遇到了一位身材高大、英俊的当地妇女,她已经不再年轻了,爱德华亲切地与她握手。他向她介绍了贝特曼。

“这是我的朋友亨特先生。我们要和你一起吃饭,拉维娜。”

“好吧,”她迅速微笑着说道。 “阿诺还没回来。”

“我们下去洗澡吧。让我们来几个 披肩设立的区域办事处外,我们在美国也开设了办事处,以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“

女人点点头,进了屋。

“那是谁?”贝特曼问道。

“噢,那是拉维娜。她是阿诺德的妻子。”

贝特曼抿紧嘴唇,但什么也没说。过了一会儿,那个女人带着一个包裹回来了,她把它交给了爱德华。两个人爬​​下一条陡峭的小路,来到海滩上的一片椰子树林。他们脱掉衣服,爱德华向他的朋友展示了如何制作红色贸易棉条,这种棉条被称为“ pareo 放进一对非常整洁的洗澡抽屉里。很快他们就在温暖的浅水中戏水了。爱德华心情很好。他又笑又喊又唱。他可能已经十五岁了。贝特曼从未见过他如此快乐,后来当他们躺在海滩上,在清澈的空气中抽烟时,他身上有一种难以抗拒的轻松愉快,令贝特曼吃了一惊。

“你似乎发现生活非常愉快,”他说。

“我做。”

他们听到轻微的动静,环顾四周,发现阿诺德·杰克逊正朝他们走来。

“我想我应该下来把你们两个男孩带回来,”他说。 “亨特先生,你洗澡舒服吗?”

“非常喜欢,”贝特曼说。

阿诺德·杰克逊 (Arnold Jackson) 不再穿着云杉鸭衣,只穿了一件 pareo 绕着腰,赤脚行走。他的身体被阳光晒成了深褐色。他一头长而卷曲的白发,还有一张苦行僧般的脸,穿着当地的服饰,显得十分迷人,但他却毫无任何不自在的样子。

“如果你准备好了,我们就上去,”杰克逊说。

“我会穿上衣服,”贝特曼说。

“为什么,泰迪,你没有带一个 pareo 为了你的朋友?”

“我猜他更喜欢穿衣服,”爱德华微笑着说。

“我当然愿意,”贝特曼冷酷地回答,他看到爱德华在自己穿上衬衫之前就系上了腰带,准备出发。

“你不穿鞋走路会觉得很困难吗?”他问爱德华。 “我突然意识到这条路有点崎岖。”

“哦,我已经习惯了。”

“进入一个 pareo 当一个人从城里回来时,”杰克逊说。 “如果你要留在这里,我强烈建议你采用它。这是我见过的最明智的服装之一。它很酷、很方便、而且便宜。”

他们走到房子前,杰克逊带他们走进一间大房间,房间的墙壁粉刷成白色,天花板敞开,里面摆着一张桌子供晚餐。贝特曼注意到它被定为五人。

“伊娃,过来给泰迪的朋友展示一下自己,然后给我们倒一杯鸡尾酒,”杰克逊喊道。

然后他领着贝特曼来到一扇低矮的长窗前。

“看看那个,”他用一种戏剧性的手势说道。 “看起来很棒。”

脚下的椰子树陡峭地垂向泻湖,夕阳下的泻湖呈现出鸽子胸脯般的色彩,温柔而多变。一条小溪上,不远处,有一座原住民村庄的小屋,朝礁石方向有一艘独木舟,轮廓分明,船上有几个当地人在钓鱼。然后,在远处,你看到了二十英里外太平洋的广阔平静,像诗人想象中的织物一样空虚而虚幻,还有穆雷亚岛难以想象的美丽。这一切是如此可爱,以至于贝特曼站着感到羞愧。

“我从来没有见过这样的事情,”他最后说道。

阿诺·杰克逊站在他面前,目光中带着梦幻般的温柔。他瘦削而深思熟虑的脸显得非常严肃。贝特曼看了一眼,再次意识到它强烈的灵性。

“美丽,”阿诺德·杰克逊低声说道。 “你很少能面对面见到美女。亨特先生,好好看看吧,因为你现在所看到的,你将永远不会再看到,因为这一刻是短暂的,但它将成为你心中不朽的记忆。你触及了永恒。”

他的声音低沉而洪亮。他似乎散发着最纯粹的理想主义气息,贝特曼不得不强迫自己记住,说话的人是一个罪犯,一个残忍的骗子。但爱德华仿佛听到了声音,迅速转过身来。

“这是我的女儿,亨特先生。”

贝特曼与她握手。她有一双明亮的黑眼睛和一张因笑而颤抖的红嘴。但她的皮肤是棕色的,卷曲的头发从肩上垂下来,呈煤黑色。她只穿着一件衣服,一件粉色棉质的哈伯德修女衣服,赤着双脚,头戴一顶白色芳香花环。她是一个可爱的生物。她就像波利尼西亚春天的女神。

她有点害羞,但并不比贝特曼更害羞,对贝特曼来说,整个情况非常尴尬,看到这个妖精般的东西拿着摇酒器并熟练地混合三杯鸡尾酒,这并没有让他感到轻松。

“孩子,让我们来踢一踢吧,”杰克逊说。

她把它们倒了出来,微笑着愉快地给每个男人递了一份。贝特曼对自己摇动鸡尾酒的微妙艺术技巧感到自鸣得意,当他品尝这款鸡尾酒时,他发现它非常棒,他感到非常惊讶。当杰克逊看到客人不由自主地露出赞赏的表情时,他得意地笑了。

“不错吧?我亲自教这个孩子,以前在芝加哥,我认为城里没有一个酒吧招待能比得上我。当我在监狱里无事可做时,我常常通过想出新的鸡尾酒来娱乐自己,但当你谈到实际问题时,没有什么比干马提尼更好的了。”

贝特曼感觉好像有人对他的滑稽骨头猛烈一击,他意识到自己的脸变红,然后变白。但还没等他想好说什么,一个土生土长的男孩就送来一大碗汤,大家坐下来吃晚饭。阿诺·杰克逊的这句话似乎勾起了他的一连串回忆,他开始讲述自己的监狱时光。他说话很自然,没有恶意,就像在讲述自己在外国大学的经历一样。他向贝特曼讲话,贝特曼感到困惑,然后感到困惑。他看到爱德华的眼睛盯着他,眼中闪过一丝玩味。他脸红了,因为他突然意识到杰克逊在愚弄他,然后因为他感到荒谬——而且知道他没有理由这样做——他生气了。阿诺德·杰克逊很无礼——没有其他词可以形容——而且他的冷酷无情,无论是假装的还是假装的,都是令人发指的。晚餐继续进行。贝特曼被要求吃各种各样的杂物,生鱼,他不知道是什么,只是他的礼貌促使他吞下这些,但他惊讶地发现这些食物非常好吃。然后发生了一件事情,这对贝特曼来说是当晚最令人羞愧的经历。他面前有一圈小花环,为了谈话,他冒险对此发表了评论。

“这是伊娃为你做的花环,”杰克逊说,“但我猜她太害羞了,不敢给你。”

贝特曼把它拿在手里,礼貌地向女孩说了一句感谢的话。

“你必须戴上它,”她微笑着说,脸红了。

“我?我想我不会那么做。”

“这是这个国家迷人的习俗,”阿诺德·杰克逊说。

他面前有一个,他把它放在头发上。爱德华也做了同样的事。

“我想我的穿着不适合这个角色,”贝特曼不安地说。

“你要不要一个 pareo?”伊娃很快说道。 “我一会儿就给你拿一个。”

“不,谢谢。我这样就很舒服了。”

“伊娃,教他怎么穿。”爱德华说。

在那一刻,贝特曼讨厌他最好的朋友。伊娃从桌子上站起来,大笑着把花环戴在他的黑发上。

“这很适合你,”杰克逊夫人说。 “这不适合他吗,阿诺德?”

“当然有。”

贝特曼的每个毛孔都出汗。

“天黑了不是很可惜吗?”伊娃说。 “我们可以给你们三个一起拍照。”

贝特曼感谢他的明星们。他觉得他穿着蓝色哔叽西装和高领,非常整洁和绅士,头上戴着那个可笑的花环,一定看起来非常愚蠢。他义愤填膺,平生从来没有像现在这样表现出和蔼可亲的样子。他对那个坐在桌首、半裸着、面容圣洁、英俊白发上缀满鲜花的老人感到愤怒。整个情况是可怕的。

晚餐结束了,伊娃和她的母亲留下来收拾东西,而三个男人则坐在阳台上。天气非常温暖,空气中弥漫着夜晚的白色花朵的香味。满月,划过万里无云的天空,在广阔的大海上开辟出一条通向永恒国度的道路。阿诺德·杰克逊开始讲话。他的声音丰富而富有音乐感。他现在谈到了当地人和这个国家的古老传说。他讲述了过去的奇怪故事,关于未知的危险探险的故事,关于爱与死亡,关于仇恨与复仇的故事。他讲述了发现那些遥远岛屿的冒险家,定居在这些岛屿并娶了伟大酋长的女儿为妻的水手,以及在那些银色海岸上过着不同生活的海滩浪子。贝特曼既羞愧又恼怒,一开始闷闷不乐地听着,但很快他的话中就充满了魔力,他坐在那里出神了。浪漫的海市蜃楼遮蔽了平凡日子的光芒。难道他忘记了阿诺德·杰克逊有一张银舌,他用这双银舌从轻信的公众那里骗取了大笔金钱,这双银舌几乎使他逃脱了罪行的惩罚?没有人的口才比他更甜美,高潮感也没有比他更敏锐。突然他站了起来。

“哎呀,你们两个好久没见了。我将离开你去纱线。当你想睡觉时,泰迪会带你去看你的宿舍。”

“哦,但我没想过要过夜,杰克逊先生,”贝特曼说。

“你会发现这样更舒服。我们会确保你及时接到电话。”

然后,阿诺德·杰克逊礼貌地握了握手,庄严地向他的客人告别,仿佛他是一位天主教教规中的主教。

“当然,如果你愿意的话,我会开车送你回帕皮提,”爱德华说,“但我建议你留下来。大清早开车真是欺负人。”

有几分钟,他们谁也没说话。贝特曼不知道该如何开始谈话,因为当天发生的所有事件让他觉得更加紧迫。

“你什么时候回芝加哥?”他突然问道。

爱德华一时没有回答。然后他懒洋洋地转过身来看着他的朋友,微笑着。

“我不知道。也许永远不会。”

“看在上帝的份上,你这是什么意思?”贝特曼喊道。

“我在这里很开心。做出改变不是很愚蠢吗?”

“人活着,你不能一辈子都住在这里。这不是一个男人的生活。这是一个活生生的死亡。噢,爱德华,赶紧走吧,不然就太晚了。我感觉有些不对劲。你迷恋这个地方,你屈服于邪恶的影响,但它只需要一把扳手,当你摆脱这些环境时,你会感谢那里的所有神灵。当他戒毒后,你就会像一个瘾君子一样。然后你就会发现,两年来你一直在呼吸有毒的空气。你无法想象,当你的肺部再次充满祖国新鲜、纯净的空气时,那将是多么轻松。”

他语速很快,激动的话语连连翻滚,声音里充满了真挚而深情的情感。爱德华很感动。

“老朋友,你这么关心,真是太好了。”

“明天跟我来吧,爱德华。你来到这个地方就是一个错误。这对你来说不是生活。”

“你谈论这样那样的生活。你认为一个人如何才能过上最好的生活?”

“为什么,我应该认为这个问题不可能有两个答案。通过履行自己的职责,通过努力工作,通过履行国家和岗位的所有义务。”

“那他的奖励是什么?”

“他的奖励是意识到已经实现了他打算做的事情。”

“对我来说,这一切听起来有点不祥。”爱德华说,在夜色中贝特曼可以看到他在微笑。 “我怕你会觉得我可悲地堕落了。我现在想的一些事情,我敢说三年前对我来说是令人难以容忍的。”

“你是从阿诺德·杰克逊那里学来的吗?”贝特曼轻蔑地问道。

“你不喜欢他?也许你不能指望这样做。我刚来的时候没有。我和你有同样的偏见。他是一个非常非凡的人。你亲眼看到他毫不掩饰他在监狱里的事实。我不知道他是否后悔,也不知道他是否后悔犯下的罪行。他在我的听证会上提出的唯一抱怨是,当他出来时,他的健康状况受到了损害。我认为他不知道什么是悔恨。他完全不道德。他接受一切,也接受自己。他很慷慨,也很友善。”

“他总是靠别人的钱,”贝特曼打断道。

“我发现他是一个很好的朋友。我发现一个人就接受他,这是否不自然?”

“结果就是你失去了对与错的区分。”

“不,它们在我的脑海中仍然像以前一样清晰地划分,但我变得有点困惑的是坏人和好人之间的区别。阿诺·杰克逊是一个做好事的坏人还是一个做坏事的好人?这是一个很难回答的问题。也许我们过于看重一个人与另一个人之间的差异。也许我们中最好的人也是罪人,而我们中最坏的人却是圣人。谁知道?”

“你永远无法让我相信白就是黑,黑就是白,”贝特曼说。

“我确信我不会,贝特曼。”

贝特曼不明白为什么当爱德华同意他的观点时,他的嘴角会闪过一丝微笑。爱德华沉默了一分钟。

“当我今天早上看到你时,贝特曼,”他当时说道,“我似乎看到了两年前的自己。一样的领子,一样的鞋子,一样的蓝色西装,一样的能量。同样的决心。天哪,我精力充沛。这个地方的昏昏欲睡的方法让我血液刺痛。我到处走走,到处都看到了发展和创业的可能性。这里可以发大财。在我看来,椰子干和在美国提取的油应该装在麻袋里从这里运走,这似乎很荒谬。在现场完成所有这些工作,使用廉价劳动力,并节省运费,会更经济,而且我已经看到岛上涌现出大量工厂。然后,他们从椰子中提取坚果的方法在我看来是完全不够的,于是我发明了一种机器,可以将坚果分开并以每小时两百四十的速度挖出肉。港口不够大。我计划扩大它,然后组建一个财团购买土地,建造两三个大旅馆,以及供偶尔居住的平房;我制定了一项改善轮船服务的计划,以吸引来自加利福尼亚州的游客。二十年来,我看到的不是帕皮提这座半法国风格的慵懒小镇,而是一座拥有十层建筑和有轨电车、剧院和歌剧院、证券交易所和市长的伟大美国城市。”

“但是继续吧,爱德华,”贝特曼兴奋地从椅子上跳起来喊道。 “你有想法,也有能力。为什么,你会成为澳大利亚和美国之间的首富。”

爱德华轻声笑道。

“但我不想,”他说。

“你的意思是说你不想要钱,大钱,上百万的钱?你知道你能用它做什么吗?你知道它带来的力量吗?如果你自己不关心它,想想你能做什么,为人类企业开辟新的渠道,为成千上万的人提供就业机会。我的大脑对你的话所唤起的幻象感到震惊。”

“那么,请坐下,亲爱的贝特曼,”爱德华笑道。 “我的切椰子机器永远不会使用,就我而言,有轨电车永远不会在帕皮提闲置的街道上运行。”

贝特曼重重地跌坐在椅子上。

“我不明白你的意思,”他说。

“它一点一点地降临到我身上。我开始喜欢这里的生活,轻松、悠闲,喜欢这里的人们,他们的善良和幸福的笑脸。我开始思考。我以前从来没有时间这样做。我开始读书。”

“你总是读书。”

“我读书是为了考试。我读书是为了能够在谈话中保持自己的立场。我阅读是为了寻求指导。在这里我学会了以阅读为乐。我学会了说话。您知道谈话是生活中最大的乐趣之一吗?但它想要休闲。我以前总是太忙了。渐渐地,所有对我来说如此重要的生活开始显得相当琐碎和粗俗。所有这些忙碌和不断的努力有什么用呢?现在我想起芝加哥,我看到的是一座黑暗、灰色的城市,全是石头——它就像一座监狱——还有无休止的骚乱。所有这些活动意味着什么呢?一个人是否能从生活中获得最好的体验?这就是我们来到这个世界的目的吗?赶紧去办公室,一小时又一小时地工作到晚上,然后赶紧回家吃饭,然后去剧院?难道我的青春就要这样度过吗?青春如此短暂,贝特曼。当我老了,我还有什么可期待的呢?早上从家赶到办公室,一小时又一小时地工作到晚上,然后再赶回家,吃饭,去看戏?如果你发了财,这可能是值得的;我不知道,这取决于你的本性;但如果你不这样做,那还值得吗?我想从我的生活中获得更多,贝特曼。”

“那你生命中看重什么?”

“我怕你会笑我。美、真、善。”

“你不觉得在芝加哥也能买到吗?”

“也许有些人可以,但我不行。”爱德华跳了起来。 “我告诉你,当我想起以前的生活时,我充满了恐惧,”他剧烈地哭泣。 “一想到自己逃离的危险,我就害怕得发抖。我从来不知道我有灵魂,直到我在这里找到它。如果我仍然是一个富人,我可能会永远失去它。”

“我不知道你怎么能这么说,”贝特曼愤怒地喊道。 “我们经常讨论这个问题。”

“是的,我知道。它们的效果就像聋哑人讨论和谐一样有效。我永远不会回到芝加哥,贝特曼。”

“那伊莎贝尔呢?”

爱德华走到阳台边缘,俯下身子专注地看着夜晚的蓝色魔法。当他转向贝特曼时,他的脸上露出了一丝微笑。

“伊莎贝尔对我来说太好了。我比我认识的任何女人都更钦佩她。她有一个很棒的大脑,而且她很漂亮。我尊重她的精力和野心。她生来就是为了获得成功的人生。我根本配不上她。”

“她不这么认为。”

“但你必须告诉她,贝特曼。”

“我?”贝特曼喊道。 “我是最后一个能做到这一点的人。”

爱德华背对着明亮的月光,看不到他的脸。难不成他又笑了?

“你试图向她隐瞒任何事情是没有用的,贝特曼。凭借她敏捷的智慧,她会在五分钟内把你彻底颠覆。你最好立即坦白说出来。”

“我不知道你的意思。我当然会告诉她我看到你了。”贝特曼说话的语气有些激动。 “说实话,我不知道该跟她说什么。”

“告诉她我还没有做好。告诉她我不仅穷,而且我满足于穷。告诉她我被解雇了,因为我懒惰且注意力不集中。告诉她你今晚看到的一切以及我告诉你的一切。”

贝特曼脑中突然闪过的念头让他站了起来,他无法控制地不安地面对着爱德华。

“人活着,你不想娶她吗?”

爱德华严肃地看着他。

“我永远不能要求她释放我。如果她愿意让我信守诺言,我会尽全力让她成为一个好丈夫。”

“你希望我把这个信息转达给她吗,爱德华?哦,我不能。它是可怕的。她从来没有意识到你不想嫁给她。她爱你。我怎么能让她受这样的屈辱呢?”

爱德华再次微笑。

“你为什么不亲自娶她呢,贝特曼?你已经爱她很多年了。你们非常适合彼此。你会让她非常高兴的。”

“别这样跟我说话。我无法忍受。”

“为了你的利益,我辞职了,贝特曼。你是更好的人。”

爱德华的语气中有些东西让贝特曼迅速抬起头来,但爱德华的眼神严肃而没有笑容。贝特曼不知道该说什么。他很困惑。他想知道爱德华是否怀疑他是来塔希提岛执行一项特殊任务的。尽管知道这很可怕,但他还是无法抑制心中的狂喜。

“如果伊莎贝尔写信终止与你的婚约,你会怎么做?”他慢慢地说。

“活下去,”爱德华说。

贝特曼太激动了,没有听到答案。

“我希望你穿普通衣服,”他有些恼怒地说。 “这是你做出的一个非常严肃的决定。你那件奇妙的服装让它看起来非常随意。”

“我向你保证,我可以同样严肃地对待 pareo 还有玫瑰花环,就像戴着高帽子和剪裁外套一样。”

然后贝特曼又想到了另一个想法。

“爱德华,你这么做还不是为了我吗?我不知道,但这也许会对我的未来产生巨大的影响。你不是为了我而牺牲自己吗?我无法忍受这样的事情,你知道的。”

“不,贝特曼,我在这里学会了不要愚蠢和多愁善感。我希望你和伊莎贝尔幸福,但我自己一点也不希望不幸福。”

这个答案让贝特曼有些不寒而栗。他觉得这有点愤世嫉俗。他不会因为扮演一个高尚的角色而感到遗憾。

“你的意思是说你愿意在这里浪费生命吗?这无异于自杀。当我想到我们离开大学时你所抱有的巨大希望时,你竟然满足于在一家廉价约翰商店里做推销员,这似乎很可怕。”

“哦,我只是暂时这样做,我正在获得很多宝贵的经验。我脑子里还有另一个计划。阿诺德·杰克逊在保莫塔斯群岛有一座小岛,距离这里大约一千英里,是一个环礁湖周围的一圈陆地。他在那里种了椰子。他主动提出要把它给我。”

“他为什么要这么做?”贝特曼问道。

“因为如果伊莎贝尔放了我,我就会娶他的女儿。”

“你?”贝特曼惊呆了。 “你不能与混血儿结婚。你不会这么疯狂的。”

“她是一个好女孩,性格甜美温柔。我想她会让我非常高兴。”

“你爱她吗?”

“我不知道,”爱德华若有所思地回答。 “我不像爱伊莎贝尔那样爱她。我崇拜伊莎贝尔。我认为她是我见过的最奇妙的生物。我配不上她一半。我对伊娃没有这样的感觉。她就像一朵美丽的异国花朵,必须躲避寒风。我想保护她。没有人想过要保护伊莎贝尔。我认为她爱我是因为我自己,而不是因为我可能成为什么样的人。无论发生什么事,我都不会令她失望。她很适合我。”

贝特曼沉默了。

“我们必须一早就出发,”爱德华最后说道。 “我们真的到了该睡觉的时间了。”

然后贝特曼说话了,他的声音里充满了真正的痛苦。

“我很困惑,我不知道该说什么。我来到这里是因为我觉得出了什么问题。我以为你没有成功完成你打算做的事情,当你失败后又羞于回来。我从来没有想到我会面临这个。我非常抱歉,爱德华。我很失望。我希望你能做一些伟大的事情。想到你以这种可悲的方式浪费你的才华、你的青春和你的机会,我几乎无法忍受。”

“别伤心,老朋友,”爱德华说。 “我没有失败。我成功了。你无法想象我对生活的期待是多么的热情,它对我来说是多么充实,多么重要。有时,当你和伊莎贝尔结婚时,你会想起我。我将在我的珊瑚岛上为自己建造一座房子,我将住在那里,照顾我的树木——以他们无数年来所做的同样的古老方式从坚果中取出果实——我将在我的珊瑚岛上种植各种各样的东西。花园,我会钓鱼。会有足够的工作让我忙碌,但又不会让我沉闷。我希望我的书和伊娃,孩子们,最重要的是,海洋和天空的无限变化,黎明的清新和日落的美丽,以及夜晚的丰富壮丽。我将把不久前还是一片荒野的地方变成一个花园。我应该创造一些东西。岁月会在不知不觉中流逝,当我老了的时候,我希望我还能过着幸福、简单、平静的生活。以我小小的方式,我也将生活在美丽之中。你以为享受知足是那么的少吗?我们知道,如果一个人赚得了全世界而赔上了自己的灵魂,那对他来说是没有什么好处的。我想我已经赢了。”

爱德华领着他来到一个房间,里面有两张床,他倒在其中一张床上。十分钟后,贝特曼从他规律的呼吸声知道爱德华睡着了,呼吸像孩子一样平静。但他却得不到休息,心烦意乱,直到黎明如幽灵般寂静无声地悄悄进入房间,他才睡着了。

贝特曼给伊莎贝尔讲完了他的长篇故事。除了他认为会伤害她的事情或者让自己变得可笑的事情之外,他没有向她隐瞒任何事情。他没有告诉她,他被迫头上戴着花环参加晚宴,也没有告诉她,一旦她释放爱德华,爱德华就准备娶她叔叔的混血儿女儿。但也许伊莎贝尔的直觉比他想象的更敏锐,因为当他继续讲述他的故事时,她的眼睛变得更冷,她的嘴唇闭得更紧。她时不时地仔细地看着他,如果他不那么专注于他的叙述,他可能会对她的表情感到惊讶。

“这个女孩长什么样?”当他说完时,她问道。 “阿诺德叔叔的女儿。你说我和她有什么相似之处吗?”

贝特曼对这个问题感到惊讶。

“这从来没有让我震惊。你知道,除了你之外,我从来没有见过任何人,而且我永远不会认为有人像你一样。谁能像你?”

“她漂亮吗?”伊莎贝尔听到他的话微微一笑。

“我想是这样。我敢说有些男人会说她很漂亮。”

“算了,这没有什么后果。我认为我们不需要再给予她更多的关注。”

“你要做什么,伊莎贝尔?”他接着问道。

伊莎贝尔低头看着那只手,手上还戴着爱德华订婚时送给她的戒指。

“我不会让爱德华破坏我们的婚约,因为我认为这对他来说是一种激励。我想成为他的灵感来源。我想,如果有什么能让他取得成功,那就是我爱他。我已经尽力了。这是没有希望的。如果我不承认事实,那就是我的软弱。可怜的爱德华,除了他自己之外,他不是任何人的敌人。他是一个可爱、友善的小伙子,但他身上缺少一些东西,我想那就是骨气。我希望他能幸福。”

她把戒指从手指上取下来,放在桌子上。贝特曼看着她,心跳得快得几乎无法呼吸。

“你太棒了,伊莎贝尔,你简直太棒了。”

她微笑着,站起来,向他伸出了手。

“我该如何感谢你为我所做的一切呢?”她说。 “你为我提供了很好的服务。我知道我可以信任你。”

他握住她的手。她看起来从未如此美丽过。

“哦,伊莎贝尔,我愿意为你做的远不止这些。你知道我只要求被允许爱你、为你服务。”

“你太坚强了,贝特曼,”她叹了口气。 “它给了我一种如此美妙的自信感。”

“伊莎贝尔,我喜欢你。”

他几乎不知道自己的灵感是怎么来的,但突然他把她搂在怀里,她毫无反抗地对他的眼睛微笑。

“伊莎贝尔,你知道我第一天见到你就想娶你,”他热情地喊道。

“那你到底为什么不问我?”她回应。

她爱他。他简直不敢相信这是真的。她把可爱的嘴唇给了他亲吻。当他把她抱在怀里时,他看到了亨特汽车牵引和汽车公司的工厂规模和重要性不断扩大,直到占地一百英亩,他们将生产数百万台发动机,以及伟大的汽车公司。他所收集的照片应该比他们在纽约拥有的任何照片都要好。他会戴牛角眼镜。而她,在他用双臂搂住她的美妙压力下,幸福地叹了口气,因为她想到了她将拥有的精致的房子,里面装满了古董家具,想到了她将举办的音乐会,想到了她将要举办的音乐会。 丹桑特斯,以及只有最有教养的人才会参加的晚宴。贝特曼应该戴牛角眼镜。

“可怜的爱德华,”她叹了口气。

第四章•红色 •9,000字

船长把手伸进裤袋,费力地掏出一块大银表,因为它们不是在两侧,而是在前面,而且他是个肥胖的人。他看了看它,然后又看了看正在落下的太阳。方向盘上的卡纳卡看了他一眼,但没有说话。船长的目光落在他们正在接近的岛屿上。一条白色的泡沫线标志着礁石。他知道有一个足够大的开口,可以让他的船通过,当他们靠近一点时,他指望能看到它。他们面前还有将近一个小时的白天。泻湖里的水很深,他们可以舒适地抛锚。他已经在椰子树丛中看到了村长,他是大副的朋友,上岸过夜倒是很愉快。那一刻,大副走上前来,船长转向他。

“我们会带上一瓶酒,然后邀请一些女孩来跳舞,”他说。

“我看不到开口,”大副说。

他是卡纳卡人,一个英俊、黝黑的小伙子,看上去有点像后来的罗马皇帝,有点肥胖。但他的脸却很精致,轮廓分明。

“我确信这里有一个,”船长透过眼镜说道。 “我不明白为什么我不能把它捡起来。派一个男孩到桅杆上去看看。”

大副打电话给一名船员并向他下达了命令。船长看着卡纳卡号爬升,等待他说话。但卡纳卡人大声喊道,除了连绵不绝的泡沫线之外,他什么也看不见。船长说着萨摩亚语,就像当地人一样,他还肆无忌惮地咒骂他。

“他要留在上面吗?”同伴问道。

“这到底有什么好处?”船长回答道。 “责怪傻瓜看不到一分钱的价值。你用你甜蜜的生活打赌,如果我在上面,我一定能找到机会。”

他愤怒地看着那根细长的桅杆。对于一个从小就习惯爬椰子树的当地人来说,这一切都很好。他又胖又重。

“下来,”他喊道。 “你比一条死狗毫无用处。我们只能沿着礁石走,直到找到入口。”

这是一艘七十吨级的纵帆船,配有石蜡辅助装置,在没有逆风的情况下,它的行驶速度为每小时四到五节。那是一个脏兮兮的东西。很久以前,它就被刷成白色了,但现在又脏又脏,斑驳不堪。它闻起来有强烈的石蜡和它常用的货物椰干的气味。他们现在距离礁石不到一百英尺了,船长告诉舵手沿着礁石跑,直到他们来到开口处。但当他们走了几英里后,他意识到他们错过了。他走来走去,又慢慢地回来。礁石上的白色泡沫不间断地持续不断,现在太阳正在落山。船长咒骂船员们的愚蠢,只好等到第二天早上。

“把她放在一边,”他说。 “我不能在这里抛锚。”

他们出海了一会儿,不久天就黑了。他们抛锚了。当帆收起时,船开始剧烈摇晃。阿皮亚的人们说,有一天她会翻身;店主是一位德裔美国人,管理着最大的商店之一,他说没有钱足以诱使他和她一起出去。厨师是个中国人,穿着白裤子,又脏又破,穿着一件薄薄的白色外衣,他过来告诉我们晚饭已经准备好了,当船长走进船舱时,他发现工程师已经坐在餐桌旁了。工程师是个又高又瘦的男人,脖子瘦削。他穿着蓝色工作服和无袖运动衫,露出他瘦削的手臂,从肘部到手腕都有纹身。

“见鬼,不得不在外面过夜,”船长说。

工程师没有回答,他们默默地吃着晚饭。小屋里点着昏暗的油灯。当他们吃完饭后的杏罐头时,中国人给他们端来了一杯茶。船长点燃一支雪茄,走上上层甲板。现在,这座岛屿在夜色中只是一片漆黑的东西。星星非常明亮。唯一的声音是海浪不断拍打的声音。船长一屁股坐在躺椅上,懒洋洋地抽烟。不一会儿,三四个船员上来坐下。其中一个拿着班卓琴,另一个拿着手风琴。他们开始演奏,其中一人唱歌。用这些乐器演奏本土歌曲听起来很奇怪。然后一对情侣随着歌声开始跳舞。这是一种野蛮的舞蹈,野蛮而原始,速度很快,手脚快速动作,身体扭曲;它是感性的,甚至是性的,但性没有激情。这是一种非常动物性的、直接的、怪异而不神秘的感觉,简而言之,很自然,甚至可以说是孩子气。最后他们累了。他们躺在甲板上睡觉,一切都很安静。船长沉重地从椅子上站起来,爬下同伴。他走进自己的小屋,脱掉衣服。他爬进自己的铺位,躺在那里。夜色炎热,他有些气喘吁吁。

但第二天早上,当黎明悄然降临在平静的大海上时,在他们所在位置的东边不远的地方,他们看到了前一天晚上没有看到的礁石上的开口。纵帆船进入泻湖。水面上没有一丝波纹。在珊瑚礁深处,你可以看到彩色的小鱼在游动。船停泊后,船长吃完早餐就走上甲板。阳光从万里无云的天空照耀着,但清晨的空气却清新而凉爽。今天是星期天,有一种安静的感觉,一种仿佛大自然在休息的寂静,这给了他一种奇特的舒适感。他坐着,看着树木繁茂的海岸,感到慵懒而自在。不久,他的嘴唇慢慢地露出了微笑,然后他把雪茄烟蒂扔进了水里。

“我想我会上岸,”他说。 “把船开出去。”

他僵硬地爬下梯子,被划到一个小海湾。椰子树一直延伸到水边,不是成排的,而是以一种有序的形式间隔开。他们就像一部由老处女组成的芭蕾舞剧,年老却轻率,姿态做作,带着旧时代的傻笑优雅。他悠闲地穿过它们,沿着一条只能看到蜿蜒曲折的小路,不久就将他引向一条宽阔的小溪。有一座桥横跨它,但这座桥是由一打椰子树干建造的,首尾相连,并由插入河床的分叉树枝支撑。你走在光滑、圆润的地面上,又窄又滑,手也没有支撑。走过这样一座桥,需要坚定的脚步和坚强的心。船长犹豫了。但他看到另一边,在树林中,有一栋白人的房子。他打定主意,小心翼翼地开始行走。他仔细地观察自己的脚,发现一根树干与另一根树干相连并且存在高度差,他有点摇摇欲坠。当他到达最后一棵树时,他松了口气,终于把脚踩到了另一边坚实的地面上。他如此专注于艰难的穿越,以至于从未注意到有人在注视着他,而他听到有人对他说话时,他感到很惊讶。

“当你不习惯这些桥梁时,需要一点勇气去跨越它们。”

他抬起头,看见一个人站在他面前。他显然是从他所看到的房子里出来的。

“我看到你犹豫了,”男人继续说道,嘴角挂着微笑,“我就看着你掉进去。”

“不关你的命,”船长说道,他现在已经恢复了信心。

“我以前也曾陷入过这样的境地。我记得,有一天晚上,我打完枪回来,我就掉进了水里,枪和所有的东西都掉进去了。现在我找了一个男孩帮我拿枪。”

他已经不再年轻了,留着小胡子,现在已经有些花白了,脸也瘦削。他穿着背心,没有手臂,还有一条鸭腿裤。他既没有穿鞋,也没有穿袜子。他说英语,带有一点口音。

“你是尼尔森吗?”船长问道。

“我是。”

“我听说过你。我以为你住在这附近的某个地方。”

船长跟着主人走进小平房,重重地坐在对方示意他坐的椅子上。当尼尔森出去拿威士忌和杯子时,他环视了房间。这让他心中充满了惊奇。他从来没有见过这么多的书。四面墙上的架子从地板一直延伸到天花板,而且排列得很紧密。一架大钢琴上堆满了音乐,一张大桌子上乱七八糟地摆放着书籍和杂志。这个房间让他感到尴尬。他记得尼尔森是个奇怪的人。没有人对他很了解,虽然他在岛上呆了这么多年,但认识他的人都一致认为他是个酷儿。他是瑞典人。

“你这里有一大堆书,”尼尔森回来时他说。

“它们不会造成伤害,”尼尔森微笑着回答。

“你都读完了吗?”船长问道。

“他们中的大多数。”

“我自己也是一个爱读书的人。我有 星期六晚邮报 给我寄来了雷格勒。”

尼尔森给他的客人倒了一杯浓烈的威士忌,并给了他一支雪茄。船长自愿提供了一些信息。

“我昨晚就到了,但找不到开口,所以只能在外面抛锚。我以前从未参加过这样的活动,但我的人有一些他们想带过来的东西。格雷,你认识他吗?”

“是的,他在不远的地方有一家商店。”

“嗯,他想要很多罐头食品,还有一些干椰肉。他们认为我与其在阿皮亚无所事事,不如过来。我主要在阿皮亚和帕果帕果之间跑步,但那里刚刚爆发了天花,没什么好动的。”

他喝了一口威士忌,点燃了一支雪茄。他是一个沉默寡言的人,但尼尔森身上有一种东西让他紧张,紧张让他说话。瑞典人用一双又大又黑的眼睛看着他,眼里带着一丝玩味。

“你这里是一个整洁的小地方。”

“我已经尽力了。”

“你必须把你的树处理得很好。他们看起来很好。椰干的价格就是现在的价格。我自己曾经在乌波卢岛有过一个种植园,但我不得不卖掉它。”

他再次环顾房间,所有的书都给他一种难以理解和敌意的感觉。

“我想你一定会觉得这里有点孤独,”他说。

“我已经习惯了。我在这里已经二十五年了。”

船长现在想不出更多的话可说,他默默地抽烟。尼尔森显然不想打破它。他用沉思的目光看着他的客人。他是个高个子,六英尺多高,而且非常粗壮。他的脸通红,布满斑点,脸颊上布满了紫色的小血管,五官陷在肥胖之中。他的眼睛充满了血丝。他的脖子被脂肪团埋住了。要不是后脑勺有一缕几乎全白的长卷发,他已经秃了。额头那巨大而闪亮的表面本来可能给他一种聪明的假象,相反却给了他一种奇特的愚蠢。他穿着一件蓝色法兰绒衬衫,领口敞开,露出肥硕的胸膛,上面覆盖着一层淡红色的头发,还有一条很旧的蓝色哔叽裤子。他坐在椅子上,姿势沉重、笨拙,大腹向前,肥腿没有交叉。他的四肢失去了所有的弹性。尼尔森漫不经心地想知道​​他年轻时是一个什么样的人。几乎无法想象这个巨大的生物曾经是一个到处乱跑的男孩。船长喝完了他的威士忌,尼尔森把瓶子推向他。

“自助吧。”

船长向前倾身,用他的大手抓住了它。

“你到底是怎么来到这些地方的?”他说。

“哦,我是为了健康才来到这些岛屿的。我的肺不好,他们说我活不了一年了。你看他们错了。”

“我的意思是,你怎么会在这里定居?”

“我是一个感伤主义者。”

“哦!”

尼尔森知道船长不明白他的意思,他看着他,黑眼睛里闪烁着讽刺的光芒。也许只是因为船长是一个如此粗鲁和迟钝的人,他突发奇想才继续说下去。

“当你过桥时,你太忙于保持平衡而没有注意到,但这个地方通常被认为相当漂亮。”

“你这里的小房子真可爱。”

“啊,我刚来的时候那里没有。有一座土生土长的小屋,有蜂窝状的屋顶和柱子,周围有一棵开着红花的大树。巴豆灌木丛的叶子呈黄色、红色和金色,在它周围形成了花斑栅栏。然后周围都是椰子树,像女人一样充满幻想,也像女人一样虚荣。他们站在水边,花了一整天的时间看着自己的倒影。那时我还是个年轻人——天哪,那是四分之一个世纪前的事了——我想在进入黑暗之前在分配给我的短暂时间内享受世界上所有的美好。我认为这是我见过的最美丽的地方。第一次看到的时候,我的心就被堵住了,我怕我会哭。我还不到二十五岁,虽然我尽了最大的努力,但我不想死。不知怎的,在我看来,这个地方的美丽让我更容易接受我的命运。当我来到这里时,我感到我过去的所有生活都消失了,斯德哥尔摩和它的大学,然后是波恩:这一切似乎都是别人的生活,仿佛现在我终于实现了我们的哲学博士的现实——我你知道,我自己也曾讨论过这么多。 “一年了,”我对自己喊道。 ‘我还有一年的时间。我会在这里度过,然后我就满足于死了。”

“我们在二十五岁的时候是愚蠢的、多愁善感的、戏剧性的,但如果我们不是这样的话,也许我们在五十岁时就不会那么明智了。”

“现在喝吧,我的朋友。别让我的废话影响到你了。”

他朝瓶子挥了挥瘦弱的手,船长喝完了杯子里剩下的东西。

“你什么也没喝,”他说,伸手去拿威士忌。

“我有清醒的习惯,”瑞典人微笑着说。 “我用我认为更微妙的方式让自己陶醉。但也许这只是虚荣心。无论如何,效果更持久,结果的危害也更小。”

“他们说现在美国有大量可卡因被缉获,”船长说。

尼尔森咯咯笑起来。

“但我不常见到白人,”他继续说道,“这一次我认为一滴威士忌不会对我造成任何伤害。”

他倒了一点,加了一些苏打水,喝了一口。

“不久我就明白了为什么这个地方有如此超凡脱俗的美丽。爱情在这里停留了片刻,就像一只候鸟在大洋中央的一艘船上,暂时收起疲惫的翅膀。美丽的激情的芬芳盘旋在它的上空,就像我家草地上五月的山楂树的芬芳一样。在我看来,人们爱过或受过苦的地方,总是带着某种尚未完全消亡的淡淡香气。就好像它们获得了一种精神意义,神秘地影响着那些经过的人。我希望我能把自己说清楚。”他微微一笑。 “虽然我无法想象如果我这么做了你会理解。”

他停了下来。

“我认为这个地方很美丽,因为在这里我被美好地爱着。”现在他耸了耸肩。 “但也许这只是年轻的爱情与合适的环境的幸福结合让我的审美感得到了满足。”

即使是一个头脑不如船长的人,如果对尼尔森的话感到困惑,也可以原谅。因为他似乎对他所说的话微微一笑。就好像他是出于情感而说话,而他的理智却发现这很荒谬。他自己说过,他是一个多愁善感的人,当多愁善感与怀疑主义结合在一起时,往往会付出惨重的代价。

他沉默了片刻,看向船长的眼神突然出现了一丝困惑。

“你知道,我情不自禁地想我以前在什么地方见过你,”他说。

“我不能说我记得你,”船长回答道。

“我有一种奇怪的感觉,好像你的脸很熟悉。这让我困惑了一段时间。但我无法将我的记忆定位在任何地点或任何时间。”

船长耸了耸他沉重的肩膀。

“自从我第一次来到这些岛屿以来已经三十年了。一个人不可能在这么短的时间内记住他遇到的所有人。”

瑞典人摇摇头。

“你知道,有时人们会有一种感觉,以前从未去过的地方却有一种奇怪的熟悉感。我就是这么看你的。”他异想天开地笑了笑。 “也许我在前世认识你。也许,也许你是古罗马桨帆船的船长,而我是划桨的奴隶。你来这里已经三十年了?”

“三十年的每一点。”

“我想知道你是否认识一个叫瑞德的人?”

“红色的?”

“这是我认识他的唯一名字。我个人从来不认识他。我什至从来没有正眼看过他。然而,我似乎比许多人,例如我的兄弟,更清楚地看到他,我和他们一起度过了很多年的日常生活。他活在我的想象中,具有保罗·马拉泰斯塔(Paolo Malatesta)或罗密欧(Romeo)的鲜明特征。但我敢说你从来没有读过但丁或莎士比亚?”

“我不能这么说,”船长说。

尼尔森抽着雪茄,靠在椅子上,茫然地看着漂浮在静止空气中的烟圈。他的嘴角挂着微笑,但眼神却很严肃。然后他看向船长。他那严重的肥胖中有一种令人极其厌恶的东西。他有着肥胖者特有的过分的自我满足感。这是一种愤怒。这让尼尔森感到紧张。但眼前的这个人和他心目中的那个人之间的对比令人愉快。

“看来红色是你见过的最漂亮的东西了。我和很多当时认识他的人交谈过,包括白人,他们都同意,当你第一次见到他时,他的美貌让你惊叹不已。由于他的头发火红,人们称他为“红”。它有自然的波浪,而且他戴了很长时间。它一定具有拉斐尔前派所赞叹的美妙色彩。我不认为他是自负的,他太天真了,但如果他自负的话,没有人会责怪他。他很高,六英尺零一两英寸——在曾经矗立在这里的土著房屋中,用小刀在支撑屋顶的中央树干上刻下了他的身高标记——他被塑造得像希腊神一样,宽阔。肩部较薄,侧腹较薄;他就像阿波罗一样,有着普拉克西特勒斯赋予他的那种柔和的圆润,以及那种温文尔雅、女性化的优雅,其中有一些令人不安和神秘的东西。他的皮肤白得耀眼,乳白色,像缎子一样;他的皮肤就像女人的皮肤一样。”

“我小时候皮肤就有点白,”船长说道,布满血丝的眼睛里闪烁着光芒。

但尼尔森没有理会他。他正在讲述自己的故事,被打扰让他不耐烦。

“他的脸和他的身体一样美丽。他有一双蓝色的大眼睛,颜色很深,所以有人说它们是黑色的,与大多数红头发的人不同,他有深色的眉毛和长长的深色睫毛。他的五官非常规整,嘴巴就像一道猩红的伤口。他二十岁了。”

说完这句话,瑞典人突然停住了,语气中充满了戏剧性。他喝了一口威士忌。

“他是独一无二的。从来没有人比她更美丽。对他来说,没有什么理由比让野生植物上绽放出美妙的花朵更重要的了。他是大自然的一次幸福的意外。”

“有一天,他在那个海湾登陆,你今天早上肯定已经把它放进去了。他是一名美国水手,在阿皮亚从一艘战舰上开小差。他说服了一位脾气很好的当地人,让他乘坐一艘恰好从阿皮亚开往萨福托的快艇,然后他就被安置在了这里的防空洞里。我不知道他为什么开小差。也许军舰上的生活及其种种限制让他感到厌烦,也许他遇到了麻烦,也许是南海和这些浪漫的岛屿深入了他的骨子里。有时他们会奇怪地对待一个人,他发现自己就像蜘蛛网上的苍蝇。也许他身上有一种柔软的纤维,这些绿色的山丘和它们柔和的空气,这片蓝色的海洋,从他身上夺走了北方的力量,就像大利拉夺走了拿细耳人的力量一样。不管怎样,他想隐藏自己,他认为在他的船从萨摩亚启航之前,他在这个僻静的角落里会很安全。”

“海湾边有一座土著小屋,当他站在那里,想知道他到底应该转向哪里时,一个年轻的女孩走了出来,邀请他进去。他几乎不懂两个母语单词,而她则不懂英语。但他很清楚她的微笑意味着什么,还有她漂亮的手势,所以他跟着她。他坐在垫子上,她给了他几片菠萝吃。我只能从道听途说中谈论红色,但我在他第一次见到那个女孩三年后才见到她,当时她还不到十九岁。你无法想象她有多精致。她具有芙蓉花的热情优雅和丰富的色彩。她身材高挑,身材苗条,有着她种族的精致特征,一双大眼睛就像棕榈树下的一潭静水。她的头发乌黑卷曲,垂落在背上,头上戴着一顶芳香花环。她的手很可爱。它们是如此之小,如此精美,它们让你的心弦被扳动。那些日子里,她笑起来很轻松。她的笑容是如此令人愉悦,让你的膝盖都在颤抖。她的皮肤就像夏日里成熟的玉米田。天哪,我该怎么形容她呢?她美得令人难以置信。”

“而这两个年轻人,她十六岁,他二十岁,一见钟情。这才是真正的爱,不是来自同情、共同利益、知识共同体的爱,而是纯粹而简单的爱。当亚当醒来,发现夏娃在花园里用水汪汪的眼睛注视着他时,他就感受到了这种爱。这就是将野兽和诸神吸引到一起的爱。这就是爱,让世界变得奇迹。这就是赋予生命以意义的爱。你从来没有听说过一位睿智而愤世嫉俗的法国公爵说过,两个爱人之间,总有一个爱着自己,一个让自己被爱;这是一个残酷的事实,我们大多数人都不得不接受。但时不时会有两个人去爱,两个人让自己被爱。那么人们可能会想象,太阳静止不动,就像约书亚向以色列的上帝祈祷时一样。”

“即使这么多年之后的现在,当我想起这两个人,那么年轻,那么公平,那么简单,还有他们的爱,我都会感到心痛。它让我心碎,就像在某些夜晚,当我在万里无云的天空中看到满月照在泻湖上时,我的心被撕裂一样。对完美之美的沉思总是伴随着痛苦。”

“他们还是孩子。她很好,很可爱,很善良。我对他一无所知,而且我喜欢认为当时他无论如何都是天真而坦率的。我喜欢认为他的灵魂和他的身体一样美丽。但我敢说,他并不比那些生活在树林和森林里的生物更有灵魂,当世界还年轻的时候,他们用芦苇制作烟斗,在山涧里沐浴,你可能会看到小鹿骑在马背上驰骋在林间空地。有胡子的半人马。灵魂是一种麻烦的财产,当人类发展了它时,他就失去了伊甸园。”

“好吧,当雷德来到这个岛上时,最近正遭受白人带到南海的一种流行病的侵袭,三分之一的居民已经死亡。看来这个女孩已经失去了所有的近亲,现在住在远房表兄弟家里。家里有两个弓着背、满脸皱纹的老太婆、两个年轻的女人、一个男人和一个男孩。他在那里呆了几天。但也许他觉得自己离海岸太近了,有可能会遇到白人,而这些白人会暴露他的藏身之处;也许这对恋人无法忍受别人的陪伴剥夺了他们在一起的片刻快乐。一天早上,他们俩带着女孩的几件东西出发了,沿着椰子树下的青草小路行走,直到来到了你所看到的那条小溪。他们必须穿过你走过的桥,女孩因为害怕而高兴地笑了。她握着他的手,直到他们来到第一棵树的尽头,然后他失去了勇气,不得不回去。在冒险之前,他不得不脱掉所有衣服,她把衣服戴在头上。他们在这间空荡荡的小屋里安顿下来。我不知道她是否对它有任何权利(土地保有权在岛上是一件复杂的事情),或者所有者是否在流行病期间去世,我不知道,但无论如何没有人质疑他们,他们就占有了。他们的家具包括几张他们睡觉的草垫、一块镜子的碎片和一两个碗。在这片宜人的土地上,足以开始持家。”

“人们说幸福的人没有历史,幸福的爱情当然也没有历史。他们一整天什么也没做,但日子却显得太短了。这个女孩有一个土生土长的名字,但雷德称她为莎莉。他很快就学会了简单的语言,他常常在垫子上躺上几个小时,而她则愉快地对他喋喋不休。他是一个沉默寡言的人,或许他的头脑也昏昏欲睡。他不停地抽着她用当地烟草和露兜叶为他制作的香烟,他看着她用灵巧的手指做草垫。当地人常常会进来讲述过去岛上遭受部落战争的长篇故事。有时他会去礁石上钓鱼,带回家满满一篮子彩色鱼。有时晚上他会提着灯笼出去抓龙虾。小屋周围有大蕉,莎莉会烤它们作为节俭的饭菜。她知道如何用椰子做出美味的食物,小溪边的面包果树给了他们果实。每到节日,他们就会宰杀一头小猪,放在热石上烹煮。他们一起在小溪里沐浴;晚上,他们来到泻湖,在带有巨大支腿的防空洞里划船。大海是深蓝色的,日落时呈酒红色,就像荷马希腊的大海一样。但在泻湖里,颜色有无穷无尽的变化,有海蓝宝石、紫水晶和祖母绿。夕阳将它短暂地变成了液态的金色。然后是珊瑚的颜色,棕色、白色、粉色、红色、紫色;它的形状非常奇妙。这里就像一个神奇的花园,匆匆的鱼儿就像蝴蝶一样。奇怪的是,它缺乏现实性。珊瑚丛中有一个个水池,底下是白色的沙子,这里的水清澈得耀眼,洗澡的感觉非常好。然后,他们凉爽而快乐地在暮色中漫步,走过柔软的草路,回到小溪,手拉手走着,现在八哥鸟的叫声充满了椰子树。然后是夜晚,广阔的天空闪耀着金色的光芒,似乎比欧洲的天空还要广阔,柔和的空气轻轻地吹过敞开的小屋,漫长的夜晚又显得太短了。她十六岁,他还不到二十岁。黎明从小屋的木柱间悄悄袭来,看着那些睡在彼此怀里的可爱的孩子们。太阳躲在大蕉破烂的大叶子后面,以免打扰他们,然后带着顽皮的恶意,将金色的光芒射到他们脸上,就像波斯猫伸出的爪子一样。他们睁开惺忪的睡眼,微笑着迎接新的一天。几周变成了几个月,一年过去了。他们似乎彼此相爱——我犹豫着是否要充满激情,因为激情中总是带着一丝悲伤,一丝苦涩或痛苦,但却像见面的第一天一样全心全意、简单而自然。 ,他们已经认识到他们体内有一位神。”

“如果你问他们,我毫不怀疑他们会认为他们的爱永远不会停止。难道我们不知道爱的基本要素是相信自己的永恒吗?然而,也许红心中已经有一颗很小的种子,他自己不知道,女孩也不怀疑,随着时间的推移,它会变得厌倦。有一天,海湾里的一位当地人告诉他们,在停泊地海岸的某个地方有一艘英国捕鲸船。”

“‘哎呀,’他说,‘我想知道我是否可以用一些坚果和大蕉换一两磅烟草。’”

“莎莉不知疲倦地为他制作的露兜香烟,味道浓烈、令人愉悦,但他却不满意;他突然渴望真正的烟草,又硬又臭又刺鼻。他已经好几个月没有抽烟斗了。想到这里他就流口水了。人们本以为莎莉会受到某种伤害的预感而试图劝阻他,但爱情如此彻底地占据了她,以至于她从未想到地球上有任何力量可以将他从她身边夺走。他们一起上山,采了一大篮子野橘子,绿色的,但又甜又多汁。他们从小屋周围采摘车前草,从树上采摘椰子,还有面包果和芒果。他们把它们带到了海湾。他们把这些东西装在不稳定的独木舟上,雷德和给他们带来船消息的当地男孩在礁石外划行。”

“这是她最后一次见到他。”

“第二天,男孩独自回来了。他泪流满面。这是他讲的故事。当他们划着长长的桨到达那艘船时,雷德向它打招呼,一名白人从船舷望过来,叫他们上船。他们拿走了带来的水果,雷德把它堆在甲板上。白人和他开始交谈,他们似乎达成了某种共识。其中一人下到下面,把烟草运上来。瑞德立刻拿了一些,点燃了一根烟斗。男孩模仿着从嘴里喷出一大团烟的热情。然后他们对他说了些什么,他就走进了小屋。透过敞开的门,男孩好奇地看着,看到一个瓶子和眼镜被拿出来。红喝酒抽烟。他们似乎在问他什么,他摇摇头笑了。第一个和他们说话的男人也笑了,他再次给雷德倒满了酒。他们继续聊天、喝酒,不久,男孩厌倦了观看对他来说毫无意义的景象,于是蜷缩在甲板上睡着了。他被一脚踢醒了。他跳了起来,看到船正慢慢地驶出泻湖。他看见瑞德坐在桌边,头重重地枕在手臂上,熟睡着。他朝他做了个动作,想要叫醒他,但一只粗糙的手抓住了他的手臂,一个男人满脸怒容,用他听不懂的话指着旁边。他向雷德大喊,但很快他就被抓住并扔到了海里。无奈之下,他游到了漂流不远的独木舟旁,把它推到了礁石上。他爬上船,一路抽泣着划回岸边。”

“发生的事情是显而易见的。捕鲸船因遗弃或生病而人手不足,当雷德登船时,船长要求他签字;由于他的拒绝,他把他灌醉并绑架了他。”

“莎莉悲痛欲绝。一连三天,她一直尖叫、哭泣。当地人竭尽全力安慰她,但她却得不到安慰。她不肯吃。然后,精疲力尽的她陷入了阴郁的冷漠之中。她在海湾待了好几天,看着泻湖,徒劳地希望雷德能设法逃脱。她坐在白色的沙滩上,一小时又一小时,泪水顺着脸颊流下来,到了晚上,她拖着疲惫的身子穿过小溪,回到她曾经快乐过的小茅屋。在雷德来到岛上之前与她住在一起的人们希望她回到他们身边,但她不肯。她确信瑞德会回来,她希望他能在他离开她的地方找到她。四个月后,她生下了一个死胎,来帮助她渡过难关的老妇人仍留在小屋里陪着她。她生活中所有的快乐都被夺走了。随着时间的推移,如果她的痛苦变得不再难以忍受,那就被一种平静的忧郁所取代。你想不到,在这些情绪虽然激烈,但却转瞬即逝的人中,竟然有一个女人能够如此忍受激情。她始终坚信瑞德迟早会回来。她注视着他,每次有人走过这座细长的椰子树小桥时,她都会注视着他。也许最终就是他了。”

尼尔森不再说话,轻轻叹了口气。

“那她最后怎么样了?”船长问道。

尼尔森苦笑道。

“哦,三年后她和另一个白人交往了。”

船长愤世嫉俗地笑了一声。

“这通常就是发生在他们身上的事情,”他说。

瑞典人憎恨地看了他一眼。他不知道为什么这个粗俗肥胖的男人会在他心里激起如此强烈的厌恶感。但他的思绪飘忽不定,他发现自己的脑海里充满了过去的记忆。他回到了五年、二十年前。那是当他第一次来到岛上时,厌倦了阿皮亚的酗酒、赌博和粗俗的淫荡,他是一个病人,试图让自己屈服于失去事业,而事业却激发了他的想象力和野心。他坚决地把为自己扬名立万的所有希望抛在脑后,努力满足于这短短几个月的小心翼翼的生活,这是他唯一能指望的。他和一位混血商人一起登机,这位商人在沿海几英里外的一个土著村庄边缘开了一家商店。有一天,他沿着椰林长满青草的小路漫无目的地闲逛,来到了莎莉住的小屋。这个地方的美丽让他充满了狂喜,几乎是痛苦的,然后他看到了莎莉。她是他见过的最可爱的生物,她那双漆黑而美丽的眼睛里的悲伤让他产生了一种奇怪的感觉。卡纳卡人是一个英俊的种族,美丽在他们之中并不罕见,但那是体型匀称的动物之美。里面是空的。但那双悲惨的眼睛充满了神秘,你在其中感受到了摸索的人类灵魂的苦涩复杂性。商人告诉他这个故事,这让他很感动。

“你觉得他还会回来吗?”尼尔森问道。

“不怕。哎呀,这艘船要过几年才能还清,到那时他就会把她忘得一干二净了。我敢打赌,当他醒来并发现自己被上海人盯上时,他一定很生气,我不应该奇怪,但他想和某人打架。但他必须微笑着忍受这一切,我猜一个月后他就会认为离开这个岛是他一生中发生过的最好的事情。”

但尼尔森无法将这个故事从他的脑海中抹去。也许是因为他病了,身体虚弱,红的容光焕发的健康吸引了他的想象。他自己长得丑陋,外表微不足道,却非常看重别人的美貌。他从来没有热烈地爱过,当然他也从来没有被热烈地爱过。这两个年轻人的相互吸引给了他一种奇异的快乐。它具有无法形容的绝对之美。他又去了小溪边的小屋。他有语言天赋,思维活跃,习惯于工作,并且已经投入大量时间学习当地语言。他的旧习惯很强烈,他正在为一篇关于萨摩亚语言的论文收集材料。与莎莉同住一间小屋的老太婆邀请他进来坐下。她给了他 卡瓦 喝酒,抽烟。她很高兴有人可以聊天,当她说话时,他看着莎莉。她让他想起那不勒斯博物馆里的普赛克。她的五官线条同样纯净,尽管她已经生过孩子,但她仍然保持着童贞的面貌。

直到见了她两三遍,他才劝她开口。然后只是问他是否在阿皮亚见过一个叫雷德的人。他失踪已经两年了,但她显然还是时时刻刻想着他。

尼尔森没过多久就发现他爱上了她。现在,他只是凭借意志力才阻止自己每天去小溪,而当他不在莎莉身边时,他的想法就会去。起初,他把自己看作一个垂死的人,只要求看她一眼,偶尔听她说话,他的爱给了他美妙的幸福。他对它的纯洁性感到欣喜若狂。他对她一无所求,只想有机会在她优雅的身躯周围编织一张美丽的幻想之网。但户外的空气、均匀的温度、休息、简单的食物,开始对他的健康产生意想不到的影响。夜间他的体温并没有飙升到如此惊人的高度,咳嗽也减少了,体重也开始增加;六个月过去了,他没有出血。突然间,他看到了自己活下去的可能性。他仔细地研究了自己的疾病,并燃起了希望,只要非常小心,他就能阻止病情的发展。再次展望未来,他感到很兴奋。他制定了计划。显然,任何积极的生活都是不可能的,但他可以在岛上生活,而且他仅有的微薄收入(在其他地方不够)足以维持他的生活。他会种植椰子;这会给他一个职业;他会派人拿来他的书和一架钢琴;但他敏锐的头脑看出,在这一切中,他只是想向自己隐瞒困扰他的欲望。

他想要莎莉。他不仅爱她的美丽,还爱她痛苦的眼神背后那颗暗淡的灵魂。他要用他的热情让她陶醉。最终他会让她忘记。在一种投降的狂喜中,他幻想着自己也给了她幸福,他原以为永远不会再有这种幸福,但现在却奇迹般地实现了。

他要求她和他住在一起。她拒绝了。他预料到了这一点,并没有因此而沮丧,因为他确信她迟早会屈服。他的爱是不可抗拒的。他告诉了老妇人他的愿望,但令他惊讶的是,她和邻居们早就知道他们的情况,强烈敦促莎莉接受他的提议。毕竟,每个当地人都很高兴为白人保留房子,而根据岛上的标准,尼尔森是一个富有的人。与他一起登机的商人走到她面前,告诉她不要犯傻。这样的机会不会再有了,过了这么久,她仍然不敢相信雷德还会回来。女孩的反抗只会增加尼尔森的欲望,原本非常纯洁的爱情现在变成了令人痛苦的激情。他决心不让任何事情阻碍他。他没有给莎莉安宁。最后,由于他的坚持和周围每个人时而恳求、时而愤怒的劝说,她疲惫不堪,她同意了。但第二天,当他兴高采烈地去看她时,却发现她在夜里烧毁了她和雷德一起住过的小屋。老太婆向他跑来,满口愤怒地谩骂莎莉,但他挥手把她推到一边。不要介意;他们会在原来小屋的地方盖一栋平房。如果他想带一架钢琴和大量的书籍出来,欧洲的房子确实更方便。

就这样,小木屋建成了,他在里面住了很多年,莎莉也成了他的妻子。但在最初几周的欣喜若狂之后,他对她给他的东西感到满意,但在这之后,他几乎没有感受到幸福。她因疲倦而屈服于他,但她只是屈服于她不重视的东西。他隐隐约约看到的灵魂逃走了。他知道她根本不在乎他。她依然爱着雷德,一直在等待他的归来。只要他做出一个手势,尼尔森就知道,尽管有他的爱、他的温柔、他的同情、他的慷慨,她还是会毫不犹豫地离开他。她永远不会想到他的痛苦。痛苦攫住了他,他猛烈地攻击着她那坚不可摧的、阴沉地反抗着他的自我。他的爱变得苦涩。他试图用善意融化她的心,但她的心依然坚硬如初;他假装漠不关心,但她没有注意到。有时他发脾气,辱骂她,她就默默流泪。有时他认为她只是一个骗子,那个灵魂只是他自己的发明,他无法进入她内心的避难所,因为那里没有避难所。他的爱变成了一座监狱,他渴望逃离,但他没有力量打开门——这就是所需要的——走到外面的空气中。这是一种折磨,最后他变得麻木和绝望。最终火自行熄灭,当他看到她的目光在细长的桥上停留片刻时,他心中不再是愤怒,而是不耐烦。多年来,他们因习惯和便利的纽带而生活在一起,他微笑着回顾自己昔日的激情。她是个老太婆了,岛上的女人老得很快,如果他不再爱她,他也能容忍。她留下了他一个人。他对他的钢琴和书籍很满意。

他的想法使他产生了对言语的渴望。

“当我现在回想起来,反思瑞德和莎莉那段短暂而热烈的爱情时,我想也许他们应该感谢在他们的爱情似乎还处于巅峰时,无情的命运将他们分开。他们受苦,但他们在美丽中受苦。他们避免了真正的爱情悲剧。”

“我不太清楚,”船长说。

“爱情的悲剧不是死亡或分离。你认为他们中的一个或另一个要多久才会不再关心?哦,看着一个你全心全意爱着的女人,你觉得你不忍心让她离开你的视线,而你又意识到,即使你从未见过她,你也不会介意,这是多么痛苦的事情再次。爱情的悲剧在于冷漠。”

但就在他说话的时候,一件非常不寻常的事情发生了。虽然他一直在对船长说话,但他并没有在和他说话,他一直在用自己的语言表达自己的想法,他的眼睛盯着面前的那个人,但他没有看到他。但现在,一个影像出现在他们面前,不是他所看到的那个人的影像,而是另一个人的影像。就好像他正在看着一面扭曲的镜子,让你显得格外蹲下或令人难以置信地拉长,但这里发生的情况恰恰相反,在那个又胖又丑的老人身上,他看到了一个小青年的影子。他现在对他进行了快速、彻底的审视。为何漫不经心的闲逛,竟会来到这个地方?心脏骤然一震,让他有些喘不过气来。他突然产生了一种荒谬的怀疑。对他来说发生的事情是不可能的,但这可能是事实。

“你叫什么名字?”他突然问道。

船长的脸皱了起来,狡猾地笑了一声。当时他看上去很恶毒,而且极其粗俗。

“自从我听到这句话以来已经太久了,我自己都快忘记了。但三十年来,在岛上,他们一直叫我红。”

他巨大的身躯颤抖着,发出一声低沉、近乎无声的笑声。这是猥亵的。尼尔森浑身颤抖。瑞德被逗乐了,泪水从他布满血丝的眼睛里顺着脸颊流下来。

尼尔森倒吸了一口气,因为就在这时,一个女人进来了。她是一个当地人,一个有点威风凛凛的女人,身材粗壮,但并不肥胖,皮肤黝黑,因为当地人随着年龄的增长,皮肤颜色会变深,头发灰白。她穿着一件黑色的哈伯德修女衫,它的单薄显露出她厚重的乳房。这一刻已经到来。

她向尼尔森提出了一些家庭事务的意见,他做出了回答。他想知道他的声音对她来说是否像对他自己一样不自然。她淡漠地看了坐在窗边椅子上的男人一眼,就走出了房间。这一刻来了又过去了。

尼尔森一时间说不出话来。他感到奇怪的震动。然后他说:

“如果你能留下来和我一起吃顿晚饭,我会很高兴。运气好。”

“我想我不会,”雷德说。 “我必须去追捕这个格雷家伙。我会把他的东西给他,然后我就走开。我想明天回到阿皮亚。”

“我会派一个男孩跟你一起去,给你带路。”

“这样就可以了。”

雷德从椅子上站起来,瑞典人则打电话给在种植园工作的一名男孩。他告诉他船长想去哪里,男孩就沿着桥走下去。红准备跟着他。

“别掉进去,”尼尔森说。

“不影响你的生活。”

尼尔森看着他走过来,当他消失在椰子丛中时,他看上去一动不动。然后他重重地瘫坐在椅子上。这就是那个阻碍他幸福的男人吗?这就是莎莉这些年来深爱、苦苦等待的那个男人吗?这太荒唐了。突然的愤怒袭来,他有一种本能地跳起来,粉碎周围的一切。他被骗了。他们终于见面了,却浑然不觉。他开始咯咯地笑起来,笑声越来越大,直到变得歇斯底里。诸神给他开了一个残酷的玩笑。而他现在已经老了。

最后莎莉进来告诉他晚餐准备好了。他在她面前坐下,想吃东西。他想知道,如果他现在告诉她,坐在椅子上的胖老头就是她怀念的、充满青春激情的情人,她会怎么说。几年前,当他因为她让他不开心而恨她时,他会很高兴告诉她。他想像她伤害他一样伤害她,因为他的恨只是爱。但现在他不在乎了。他无精打采地耸耸肩。

“那个男人想要什么?”她立刻问道。

他没有立即回答。她也很老了,是个又胖又老的土著妇女。他想知道为什么他会如此疯狂地爱她。他把他灵魂中的所有宝藏都放在了她的脚下,而她却毫不在意。浪费,什么浪费!而现在,他看着她,只感到轻蔑。他的耐心终于耗尽了。他回答了她的问题。

“他是一艘纵帆船的船长。他来自阿皮亚。”

“是的。”

“他给我带来了家里的消息。我大哥病得很重,我必须回去。”

“你会离开很久吗?”

他耸了耸肩。

第五章·池子 •15,600字

当阿皮亚大都会酒店的老板卓别林把我介绍给劳森时,我并没有特别注意他。我们坐在休息室里喝着一杯早起的鸡尾酒,我饶有兴趣地听着岛上的八卦。

卓别林让我很开心。他的职业是一名采矿工程师,也许他的特点就是他定居在一个他的专业成就毫无价值的地方。然而,据普遍报道,他是一位极其聪明的采矿工程师。他身材矮小,不胖不瘦,头发乌黑,头顶稀疏,已变成灰色,留着小而凌乱的小胡子。他的脸一半是太阳的原因,一半是酒的原因,脸涨得通红。他只是一个傀儡,因为这家酒店虽然名字如此宏伟,不过是一栋两层楼的框架建筑,却由他的妻子管理,她是一位身材高大、骨瘦如柴的澳大利亚人,五岁和四十岁,气势磅礴,神情坚毅。这个小个子男人很兴奋,经常喝醉,很害怕她,而这个陌生人很快就听说了家庭争吵,她用拳头和脚来压制他。据了解,她在一夜醉酒后将他关在自己的房间里二十四小时,然后可以看到他不敢离开监狱,在阳台上对下面街上的人说着有些可怜的话。

他是一个有性格的人,他对丰富多彩的生活的回忆,无论真实与否,都值得一听,因此,当劳森走进来时,我倾向于对打扰感到不满。虽然不是中午,但显然他已经喝够了,我毫无热情地屈服于他的坚持,接受了他提供的另一杯鸡尾酒。我已经知道卓别林的头脑很脆弱。出于一般礼貌,我应该被迫点下一轮,这足以让他生气,然后卓别林夫人就会用黑眼色看着我。

劳森的外表也没有什么吸引人的地方。他是个瘦小个子,长着一张黄黄的长脸,下巴又窄又弱,鼻子又大又瘦,鼻子又大又瘦,眉毛又粗又粗。他们给了他一种奇怪的表情。他的眼睛又大又黑,非常美丽。他很高兴,但我觉得他的高兴并不真诚。从表面上看,这是他用来欺骗世界的面具,我怀疑它隐藏着卑鄙的本性。他显然很渴望被认为是一个“好人”,而且他受到了很好的欢迎。可是,不知道为什么,我感觉他很狡猾,很狡猾。他用沙哑的声音说了很多话,他和卓别林互相讲述了豆子的故事,这些故事已经成为传奇,英国俱乐部的“潮湿”夜晚的故事,消耗了大量威士忌的拍摄探险的故事,以及令他们自豪的是,从登陆到启航,他们什么都不记得。一对醉猪。但即使他们喝得酩酊大醉,此时两人都喝了四杯鸡尾酒,两人都没有清醒,粗糙粗俗的卓别林和劳森之间还是有很大的区别:劳森可能喝醉了,但他无疑是一位绅士。

最后他从椅子上站起来,有点摇摇晃晃。

“好吧,我会回家的,”他说。 “晚饭前见。”

“夫人还好吧?”卓别林说。

“是的。”

他出去了。他的单音节回答中有一个奇怪的音符,让我抬起头来。

“好小伙子,”当劳森走出门走进阳光下时,卓别林淡淡地说。 “最好的之一。可惜他喝酒了。”

卓别林的这句话不无幽默感。

“当他喝醉的时候,他就会想和人打架。”

“他经常喝醉吗?”

“一周喝三四天,烂醉如泥。是这个岛做到了这一点,还有埃塞尔。”

“埃塞尔是谁?”

“埃塞尔是他的妻子。与混血儿结婚。老布雷瓦尔德的女儿。带她离开这里。唯一要做的事。但她实在受不了了,现在他们又回来了。如果他之前不喝酒自杀的话,总有一天他会上吊自杀。好家伙。喝醉了的时候就很恶心。”

卓别林大声打嗝。

“我去把头放在淋浴下。我不应该喝最后一杯鸡尾酒。总是最后一个让你陷入困境。”

他不确定地看了看楼梯,决定去淋浴间的小房间,然后以一种不自然的严肃态度站了起来。

“付钱给你培养劳森,”他说。 “一个博学的人。当他清醒时你会感到惊讶。也很聪明。值得交谈。”

卓别林在这几次演讲中告诉了我整个故事。

当我傍晚沿着海边骑行回来时,劳森又回到了酒店。他重重地陷在休息室的一张藤椅上,用呆滞的眼睛看着我。看得出来,他整个下午都在喝酒。他浑身麻木,脸上的表情阴沉而充满怨恨。他的目光在我身上停留了一会儿,但我看得出来他不认识我。另外两三个人坐在那里摇骰子,他们没有注意到他。他的状况显然太平常了,无法引起人们的注意。我坐下来开始玩。

“你们真是一群善于交际的人。”劳森突然说道。

他从椅子上站起来,弯曲膝盖摇摇晃晃地朝门口走去。我不知道这一景象是否比令人反感更可笑。当他走后,其中一个男人窃笑起来。

“劳森今天有点醉了,”他说。

“如果我不能更好地携带酒,”另一个人说,“我就会爬上马车并留在那里。”

谁会想到这个可怜的物体在他的方式中是一个浪漫的人物,或者他的生活中有那些理论家告诉我们的怜悯和恐怖的元素,这些元素是实现悲剧效果所必需的?

我已经两三天没有再见到他了。

一天晚上,我坐在酒店一楼的阳台上,俯瞰着街道,这时劳森走过来,一屁股坐在我旁边的椅子上。他很清醒。他漫不经心地说了一句,然后,当我有些冷漠地回答时,他笑着补充道,语气中带着歉意:

“那天我浑身湿透了。”

我没有回答。实在是无话可说。我拉开烟斗,徒劳地希望能驱走蚊子,然后看着当地人下班回家。他们迈着长长的步伐,缓慢地、小心翼翼地、有尊严地走着,赤脚轻柔的拍打声听起来很奇怪。他们的深色头发,无论是卷曲的还是直的,通常都是石灰白色的,而且看起来非常出众。他们身材高大,体态优美。然后,一群所罗门群岛的契约劳工,边唱边经过。他们比萨摩亚人更矮、更瘦,皮肤呈煤黑色,大头的毛茸茸的头发染成红色。时不时会有白人开着马车经过,或者骑进酒店的院子。泻湖里有两三艘帆船在平静的水面上倒映着它们的优雅。

“我不知道在这种地方除了浑身湿透还能做什么,”劳森最后说道。

“你不喜欢萨摩亚吗?”我随口问道,想说什么。

“很漂亮,不是吗?”

他选择的这个词似乎不足以描述这座岛屿难以想象的美丽,我微笑着,微笑着转身看着他。我被他那双美丽而阴沉的眼睛里的表情吓了一跳,那是一种难以忍受的痛苦的表情。他们流露了一种悲​​惨的情感,我从来不认为他有这种能力。但表情消失了,他笑了。他的笑容很简单,还有些天真。这改变了他的面貌,使我对他最初的厌恶感动摇了。

“当我第一次出来的时候,我到处都是,”他说。

他沉默了片刻。

“大约三年前我就永远离开了,但我又回来了。”他犹豫了。 “我的妻子想回来。你知道,她出生在这里。”

“哦,是的。”

他再次沉默,然后冒险评论了罗伯特·路易斯·史蒂文森。他问我是否已经做好了瓦利玛的准备。出于某种原因,他正在努力讨好我。他开始谈论史蒂文森的书,不久话题就转移到了伦敦。

“我认为考文特花园仍然很强劲,”他说。 “我想我和这里的一切一样想念歌剧。你见过吗 特里斯坦和伊索尔德?“

他问我这个问题,好像这个答案对他来说真的很重要,当我说,我敢说,有点随意,我有,他似乎很高兴。他开始谈论瓦格纳时,不是作为一个音乐家,而是作为一个从瓦格纳那里得到了他无法分析的情感满足的普通人。

“我认为拜罗伊特确实是一个值得去的地方,”他说。 “我从来没有钱,运气更糟。但当然,可能比考文特花园更糟糕,所有的灯光和盛装打扮的女人,还有音乐。该剧的第一幕 女武神的 好吧,不是吗?和结束 特里斯坦。发誓!”

现在他的眼睛闪闪发亮,脸上容光焕发,看起来几乎不再是同一个人了。他蜡黄瘦削的脸颊上泛起红晕,我忘记了他的声音是刺耳的、难听的。他甚至有一种魅力。

“乔治,我今晚想去伦敦。你知道 Pall Mall 餐厅吗?我以前经常去那里。皮卡迪利广场,商店灯火通明,人群熙熙攘攘。我觉得站在那里看着公交车和出租车川流不息,仿佛永不停歇,真是太棒了。我也喜欢斯特兰德。关于上帝和查林十字的那些台词是什么?

我吓了一跳。

“你是说汤普森的吗?”我问。

我引用了他们的话。

“当如此悲伤时,你不能再悲伤,
哭泣吧,在你如此痛苦的损失中
将照亮雅各布梯子的交通
在天堂和查林十字车站之间。”

他微弱地叹了口气。

“我读了 天上的猎犬。有点还好。”

“一般人都是这么认为的。”我低声说道。

“你在这里不会遇到任何读过任何书的人。他们认为这是炫耀。”

他脸上露出渴望的表情,我想我猜到了他来找我的感觉。我与他后悔的世界和他不再了解的生活有着联系。因为就在我到达他喜爱的伦敦不久之前,他用敬畏和嫉妒的目光看着我。他可能还没说话五分钟,就突然说出了令我震惊的话语。

“我受够了,”他说。 “我受够了。”

“那你为什么不出去?”我问。

他的脸色变得阴沉起来。

“我的肺有点脏。我现在无法忍受英国的冬天。”

就在那时,另一个男人在阳台上加入了我们,劳森陷入了喜怒无常的沉默中。

“是时候排水了,”新来者说。 “谁愿意和我喝一杯苏格兰威士忌?劳森?”

劳森似乎来自一个遥远的世界。他起来了。

“我们去酒吧吧,”他说。

当他离开我时,我对他的感情仍然比我预想的更加友善。他让我困惑又感兴趣。几天后我见到了他的妻子。我知道他们结婚已经五六年了,我惊讶地发现她还非常年轻。当他娶她时,她还不到十六岁。她非常漂亮。她的肤色并不比西班牙人深,身材娇小,身材却非常漂亮,手脚很小,身材苗条而轻盈。她的五官很可爱。但我想最让我印象深刻的是她那精致的外表。混血儿一般都有一定的粗鄙,看上去有些粗犷,但她却有一种令人惊叹的精致。她身上有一种极其文明的气质,让你在这样的环境中看到她会感到惊讶,你会想起那些在拿破仑三世皇帝的宫廷里让全世界议论的著名美女。尽管她只穿了一件平纹细布连衣裙和一顶草帽,但她的优雅气质让人想起时尚女性。当劳森第一次见到她时,她一定很迷人。

他最近才从英国出来管理一家英国银行在当地的分行,在旱季开始时到达萨摩亚,他在旅馆租了一个房间。他很快就结识了所有人。岛上的生活是愉快而轻松的。他喜欢在酒店的休息室里进行长时间的闲聊,也喜欢在英国俱乐部度过愉快的夜晚,当时一群人会打台球。他喜欢沿着泻湖边缘散布的阿皮亚,那里有商店、平房,还有它的家乡。然后到了周末,他就会骑车到一个或另一个种植园主的家里,在山上住上几个晚上。他以前从未体验过自由和闲暇。而他也被阳光陶醉了。当他骑马穿过灌木丛时,周围的美景让他头晕目眩。这个国家曾经是难以形容的富饶。森林的某些部分还是处女地,奇树丛生,灌木茂盛,藤蔓丛生。它给人一种神秘而令人不安的印象。

但令他着迷的地方是距离阿皮亚一两英里远的一个水池,他晚上经常去那里洗澡。有一条小河,湍急地流过岩石,形成深潭后,继续流淌,水浅而清澈,经过一个用大石头砌成的浅滩,当地人有时来这里洗澡或洗衣服。 。岸边的椰子树,轻佻优雅,茂密生长,都长满了蔓生植物,倒映在碧绿的水中。这正是你在德文郡群山中看到的景象,但又有所不同,因为它有一种热带的浓郁、一种激情、一种芳香的慵懒,似乎融化了心。水很新鲜,但不冷;经过一天的炎热之后,它很美味。在那里沐浴,不仅使身体焕然一新,而且使心灵焕然一新。

劳森走的时候,一个人影也没有,他在水中逗留了很长一段时间,时而漂浮在水中,时而在夕阳下晒干身体,享受着孤独和友好的沉默。他并不后悔当时的伦敦,也不后悔他放弃的生活,因为生活看起来是完整而精致的。

正是在这里,他第一次见到埃塞尔。

一天晚上,天色快要暗下来的时候,他一直忙着处理那些必须写完的信件,这些信件是为了第二天每月一次的船航行。他拴好马,慢悠悠地向岸边走去。一个女孩坐在那里。当他到来时,她环顾四周,悄无声息地滑入水中。她就像被凡人靠近吓到的水仙一样消失了。他又惊讶又好笑。他想知道她把自己藏在哪里了。他向下游游去,不久就看到她坐在一块岩石上。她用不好奇的眼神看着他。他用萨摩亚语打招呼。

塔洛法。=

她突然微笑着回答他,然后又跳进水里。她游得很轻松,头发散落在身后。他看着她穿过泳池,爬到岸边。像所有当地人一样,她用哈伯德母浴巾洗澡,水让它紧贴在她瘦小的身体上。她拧干头发,漠然地站在那里,看起来比以往任何时候都更像水里或树林里的野生动物。他现在看出她是混血儿了。他游向她,下车后用英语对她说话。

“你游得太晚了。”

她把头发向后甩开,然后将它以华丽的卷发铺在肩上。

“我喜欢独自一人的时候,”她说。

“我也是。”

她笑起来带着当地人孩子般的坦率。她把一块干的哈伯德妈妈套在头上,放下湿的,然后走了出来。她把它拧干,准备出发。她迟疑地停顿了一下,然后大步走开。夜幕突然降临。

劳森回到酒店,向休息室里摇着骰子喝酒的男人描述了她,很快就发现了她是谁。她的父亲是挪威人,名叫布雷瓦尔德,人们经常看到他在大都会酒店的酒吧里喝朗姆酒和水。他是个小老头,像一棵古树一样多节多节,四十年前作为一艘帆船的副手来到了这些岛屿。他曾是一名铁匠、商人、种植园主,一度相当富裕。但是,由于九十年代的大飓风毁了他,现在除了一小片椰子树种植园之外,他什么都没有了。他有过四个本地妻子,正如他笑着告诉你的那样,他的孩子多得数不过来。但有些人已经死了,有些人已经到外面的世界去了,所以现在家里只剩下埃塞尔一个人了。

“她是个桃子,”该公司的超级货运员尼尔森说。 莫阿纳。 “我曾经用欣喜的眼光看过她一两次,但我想没什么作用。”

“老布雷瓦尔德不是那种傻瓜,孩子,”另一个名叫米勒的人插话道。 “他想要一个愿意让他度过余生的女婿。”

他们以这种方式谈论这个女孩,这让劳森感到厌恶。他对寄出的邮件发表了评论,从而分散了他们的注意力。但第二天晚上他又去了游泳池。埃塞尔也在场。夕阳的神秘,水面的深沉寂静,椰子树的轻盈优雅,给她的美丽增添了一种深邃、一种魔力,激起心底未知的情感。出于某种原因,那一次他突发奇想不跟她说话。她没有理睬他。她甚至没有朝他的方向看一眼。她在绿色的水池里游来游去。她潜入水中,她在岸边休息,仿佛她很孤独:他有一种奇怪的感觉,觉得自己是隐形的。一些半被遗忘的诗歌片段浮现在他的记忆中,还有他在学生时代疏忽学习的希腊的模糊回忆。当她把湿衣服换成干衣服并漫步走开时,他在她原来所在的地方发现了一朵猩红色的芙蓉花。这是她来洗澡时戴在头发上的一朵花,入水后把它取出来,忘记了或不愿意再戴上。他把它拿在手里,看着它,带着一种奇异的情感。他本能地想保留它,但他的多愁善感激怒了他,于是他把它扔掉了。看到它顺流而下,他感到有点痛苦。

他想知道她的本性有什么奇怪的地方,促使她在根本不可能有人在那里的情况下,到这个隐藏的水池里去。岛上的原住民非常热爱水。他们每天在某个地方洗澡,总是一次,而且经常两次;但他们却成群结队地沐浴,欢声笑语,一家人在一起;你常常会看到一群女孩在溪流的浅滩上戏水,她们中间有混血儿,阳光透过树林照耀,她们身上斑驳的斑驳。看来这个水池里有什么秘密,不情愿地吸引着埃塞尔。

现在夜幕降临了,神秘又寂静,他轻轻地浸入水中,不发出任何声音,在温暖的黑暗中懒洋洋地游着。从她纤细的身体上,水似乎仍然散发着芳香。他骑马回到星空下的小镇。他感到与世界和平相处。

现在他每天晚上都去游泳池,每天晚上他都能见到埃塞尔。很快他就克服​​了她的胆怯。她变得顽皮而友善。他们一起坐在水池上方的岩石上,那里的水流得很快,他们并排躺在俯瞰池子的岩架上,看着渐浓的暮色将池子笼罩在神秘之中。他们的会面不可避免地会被人知道——在南海,每个人似乎都知道每个人的事——而他却受到了酒店里的人的粗鲁嘲笑。他微笑着让他们说话。甚至不值得去否认他们粗俗的建议。他的感情绝对是纯粹的。他爱埃塞尔就像诗人爱月亮一样。他不认为她是一个女人,而是不属于这个世界的东西。她是泳池的精灵。

有一天,他在酒店经过酒吧时,看到老布雷瓦尔德站在那里,一如既往地穿着破旧的蓝色工作服。因为他是埃塞尔的父亲,所以他想和他说话,所以他进去,点点头,点了自己的饮料,漫不经心地转身邀请老人和他一起喝一杯。他们就当地事务聊了几分钟,劳森不安地意识到挪威人正用狡猾的蓝眼睛打量着他。他的态度并不令人愉快。这是阿谀奉承,但在这位在与命运的斗争中被击败的老人的畏缩神情背后,却隐藏着旧日好斗的阴影。劳森记得他曾经是一艘从事奴隶贸易的纵帆船的船长,在太平洋上他们称之为黑鸟,他的胸部有一个很大的疝气,这是在与所罗门群岛人的争斗中受伤的结果。午餐铃声响起。

“好吧,我得走了,”劳森说。

“你为什么不一起来我家一趟呢?”布雷瓦尔德气喘吁吁地说。 “虽然不是很盛大,但我们会很欢迎你的。你认识埃塞尔。”

“我很乐意来。”

“周日下午是最好的时间。”

布雷瓦尔德的平房破旧肮脏,矗立在种植园的椰子树丛中,距离通往瓦伊利马的主干道稍远。它的周围长满了巨大的大蕉。它们的叶子破烂不堪,有一种衣衫褴褛的可爱女人的悲剧美感。一切都是马虎且被忽视的。小黑猪又瘦又高,在周围翻滚,小鸡则咯咯地叫着,啄食散落在各处的垃圾。三四个当地人正在阳台上闲逛。当劳森询问布雷瓦尔德时,老人嘶哑的声音呼唤着他,他发现他在客厅里抽着一根旧石南木烟斗。

“坐下来,就像在家里一样,”他说。 “埃塞尔只是令人兴奋。”

她进来了。她穿着衬衫和裙子,头发梳成欧洲时尚。虽然她不像那个每天晚上都来到泳池边的女孩那样狂野、胆怯,但她现在看起来更加平常,因此也更加平易近人。她与劳森握手。这是他第一次触碰她的手。

“我希望你能和我们一起喝杯茶,”她说。

他知道她曾在一所教会学校上学,她为他的利益而表现出的公司礼仪让他感到好笑,同时也感动了。茶已经摆在桌子上,不一会儿,老布雷瓦尔德的第四任妻子就把茶壶端了进来。她是一个英俊的本地人,不再年轻,只会说几句英语。她笑了笑。茶会是一顿相当庄重的饭菜,有大量的面包和黄油以及各种非常甜的蛋糕,谈话也很正式。这时,一位满脸皱纹的老妇人轻轻地走了进来。

“那是埃塞尔的奶奶,”老布雷瓦尔德说着,大声地向地板上吐口水。

她坐在椅子的边缘,很不舒服,这样你就知道这对她来说很不寻常,如果她坐在地上会更自在,只是静静地用闪亮的眼睛盯着劳森。平房后面的厨房里,有人开始拉手风琴,两三个人齐声唱起赞美诗。但他们唱歌是为了声音的乐趣而不是出于虔诚。

当劳森走回酒店时,他感到异常高兴。他被这些人杂乱无章的生活方式所感动。在布雷瓦尔德夫人的微笑和善性中,在这个小挪威人辉煌的职业生涯中,在老祖母闪亮而神秘的眼睛中,他发现了一些不寻常和令人着迷的东西。这是一种比他所知道的任何生活都更加自然的生活,它更接近友好、肥沃的大地。在那一刻,文明对他产生了排斥,仅仅通过与这些更原始的生物的接触,他就感到了更大的自由。

他看到自己摆脱了已经开始让他厌烦的旅馆,定居在自己的一栋小平房里,整洁而白色,面朝大海,这样他的眼前总是有五彩斑斓的泻湖。他喜欢这个美丽的岛屿。伦敦和英国对他来说已经毫无意义了,他满足于在那个被遗忘的地方度过余生,那里拥有世界上最好的商品、爱和幸福。他下定决心,无论有什么障碍,都不能阻止他与埃塞尔结婚。

但没有任何障碍。布雷瓦尔兹家总是欢迎他。老人很阿谀奉承,布雷瓦尔德夫人则不停地微笑。他短暂地瞥见了一些当地人,他们似乎在某种程度上属于当权派,有一次他发现一个高个子年轻人坐在一栋房子里。 熔岩熔岩他身上有纹身,头发被石灰染白,与布雷瓦尔德坐在一起,并被告知他是布雷瓦尔德夫人兄弟的儿子;但大多数情况下,他们都不妨碍他。埃塞尔对他很满意。当她看到他时,她眼中的光芒让他充满了狂喜。她迷人又天真。当她告诉他她就读的教会学校和姐妹们的情况时,他欣喜若狂地听着。他陪她去看每两周一次的电影院,并在随后的舞会上与她一起跳舞。他们从岛上各地赶来,因为乌波卢岛很少有欢乐的活动。你在那里看到了这个地方的所有社交场合,白人女士们对自己保持着良好的态度,混血种姓穿着美国服装非常优雅,当地人,一群穿着白色母亲哈伯德鞋的黑人女孩和穿着不习惯的鸭子和白色的年轻人鞋。一切都非常聪明和快乐。埃塞尔很高兴向她的朋友们展示这位一直没有离开她身边的白人崇拜者。很快,他要娶她的谣言就传开了,她的朋友们都用羡慕的目光看着她。对于一个混血儿来说,让一个白人娶她是一件伟大的事情,即使是不太正规的关系也比什么都没有好,但人们永远不知道这会导致什么;劳森担任银行经理的职位使他成为岛上的猎物之一。如果他不是如此全神贯注于埃塞尔,他就会注意到许多双眼睛好奇地注视着他,他也会看到白人女士们的目光,注意到她们是如何聚在一起闲聊的。

后来,当酒店里的男人们在睡觉前喝一杯威士忌时,尼尔森突然说道:

“比如说,他们说劳森要娶那个女孩。”

“那么他就是个该死的傻瓜,”米勒说。

米勒是一位德裔美国人,由穆勒改名而来,身材高大,肥胖,秃头,圆脸,胡子刮得干干净净。他戴着大金边眼镜,看上去很和善,他的鸭子总是干净洁白。他是个酒鬼,总是准备和“男孩们”一起熬夜,但他从来没有喝醉过;他性格开朗、和蔼可亲,但也非常精明。没有任何事情干扰他的生意;他代表旧金山的一家公司,批发在岛上出售的商品、印花布、机械等等。他的良好友谊是他的一贯作风的一部分。

“他不知道自己面对的是什么,”尼尔森说。 “应该有人让他明智。”

“如果你接受我的建议,你就不会干涉与你无关的事情,”米勒说。 “当一个人下定决心要出丑时,没有什么比让他出丑更好的了。”

“我完全赞成和这里的女孩们一起度过愉快的时光,但是当谈到与她们结婚时——这个孩子不会带走任何东西,我会告诉全世界。”

卓别林当时也在场,现在他有发言权了。

“我见过很多人这样做,但效果并不好。”

“你应该和他谈谈,卓别林,”纳尔逊说。 “你比任何人都了解他。”

“我对卓别林的建议是不要管它,”米勒说。

即使在那些日子里,劳森也不受欢迎,实际上没有人对他有足够的兴趣来打扰他。卓别林夫人与两三个白人女士讨论了这件事,但她们只满足于说这很遗憾。当他明确地告诉她他要结婚时,似乎一切都太晚了。

劳森度过了快乐的一年。他在阿皮亚所在的海湾边租了一间平房,位于一个原生村庄的边界上。它迷人地坐落在椰子树丛中,面朝太平洋热情的蓝色。埃塞尔在小房子里走来走去时很可爱,像森林里的小动物一样轻盈优雅,而且她很快乐。他们笑得很开心。他们胡言乱语。有时,旅馆里的一两个男人会过来过夜,通常在周日,他们会去某个与当地人结婚的种植园主那里待上一天。有时,在阿皮亚有一家商店的混血商人会举办一场聚会,他们也会去参加。现在,混血儿对待劳森的态度大不相同了。他的婚姻使他成为了他们中的一员,他们称他为伯蒂。他们搂住他的手臂,拍打他的背。他喜欢在这些聚会上见到埃塞尔。她的眼睛闪闪发亮,笑了起来。看到她容光焕发的幸福,他很高兴。有时埃塞尔的亲戚会来到平房,当然是老布雷瓦尔德,还有她的母亲,但也有表兄弟姐妹,哈伯兹母亲的模糊土著妇女和哈伯兹母亲的男人和男孩。 熔岩,他们的头发染成红色,身上有精心的纹身。当他从银行回来时,他会发现他们坐在那里。他放肆地笑了。

“不要让他们把我们从壁炉和家里吃掉,”他说。

“他们是我自己的家人。当他们要求我时,我会情不自禁地为他们做点什么。”

他知道,当白人与当地人或混血儿结婚时,他必须期望她的亲戚将他视为金矿。他双手捧住埃塞尔的脸,吻住她的红唇。也许他不能指望她明白,对于一个单身汉来说已经足够的工资,当它必须养活妻子和房子时,必须小心管理。然后埃塞尔生下了一个儿子。

当劳森第一次把孩子抱在怀里时,他的心突然猛地一痛。他没想到天会这么黑。毕竟它只有四分之一的本土血统,而且没有理由它看起来不应该像一个英国婴儿。但是,蜷缩在他的怀里,脸色蜡黄,头上已经长满了黑发,一双黑黑的大眼睛,很可能是个土生土长的孩子。自从他结婚以来,他就一直被殖民地的白人女士们忽视。当他遇到那些他单身时习惯在家里吃饭的人时,他们对他有点不自在。他们试图用夸张的热情来掩饰自己的尴尬。

“劳森夫人还好吗?”他们会说。 “你是一个幸运的人。该死的漂亮姑娘。”

但如果他们和妻子在一起,见到他和埃塞尔,当他们的妻子向埃塞尔居高临下地点头时,他们会感到尴尬。劳森笑了。

“他们这一群人都像阴沟里的水一样迟钝,”他说。 “如果他们不邀请我参加他们肮脏的派对,就不会打扰我晚上的休息。”

但现在这让他有点恼火。

黑乎乎的小宝宝把脸拧得乱七八糟。那是他的儿子。他想到了阿皮亚的混血儿。他们的面色不健康,面黄肌瘦,而且早熟得令人厌恶。他曾在船上看到他们去新西兰上学,必须选择一所接收有土著血统的孩子的学校;他们挤在一起,厚颜无耻却又胆怯,这些特征使他们与白人有着奇怪的区别。他们彼此之间讲母语。当他们长大后,由于他们的本土血统,这些人接受的工资越来越少。女孩可能会嫁给白人,但男孩没有机会;他们必须与像他们一样的混血儿或当地人结婚。劳森热情地下定决心,一定要让儿子摆脱这样的生活耻辱。无论付出什么代价,他都必须回到欧洲。当他走进去看到埃塞尔躺在床上,柔弱而可爱,周围都是土著妇女时,他的决心更加坚定了。如果他把她带到自己的人民中间,她就会更完全地属于他。他爱她如此热烈,他要她与他成为一魂一体;他意识到,在这里,由于她与本土生活有着深厚的渊源,她总是会对他隐瞒一些事情。

在一种隐秘的保密本能的驱使下,他悄悄地去工作,并写信给阿伯丁一家航运公司合伙人的表弟,说他的健康状况不佳(因此,像许多人一样,他来到了岛上)好多了,他似乎没有理由不返回欧洲。他请他利用自己的影响力为自己在迪赛德找到一份工作,无论报酬多么微薄,那里的气候特别适合患有肺部疾病的人。信件从阿伯丁寄到萨摩亚需要五到六周的时间,其中还需要交换几封信。他有足够的时间来准备埃塞尔。她高兴得像个孩子。看到她如何向朋友吹嘘她要去英国,他感到很有趣。这对她来说是一个进步;在那里她会很英国化;即将到来的离别让她产生了兴趣,她感到很兴奋。当终于收到一封电报,邀请他在金卡丁郡一家银行任职时,她欣喜若狂。

当他们的长途旅行结束后,他们在这座拥有花岗岩房屋的苏格兰小镇安顿下来时,劳森意识到再次与自己的人民生活在一起对他来说意味着什么。他回想起在阿皮亚流放的三年,又回到了看似唯一正常的生活,松了口气。再次打高尔夫球真是太好了,还有钓鱼——好好钓鱼,在太平洋上,当你只是把鱼线扔进去,从拥挤的大海里拉出一条又一条行动迟缓的大鱼时,这没什么乐趣——而且这是很好的每天看报纸报道当天的新闻,结识与你同类的人,可以交谈的人;吃非冷冻的肉、喝非罐装的牛奶也很好。与太平洋地区相比,他们更多地依靠自己的资源,他很高兴埃塞尔独自一人。结婚两年后,他比以往任何时候都更加忠诚地爱着她,他几乎无法忍受她离开自己的视线,他越来越迫切地需要他们之间进行更亲密的交流。但奇怪的是,在初次到来的兴奋之后,她对新生活的兴趣似乎没有他想象的那么大。她不太适应周围的环境。她有点昏昏欲睡。当晴朗的秋天进入冬天时,她抱怨寒冷。她早上有一半时间躺在床上,剩下的时间则躺在沙发上,有时读小说,但更多时候什么也不做。她看起来很拮据。

“没关系,亲爱的,”他说。 “你很快就会习惯的。等到夏天到来。天气几乎和阿皮亚一样热。”

他感觉比多年来更好、更强壮。

她管理房屋的粗心大意在萨摩亚并不重要,但在这里却很不合时宜。当有人来的时候,他不想让这个地方看起来不整洁;他一边大笑,一边跟埃塞尔开玩笑,然后开始收拾东西。埃塞尔懒洋洋地看着他。她花了很长时间与儿子玩耍。她用她自己国家的婴儿语言与他交谈。为了分散她的注意力,劳森积极地与邻居们交朋友,他们时不时地去参加一些小型聚会,女士们在客厅里唱着歌谣,男人们则面带微笑,沉默而友善。埃塞尔很害羞。她似乎是分开坐着的。有时劳森突然感到焦虑,会问她是否快乐。

“是的,我很高兴,”她回答。

但她的眼神被某种他猜不透的想法所蒙蔽。她似乎退缩了,所以他意识到他对她的了解并不比第一次看到她在游泳池里洗澡时更多。他有一种不安的感觉,觉得她有事瞒着他,而因为他爱她,这让他备受折磨。

“你不后悔阿皮亚,是吗?”有一次他问过她。

“Oh, no—I think it’s very nice here.”

An obscure misgiving drove him to make disparaging remarks about the island and the people there. She smiled and did not answer. Very rarely she received a bundle of letters from Samoa and then she went about for a day or two with a set, pale face.

“Nothing would induce me ever to go back there,” he said once. “It’s no place for a white man.”

But he grew conscious that sometimes, when he was away, Ethel cried. In Apia she had been talkative, chatting volubly about all the little details of their common life, the gossip of the place; but now she gradually became silent, and, though he increased his efforts to amuse her, she remained listless. It seemed to him that her recollections of the old life were drawing her away from him, and he was madly jealous of the island and of the sea, of Brevald, and all the dark-skinned people whom he remembered now with horror. When she spoke of Samoa he was bitter and satirical. One evening late in the spring when the birch trees were bursting into leaf, coming home from a round of golf, he found her not as usual lying on the sofa, but at the window, standing. She had evidently been waiting for his return. She addressed him the moment he came into the room. To his amazement she spoke in Samoan.

“I can’t stand it. I can’t live here any more. I hate it. I hate it.”

“For God’s sake speak in a civilised language,” he said irritably.

She went up to him and clasped her arms around his body awkwardly, with a gesture that had in it something barbaric.

“Let’s go away from here. Let’s go back to Samoa. If you make me stay here I shall die. I want to go home.”

Her passion broke suddenly and she burst into tears. His anger vanished and he drew her down on his knees. He explained to her that it was impossible for him to throw up his job, which after all meant his bread and butter. His place in Apia was long since filled. He had nothing to go back to there. He tried to put it to her reasonably, the inconveniences of life there, the humiliation to which they must be exposed, and the bitterness it must cause their son.

“Scotland’s wonderful for education and that sort of thing. Schools are good and cheap, and he can go to the University at Aberdeen. I’ll make a real Scot of him.”

They had called him Andrew. Lawson wanted him to become a doctor. He would marry a white woman.

“I’m not ashamed of being half native,” Ethel said sullenly.

“Of course not, darling. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

With her soft cheek against his he felt incredibly weak.

“You don’t know how much I love you,” he said. “I’d give anything in the world to be able to tell you what I’ve got in my heart.”

He sought her lips.

The summer came. The highland valley was green and fragrant, and the hills were gay with the heather. One sunny day followed another in that sheltered spot, and the shade of the birch trees was grateful after the glare of the high road. Ethel spoke no more of Samoa and Lawson grew less nervous. He thought that she was resigned to her surroundings, and he felt that his love for her was so passionate that it could leave no room in her heart for any longing. One day the local doctor stopped him in the street.

“I say, Lawson, your missus ought to be careful how she bathes in our highland streams. It’s not like the Pacific, you know.”

Lawson was surprised, and had not the presence of mind to conceal the fact.

“I didn’t know she was bathing.”

医生笑了。

“A good many people have seen her. It makes them talk a bit, you know, because it seems a rum place to choose, the pool up above the bridge, and bathing isn’t allowed there, but there’s no harm in that. I don’t know how she can stand the water.”

Lawson knew the pool the doctor spoke of, and suddenly it occurred to him that in a way it was just like that pool at Upolu where Ethel had been in the habit of bathing every evening. A clear highland stream ran down a sinuous course, rocky, splashing gaily, and then formed a deep, smooth pool, with a little sandy beach. Trees overshadowed it thickly, not coconut trees, but beeches, and the sun played fitfully through the leaves on the sparkling water. It gave him a shock. With his imagination he saw Ethel go there every day and undress on the bank and slip into the water, cold, colder than that of the pool she loved at home, and for a moment regain the feeling of the past. He saw her once more as the strange, wild spirit of the stream, and it seemed to him fantastically that the running water called her. That afternoon he went along to the river. He made his way cautiously among the trees and the grassy path deadened the sound of his steps. Presently he came to a spot from which he could see the pool. Ethel was sitting on the bank, looking down at the water. She sat quite still. It seemed as though the water drew her irresistibly. He wondered what strange thoughts wandered through her head. At last she got up, and for a minute or two she was hidden from his gaze; then he saw her again, wearing a Mother Hubbard, and with her little bare feet she stepped delicately over the mossy bank. She came to the water’s edge, and softly, without a splash, let herself down. She swam about quietly, and there was something not quite of a human being in the way she swam. He did not know why it affected him so queerly. He waited till she clambered out. She stood for a moment with the wet folds of her dress clinging to her body, so that its shape was outlined, and then, passing her hands slowly over her breasts, gave a little sigh of delight. Then she disappeared. Lawson turned away and walked back to the village. He had a bitter pain in his heart, for he knew that she was still a stranger to him and his hungry love was destined ever to remain unsatisfied.

He did not make any mention of what he had seen. He ignored the incident completely, but he looked at her curiously, trying to divine what was in her mind. He redoubled the tenderness with which he used her. He sought to make her forget the deep longing of her soul by the passion of his love.

Then one day, when he came home, he was astonished to find her not in the house.

“Where’s Mrs Lawson?” he asked the maid.

“She went into Aberdeen, Sir, with the baby,” the maid answered, a little surprised at the question. “She said she would not be back till the last train.”

“哦那好吧。”

He was vexed that Ethel had said nothing to him about the excursion, but he was not disturbed, since of late she had been in now and again to Aberdeen, and he was glad that she should look at the shops and perhaps visit a cinema. He went to meet the last train, but when she did not come he grew suddenly frightened. He went up to the bedroom and saw at once that her toilet things were no longer in their place. He opened the wardrobe and the drawers. They were half empty. She had bolted.

He was seized with a passion of anger. It was too late that night to telephone to Aberdeen and make enquiries, but he knew already all that his enquiries might have taught him. With fiendish cunning she had chosen a time when they were making up their periodical accounts at the bank and there was no chance that he could follow her. He was imprisoned by his work. He took up a paper and saw that there was a boat sailing for Australia next morning. She must be now well on the way to London. He could not prevent the sobs that were wrung painfully from him.

“I’ve done everything in the world for her,” he cried, “and she had the heart to treat me like this. How cruel, how monstrously cruel!”

After two days of misery he received a letter from her. It was written in her school-girl hand. She had always written with difficulty:

Dear Bertie:
I couldn’t stand it any more. I’m going back home. Good-bye.

埃塞尔。

She did not say a single word of regret. She did not even ask him to come too. Lawson was prostrated. He found out where the ship made its first stop and, though he knew very well she would not come, sent a cable beseeching her to return. He waited with pitiful anxiety. He wanted her to send him just one word of love; she did not even answer. He passed through one violent phase after another. At one moment he told himself that he was well rid of her, and at the next that he would force her to return by withholding money. He was lonely and wretched. He wanted his boy and he wanted her. He knew that, whatever he pretended to himself, there was only one thing to do and that was to follow her. He could never live without her now. All his plans for the future were like a house of cards and he scattered them with angry impatience. He did not care whether he threw away his chances for the future, for nothing in the world mattered but that he should get Ethel back again. As soon as he could he went into Aberdeen and told the manager of his bank that he meant to leave at once. The manager remonstrated. The short notice was inconvenient. Lawson would not listen to reason. He was determined to be free before the next boat sailed; and it was not until he was on board of her, having sold everything he possessed, that in some measure he regained his calm. Till then to those who had come in contact with him he seemed hardly sane. His last action in England was to cable to Ethel at Apia that he was joining her.

He sent another cable from Sydney, and when at last with the dawn his boat crossed the bar at Apia and he saw once more the white houses straggling along the bay he felt an immense relief. The doctor came on board and the agent. They were both old acquaintances and he felt kindly towards their familiar faces. He had a drink or two with them for old times’ sake, and also because he was desperately nervous. He was not sure if Ethel would be glad to see him. When he got into the launch and approached the wharf he scanned anxiously the little crowd that waited. She was not there and his heart sank, but then he saw Brevald, in his old blue clothes, and his heart warmed towards him.

“Where’s Ethel?” he said, as he jumped on shore.

“She’s down at the bungalow. She’s living with us.”

Lawson was dismayed, but he put on a jovial air.

“Well, have you got room for me? I daresay it’ll take a week or two to fix ourselves up.”

“Oh, yes, I guess we can make room for you.”

After passing through the custom-house they went to the hotel and there Lawson was greeted by several of his old friends. There were a good many rounds of drinks before it seemed possible to get away and when they did go out at last to Brevald’s house they were both rather gay. He clasped Ethel in his arms. He had forgotten all his bitter thoughts in the joy of beholding her once more. His mother-in-law was pleased to see him, and so was the old, wrinkled beldame, her mother; natives and half-castes came in, and they all sat round, beaming on him. Brevald had a bottle of whisky and everyone who came was given a nip. Lawson sat with his little dark-skinned boy on his knees, they had taken his English clothes off him and he was stark, with Ethel by his side in a Mother Hubbard. He felt like a returning prodigal. In the afternoon he went down to the hotel again and when he got back he was more than gay, he was drunk. Ethel and her mother knew that white men got drunk now and then, it was what you expected of them, and they laughed good-naturedly as they helped him to bed.

But in a day or two he set about looking for a job. He knew that he could not hope for such a position as that which he had thrown away to go to England; but with his training he could not fail to be useful to one of the trading firms, and perhaps in the end he would not lose by the change.

“After all, you can’t make money in a bank,” he said. “Trade’s the thing.”

He had hopes that he would soon make himself so indispensable that he would get someone to take him into partnership, and there was no reason why in a few years he should not be a rich man.

“As soon as I’m fixed up we’ll find ourselves a shack,” he told Ethel. “We can’t go on living here.”

Brevald’s bungalow was so small that they were all piled on one another, and there was no chance of ever being alone. There was neither peace nor privacy.

“Well, there’s no hurry. We shall be all right here till we find just what we want.”

It took him a week to get settled and then he entered the firm of a man called Bain. But when he talked to Ethel about moving she said she wanted to stay where she was till her baby was born, for she was expecting another child. Lawson tried to argue with her.

“If you don’t like it,” she said, “go and live at the hotel.”

He grew suddenly pale.

“Ethel, how can you suggest that!”

她耸了耸肩。

“What’s the good of having a house of our own when we can live here.”

He yielded.

When Lawson, after his work, went back to the bungalow he found it crowded with natives. They lay about smoking, sleeping, drinking 卡瓦; and they talked incessantly. The place was grubby and untidy. His child crawled about, playing with native children, and it heard nothing spoken but Samoan. He fell into the habit of dropping into the hotel on his way home to have a few cocktails, for he could only face the evening and the crowd of friendly natives when he was fortified with liquor. And all the time, though he loved her more passionately than ever, he felt that Ethel was slipping away from him. When the baby was born he suggested that they should get into a house of their own, but Ethel refused. Her stay in Scotland seemed to have thrown her back on her own people, now that she was once more among them, with a passionate zest, and she turned to her native ways with abandon. Lawson began to drink more. Every Saturday night he went to the English Club and got blind drunk.

He had the peculiarity that as he grew drunk he grew quarrelsome and once he had a violent dispute with Bain, his employer. Bain dismissed him, and he had to look out for another job. He was idle for two or three weeks and during these, sooner than sit in the bungalow, he lounged about in the hotel or at the English Club, and drank. It was more out of pity than anything else that Miller, the German-American, took him into his office; but he was a business man, and though Lawson’s financial skill made him valuable, the circumstances were such that he could hardly refuse a smaller salary than he had had before, and Miller did not hesitate to offer it to him. Ethel and Brevald blamed him for taking it, since Pedersen, the half-caste, offered him more. But he resented bitterly the thought of being under the orders of a half-caste. When Ethel nagged him he burst out furiously:

“I’ll see myself dead before I work for a nigger.”

“You may have to,” she said.

And in six months he found himself forced to this final humiliation. The passion for liquor had been gaining on him, he was often heavy with drink, and he did his work badly. Miller warned him once or twice and Lawson was not the man to accept remonstrance easily. One day in the midst of an altercation he put on his hat and walked out. But by now his reputation was well known and he could find no one to engage him. For a while he idled, and then he had an attack of 震颤性谵妄. When he recovered, shameful and weak, he could no longer resist the constant pressure and he went to Pedersen and asked him for a job. Pedersen was glad to have a white man in his store and Lawson’s skill at figures made him useful.

From that time his degeneration was rapid. The white people gave him the cold shoulder. They were only prevented from cutting him completely by disdainful pity and by a certain dread of his angry violence when he was drunk. He became extremely susceptible and was always on the lookout for affront.

He lived entirely among the natives and half-castes, but he had no longer the prestige of the white man. They felt his loathing for them and they resented his attitude of superiority. He was one of themselves now and they did not see why he should put on airs. Brevald, who had been ingratiating and obsequious, now treated him with contempt. Ethel had made a bad bargain. There were disgraceful scenes and once or twice the two men came to blows. When there was a quarrel Ethel took the part of her family. They found he was better drunk than sober, for when he was drunk he would lie on the bed or on the floor, sleeping heavily.

Then he became aware that something was being hidden from him.

When he got back to the bungalow for the wretched, half native supper which was his evening meal, often Ethel was not in. If he asked where she was Brevald told him she had gone to spend the evening with one or other of her friends. Once he followed her to the house Brevald had mentioned and found she was not there. On her return he asked her where she had been and she told him her father had made a mistake; she had been to so-and-so’s. But he knew that she was lying. She was in her best clothes; her eyes were shining, and she looked lovely.

“Don’t try any monkey tricks on me, my girl,” he said, “or I’ll break every bone in your body.”

“You drunken beast,” she said, scornfully.

He fancied that Mrs Brevald and the old grandmother looked at him maliciously and he ascribed Brevald’s good-humour with him, so unusual those days, to his satisfaction at having something up his sleeve against his son-in-law. And then, his suspicions aroused, he imagined that the white men gave him curious glances. When he came into the lounge of the hotel the sudden silence which fell upon the company convinced him that he had been the subject of the conversation. Something was going on and everyone knew it but himself. He was seized with furious jealousy. He believed that Ethel was carrying on with one of the white men, and he looked at one after the other with scrutinising eyes; but there was nothing to give him even a hint. He was helpless. Because he could find no one on whom definitely to fix his suspicions, he went about like a raving maniac, looking for someone on whom to vent his wrath. Chance caused him in the end to hit upon the man who of all others least deserved to suffer from his violence. One afternoon, when he was sitting in the hotel by himself, moodily, Chaplin came in and sat down beside him. Perhaps Chaplin was the only man on the island who had any sympathy for him. They ordered drinks and chatted a few minutes about the races that were shortly to be run. Then Chaplain said:

“I guess we shall all have to fork out money for new dresses.”

Lawson sniggered. Since Mrs Chaplin held the purse-strings if she wanted a new frock for the occasion she would certainly not ask her husband for the money.

“How is your missus?” asked Chaplin, desiring to be friendly.

“What the hell’s that got to do with you?” said Lawson, knitting his dark brows.

“I was only asking a civil question.”

“Well, keep your civil questions to yourself.”

Chaplin was not a patient man; his long residence in the tropics, the whisky bottle, and his domestic affairs had given him a temper hardly more under control than Lawson’s.

“Look here, my boy, when you’re in my hotel you behave like a gentleman or you’ll find yourself in the street before you can say knife.”

Lawson’s lowering face grew dark and red.

“Let me just tell you once for all and you can pass it on to the others,” he said, panting with rage. “If any of you fellows come messing round with my wife he’d better look out.”

“Who do you think wants to mess around with your wife?”

“I’m not such a fool as you think. I can see a stone wall in front of me as well as most men, and I warn you straight, that’s all. I’m not going to put up with any hanky-panky, not on your life.”

“Look here, you’d better clear out of here, and come back when you’re sober.”

“I shall clear out when I choose and not a minute before,” said Lawson.

It was an unfortunate boast, for Chaplin in the course of his experience as a hotel-keeper had acquired a peculiar skill in dealing with gentlemen whose room he preferred to their company, and the words were hardly out of Lawson’s mouth before he found himself caught by the collar and arm and hustled not without force into the street. He stumbled down the steps into the blinding glare of the sun.

It was in consequence of this that he had his first violent scene with Ethel. Smarting with humiliation and unwilling to go back to the hotel, he went home that afternoon earlier than usual. He found Ethel dressing to go out. As a rule she lay about in a Mother Hubbard, barefoot, with a flower in her dark hair; but now, in white silk stockings and high-heeled shoes, she was doing up a pink muslin dress which was the newest she had.

“You’re making yourself very smart,” he said. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to the Crossleys.”

“我来陪你。”

“Why?” she asked coolly.

“I don’t want you to gad about by yourself all the time.”

“You’re not asked.”

“I don’t care a damn about that. You’re not going without me.”

“You’d better lie down till I’m ready.”

She thought he was drunk and if he once settled himself on the bed would quickly drop off to sleep. He sat down on a chair and began to smoke a cigarette. She watched him with increasing irritation: When she was ready he got up. It happened by an unusual chance that there was no one in the bungalow. Brevald was working on the plantation and his wife had gone into Apia. Ethel faced him.

“I’m not going with you. You’re drunk.”

“That’s a lie. You’re not going without me.”

She shrugged her shoulders and tried to pass him, but he caught her by the arm and held her.

“Let me go, you devil,” she said, breaking into Samoan.

“Why do you want to go without me? Haven’t I told you I’m not going to put up with any monkey tricks?”

She clenched her fist and hit him in the face. He lost all control of himself. All his love, all his hatred, welled up in him and he was beside himself.

“I’ll teach you,” he shouted. “I’ll teach you.”

He seized a riding-whip which happened to be under his hand, and struck her with it. She screamed, and the scream maddened him so that he went on striking her, again and again. Her shrieks rang through the bungalow and he cursed her as he hit. Then he flung her on the bed. She lay there sobbing with pain and terror. He threw the whip away from him and rushed out of the room. Ethel heard him go and she stopped crying. She looked round cautiously, then she raised herself. She was sore, but she had not been badly hurt, and she looked at her dress to see if it was damaged. The native women are not unused to blows. What he had done did not outrage her. When she looked at herself in the glass and arranged her hair, her eyes were shining. There was a strange look in them. Perhaps then she was nearer loving him than she had ever been before.

But Lawson, driven forth blindly, stumbled through the plantation and suddenly exhausted, weak as a child, flung himself on the ground at the foot of a tree. He was miserable and ashamed. He thought of Ethel, and in the yielding tenderness of his love all his bones seemed to grow soft within him. He thought of the past, and of his hopes, and he was aghast at what he had done. He wanted her more than ever. He wanted to take her in his arms. He must go to her at once. He got up. He was so weak that he staggered as he walked. He went into the house and she was sitting in their cramped bedroom in front of her looking-glass.

“Oh, Ethel, forgive me. I’m so awfully ashamed of myself. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

He fell on his knees before her and timidly stroked the skirt of her dress.

“I can’t bear to think of what I did. It’s awful. I think I was mad. There’s no one in the world I love as I love you. I’d do anything to save you from pain and I’ve hurt you. I can never forgive myself, but for God’s sake say you forgive me.”

He heard her shrieks still. It was unendurable. She looked at him silently. He tried to take her hands and the tears streamed from his eyes. In his humiliation he hid his face in her lap and his frail body shook with sobs. An expression of utter contempt came over her face. She had the native woman’s disdain of a man who abased himself before a woman. A weak creature! And for a moment she had been on the point of thinking there was something in him. He grovelled at her feet like a cur. She gave him a little scornful kick.

“Get out,” she said. “I hate you.”

He tried to hold her, but she pushed him aside. She stood up. She began to take off her dress. She kicked off her shoes and slid the stockings off her feet, then she slipped on her old Mother Hubbard.

“你要去哪里?”

“What’s that got to do with you? I’m going down to the pool.”

“Let me come too,” he said.

He asked as though he were a child.

“Can’t you even leave me that?”

He hid his face in his hands, crying miserably, while she, her eyes hard and cold, stepped past him and went out.

From that time she entirely despised him; and though, herded together in the small bungalow, Lawson and Ethel with her two children, Brevald, his wife and her mother, and the vague relations and hangers-on who were always in and about, they had to live cheek by jowl, Lawson, ceasing to be of any account, was hardly noticed. He left in the morning after breakfast, and came back only to have supper. He gave up the struggle, and when for want of money he could not go to the English Club he spent the evening playing hearts with old Brevald and the natives. Except when he was drunk he was cowed and listless. Ethel treated him like a dog. She submitted at times to his fits of wild passion, and she was frightened by the gusts of hatred with which they were followed; but when, afterwards, he was cringing and lachrymose she had such a contempt for him that she could have spat in his face. Sometimes he was violent, but now she was prepared for him, and when he hit her she kicked and scratched and bit. They had horrible battles in which he had not always the best of it. Very soon it was known all over Apia that they got on badly. There was little sympathy for Lawson, and at the hotel the general surprise was that old Brevald did not kick him out of the place.

“Brevald’s a pretty ugly customer,” said one of the men. “I shouldn’t be surprised if he put a bullet into Lawson’s carcass one of these days.”

Ethel still went in the evenings to bathe in the silent pool. It seemed to have an attraction for her that was not quite human, just that attraction you might imagine that a mermaid who had won a soul would have for the cool salt waves of the sea; and sometimes Lawson went also. I do not know what urged him to go, for Ethel was obviously irritated by his presence; perhaps it was because in that spot he hoped to regain the clean rapture which had filled his heart when first he saw her; perhaps only, with the madness of those who love them that love them not, from the feeling that his obstinacy could force love. One day he strolled down there with a feeling that was rare with him now. He felt suddenly at peace with the world. The evening was drawing in and the dusk seemed to cling to the leaves of the coconut trees like a little thin cloud. A faint breeze stirred them noiselessly. A crescent moon hung just over their tops. He made his way to the bank. He saw Ethel in the water floating on her back. Her hair streamed out all round her, and she was holding in her hand a large hibiscus. He stopped a moment to admire her; she was like Ophelia.

“Hulloa, Ethel,” he cried joyfully.

She made a sudden movement and dropped the red flower. It floated idly away. She swam a stroke or two till she knew there was ground within her depth and then stood up.

“Go away,” she said. “Go away.”

他笑了。

“Don’t be selfish. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

“Why can’t you leave me alone? I want to be by myself.”

“Hang it all, I want to bathe,” he answered, good-humouredly.

“Go down to the bridge. I don’t want you here.”

“I’m sorry for that,” he said, smiling still.

He was not in the least angry, and he hardly noticed that she was in a passion. He began to take off his coat.

“Go away,” she shrieked. “I won’t have you here. Can’t you even leave me this? Go away.”

“Don’t be silly, darling.”

She bent down and picked up a sharp stone and flung it quickly at him. He had no time to duck. It hit him on the temple. With a cry he put his hand to his head and when he took it away it was wet with blood. Ethel stood still, panting with rage. He turned very pale, and without a word, taking up his coat, went away. Ethel let herself fall back into the water and the stream carried her slowly down to the ford.

The stone had made a jagged wound and for some days Lawson went about with a bandaged head. He had invented a likely story to account for the accident when the fellows at the club asked him about it, but he had no occasion to use it. No one referred to the matter. He saw them cast surreptitious glances at his head, but not a word was said. The silence could only mean that they knew how he came by his wound. He was certain now that Ethel had a lover, and they all knew who it was. But there was not the smallest indication to guide him. He never saw Ethel with anyone; no one showed a wish to be with her, or treated him in a manner that seemed strange. Wild rage seized him, and having no one to vent it on he drank more and more heavily. A little while before I came to the island he had had another attack of 震颤性谵妄.

I met Ethel at the house of a man called Caster, who lived two or three miles from Apia with a native wife. I had been playing tennis with him and when we were tired he suggested a cup of tea. We went into the house and in the untidy living-room found Ethel chatting with Mrs Caster.

“Hulloa, Ethel,” he said, “I didn’t know you were here.”

I could not help looking at her with curiosity. I tried to see what there was in her to have excited in Lawson such a devastating passion. But who can explain these things? It was true that she was lovely; she reminded one of the red hibiscus, the common flower of the hedgerow in Samoa, with its grace and its languor and its passion; but what surprised me most, taking into consideration the story I knew even then a good deal of, was her freshness and simplicity. She was quiet and a little shy. There was nothing coarse or loud about her; she had not the exuberance common to the half-caste; and it was almost impossible to believe that she could be the virago that the horrible scenes between husband and wife, which were now common knowledge, indicated. In her pretty pink frock and high-heeled shoes she looked quite European. You could hardly have guessed at that dark background of native life in which she felt herself so much more at home. I did not imagine that she was at all intelligent, and I should not have been surprised if a man, after living with her for some time, had found the passion which had drawn him to her sink into boredom. It suggested itself to me that in her elusiveness, like a thought that presents itself to consciousness and vanishes before it can be captured by words, lay her peculiar charm; but perhaps that was merely fancy, and if I had known nothing about her I should have seen in her only a pretty little half-caste like another.

She talked to me of the various things which they talk of to the stranger in Samoa, of the journey, and whether I had slid down the water rock at Papaseea, and if I meant to stay in a native village. She talked to me of Scotland, and perhaps I noticed in her a tendency to enlarge on the sumptuousness of her establishment there. She asked me naïvely if I knew Mrs This and Mrs That, with whom she had been acquainted when she lived in the north.

Then Miller, the fat German-American, came in. He shook hands all round very cordially and sat down, asking in his loud, cheerful voice for a whisky and soda. He was very fat and he sweated profusely. He took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped them; you saw then that his little eyes, benevolent behind the large round glasses, were shrewd and cunning; the party had been somewhat dull till he came, but he was a good story-teller and a jovial fellow. Soon he had the two women, Ethel and my friend’s wife, laughing delightedly at his sallies. He had a reputation on the island of a lady’s man, and you could see how this fat, gross fellow, old and ugly, had yet the possibility of fascination. His humour was on a level with the understanding of his company, an affair of vitality and assurance, and his Western accent gave a peculiar point to what he said. At last he turned to me:

“Well, if we want to get back for dinner we’d better be getting. I’ll take you along in my machine if you like.”

I thanked him and got up. He shook hands with the others, went out of the room, massive and strong in his walk, and climbed into his car.

“Pretty little thing, Lawson’s wife,” I said, as we drove along.

“Too bad the way he treats her. Knocks her about. Gets my dander up when I hear of a man hitting a woman.”

We went on a little. Then he said:

“He was a darned fool to marry her. I said so at the time. If he hadn’t, he’d have had the whip hand over her. He’s yaller, that’s what he is, yaller.”

The year was drawing to its end and the time approached when I was to leave Samoa. My boat was scheduled to sail for Sydney on the fourth of January. Christmas Day had been celebrated at the hotel with suitable ceremonies, but it was looked upon as no more than a rehearsal for New Year, and the men who were accustomed to foregather in the lounge determined on New Year’s Eve to make a night of it. There was an uproarious dinner, after which the party sauntered down to the English Club, a simple little frame house, to play pool. There was a great deal of talking, laughing, and betting, but some very poor play, except on the part of Miller, who had drunk as much as any of them, all far younger than he, but had kept unimpaired the keenness of his eye and the sureness of his hand. He pocketed the young men’s money with humour and urbanity. After an hour of this I grew tired and went out. I crossed the road and came on to the beach. Three coconut trees grew there, like three moon maidens waiting for their lovers to ride out of the sea, and I sat at the foot of one of them, watching the lagoon and the nightly assemblage of the stars.

I do not know where Lawson had been during the evening, but between ten and eleven he came along to the club. He shambled down the dusty, empty road, feeling dull and bored, and when he reached the club, before going into the billiard-room, went into the bar to have a drink by himself. He had a shyness now about joining the company of white men when there were a lot of them together and needed a stiff dose of whisky to give him confidence. He was standing with the glass in his hand when Miller came in to him. He was in his shirt sleeves and still held his cue. He gave the bar-tender a glance.

“Get out, Jack,” he said.

The bar-tender, a native in a white jacket and a red 熔岩熔岩, without a word slid out of the small room.

“Look here, I’ve been wanting to have a few words with you, Lawson,” said the big American.

“Well, that’s one of the few things you can have free, gratis, and for nothing on this damned island.”

Miller fixed his gold spectacles more firmly on his nose and held Lawson with his cold determined eyes.

“See here, young fellow, I understand you’ve been knocking Mrs Lawson about again. I’m not going to stand for that. If you don’t stop it right now I’ll break every bone of your dirty little body.”

Then Lawson knew what he had been trying to find out so long. It was Miller. The appearance of the man, fat, bald-headed, with his round bare face and double chin and the gold spectacles, his age, his benign, shrewd look, like that of a renegade priest, and the thought of Ethel, so slim and virginal, filled him with a sudden horror. Whatever his faults Lawson was no coward, and without a word he hit out violently at Miller. Miller quickly warded the blow with the hand that held the cue, and then with a great swing of his right arm brought his fist down on Lawson’s ear. Lawson was four inches shorter than the American and he was slightly built, frail and weakened not only by illness and the enervating tropics, but by drink. He fell like a log and lay half dazed at the foot of the bar. Miller took off his spectacles and wiped them with his handkerchief.

“I guess you know what to expect now. You’ve had your warning and you’d better take it.”

He took up his cue and went back into the billiard-room. There was so much noise there that no one knew what had happened. Lawson picked himself up. He put his hand to his ear, which was singing still. Then he slunk out of the club.

I saw a man cross the road, a patch of white against the darkness of the night, but did not know who it was. He came down to the beach, passed me sitting at the foot of the tree, and looked down. I saw then that it was Lawson, but since he was doubtless drunk, did not speak. He went on, walked irresolutely two or three steps, and turned back. He came up to me and bending down stared in my face.

“I thought it was you,” he said.

He sat down and took out his pipe.

“It was hot and noisy in the club,” I volunteered.

“Why are you sitting here?”

“I was waiting about for the midnight mass at the Cathedral.”

“If you like I’ll come with you.”

Lawson was quite sober. We sat for a while smoking in silence. Now and then in the lagoon was the splash of some big fish, and a little way out towards the opening in the reef was the light of a schooner.

“You’re sailing next week, aren’t you?” he said.

“是的。”

“It would be jolly to go home once more. But I could never stand it now. The cold, you know.”

“It’s odd to think that in England now they’re shivering round the fire,” I said.

There was not even a breath of wind. The balminess of the night was like a spell. I wore nothing but a thin shirt and a suit of ducks. I enjoyed the exquisite languor of the night, and stretched my limbs voluptuously.

“This isn’t the sort of New Year’s Eve that persuades one to make good resolutions for the future,” I smiled.

He made no answer, but I do not know what train of thought my casual remark had suggested in him, for presently he began to speak. He spoke in a low voice, without any expression, but his accents were educated, and it was a relief to hear him after the twang and the vulgar intonations which for some time had wounded my ears.

“I’ve made an awful hash of things. That’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m right down at the bottom of the pit and there’s no getting out for me. ‘Black as the pit from pole to pole.‘” I felt him smile as he made the quotation. “And the strange thing is that I don’t see how I went wrong.”

I held my breath, for to me there is nothing more awe-inspiring than when a man discovers to you the nakedness of his soul. Then you see that no one is so trivial or debased but that in him is a spark of something to excite compassion.

“It wouldn’t be so rotten if I could see that it was all my own fault. It’s true I drink, but I shouldn’t have taken to that if things had gone differently. I wasn’t really fond of liquor. I suppose I ought not to have married Ethel. If I’d kept her it would be all right. But I did love her so.”

他的声音颤抖着。

“She’s not a bad lot, you know, not really. It’s just rotten luck. We might have been as happy as lords. When she bolted I suppose I ought to have let her go, but I couldn’t do that—I was dead stuck on her then; and there was the kid.”

“Are you fond of the kid?” I asked.

“I was. There are two, you know. But they don’t mean so much to me now. You’d take them for natives anywhere. I have to talk to them in Samoan.”

“Is it too late for you to start fresh? Couldn’t you make a dash for it and leave the place?”

“I haven’t the strength. I’m done for.”

“Are you still in love with your wife?”

“Not now. Not now.” He repeated the two words with a kind of horror in his voice. “I haven’t even got that now. I’m down and out.”

The bells of the Cathedral were ringing.

“If you really want to come to the midnight mass we’d better go along,” I said.

“来吧。”

We got up and walked along the road. The Cathedral, all white, stood facing the sea not without impressiveness, and beside it the Protestant chapels had the look of meeting-houses. In the road were two or three cars, and a great number of traps, and traps were put up against the walls at the side. People had come from all parts of the island for the service, and through the great open doors we saw that the place was crowded. The high altar was all ablaze with light. There were a few whites and a good many half-castes, but the great majority were natives. All the men wore trousers, for the Church has decided that the 熔岩熔岩 is indecent. We found chairs at the back, near the open door, and sat down. Presently, following Lawson’s eyes, I saw Ethel come in with a party of half-castes. They were all very much dressed up, the men in high, stiff collars and shiny boots, the women in large, gay hats. Ethel nodded and smiled to her friends as she passed up the aisle. The service began.

When it was over Lawson and I stood on one side for a while to watch the crowd stream out, then he held out his hand.

“Good-night,” he said. “I hope you’ll have a pleasant journey home.”

“Oh, but I shall see you before I go.”

He sniggered.

“The question is if you’ll see me drunk or sober.”

He turned and left me. I had a recollection of those very large black eyes, shining wildly under the shaggy brows. I paused irresolutely. I did not feel sleepy and I thought I would at all events go along to the club for an hour before turning in. When I got there I found the billiard-room empty, but half-a-dozen men were sitting round a table in the lounge, playing poker. Miller looked up as I came in.

“Sit down and take a hand,” he said.

“行。”

I bought some chips and began to play. Of course it is the most fascinating game in the world and my hour lengthened out to two, and then to three. The native bar-tender, cheery and wide-awake notwithstanding the time, was at our elbow to supply us with drinks and from somewhere or other he produced a ham and a loaf of bread. We played on. Most of the party had drunk more than was good for them and the play was high and reckless. I played modestly, neither wishing to win nor anxious to lose, but I watched Miller with a fascinated interest. He drank glass for glass with the rest of the company, but remained cool and level-headed. His pile of chips increased in size and he had a neat little paper in front of him on which he had marked various sums lent to players in distress. He beamed amiably at the young men whose money he was taking. He kept up interminably his stream of jest and anecdote, but he never missed a draw, he never let an expression of the face pass him. At last the dawn crept into the windows, gently, with a sort of deprecating shyness, as though it had no business there, and then it was day.

“Well,” said Miller, “I reckon we’ve seen the old year out in style. Now let’s have a round of jackpots and me for my mosquito net. I’m fifty, remember, I can’t keep these late hours.”

The morning was beautiful and fresh when we stood on the verandah, and the lagoon was like a sheet of multicoloured glass. Someone suggested a dip before going to bed, but none cared to bathe in the lagoon, sticky and treacherous to the feet. Miller had his car at the door and he offered to take us down to the pool. We jumped in and drove along the deserted road. When we reached the pool it seemed as though the day had hardly risen there yet. Under the trees the water was all in shadow and the night had the effect of lurking still. We were in great spirits. We had no towels or any costume and in my prudence I wondered how we were going to dry ourselves. None of us had much on and it did not take us long to snatch off our clothes. Nelson, the little supercargo, was stripped first.

“I’m going down to the bottom,” he said.

He dived and in a moment another man dived too, but shallow, and was out of the water before him. Then Nelson came up and scrambled to the side.

“I say, get me out,” he said.

“这是怎么回事?”

Something was evidently the matter. His face was terrified. Two fellows gave him their hands and he slithered up.

“I say, there’s a man down there.”

“Don’t be a fool. You’re drunk.”

“Well, if there isn’t I’m in for D. T’s. But I tell you there’s a man down there. It just scared me out of my wits.”

Miller looked at him for a moment. The little man was all white. He was actually trembling.

“Come on, Caster,” said Miller to the big Australian, “we’d better go down and see.”

“He was standing up,” said Nelson, “all dressed. I saw him. He tried to catch hold of me.”

“Hold your row,” said Miller. “Are you ready?”

They dived in. We waited on the bank, silent. It really seemed as though they were under water longer than any men could breathe. Then Caster came up, and immediately after him, red in the face as though he were going to have a fit, Miller. They were pulling something behind them. Another man jumped in to help them, and the three together dragged their burden to the side. They shoved it up. Then we saw that it was Lawson, with a great stone tied up in his coat and bound to his feet.

“He was set on making a good job of it,” said Miller, as he wiped the water from his shortsighted eyes.

第六章•檀香山 •10,000字

THE wise traveller travels only in imagination. An old Frenchman (he was really a Savoyard) once wrote a book called Voyage autour de ma Chambre. I have not read it and do not even know what it is about, but the title stimulates my fancy. In such a journey I could circumnavigate the globe. An eikon by the chimneypiece can take me to Russia with its great forests of birch and its white, domed churches. The Volga is wide, and at the end of a straggling village, in the wine-shop, bearded men in rough sheepskin coats sit drinking. I stand on the little hill from which Napoleon first saw Moscow and I look upon the vastness of the city. I will go down and see the people whom I know more intimately than so many of my friends, Alyosha, and Vronsky, and a dozen more. But my eyes fall on a piece of porcelain and I smell the acrid odours of China. I am borne in a chair along a narrow causeway between the padi fields, or else I skirt a tree-clad mountain. My bearers chat gaily as they trudge along in the bright morning and every now and then, distant and mysterious, I hear the deep sound of a monastery bell. In the streets of Peking there is a motley crowd and it scatters to allow passage to a string of camels, stepping delicately, that bring skins and strange drugs from the stony deserts of Mongolia. In England, in London, there are certain afternoons in winter when the clouds hang heavy and low and the light is so bleak that your heart sinks, but then you can look out of your window, and you see the coconut trees crowded upon the beach of a coral island. The sand is silvery and when you walk along in the sunshine it is so dazzling that you can hardly bear to look at it. Overhead the mynah birds are making a great to-do, and the surf beats ceaselessly against the reef. Those are the best journeys, the journeys that you take at your own fireside, for then you lose none of your illusions.

But there are people who take salt in their coffee. They say it gives it a tang, a savour, which is peculiar and fascinating. In the same way there are certain places, surrounded by a halo of romance, to which the inevitable disillusionment which you must experience on seeing them gives a singular spice. You had expected something wholly beautiful and you get an impression which is infinitely more complicated than any that beauty can give you. It is like the weakness in the character of a great man which may make him less admirable but certainly makes him more interesting.

Nothing had prepared me for Honolulu. It is so far away from Europe, it is reached after so long a journey from San Francisco, so strange and so charming associations are attached to the name, that at first I could hardly believe my eyes. I do not know that I had formed in my mind any very exact picture of what I expected, but what I found caused me a great surprise. It is a typical western city. Shacks are cheek by jowl with stone mansions; dilapidated frame houses stand next door to smart stores with plate glass windows; electric cars rumble noisily along the streets; and motors, Fords, Buicks, Packards, line the pavement. The shops are filled with all the necessities of American civilisation. Every third house is a bank and every fifth the agency of a steamship company.

Along the streets crowd an unimaginable assortment of people. The Americans, ignoring the climate, wear black coats and high, starched collars, straw hats, soft hats, and bowlers. The Kanakas, pale brown, with crisp hair, have nothing on but a shirt and a pair of trousers; but the half-breeds are very smart with flaring ties and patent-leather boots. The Japanese, with their obsequious smile, are neat and trim in white duck, while their women walk a step or two behind them, in native dress, with a baby on their backs. The Japanese children, in bright coloured frocks, their little heads shaven, look like quaint dolls. Then there are the Chinese. The men, fat and prosperous, wear their American clothes oddly, but the women are enchanting with their tightly-dressed black hair, so neat that you feel it can never be disarranged, and they are very clean in their tunics and trousers, white, or powder blue, or black. Lastly there are the Filipinos, the men in huge straw hats, the women in bright yellow muslin with great puffed sleeves.

It is the meeting-place of East and West. The very new rubs shoulders with the immeasurably old. And if you have not found the romance you expected you have come upon something singularly intriguing. All these strange people live close to each other, with different languages and different thoughts; they believe in different gods and they have different values; two passions alone they share, love and hunger. And somehow as you watch them you have an impression of extraordinary vitality. Though the air is so soft and the sky so blue, you have, I know not why, a feeling of something hotly passionate that beats like a throbbing pulse through the crowd. Though the native policeman at the corner, standing on a platform, with a white club to direct the traffic, gives the scene an air of respectability, you cannot but feel that it is a respectability only of the surface; a little below there is darkness and mystery. It gives you just that thrill, with a little catch at the heart, that you have when at night in the forest the silence trembles on a sudden with the low, insistent beating of a drum. You are all expectant of I know not what.

If I have dwelt on the incongruity of Honolulu, it is because just this, to my mind, gives its point to the story I want to tell. It is a story of primitive superstition, and it startles me that anything of the sort should survive in a civilisation which, if not very distinguished, is certainly very elaborate. I cannot get over the fact that such incredible things should happen, or at least be thought to happen, right in the middle, so to speak, of telephones, tram-cars, and daily papers. And the friend who showed me Honolulu had the same incongruity which I felt from the beginning was its most striking characteristic.

He was an American named Winter and I had brought a letter of introduction to him from an acquaintance in New York. He was a man between forty and fifty, with scanty black hair, grey at the temples, and a sharp-featured, thin face. His eyes had a twinkle in them and his large horn spectacles gave him a demureness which was not a little diverting. He was tall rather than otherwise and very spare. He was born in Honolulu and his father had a large store which sold hosiery and all such goods, from tennis racquets to tarpaulins, as a man of fashion could require. It was a prosperous business and I could well understand the indignation of Winter 父亲 when his son, refusing to go into it, had announced his determination to be an actor. My friend spent twenty years on the stage, sometimes in New York, but more often on the road, for his gifts were small; but at last, being no fool, he came to the conclusion that it was better to sell sock-suspenders in Honolulu than to play small parts in Cleveland, Ohio. He left the stage and went into the business. I think after the hazardous existence he had lived so long, he thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of driving a large car and living in a beautiful house near the golf-course, and I am quite sure, since he was a man of parts, he managed the business competently. But he could not bring himself entirely to break his connection with the arts and since he might no longer act he began to paint. He took me to his studio and showed me his work. It was not at all bad, but not what I should have expected from him. He painted nothing but still life, very small pictures, perhaps eight by ten; and he painted very delicately, with the utmost finish. He had evidently a passion for detail. His fruit pieces reminded you of the fruit in a picture by Ghirlandajo. While you marvelled a little at his patience, you could not help being impressed by his dexterity. I imagine that he failed as an actor because his effects, carefully studied, were neither bold nor broad enough to get across the footlights.

I was entertained by the proprietary, yet ironical air with which he showed me the city. He thought in his heart that there was none in the United States to equal it, but he saw quite clearly that his attitude was comic. He drove me round to the various buildings and swelled with satisfaction when I expressed a proper admiration for their architecture. He showed me the houses of rich men.

“That’s the Stubbs’ house,” he said. “It cost a hundred thousand dollars to build. The Stubbs are one of our best families. Old man Stubbs came here as a missionary more than seventy years ago.”

He hesitated a little and looked at me with twinkling eyes through his big round spectacles.

“All our best families are missionary families,” he said. “You’re not very much in Honolulu unless your father or your grandfather converted the heathen.”

“是这样吗?”

“Do you know your Bible?”

“Fairly,” I answered.

“There is a text which says: The fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children’s teeth are set on edge. I guess it runs differently in Honolulu. The fathers brought Christianity to the Kanaka and the children jumped his land.”

“Heaven helps those who help themselves,” I murmured.

“It surely does. By the time the natives of this island had embraced Christianity they had nothing else they could afford to embrace. The kings gave the missionaries land as a mark of esteem, and the missionaries bought land by way of laying up treasure in heaven. It surely was a good investment. One missionary left the business—I think one may call it a business without offence—and became a land agent, but that is an exception. Mostly it was their sons who looked after the commercial side of the concern. Oh, it’s a fine thing to have a father who came here fifty years ago to spread the faith.”

But he looked at his watch.

“Gee, it’s stopped. That means it’s time to have a cocktail.”

We sped along an excellent road, bordered with red hibiscus, and came back into the town.

“Have you been to the Union Saloon?”

“还没。”

“We’ll go there.”

I knew it was the most famous spot in Honolulu and I entered it with a lively curiosity. You get to it by a narrow passage from King Street, and in the passage are offices, so that thirsty souls may be supposed bound for one of these just as well as for the saloon. It is a large square room, with three entrances, and opposite the bar, which runs the length of it, two corners have been partitioned off into little cubicles. Legend states that they were built so that King Kalakaua might drink there without being seen by his subjects, and it is pleasant to think that in one or other of these he may have sat over his bottle, a coal-black potentate, with Robert Louis Stevenson. There is a portrait of him, in oils, in a rich gold frame; but there are also two prints of Queen Victoria. On the walls, besides, are old line engravings of the eighteenth century, one of which, and heaven knows how it got there, is after a theatrical picture by De Wilde; and there are oleographs from the Christmas supplements of the 图形伦敦新闻画报 of twenty years ago. Then there are advertisements of whisky, gin, champagne, and beer; and photographs of baseball teams and of native orchestras.

The place seemed to belong not to the modern, hustling world that I had left in the bright street outside, but to one that was dying. It had the savour of the day before yesterday. Dingy and dimly lit, it had a vaguely mysterious air and you could imagine that it would be a fit scene for shady transactions. It suggested a more lurid time, when ruthless men carried their lives in their hands, and violent deeds diapered the monotony of life.

When I went in the saloon was fairly full. A group of business men stood together at the bar, discussing affairs, and in a corner two Kanakas were drinking. Two or three men who might have been store-keepers were shaking dice. The rest of the company plainly followed the sea; they were captains of tramps, first mates, and engineers. Behind the bar, busily making the Honolulu cocktail for which the place was famous, served two large half-castes, in white, fat, clean-shaven and dark skinned, with thick, curly hair and large bright eyes.

Winter seemed to know more than half the company, and when we made our way to the bar a little fat man in spectacles, who was standing by himself, offered him a drink.

“No, you have one with me, Captain,” said Winter.

他转向我。

“I want you to know Captain Butler.”

The little man shook hands with me. We began to talk, but, my attention distracted by my surroundings, I took small notice of him, and after we had each ordered a cocktail we separated. When we had got into the motor again and were driving away, Winter said to me:

“I’m glad we ran up against Butler. I wanted you to meet him. What did you think of him?”

“I don’t know that I thought very much of him at all,” I answered.

“Do you believe in the supernatural?”

“I don’t exactly know that I do,” I smiled.

“A very queer thing happened to him a year or two ago. You ought to have him tell you about it.”

“什么样的事情?”

Winter did not answer my question.

“I have no explanation of it myself,” he said. “But there’s no doubt about the facts. Are you interested in things like that?”

“Things like what?”

“Spells and magic and all that.”

“I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t.”

Winter paused for a moment.

“I guess I won’t tell you myself. You ought to hear it from his own lips so that you can judge. How are you fixed up for to-night?”

“I’ve got nothing on at all.”

“Well, I’ll get hold of him between now and then and see if we can’t go down to his ship.”

Winter told me something about him. Captain Butler had spent all his life on the Pacific. He had been in much better circumstances than he was now, for he had been first officer and then captain of a passenger-boat plying along the coast of California, but he had lost his ship and a number of passengers had been drowned.

“Drink, I guess,” said Winter.

Of course there had been an enquiry, which had cost him his certificate, and then he drifted further afield. For some years he had knocked about the South Seas, but he was now in command of a small schooner which sailed between Honolulu and the various islands of the group. It belonged to a Chinese to whom the fact that his skipper had no certificate meant only that he could be had for lower wages, and to have a white man in charge was always an advantage.

And now that I had heard this about him I took the trouble to remember more exactly what he was like. I recalled his round spectacles and the round blue eyes behind them, and so gradually reconstructed him before my mind. He was a little man, without angles, plump, with a round face like the full moon and a little fat round nose. He had fair short hair, and he was red-faced and clean shaven. He had plump hands, dimpled on the knuckles, and short fat legs. He was a jolly soul, and the tragic experience he had gone through seemed to have left him unscarred. Though he must have been thirty-four or thirty-five he looked much younger. But after all I had given him but a superficial attention, and now that I knew of this catastrophe, which had obviously ruined his life, I promised myself that when I saw him again I would take more careful note of him. It is very curious to observe the differences of emotional response that you find in different people. Some can go through terrific battles, the fear of imminent death and unimaginable horrors, and preserve their soul unscathed, while with others the trembling of the moon on a solitary sea or the song of a bird in a thicket will cause a convulsion great enough to transform their entire being. Is it due to strength or weakness, want of imagination or instability of character? I do not know. When I called up in my fancy that scene of shipwreck, with the shrieks of the drowning and the terror, and then later, the ordeal of the enquiry, the bitter grief of those who sorrowed for the lost, and the harsh things he must have read of himself in the papers, the shame and the disgrace, it came to me with a shock to remember that Captain Butler had talked with the frank obscenity of a schoolboy of the Hawaiian girls and of Ewelei, the Red Light district, and of his successful adventures. He laughed readily, and one would have thought he could never laugh again. I remembered his shining, white teeth; they were his best feature. He began to interest me, and thinking of him and of his gay insouciance I forgot the particular story, to hear which I was to see him again. I wanted to see him rather to find out if I could a little more what sort of man he was.

Winter made the necessary arrangements and after dinner we went down to the water front. The ship’s boat was waiting for us and we rowed out. The schooner was anchored some way across the harbour, not far from the breakwater. We came alongside, and I heard the sound of a ukalele. We clambered up the ladder.

“I guess he’s in the cabin,” said Winter, leading the way.

It was a small cabin, bedraggled and dirty, with a table against one side and a broad bench all round upon which slept, I supposed, such passengers as were ill-advised enough to travel in such a ship. A petroleum lamp gave a dim light. The ukalele was being played by a native girl and Butler was lolling on the seat, half lying, with his head on her shoulder and an arm round her waist.

“Don’t let us disturb you, Captain,” said Winter, facetiously.

“Come right in,” said Butler, getting up and shaking hands with us. “What’ll you have?”

It was a warm night, and through the open door you saw countless stars in a heaven that was still almost blue. Captain Butler wore a sleeveless under-shirt, showing his fat white arms, and a pair of incredibly dirty trousers. His feet were bare, but on his curly head he wore a very old, a very shapeless felt hat.

“Let me introduce you to my girl. Ain’t she a peach?”

We shook hands with a very pretty person. She was a good deal taller than the captain, and even the Mother Hubbard, which the missionaries of a past generation had, in the interests of decency, forced on the unwilling natives, could not conceal the beauty of her form. One could not but suspect that age would burden her with a certain corpulence, but now she was graceful and alert. Her brown skin had an exquisite translucency and her eyes were magnificent. Her black hair, very thick and rich, was coiled round her head in a massive plait. When she smiled in a greeting that was charmingly natural, she showed teeth that were small, even, and white. She was certainly a most attractive creature. It was easy to see that the captain was madly in love with her. He could not take his eyes off her; he wanted to touch her all the time. That was very easy to understand; but what seemed to me stranger was that the girl was apparently in love with him. There was a light in her eyes that was unmistakable, and her lips were slightly parted as though in a sigh of desire. It was thrilling. It was even a little moving, and I could not help feeling somewhat in the way. What had a stranger to do with this love-sick pair? I wished that Winter had not brought me. And it seemed to me that the dingy cabin was transfigured and now it seemed a fit and proper scene for such an extremity of passion. I thought I should never forget that schooner in the harbour of Honolulu, crowded with shipping, and yet, under the immensity of the starry sky, remote from all the world. I liked to think of those lovers sailing off together in the night over the empty spaces of the Pacific from one green, hilly island to another. A faint breeze of romance softly fanned my cheek.

And yet Butler was the last man in the world with whom you would have associated romance, and it was hard to see what there was in him to arouse love. In the clothes he wore now he looked podgier than ever, and his round spectacles gave his round face the look of a prim cherub. He suggested rather a curate who had gone to the dogs. His conversation was peppered with the quaintest Americanisms, and it is because I despair of reproducing these that, at whatever loss of vividness, I mean to narrate the story he told me a little later in my own words. Moreover he was unable to frame a sentence without an oath, though a good-natured one, and his speech, albeit offensive only to prudish ears, in print would seem coarse. He was a mirth-loving man, and perhaps that accounted not a little for his successful amours; since women, for the most part frivolous creatures, are excessively bored by the seriousness with which men treat them, and they can seldom resist the buffoon who makes them laugh. Their sense of humour is crude. Diana of Ephesus is always prepared to fling prudence to the winds for the red-nosed comedian who sits on his hat. I realised that Captain Butler had charm. If I had not known the tragic story of the shipwreck I should have thought he had never had a care in his life.

Our host had rung the bell on our entrance and now a Chinese cook came in with more glasses and several bottles of soda. The whisky and the captain’s empty glass stood already on the table. But when I saw the Chinese I positively started, for he was certainly the ugliest man I had ever seen. He was very short, but thick-set, and he had a bad limp. He wore a singlet and a pair of trousers that had been white, but were now filthy, and, perched on a shock of bristly, grey hair, an old tweed deer-stalker. It would have been grotesque on any Chinese, but on him it was outrageous. His broad, square face was very flat as though it had been bashed in by a mighty fist, and it was deeply pitted with smallpox; but the most revolting thing in him was a very pronounced harelip which had never been operated on, so that his upper lip, cleft, went up in an angle to his nose, and in the opening was a huge yellow fang. It was horrible. He came in with the end of a cigarette at the corner of his mouth, and this, I do not know why, gave him a devilish expression.

He poured out the whisky and opened a bottle of soda.

“Don’t drown it, John,” said the captain.

He said nothing, but handed a glass to each of us. Then he went out.

“I saw you lookin’ at my Chink,” said Butler, with a grin on his fat, shining face.

“I should hate to meet him on a dark night,” I said.

“He sure is homely,” said the captain, and for some reason he seemed to say it with a peculiar satisfaction. “But he’s fine for one thing, I’ll tell the world; you just have to have a drink every time you look at him.”

But my eyes fell on a calabash that hung against the wall over the table, and I got up to look at it. I had been hunting for an old one and this was better than any I had seen outside the museum.

“It was given me by a chief over on one of the islands,” said the captain, watching me. “I done him a good turn and he wanted to give me something good.”

“He certainly did,” I answered.

I was wondering whether I could discreetly make Captain Butler an offer for it, I could not imagine that he set any store on such an article, when, as though he read my thoughts, he said:

“I wouldn’t sell that for ten thousand dollars.”

“I guess not,” said Winter. “It would be a crime to sell it.”

“为什么?” 我问。

“That comes into the story,” returned Winter. “Doesn’t it, Captain?”

“It surely does.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“The night’s young yet,” he answered.

The night distinctly lost its youth before he satisfied my curiosity, and meanwhile we drank a great deal too much whisky while Captain Butler narrated his experiences of San Francisco in the old days and of the South Seas. At last the girl fell asleep. She lay curled up on the seat, with her face on her brown arm, and her bosom rose and fell gently with her breathing. In sleep she looked sullen, but darkly beautiful.

He had found her on one of the islands in the group among which, whenever there was cargo to be got, he wandered with his crazy old schooner. The Kanakas have little love for work, and the laborious Chinese, the cunning Japs, have taken the trade out of their hands. Her father had a strip of land on which he grew taro and bananas and he had a boat in which he went fishing. He was vaguely related to the mate of the schooner, and it was he who took Captain Butler up to the shabby little frame house to spend an idle evening. They took a bottle of whisky with them and the ukalele. The captain was not a shy man and when he saw a pretty girl he made love to her. He could speak the native language fluently and it was not long before he had overcome the girl’s timidity. They spent the evening singing and dancing, and by the end of it she was sitting by his side and he had his arm round her waist. It happened that they were delayed on the island for several days and the captain, at no time a man to hurry, made no effort to shorten his stay. He was very comfortable in the snug little harbour and life was long. He had a swim round his ship in the morning and another in the evening. There was a chandler’s shop on the water front where sailormen could get a drink of whisky, and he spent the best part of the day there, playing cribbage with the half-caste who owned it. At night the mate and he went up to the house where the pretty girl lived and they sang a song or two and told stories. It was the girl’s father who suggested that he should take her away with him. They discussed the matter in a friendly fashion, while the girl, nestling against the captain, urged him by the pressure of her hands and her soft, smiling glances. He had taken a fancy to her and he was a domestic man. He was a little dull sometimes at sea and it would be very pleasant to have a pretty little creature like that about the old ship. He was of a practical turn too, and he recognised that it would be useful to have someone around to darn his socks and look after his linen. He was tired of having his things washed by a Chink who tore everything to pieces; the natives washed much better, and now and then when the captain went ashore at Honolulu he liked to cut a dash in a smart duck suit. It was only a matter of arranging a price. The father wanted two hundred and fifty dollars, and the captain, never a thrifty man, could not put his hand on such a sum. But he was a generous one, and with the girl’s soft face against his, he was not inclined to haggle. He offered to give a hundred and fifty dollars there and then and another hundred in three months. There was a good deal of argument and the parties could not come to any agreement that night, but the idea had fired the captain, and he could not sleep as well as usual. He kept dreaming of the lovely girl and each time he awoke it was with the pressure of her soft, sensual lips on his. He cursed himself in the morning because a bad night at poker the last time he was at Honolulu had left him so short of ready money.

“See here, Bananas,” he said to the mate, “I’ve got to have that girl. You go and tell the old man I’ll bring the dough up to-night and she can get fixed up. I figure we’ll be ready to sail at dawn.”

I have no idea why the mate was known by that eccentric name. He was called Wheeler, but though he had that English surname there was not a drop of white blood in him. He was a tall man, and well-made though inclined to stoutness, but much darker than is usual in Hawaii. He was no longer young, and his crisply curling, thick hair was grey. His upper front teeth were cased in gold. He was very proud of them. He had a marked squint and this gave him a saturnine expression. The captain, who was fond of a joke, found in it a constant source of humour and hesitated the less to rally him on the defect because he realised that the mate was sensitive about it. Bananas, unlike most of the natives, was a taciturn fellow and Captain Butler would have disliked him if it had been possible for a man of his good nature to dislike anyone. He liked to be at sea with someone he could talk to, he was a chatty, sociable creature, and it was enough to drive a missionary to drink to live there day after day with a chap who never opened his mouth. He did his best to wake the mate up, that is to say, he chaffed him without mercy, but it was poor fun to laugh by oneself, and he came to the conclusion that, drunk or sober, Bananas was no fit companion for a white man. But he was a good seaman and the captain was shrewd enough to know the value of a mate he could trust. It was not rare for him to come aboard, when they were sailing, fit for nothing but to fall into his bunk, and it was worth something to know that he could stay there till he had slept his liquor off, since Bananas could be relied on. But he was an unsociable devil, and it would be a treat to have someone he could talk to. That girl would be fine. Besides, he wouldn’t be so likely to get drunk when he went ashore if he knew there was a little girl waiting for him when he came on board again.

He went to his friend the chandler and over a peg of gin asked him for a loan. There were one or two useful things a ship’s captain could do for a ship’s chandler, and after a quarter of an hour’s conversation in low tones (there is no object in letting all and sundry know your business), the captain crammed a wad of notes in his hip-pocket, and that night, when he went back to his ship, the girl went with him.

What Captain Butler, seeking for reasons to do what he had already made up his mind to, had anticipated, actually came to pass. He did not give up drinking, but he ceased to drink to excess. An evening with the boys, when he had been away from town two or three weeks, was pleasant enough, but it was pleasant too to get back to his little girl; he thought of her, sleeping so softly, and how, when he got into his cabin and leaned over her, she would open her eyes lazily and stretch out her arms for him: it was as good as a full hand. He found he was saving money, and since he was a generous man he did the right thing by the little girl: he gave her some silver-backed brushes for her long hair, and a gold chain, and a reconstructed ruby for her finger. Gee, but it was good to be alive.

A year went by, a whole year, and he was not tired of her yet. He was not a man who analysed his feelings, but this was so surprising that it forced itself upon his attention. There must be something very wonderful about that girl. He couldn’t help seeing that he was more wrapped up in her than ever, and sometimes the thought entered his mind that it might not be a bad thing if he married her.

Then, one day the mate did not come in to dinner or to tea. Butler did not bother himself about his absence at the first meal, but at the second he asked the Chinese cook:

“Where’s the mate? He no come tea?”

“No wantchee,” said the Chink.

“He ain’t sick?”

“No savvy.”

Next day Bananas turned up again, but he was more sullen than ever, and after dinner the captain asked the girl what was the matter with him. She smiled and shrugged her pretty shoulders. She told the captain that Bananas had taken a fancy to her and he was sore because she had told him off. The captain was a good-humoured man and he was not of a jealous nature; it struck him as exceeding funny that Bananas should be in love. A man who had a squint like that had a precious poor chance. When tea came round he chaffed him gaily. He pretended to speak in the air, so that the mate should not be certain that he knew anything, but he dealt him some pretty shrewd blows. The girl did not think him as funny as he thought himself, and afterwards she begged him to say nothing more. He was surprised at her seriousness. She told him he did not know her people. When their passion was aroused they were capable of anything. She was a little frightened. This was so absurd to him that he laughed heartily.

“If he comes bothering round you, you just threaten to tell me. That’ll fix him.”

“Better fire him, I think.”

“Not on your sweet life. I know a good sailor when I see one. But if he don’t leave you alone I’ll give him the worst licking he’s ever had.”

Perhaps the girl had a wisdom unusual in her sex. She knew that it was useless to argue with a man when his mind was made up, for it only increased his stubbornness, and she held her peace. And now on the shabby schooner, threading her way across the silent sea, among those lovely islands, was enacted a dark, tense drama of which the fat little captain remained entirely ignorant. The girl’s resistance fired Bananas so that he ceased to be a man, but was simply blind desire. He did not make love to her gently or gaily, but with a black and savage ferocity. Her contempt now was changed to hatred and when he besought her she answered him with bitter, angry taunts. But the struggle went on silently, and when the captain asked her after a little while whether Bananas was bothering her, she lied.

But one night, when they were in Honolulu, he came on board only just in time. They were sailing at dawn. Bananas had been ashore, drinking some native spirit, and he was drunk. The captain, rowing up, heard sounds that surprised him. He scrambled up the ladder. He saw Bananas, beside himself, trying to wrench open the cabin door. He was shouting at the girl. He swore he would kill her if she did not let him in.

“What in hell are you up to?” cried Butler.

The mate let go the handle, gave the captain a look of savage hate, and without a word turned away.

“Stop here. What are you doing with that door?”

The mate still did not answer. He looked at him with sullen, bootless rage.

“I’ll teach you not to pull any of your queer stuff with me, you dirty, cross-eyed nigger,” said the captain.

He was a good foot shorter than the mate and no match for him, but he was used to dealing with native crews, and he had his knuckle-duster handy. Perhaps it was not an instrument that a gentleman would use, but then Captain Butler was not a gentleman. Nor was he in the habit of dealing with gentlemen. Before Bananas knew what the captain was at, his right arm had shot out and his fist, with its ring of steel, caught him fair and square on the jaw. He fell like a bull under the pole-axe.

“That’ll learn him,” said the captain.

Bananas did not stir. The girl unlocked the cabin door and came out.

“他死了吗?”

“He ain’t.”

He called a couple of men and told them to carry the mate to his bunk. He rubbed his hands with satisfaction and his round blue eyes gleamed behind his spectacles. But the girl was strangely silent. She put her arms round him as though to protect him from invisible harm.

It was two or three days before Bananas was on his feet again, and when he came out of his cabin his face was torn and swollen. Through the darkness of his skin you saw the livid bruise. Butler saw him slinking along the deck and called him. The mate went to him without a word.

“See here, Bananas,” he said to him, fixing his spectacles on his slippery nose, for it was very hot. “I ain’t going to fire you for this, but you know now that when I hit, I hit hard. Don’t forget it and don’t let me have any more funny business.”

Then he held out his hand and gave the mate that good-humoured, flashing smile of his which was his greatest charm. The mate took the outstretched hand and twitched his swollen lips into a devilish grin. The incident in the captain’s mind was so completely finished that when the three of them sat at dinner he chaffed Bananas on his appearance. He was eating with difficulty and, his swollen face still more distorted by pain, he looked truly a repulsive object.

That evening, when he was sitting on the upper deck, smoking his pipe, a shiver passed through the captain.

“I don’t know what I should be shiverin’ for on a night like this,” he grumbled. “Maybe I’ve gotten a dose of fever. I’ve been feelin’ a bit queer all day.”

When he went to bed he took some quinine, and next morning he felt better, but a little washed out, as though he were recovering from a debauch.

“I guess my liver’s out of order,” he said, and he took a pill.

He had not much appetite that day and towards evening he began to feel very unwell. He tried the next remedy he knew, which was to drink two or three hot whiskies, but that did not seem to help him much, and when in the morning he surveyed himself in the glass he thought he was not looking quite the thing.

“If I ain’t right by the time we get back to Honolulu I’ll just give Dr Denby a call. He’ll sure fix me up.”

He could not eat. He felt a great lassitude in all his limbs. He slept soundly enough, but he awoke with no sense of refreshment; on the contrary he felt a peculiar exhaustion. And the energetic little man, who could not bear the thought of lying in bed, had to make an effort to force himself out of his bunk. After a few days he found it impossible to resist the languor that oppressed him, and he made up his mind not to get up.

“Bananas can look after the ship,” he said. “He has before now.”

He laughed a little to himself as he thought how often he had lain speechless in his bunk after a night with the boys. That was before he had his girl. He smiled at her and pressed her hand. She was puzzled and anxious. He saw that she was concerned about him and tried to reassure her. He had never had a day’s illness in his life and in a week at the outside he would be as right as rain.

“I wish you’d fired Bananas,” she said. “I’ve got a feeling that he’s at the bottom of this.”

“Damned good thing I didn’t, or there’d be no one to sail the ship. I know a good sailor when I see one.” His blue eyes, rather pale now, with the whites all yellow, twinkled. “You don’t think he’s trying to poison me, little girl?”

She did not answer, but she had one or two talks with the Chinese cook, and she took great care with the captain’s food. But he ate little enough now, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she persuaded him to drink a cup of soup two or three times a day. It was clear that he was very ill, he was losing weight quickly, and his chubby face was pale and drawn. He suffered no pain, but merely grew every day weaker and more languid. He was wasting away. The round trip on this occasion lasted about four weeks and by the time they came to Honolulu the captain was a little anxious about himself. He had not been out of his bed for more than a fortnight and really he felt too weak to get up and go to the doctor. He sent a message asking him to come on board. The doctor examined him, but could find nothing to account for his condition. His temperature was normal.

“See here, Captain,” he said, “I’ll be perfectly frank with you. I don’t know what’s the matter with you, and just seeing you like this don’t give me a chance. You come into the hospital so that we can keep you under observation. There’s nothing organically wrong with you, I know that, and my impression is that a few weeks in hospital ought to put you to rights.”

“I ain’t going to leave my ship.”

Chinese owners were queer customers, he said; if he left his ship because he was sick, his owner might fire him, and he couldn’t afford to lose his job. So long as he stayed where he was his contract safe-guarded him, and he had a first-rate mate. Besides, he couldn’t leave his girl. No man could want a better nurse; if anyone could pull him through she would. Every man had to die once and he only wished to be left in peace. He would not listen to the doctor’s expostulations, and finally the doctor gave in.

“I’ll write you a prescription,” he said doubtfully, “and see if it does you any good. You’d better stay in bed for a while.”

“There ain’t much fear of my getting up, doc,” answered the captain. “I feel as weak as a cat.”

But he believed in the doctor’s prescription as little as did the doctor himself, and when he was alone amused himself by lighting his cigar with it. He had to get amusement out of something, for his cigar tasted like nothing on earth, and he smoked only to persuade himself that he was not too ill to. That evening a couple of friends of his, masters of tramp steamers, hearing he was sick came to see him. They discussed his case over a bottle of whisky and a box of Philippine cigars. One of them remembered how a mate of his had been taken queer just like that and not a doctor in the United States had been able to cure him. He had seen in the paper an advertisement of a patent medicine, and thought there’d be no harm in trying it. That man was as strong as ever he’d been in his life after two bottles. But his illness had given Captain Butler a lucidity which was new and strange, and while they talked he seemed to read their minds. They thought he was dying. And when they left him he was afraid.

The girl saw his weakness. This was her opportunity. She had been urging him to let a native doctor see him, and he had stoutly refused; but now she entreated him. He listened with harassed eyes. He wavered. It was very funny that the American doctor could not tell what was the matter with him. But he did not want her to think that he was scared. If he let a damned nigger come along and look at him, it was to comfort 这里. He told her to do what she liked.

The native doctor came the next night. The captain was lying alone, half awake, and the cabin was dimly lit by an oil lamp. The door was softly opened and the girl came in on tip-toe. She held the door open and some one slipped in silently behind her. The captain smiled at this mystery, but he was so weak now, the smile was no more than a glimmer in his eyes. The doctor was a little, old man, very thin and very wrinkled, with a completely bald head, and the face of a monkey. He was bowed and gnarled like an old tree. He looked hardly human, but his eyes were very bright, and in the half darkness, they seemed to glow with a reddish light. He was dressed filthily in a pair of ragged dungarees, and the upper part of his body was naked. He sat down on his haunches and for ten minutes looked at the captain. Then he felt the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet. The girl watched him with frightened eyes. No word was spoken. Then he asked for something that the captain had worn. The girl gave him the old felt hat which the captain used constantly and taking it he sat down again on the floor, clasping it firmly with both hands; and rocking backwards and forwards slowly he muttered some gibberish in a very low tone.

At last he gave a little sigh and dropped the hat. He took an old pipe out of his trouser pocket and lit it. The girl went over to him and sat by his side. He whispered something to her, and she started violently. For a few minutes they talked in hurried undertones, and then they stood up. She gave him money and opened the door for him. He slid out as silently as he had come in. Then she went over to the captain and leaned over him so that she could speak into his ear.

“It’s an enemy praying you to death.”

“Don’t talk fool stuff, girlie,” he said impatiently.

“It’s truth. It’s God’s truth. That’s why the American doctor couldn’t do anything. Our people can do that. I’ve seen it done. I thought you were safe because you were a white man.”

“I haven’t an enemy.”

“Bananas.”

“What’s he want to pray me to death for?”

“You ought to have fired him before he had a chance.”

“I guess if I ain’t got nothing more the matter with me than Bananas’ hoodoo I shall be sitting up and taking nourishment in a very few days.”

She was silent for a while and she looked at him intently.

“Don’t you know you’re dying?” she said to him at last.

That was what the two skippers had thought, but they hadn’t said it. A shiver passed across the captain’s wan face.

“The doctor says there ain’t nothing really the matter with me. I’ve only to lie quiet for a bit and I shall be all right.”

She put her lips to his ear as if she were afraid that the air itself might hear.

“You’re dying, dying, dying. You’ll pass out with the old moon.”

“That’s something to know.”

“You’ll pass out with the old moon unless Bananas dies before.”

He was not a timid man and he had recovered already from the shock her words, and still more her vehement, silent manner, had given him. Once more a smile flickered in his eyes.

“I guess I’ll take my chance, girlie.”

“There’s twelve days before the new moon.”

There was something in her tone that gave him an idea.

“See here, my girl, this is all bunk. I don’t believe a word of it. But I don’t want you to try any of your monkey tricks with Bananas. He ain’t a beauty, but he’s a first-rate mate.”

He would have said a good deal more, but he was tired out. He suddenly felt very weak and faint. It was always at that hour that he felt worse. He closed his eyes. The girl watched him for a minute and then slipped out of the cabin. The moon, nearly full, made a silver pathway over the dark sea. It shone from an unclouded sky. She looked at it with terror, for she knew that with its death the man she loved would die. His life was in her hands. She could save him, she alone could save him, but the enemy was cunning, and she must be cunning too. She felt that someone was looking at her, and without turning, by the sudden fear that seized her, knew that from the shadow the burning eyes of the mate were fixed upon her. She did not know what he could do; if he could read her thoughts she was defeated already, and with a desperate effort she emptied her mind of all content. His death alone could save her lover, and she could bring his death about. She knew that if he could be brought to look into a calabash in which was water so that a reflection of him was made, and the reflection were broken by hurtling the water, he would die as though he had been struck by lightning; for the reflection was his soul. But none knew better than he the danger, and he could be made to look only by a guile which had lulled his least suspicion. He must never think that he had an enemy who was on the watch to cause his destruction. She knew what she had to do. But the time was short, the time was terribly short. Presently she realised that the mate had gone. She breathed more freely.

Two days later they sailed, and there were ten now before the new moon. Captain Butler was terrible to see. He was nothing but skin and bone, and he could not move without help. He could hardly speak. But she dared do nothing yet. She knew that she must be patient. The mate was cunning, cunning. They went to one of the smaller islands of the group and discharged cargo, and now there were only seven days more. The moment had come to start. She brought some things out of the cabin she shared with the captain and made them into a bundle. She put the bundle in the deck cabin where she and Bananas ate their meals, and at dinner time, when she went in, he turned quickly and she saw that he had been looking at it. Neither of them spoke, but she knew what he suspected. She was making her preparations to leave the ship. He looked at her mockingly. Gradually, as though to prevent the captain from knowing what she was about, she brought everything she owned into the cabin, and some of the captain’s clothes, and made them all into bundles. At last Bananas could keep silence no longer. He pointed to a suit of ducks.

“What are you going to do with that?” he asked.

她耸了耸肩。

“I’m going back to my island.”

He gave a laugh that distorted his grim face. The captain was dying and she meant to get away with all she could lay hands on.

“What’ll you do if I say you can’t take those things? They’re the captain’s.”

“They’re no use to you,” she said.

There was a calabash hanging on the wall. It was the very calabash I had seen when I came into the cabin and which we had talked about. She took it down. It was all dusty, so she poured water into it from the water-bottle, and rinsed it with her fingers.

“What are you doing with that?”

“I can sell it for fifty dollars,” she said.

“If you want to take it you’ll have to pay me.”

“你想要什么?”

“你知道我想要什么。”

She allowed a fleeting smile to play on her lips. She flashed a quick look at him and quickly turned away. He gave a gasp of desire. She raised her shoulders in a little shrug. With a savage bound he sprang upon her and seized her in his arms. Then she laughed. She put her arms, her soft, round arms, about his neck, and surrendered herself to him voluptuously.

When the morning came she roused him out of a deep sleep. The early rays of the sun slanted into the cabin. He pressed her to his heart. Then he told her that the captain could not last more than a day or two, and the owner wouldn’t so easily find another white man to command the ship. If Bananas offered to take less money he would get the job and the girl could stay with him. He looked at her with love-sick eyes. She nestled up against him. She kissed his lips, in the foreign way, in the way the captain had taught her to kiss. And she promised to stay. Bananas was drunk with happiness.

要么现在,要么永远。

She got up and went to the table to arrange her hair. There was no mirror and she looked into the calabash, seeking for her reflection. She tidied her beautiful hair. Then she beckoned to Bananas to come to her. She pointed to the calabash.

“There’s something in the bottom of it,” she said.

Instinctively, without suspecting anything, Bananas looked full into the water. His face was reflected in it. In a flash she beat upon it violently, with both her hands, so that they pounded on the bottom and the water splashed up. The reflection was broken in pieces. Bananas started back with a sudden hoarse cry and he looked at the girl. She was standing there with a look of triumphant hatred on her face. A horror came into his eyes. His heavy features were twisted in agony, and with a thud, as though he had taken a violent poison, he crumpled up on to the ground. A great shudder passed through his body and he was still. She leaned over him callously. She put her hand on his heart and then she pulled down his lower eye-lid. He was quite dead.

She went into the cabin in which lay Captain Butler. There was a faint colour in his cheeks and he looked at her in a startled way.

“What’s happened?” he whispered.

They were the first words he had spoken for forty-eight hours.

“Nothing’s happened,” she said.

“I feel all funny.”

Then his eyes closed and he fell asleep. He slept for a day and a night, and when he awoke he asked for food. In a fortnight he was well.

It was past midnight when Winter and I rowed back to shore and we had drunk innumerable whiskies and sodas.

“What do you think of it all?” asked Winter.

“What a question! If you mean, have I any explanation to suggest, I haven’t.”

“The captain believes every word of it.”

“That’s obvious; but you know that’s not the part that interests me most, whether it’s true or not, and what it all means; the part that interests me is that such things should happen to such people. I wonder what there is in that commonplace little man to arouse such a passion in that lovely creature. As I watched her, asleep there, while he was telling the story I had some fantastic idea about the power of love being able to work miracles.”

“But that’s not the girl,” said Winter.

“你到底是什么意思?”

“Didn’t you notice the cook?”

“Of course I did. He’s the ugliest man I ever saw.”

“That’s why Butler took him. The girl ran away with the Chinese cook last year. This is a new one. He’s only had her there about two months.”

“Well, I’m hanged.”

“He thinks this cook is safe. But I wouldn’t be too sure in his place. There’s something about a Chink, when he lays himself out to please a woman she can’t resist him.”

第七章·雨 •15,700字

IT was nearly bed-time and when they awoke next morning land would be in sight. Dr Macphail lit his pipe and, leaning over the rail, searched the heavens for the Southern Cross. After two years at the front and a wound that had taken longer to heal than it should, he was glad to settle down quietly at Apia for twelve months at least, and he felt already better for the journey. Since some of the passengers were leaving the ship next day at Pago-Pago they had had a little dance that evening and in his ears hammered still the harsh notes of the mechanical piano. But the deck was quiet at last. A little way off he saw his wife in a long chair talking with the Davidsons, and he strolled over to her. When he sat down under the light and took off his hat you saw that he had very red hair, with a bald patch on the crown, and the red, freckled skin which accompanies red hair; he was a man of forty, thin, with a pinched face, precise and rather pedantic; and he spoke with a Scots accent in a very low, quiet voice.

Between the Macphails and the Davidsons, who were missionaries, there had arisen the intimacy of shipboard, which is due to propinquity rather than to any community of taste. Their chief tie was the disapproval they shared of the men who spent their days and nights in the smoking-room playing poker or bridge and drinking. Mrs Macphail was not a little flattered to think that she and her husband were the only people on board with whom the Davidsons were willing to associate, and even the doctor, shy but no fool, half unconsciously acknowledged the compliment. It was only because he was of an argumentative mind that in their cabin at night he permitted himself to carp.

“Mrs Davidson was saying she didn’t know how they’d have got through the journey if it hadn’t been for us,” said Mrs Macphail, as she neatly brushed out her transformation. “She said we were really the only people on the ship they cared to know.”

“I shouldn’t have thought a missionary was such a big bug that he could afford to put on frills.”

“It’s not frills. I quite understand what she means. It wouldn’t have been very nice for the Davidsons to have to mix with all that rough lot in the smoking-room.”

“The founder of their religion wasn’t so exclusive,” said Dr Macphail with a chuckle.

“I’ve asked you over and over again not to joke about religion,” answered his wife. “I shouldn’t like to have a nature like yours, Alec. You never look for the best in people.”

He gave her a sidelong glance with his pale, blue eyes, but did not reply. After many years of married life he had learned that it was more conducive to peace to leave his wife with the last word. He was undressed before she was, and climbing into the upper bunk he settled down to read himself to sleep.

When he came on deck next morning they were close to land. He looked at it with greedy eyes. There was a thin strip of silver beach rising quickly to hills covered to the top with luxuriant vegetation. The coconut trees, thick and green, came nearly to the water’s edge, and among them you saw the grass houses of the Samoans; and here and there, gleaming white, a little church. Mrs Davidson came and stood beside him. She was dressed in black and wore round her neck a gold chain, from which dangled a small cross. She was a little woman, with brown, dull hair very elaborately arranged, and she had prominent blue eyes behind invisible 皮涅斯. Her face was long, like a sheep’s, but she gave no impression of foolishness, rather of extreme alertness; she had the quick movements of a bird. The most remarkable thing about her was her voice, high, metallic, and without inflection; it fell on the ear with a hard monotony, irritating to the nerves like the pitiless clamour of the pneumatic drill.

“This must seem like home to you,” said Dr Macphail, with his thin, difficult smile.

“Ours are low islands, you know, not like these. Coral. These are volcanic. We’ve got another ten days’ journey to reach them.”

“In these parts that’s almost like being in the next street at home,” said Dr Macphail facetiously.

“Well, that’s rather an exaggerated way of putting it, but one does look at distances differently in the South Seas. So far you’re right.”

Dr Macphail sighed faintly.

“I’m glad we’re not stationed here,” she went on. “They say this is a terribly difficult place to work in. The steamers’ touching makes the people unsettled; and then there’s the naval station; that’s bad for the natives. In our district we don’t have difficulties like that to contend with. There are one or two traders, of course, but we take care to make them behave, and if they don’t we make the place so hot for them they’re glad to go.”

Fixing the glasses on her nose she looked at the green island with a ruthless stare.

“It’s almost a hopeless task for the missionaries here. I can never be sufficiently thankful to God that we are at least spared that.”

Davidson’s district consisted of a group of islands to the North of Samoa; they were widely separated and he had frequently to go long distances by canoe. At these times his wife remained at their headquarters and managed the mission. Dr Macphail felt his heart sink when he considered the efficiency with which she certainly managed it. She spoke of the depravity of the natives in a voice which nothing could hush, but with a vehemently unctuous horror. Her sense of delicacy was singular. Early in their acquaintance she had said to him:

“You know, their marriage customs when we first settled in the islands were so shocking that I couldn’t possibly describe them to you. But I’ll tell Mrs Macphail and she’ll tell you.”

Then he had seen his wife and Mrs Davidson, their deck-chairs close together, in earnest conversation for about two hours. As he walked past them backwards and forwards for the sake of exercise, he had heard Mrs Davidson’s agitated whisper, like the distant flow of a mountain torrent, and he saw by his wife’s open mouth and pale face that she was enjoying an alarming experience. At night in their cabin she repeated to him with bated breath all she had heard.

“Well, what did I say to you?” cried Mrs Davidson, exultant, next morning. “Did you ever hear anything more dreadful? You don’t wonder that I couldn’t tell you myself, do you? Even though you are a doctor.”

Mrs Davidson scanned his face. She had a dramatic eagerness to see that she had achieved the desired effect.

“Can you wonder that when we first went there our hearts sank? You’ll hardly believe me when I tell you it was impossible to find a single good girl in any of the villages.”

She used the word 非常好 in a severely technical manner.

“Mr Davidson and I talked it over, and we made up our minds the first thing to do was to put down the dancing. The natives were crazy about dancing.”

“I was not averse to it myself when I was a young man,” said Dr Macphail.

“I guessed as much when I heard you ask Mrs Macphail to have a turn with you last night. I don’t think there’s any real harm if a man dances with his wife, but I was relieved that she wouldn’t. Under the circumstances I thought it better that we should keep ourselves to ourselves.”

“Under what circumstances?”

Mrs Davidson gave him a quick look through her 皮涅斯, but did not answer his question.

“But among white people it’s not quite the same,” she went on, “though I must say I agree with Mr Davidson, who says he can’t understand how a husband can stand by and see his wife in another man’s arms, and as far as I’m concerned I’ve never danced a step since I married. But the native dancing is quite another matter. It’s not only immoral in itself, but it distinctly leads to immorality. However, I’m thankful to God that we stamped it out, and I don’t think I’m wrong in saying that no one has danced in our district for eight years.”

But now they came to the mouth of the harbour and Mrs Macphail joined them. The ship turned sharply and steamed slowly in. It was a great land-locked harbour big enough to hold a fleet of battleships; and all around it rose, high and steep, the green hills. Near the entrance, getting such breeze as blew from the sea, stood the governor’s house in a garden. The Stars and Stripes dangled languidly from a flagstaff. They passed two or three trim bungalows, and a tennis court, and then they came to the quay with its warehouses. Mrs Davidson pointed out the schooner, moored two or three hundred yards from the side, which was to take them to Apia. There was a crowd of eager, noisy, and good-humoured natives come from all parts of the island, some from curiosity, others to barter with the travellers on their way to Sydney; and they brought pineapples and huge bunches of bananas, 塔帕 cloths, necklaces of shells or sharks’ teeth, 卡瓦-bowls, and models of war canoes. American sailors, neat and trim, clean-shaven and frank of face, sauntered among them, and there was a little group of officials. While their luggage was being landed the Macphails and Mrs Davidson watched the crowd. Dr Macphail looked at the yaws from which most of the children and the young boys seemed to suffer, disfiguring sores like torpid ulcers, and his professional eyes glistened when he saw for the first time in his experience cases of elephantiasis, men going about with a huge, heavy arm or dragging along a grossly disfigured leg. Men and women wore the 熔岩熔岩.

“It’s a very indecent costume,” said Mrs Davidson. “Mr Davidson thinks it should be prohibited by law. How can you expect people to be moral when they wear nothing but a strip of red cotton round their loins?”

“It’s suitable enough to the climate,” said the doctor, wiping the sweat off his head.

Now that they were on land the heat, though it was so early in the morning, was already oppressive. Closed in by its hills, not a breath of air came in to Pago-Pago.

“In our islands,” Mrs Davidson went on in her high-pitched tones, “we’ve practically eradicated the 熔岩熔岩. A few old men still continue to wear it, but that’s all. The women have all taken to the Mother Hubbard, and the men wear trousers and singlets. At the very beginning of our stay Mr Davidson said in one of his reports: the inhabitants of these islands will never be thoroughly Christianised till every boy of more than ten years is made to wear a pair of trousers.”

But Mrs Davidson had given two or three of her birdlike glances at heavy grey clouds that came floating over the mouth of the harbour. A few drops began to fall.

“We’d better take shelter,” she said.

They made their way with all the crowd to a great shed of corrugated iron, and the rain began to fall in torrents. They stood there for some time and then were joined by Mr Davidson. He had been polite enough to the Macphails during the journey, but he had not his wife’s sociability, and had spent much of his time reading. He was a silent, rather sullen man, and you felt that his affability was a duty that he imposed upon himself Christianly; he was by nature reserved and even morose. His appearance was singular. He was very tall and thin, with long limbs loosely jointed; hollow cheeks and curiously high cheek-bones; he had so cadaverous an air that it surprised you to notice how full and sensual were his lips. He wore his hair very long. His dark eyes, set deep in their sockets, were large and tragic; and his hands with their big, long fingers, were finely shaped; they gave him a look of great strength. But the most striking thing about him was the feeling he gave you of suppressed fire. It was impressive and vaguely troubling. He was not a man with whom any intimacy was possible.

He brought now unwelcome news. There was an epidemic of measles, a serious and often fatal disease among the Kanakas, on the island, and a case had developed among the crew of the schooner which was to take them on their journey. The sick man had been brought ashore and put in hospital on the quarantine station, but telegraphic instructions had been sent from Apia to say that the schooner would not be allowed to enter the harbour till it was certain no other member of the crew was affected.

“It means we shall have to stay here for ten days at least.”

“But I’m urgently needed at Apia,” said Dr Macphail.

“That can’t be helped. If no more cases develop on board, the schooner will be allowed to sail with white passengers, but all native traffic is prohibited for three months.”

“Is there a hotel here?” asked Mrs Macphail.

Davidson gave a low chuckle.

“There’s not.”

“What shall we do then?”

“I’ve been talking to the governor. There’s a trader along the front who has rooms that he rents, and my proposition is that as soon as the rain lets up we should go along there and see what we can do. Don’t expect comfort. You’ve just got to be thankful if we get a bed to sleep on and a roof over our heads.”

But the rain showed no sign of stopping, and at length with umbrellas and waterproofs they set out. There was no town, but merely a group of official buildings, a store or two, and at the back, among the coconut trees and plantains, a few native dwellings. The house they sought was about five minutes’ walk from the wharf. It was a frame house of two storeys, with broad verandahs on both floors and a roof of corrugated iron. The owner was a half-caste named Horn, with a native wife surrounded by little brown children, and on the ground-floor he had a store where he sold canned goods and cottons. The rooms he showed them were almost bare of furniture. In the Macphails’ there was nothing but a poor, worn bed with a ragged mosquito net, a rickety chair, and a washstand. They looked round with dismay. The rain poured down without ceasing.

“I’m not going to unpack more than we actually need,” said Mrs Macphail.

Mrs Davidson came into the room as she was unlocking a portmanteau. She was very brisk and alert. The cheerless surroundings had no effect on her.

“If you’ll take my advice you’ll get a needle and cotton and start right in to mend the mosquito net,” she said, “or you’ll not be able to get a wink of sleep to-night.”

“Will they be very bad?” asked Dr Macphail.

“This is the season for them. When you’re asked to a party at Government House at Apia you’ll notice that all the ladies are given a pillow-slip to put their—their lower extremities in.”

“I wish the rain would stop for a moment,” said Mrs Macphail. “I could try to make the place comfortable with more heart if the sun were shining.”

“Oh, if you wait for that, you’ll wait a long time. Pago-Pago is about the rainiest place in the Pacific. You see, the hills, and that bay, they attract the water, and one expects rain at this time of year anyway.”

She looked from Macphail to his wife, standing helplessly in different parts of the room, like lost souls, and she pursed her lips. She saw that she must take them in hand. Feckless people like that made her impatient, but her hands itched to put everything in the order which came so naturally to her.

“Here, you give me a needle and cotton and I’ll mend that net of yours, while you go on with your unpacking. Dinner’s at one. Dr Macphail, you’d better go down to the wharf and see that your heavy luggage has been put in a dry place. You know what these natives are, they’re quite capable of storing it where the rain will beat in on it all the time.”

The doctor put on his waterproof again and went downstairs. At the door Mr Horn was standing in conversation with the quartermaster of the ship they had just arrived in and a second-class passenger whom Dr Macphail had seen several times on board. The quartermaster, a little, shrivelled man, extremely dirty, nodded to him as he passed.

“This is a bad job about the measles, doc,” he said. “I see you’ve fixed yourself up already.”

Dr Macphail thought he was rather familiar, but he was a timid man and he did not take offence easily.

“Yes, we’ve got a room upstairs.”

“Miss Thompson was sailing with you to Apia, so I’ve brought her along here.”

The quartermaster pointed with his thumb to the woman standing by his side. She was twenty-seven perhaps, plump, and in a coarse fashion pretty. She wore a white dress and a large white hat. Her fat calves in white cotton stockings bulged over the tops of long white boots in glacé kid. She gave Macphail an ingratiating smile.

“The feller’s tryin’ to soak me a dollar and a half a day for the meanest sized room,” she said in a hoarse voice.

“I tell you she’s a friend of mine, Jo,” said the quartermaster. “She can’t pay more than a dollar, and you’ve sure got to take her for that.”

The trader was fat and smooth and quietly smiling.

“Well, if you put it like that, Mr Swan, I’ll see what I can do about it. I’ll talk to Mrs Horn and if we think we can make a reduction we will.”

“Don’t try to pull that stuff with me,” said Miss Thompson. “We’ll settle this right now. You get a dollar a day for the room and not one bean more.”

Dr Macphail smiled. He admired the effrontery with which she bargained. He was the sort of man who always paid what he was asked. He preferred to be over-charged than to haggle. The trader sighed.

“Well, to oblige Mr Swan I’ll take it.”

“That’s the goods,” said Miss Thompson. “Come right in and have a shot of hooch. I’ve got some real good rye in that grip if you’ll bring it along, Mr Swan. You come along too, doctor.”

“Oh, I don’t think I will, thank you,” he answered. “I’m just going down to see that our luggage is all right.”

He stepped out into the rain. It swept in from the opening of the harbour in sheets and the opposite shore was all blurred. He passed two or three natives clad in nothing but the 熔岩熔岩, with huge umbrellas over them. They walked finely, with leisurely movements, very upright; and they smiled and greeted him in a strange tongue as they went by.

It was nearly dinner-time when he got back, and their meal was laid in the trader’s parlour. It was a room designed not to live in but for purposes of prestige, and it had a musty, melancholy air. A suite of stamped plush was arranged neatly round the walls, and from the middle of the ceiling, protected from the flies by yellow tissue paper, hung a gilt chandelier. Davidson did not come.

“I know he went to call on the governor,” said Mrs Davidson, “and I guess he’s kept him to dinner.”

A little native girl brought them a dish of Hamburger steak, and after a while the trader came up to see that they had everything they wanted.

“I see we have a fellow lodger, Mr Horn,” said Dr Macphail.

“She’s taken a room, that’s all,” answered the trader. “She’s getting her own board.”

He looked at the two ladies with an obsequious air.

“I put her downstairs so she shouldn’t be in the way. She won’t be any trouble to you.”

“Is it someone who was on the boat?” asked Mrs Macphail.

“Yes, ma’am, she was in the second cabin. She was going to Apia. She has a position as cashier waiting for her.”

“哦!”

When the trader was gone Macphail said:

“I shouldn’t think she’d find it exactly cheerful having her meals in her room.”

“If she was in the second cabin I guess she’d rather,” answered Mrs Davidson. “I don’t exactly know who it can be.”

“I happened to be there when the quartermaster brought her along. Her name’s Thompson.”

“It’s not the woman who was dancing with the quartermaster last night?” asked Mrs Davidson.

“That’s who it must be,” said Mrs Macphail. “I wondered at the time what she was. She looked rather fast to me.”

“Not good style at all,” said Mrs Davidson.

They began to talk of other things, and after dinner, tired with their early rise, they separated and slept. When they awoke, though the sky was still grey and the clouds hung low, it was not raining and they went for a walk on the high road which the Americans had built along the bay.

On their return they found that Davidson had just come in.

“We may be here for a fortnight,” he said irritably. “I’ve argued it out with the governor, but he says there is nothing to be done.”

“Mr Davidson’s just longing to get back to his work,” said his wife, with an anxious glance at him.

“We’ve been away for a year,” he said, walking up and down the verandah. “The mission has been in charge of native missionaries and I’m terribly nervous that they’ve let things slide. They’re good men, I’m not saying a word against them, God-fearing, devout, and truly Christian men—their Christianity would put many so-called Christians at home to the blush—but they’re pitifully lacking in energy. They can make a stand once, they can make a stand twice, but they can’t make a stand all the time. If you leave a mission in charge of a native missionary, no matter how trustworthy he seems, in course of time you’ll find he’s let abuses creep in.”

Mr Davidson stood still. With his tall, spare form, and his great eyes flashing out of his pale face, he was an impressive figure. His sincerity was obvious in the fire of his gestures and in his deep, ringing voice.

“I expect to have my work cut out for me. I shall act and I shall act promptly. If the tree is rotten it shall be cut down and cast into the flames.”

And in the evening after the high tea which was their last meal, while they sat in the stiff parlour, the ladies working and Dr Macphail smoking his pipe, the missionary told them of his work in the islands.

“When we went there they had no sense of sin at all,” he said. “They broke the commandments one after the other and never knew they were doing wrong. And I think that was the most difficult part of my work, to instil into the natives the sense of sin.”

The Macphails knew already that Davidson had worked in the Solomons for five years before he met his wife. She had been a missionary in China, and they had become acquainted in Boston, where they were both spending part of their leave to attend a missionary congress. On their marriage they had been appointed to the islands in which they had laboured ever since.

In the course of all the conversations they had had with Mr Davidson one thing had shone out clearly and that was the man’s unflinching courage. He was a medical missionary, and he was liable to be called at any time to one or other of the islands in the group. Even the whaleboat is not so very safe a conveyance in the stormy Pacific of the wet season, but often he would be sent for in a canoe, and then the danger was great. In cases of illness or accident he never hesitated. A dozen times he had spent the whole night baling for his life, and more than once Mrs Davidson had given him up for lost.

“I’d beg him not to go sometimes,” she said, “or at least to wait till the weather was more settled, but he’d never listen. He’s obstinate, and when he’s once made up his mind, nothing can move him.”

“How can I ask the natives to put their trust in the Lord if I am afraid to do so myself?” cried Davidson. “And I’m not, I’m not. They know that if they send for me in their trouble I’ll come if it’s humanly possible. And do you think the Lord is going to abandon me when I am on his business? The wind blows at his bidding and the waves toss and rage at his word.”

Dr Macphail was a timid man. He had never been able to get used to the hurtling of the shells over the trenches, and when he was operating in an advanced dressing-station the sweat poured from his brow and dimmed his spectacles in the effort he made to control his unsteady hand. He shuddered’ a little as he looked at the missionary.

“I wish I could say that I’ve never been afraid,” he said.

“I wish you could say that you believed in God,” retorted the other.

But for some reason, that evening the missionary’s thoughts travelled back to the early days he and his wife had spent on the islands.

“Sometimes Mrs Davidson and I would look at one another and the tears would stream down our cheeks. We worked without ceasing, day and night, and we seemed to make no progress. I don’t know what I should have done without her then. When I felt my heart sink, when I was very near despair, she gave me courage and hope.”

Mrs Davidson looked down at her work, and a slight colour rose to her thin cheeks. Her hands trembled a little. She did not trust herself to speak.

“We had no one to help us. We were alone, thousands of miles from any of our own people, surrounded by darkness. When I was broken and weary she would put her work aside and take the Bible and read to me till peace came and settled upon me like sleep upon the eyelids of a child, and when at last she closed the book she’d say: ‘We’ll save them in spite of themselves.’ And I felt strong again in the Lord, and I answered: ‘Yes, with God’s help I’ll save them. I must save them.'”

He came over to the table and stood in front of it as though it were a lectern.

“You see, they were so naturally depraved that they couldn’t be brought to see their wickedness. We had to make sins out of what they thought were natural actions. We had to make it a sin, not only to commit adultery and to lie and thieve, but to expose their bodies, and to dance and not to come to church. I made it a sin for a girl to show her bosom and a sin for a man not to wear trousers.”

“How?” asked Dr Macphail, not without surprise.

“I instituted fines. Obviously the only way to make people realise that an action is sinful is to punish them if they commit it. I fined them if they didn’t come to church, and I fined them if they danced. I fined them if they were improperly dressed. I had a tariff, and every sin had to be paid for either in money or work. And at last I made them understand.”

“But did they never refuse to pay?”

“How could they?” asked the missionary.

“It would be a brave man who tried to stand up against Mr Davidson,” said his wife, tightening her lips.

Dr Macphail looked at Davidson with troubled eyes. What he heard shocked him, but he hesitated to express his disapproval.

“You must remember that in the last resort I could expel them from their church membership.”

“Did they mind that?”

Davidson smiled a little and gently rubbed his hands.

“They couldn’t sell their copra. When the men fished they got no share of the catch. It meant something very like starvation. Yes, they minded quite a lot.”

“Tell him about Fred Ohlson,” said Mrs Davidson.

The missionary fixed his fiery eyes on Dr Macphail.

“Fred Ohlson was a Danish trader who had been in the islands a good many years. He was a pretty rich man as traders go and he wasn’t very pleased when we came. You see, he’d had things very much his own way. He paid the natives what he liked for their copra, and he paid in goods and whiskey. He had a native wife, but he was flagrantly unfaithful to her. He was a drunkard. I gave him a chance to mend his ways, but he wouldn’t take it. He laughed at me.”

Davidson’s voice fell to a deep bass as he said the last words, and he was silent for a minute or two. The silence was heavy with menace.

“In two years he was a ruined man. He’d lost everything he’d saved in a quarter of a century. I broke him, and at last he was forced to come to me like a beggar and beseech me to give him a passage back to Sydney.”

“I wish you could have seen him when he came to see Mr Davidson,” said the missionary’s wife. “He had been a fine, powerful man, with a lot of fat on him, and he had a great big voice, but now he was half the size, and he was shaking all over. He’d suddenly become an old man.”

With abstracted gaze Davidson looked out into the night. The rain was falling again.

Suddenly from below came a sound, and Davidson turned and looked questioningly at his wife. It was the sound of a gramophone, harsh and loud, wheezing out a syncopated tune.

“那是什么?” 他问。

Mrs Davidson fixed her 皮涅斯 more firmly on her nose.

“One of the second-class passengers has a room in the house. I guess it comes from there.”

They listened in silence, and presently they heard the sound of dancing. Then the music stopped, and they heard the popping of corks and voices raised in animated conversation.

“I daresay she’s giving a farewell party to her friends on board,” said Dr Macphail. “The ship sails at twelve, doesn’t it?”

Davidson made no remark, but he looked at his watch.

“Are you ready?” he asked his wife.

She got up and folded her work.

“Yes, I guess I am,” she answered.

“It’s early to go to bed yet, isn’t it?” said the doctor.

“We have a good deal of reading to do,” explained Mrs Davidson. “Wherever we are, we read a chapter of the Bible before retiring for the night and we study it with the commentaries, you know, and discuss it thoroughly. It’s a wonderful training for the mind.”

The two couples bade one another good night. Dr and Mrs Macphail were left alone. For two or three minutes they did not speak.

“I think I’ll go and fetch the cards,” the doctor said at last.

Mrs Macphail looked at him doubtfully. Her conversation with the Davidsons had left her a little uneasy, but she did not like to say that she thought they had better not play cards when the Davidsons might come in at any moment. Dr Macphail brought them and she watched him, though with a vague sense of guilt, while he laid out his patience. Below the sound of revelry continued.

It was fine enough next day, and the Macphails, condemned to spend a fortnight of idleness at Pago-Pago, set about making the best of things. They went down to the quay and got out of their boxes a number of books. The doctor called on the chief surgeon of the naval hospital and went round the beds with him. They left cards on the governor. They passed Miss Thompson on the road. The doctor took off his hat, and she gave him a “Good morning, doc.,” in a loud, cheerful voice. She was dressed as on the day before, in a white frock, and her shiny white boots with their high heels, her fat legs bulging over the tops of them, were strange things on that exotic scene.

“I don’t think she’s very suitably dressed, I must say,” said Mrs Macphail. “She looks extremely common to me.”

When they got back to their house, she was on the verandah playing with one of the trader’s dark children.

“Say a word to her,” Dr Macphail whispered to his wife. “She’s all alone here, and it seems rather unkind to ignore her.”

Mrs Macphail was shy, but she was in the habit of doing what her husband bade her.

“I think we’re fellow lodgers here,” she said, rather foolishly.

“Terrible, ain’t it, bein’ cooped up in a one-horse burg like this?” answered Miss Thompson. “And they tell me I’m lucky to have gotten a room. I don’t see myself livin’ in a native house, and that’s what some have to do. I don’t know why they don’t have a hotel.”

They exchanged a few more words. Miss Thompson, loud-voiced and garrulous, was evidently quite willing to gossip, but Mrs Macphail had a poor stock of small talk and presently she said:

“Well, I think we must go upstairs.”

In the evening when they sat down to their high-tea Davidson on coming in said:

“I see that woman downstairs has a couple of sailors sitting there. I wonder how she’s gotten acquainted with them.”

“She can’t be very particular,” said Mrs Davidson.

They were all rather tired after the idle, aimless day.

“If there’s going to be a fortnight of this I don’t know what we shall feel like at the end of it,” said Dr Macphail.

“The only thing to do is to portion out the day to different activities,” answered the missionary. “I shall set aside a certain number of hours to study and a certain number to exercise, rain or fine—in the wet season you can’t afford to pay any attention to the rain—and a certain number to recreation.”

Dr Macphail looked at his companion with misgiving. Davidson’s programme oppressed him. They were eating Hamburger steak again. It seemed the only dish the cook knew how to make. Then below the gramophone began. Davidson started nervously when he heard it, but said nothing. Men’s voices floated up. Miss Thompson’s guests were joining in a well-known song and presently they heard her voice too, hoarse and loud. There was a good deal of shouting and laughing. The four people upstairs, trying to make conversation, listened despite themselves to the clink of glasses and the scrape of chairs. More people had evidently come. Miss Thompson was giving a party.

“I wonder how she gets them all in,” said Mrs Macphail, suddenly breaking into a medical conversation between the missionary and her husband.

It showed whither her thoughts were wandering. The twitch of Davidson’s face proved that, though he spoke of scientific things, his mind was busy in the same direction. Suddenly, while the doctor was giving some experience of practice on the Flanders front, rather prosily, he sprang to his feet with a cry.

“What’s the matter, Alfred?” asked Mrs Davidson.

“Of course! It never occurred to me. She’s out of Iwelei.”

“She can’t be.”

“She came on board at Honolulu. It’s obvious. And she’s carrying on her trade here. Here.”

He uttered the last word with a passion of indignation.

“What’s Iwelei?” asked Mrs Macphail.

He turned his gloomy eyes on her and his voice trembled with horror.

“The plague spot of Honolulu. The Red Light district. It was a blot on our civilisation.”

Iwelei was on the edge of the city. You went down side streets by the harbour, in the darkness, across a rickety bridge, till you came to a deserted road, all ruts and holes, and then suddenly you came out into the light. There was parking room for motors on each side of the road, and there were saloons, tawdry and bright, each one noisy with its mechanical piano, and there were barbers’ shops and tobacconists. There was a stir in the air and a sense of expectant gaiety. You turned down a narrow alley, either to the right or to the left, for the road divided Iwelei into two parts, and you found yourself in the district. There were rows of little bungalows, trim and neatly painted in green, and the pathway between them was broad and straight. It was laid out like a garden-city. In its respectable regularity, its order and spruceness, it gave an impression of sardonic horror; for never can the search for love have been so systematised and ordered. The pathways were lit by a rare lamp, but they would have been dark except for the lights that came from the open windows of the bungalows. Men wandered about, looking at the women who sat at their windows, reading or sewing, for the most part taking no notice of the passers-by; and like the women they were of all nationalities. There were Americans, sailors from the ships in port, enlisted men off the gunboats, sombrely drunk, and soldiers from the regiments, white and black, quartered on the island; there were Japanese, walking in twos and threes; Hawaiians, Chinese in long robes, and Filipinos in preposterous hats. They were silent and as it were oppressed. Desire is sad.

“It was the most crying scandal of the Pacific,” exclaimed Davidson vehemently. “The missionaries had been agitating against it for years, and at last the local press took it up. The police refused to stir. You know their argument. They say that vice is inevitable and consequently the best thing is to localise and control it. The truth is, they were paid. Paid. They were paid by the saloon-keepers, paid by the bullies, paid by the women themselves. At last they were forced to move.”

“I read about it in the papers that came on board in Honolulu,” said Dr Macphail.

“Iwelei, with its sin and shame, ceased to exist on the very day we arrived. The whole population was brought before the justices. I don’t know why I didn’t understand at once what that woman was.”

“Now you come to speak of it,” said Mrs Macphail, “I remember seeing her come on board only a few minutes before the boat sailed. I remember thinking at the time she was cutting it rather fine.”

“How dare she come here!” cried Davidson indignantly. “I’m not going to allow it.”

He strode towards the door.

“What are you going to do?” asked Macphail.

“What do you expect me to do? I’m going to stop it. I’m not going to have this house turned into—into….”

He sought for a word that should not offend the ladies’ ears. His eyes were flashing and his pale face was paler still in his emotion.

“It sounds as though there were three or four men down there,” said the doctor. “Don’t you think it’s rather rash to go in just now?”

The missionary gave him a contemptuous look and without a word flung out of the room.

“You know Mr Davidson very little if you think the fear of personal danger can stop him in the performance of his duty,” said his wife.

She sat with her hands nervously clasped, a spot of colour on her high cheek bones, listening to what was about to happen below. They all listened. They heard him clatter down the wooden stairs and throw open the door. The singing stopped suddenly, but the gramophone continued to bray out its vulgar tune. They heard Davidson’s voice and then the noise of something heavy falling. The music stopped. He had hurled the gramophone on the floor. Then again they heard Davidson’s voice, they could not make out the words, then Miss Thompson’s, loud and shrill, then a confused clamour as though several people were shouting together at the top of their lungs. Mrs Davidson gave a little gasp, and she clenched her hands more tightly. Dr Macphail looked uncertainly from her to his wife. He did not want to go down, but he wondered if they expected him to. Then there was something that sounded like a scuffle. The noise now was more distinct. It might be that Davidson was being thrown out of the room. The door was slammed. There was a moment’s silence and they heard Davidson come up the stairs again. He went to his room.

“I think I’ll go to him,” said Mrs Davidson.

She got up and went out.

“If you want me, just call,” said Mrs Macphail, and then when the other was gone: “I hope he isn’t hurt.”

“Why couldn’t he mind his own business?” said Dr Macphail.

They sat in silence for a minute or two and then they both started, for the gramophone began to play once more, defiantly, and mocking voices shouted hoarsely the words of an obscene song.

Next day Mrs Davidson was pale and tired. She complained of headache, and she looked old and wizened. She told Mrs Macphail that the missionary had not slept at all; he had passed the night in a state of frightful agitation and at five had got up and gone out. A glass of beer had been thrown over him and his clothes were stained and stinking. But a sombre fire glowed in Mrs Davidson’s eyes when she spoke of Miss Thompson.

“She’ll bitterly rue the day when she flouted Mr Davidson,” she said. “Mr Davidson has a wonderful heart and no one who is in trouble has ever gone to him without being comforted, but he has no mercy for sin, and when his righteous wrath is excited he’s terrible.”

“Why, what will he do?” asked Mrs Macphail.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t stand in that creature’s shoes for anything in the world.”

Mrs Macphail shuddered. There was something positively alarming in the triumphant assurance of the little woman’s manner. They were going out together that morning, and they went down the stairs side by side. Miss Thompson’s door was open, and they saw her in a bedraggled dressing-gown, cooking something in a chafing-dish.

“Good morning,” she called. “Is Mr Davidson better this morning?”

They passed her in silence, with their noses in the air, as if she did not exist. They flushed, however, when she burst into a shout of derisive laughter. Mrs Davidson turned on her suddenly.

“Don’t you dare to speak to me,” she screamed. “If you insult me I shall have you turned out of here.”

“Say, did I ask Mr Davidson to visit with me?”

“Don’t answer her,” whispered Mrs Macphail hurriedly.

They walked on till they were out of earshot.

“She’s brazen, brazen,” burst from Mrs Davidson.

Her anger almost suffocated her.

And on their way home they met her strolling towards the quay. She had all her finery on. Her great white hat with its vulgar, showy flowers was an affront. She called out cheerily to them as she went by, and a couple of American sailors who were standing there grinned as the ladies set their faces to an icy stare. They got in just before the rain began to fall again.

“I guess she’ll get her fine clothes spoilt,” said Mrs Davidson with a bitter sneer.

Davidson did not come in till they were half way through dinner. He was wet through, but he would not change. He sat, morose and silent, refusing to eat more than a mouthful, and he stared at the slanting rain. When Mrs Davidson told him of their two encounters with Miss Thompson he did not answer. His deepening frown alone showed that he had heard.

“Don’t you think we ought to make Mr Horn turn her out of here?” asked Mrs Davidson. “We can’t allow her to insult us.”

“There doesn’t seem to be any other place for her to go,” said Macphail.

“She can live with one of the natives.”

“In weather like this a native hut must be a rather uncomfortable place to live in.”

“I lived in one for years,” said the missionary.

When the little native girl brought in the fried bananas which formed the sweet they had every day, Davidson turned to her.

“Ask Miss Thompson when it would be convenient for me to see her,” he said.

The girl nodded shyly and went out.

“What do you want to see her for, Alfred?” asked his wife.

“It’s my duty to see her. I won’t act till I’ve given her every chance.”

“You don’t know what she is. She’ll insult you.”

“Let her insult me. Let her spit on me. She has an immortal soul, and I must do all that is in my power to save it.”

Mrs Davidson’s ears rang still with the harlot’s mocking laughter.

“She’s gone too far.”

“Too far for the mercy of God?” His eyes lit up suddenly and his voice grew mellow and soft. “Never. The sinner may be deeper in sin than the depth of hell itself, but the love of the Lord Jesus can reach him still.”

The girl came back with the message.

“Miss Thompson’s compliments and as long as Rev. Davidson don’t come in business hours she’ll be glad to see him any time.”

The party received it in stony silence, and Dr Macphail quickly effaced from his lips the smile which had come upon them. He knew his wife would be vexed with him if he found Miss Thompson’s effrontery amusing.

They finished the meal in silence. When it was over the two ladies got up and took their work, Mrs Macphail was making another of the innumerable comforters which she had turned out since the beginning of the war, and the doctor lit his pipe. But Davidson remained in his chair and with abstracted eyes stared at the table. At last he got up and without a word went out of the room. They heard him go down and they heard Miss Thompson’s defiant “Come in” when he knocked at the door. He remained with her for an hour. And Dr Macphail watched the rain. It was beginning to get on his nerves. It was not like our soft English rain that drops gently on the earth; it was unmerciful and somehow terrible; you felt in it the malignancy of the primitive powers of nature. It did not pour, it flowed. It was like a deluge from heaven, and it rattled on the roof of corrugated iron with a steady persistence that was maddening. It seemed to have a fury of its own. And sometimes you felt that you must scream if it did not stop, and then suddenly you felt powerless, as though your bones had suddenly become soft; and you were miserable and hopeless.

Macphail turned his head when the missionary came back. The two women looked up.

“I’ve given her every chance. I have exhorted her to repent. She is an evil woman.”

He paused, and Dr Macphail saw his eyes darken and his pale face grow hard and stern.

“Now I shall take the whips with which the Lord Jesus drove the usurers and the money changers out of the Temple of the Most High.”

He walked up and down the room. His mouth was close set, and his black brows were frowning.

“If she fled to the uttermost parts of the earth I should pursue her.”

With a sudden movement he turned round and strode out of the room. They heard him go downstairs again.

“What is he going to do?” asked Mrs Macphail.

“I don’t know.” Mrs Davidson took off her 皮涅斯 and wiped them. “When he is on the Lord’s work I never ask him questions.”

She sighed a little.

“有什么事?”

“He’ll wear himself out. He doesn’t know what it is to spare himself.”

Dr Macphail learnt the first results of the missionary’s activity from the half-caste trader in whose house they lodged. He stopped the doctor when he passed the store and came out to speak to him on the stoop. His fat face was worried.

“The Rev. Davidson has been at me for letting Miss Thompson have a room here,” he said, “but I didn’t know what she was when I rented it to her. When people come and ask if I can rent them a room all I want to know is if they’ve the money to pay for it. And she paid me for hers a week in advance.”

Dr Macphail did not want to commit himself.

“When all’s said and done it’s your house. We’re very much obliged to you for taking us in at all.”

Horn looked at him doubtfully. He was not certain yet how definitely Macphail stood on the missionary’s side.

“The missionaries are in with one another,” he said, hesitatingly. “If they get it in for a trader he may just as well shut up his store and quit.”

“Did he want you to turn her out?”

“No, he said so long as she behaved herself he couldn’t ask me to do that. He said he wanted to be just to me. I promised she shouldn’t have no more visitors. I’ve just been and told her.”

“她是怎么接受的?”

“She gave me Hell.”

The trader squirmed in his old ducks. He had found Miss Thompson a rough customer.

“Oh, well, I daresay she’ll get out. I don’t suppose she wants to stay here if she can’t have anyone in.”

“There’s nowhere she can go, only a native house, and no native’ll take her now, not now that the missionaries have got their knife in her.”

Dr Macphail looked at the falling rain.

“Well, I don’t suppose it’s any good waiting for it to clear up.”

In the evening when they sat in the parlour Davidson talked to them of his early days at college. He had had no means and had worked his way through by doing odd jobs during the vacations. There was silence downstairs. Miss Thompson was sitting in her little room alone. But suddenly the gramophone began to play. She had set it on in defiance, to cheat her loneliness, but there was no one to sing, and it had a melancholy note. It was like a cry for help. Davidson took no notice. He was in the middle of a long anecdote and without change of expression went on. The gramophone continued. Miss Thompson put on one reel after another. It looked as though the silence of the night were getting on her nerves. It was breathless and sultry. When the Macphails went to bed they could not sleep. They lay side by side with their eyes wide open, listening to the cruel singing of the mosquitoes outside their curtain.

“What’s that?” whispered Mrs Macphail at last.

They heard a voice, Davidson’s voice, through the wooden partition. It went on with a monotonous, earnest insistence. He was praying aloud. He was praying for the soul of Miss Thompson.

Two or three days went by. Now when they passed Miss Thompson on the road she did not greet them with ironic cordiality or smile; she passed with her nose in the air, a sulky look on her painted face, frowning, as though she did not see them. The trader told Macphail that she had tried to get lodging elsewhere, but had failed. In the evening she played through the various reels of her gramophone, but the pretence of mirth was obvious now. The ragtime had a cracked, heart-broken rhythm as though it were a one-step of despair. When she began to play on Sunday Davidson sent Horn to beg her to stop at once since it was the Lord’s day. The reel was taken off and the house was silent except for the steady pattering of the rain on the iron roof.

“I think she’s getting a bit worked up,” said the trader next day to Macphail. “She don’t know what Mr Davidson’s up to and it makes her scared.”

Macphail had caught a glimpse of her that morning and it struck him that her arrogant expression had changed. There was in her face a hunted look. The half-caste gave him a sidelong glance.

“I suppose you don’t know what Mr Davidson is doing about it?” he hazarded.

“不,我不。”

It was singular that Horn should ask him that question, for he also had the idea that the missionary was mysteriously at work. He had an impression that he was weaving a net around the woman, carefully, systematically, and suddenly, when everything was ready would pull the strings tight.

“He told me to tell her,” said the trader, “that if at any time she wanted him she only had to send and he’d come.”

“What did she say when you told her that?”

“She didn’t say nothing. I didn’t stop. I just said what he said I was to and then I beat it. I thought she might be going to start weepin’.”

“I have no doubt the loneliness is getting on her nerves,” said the doctor. “And the rain—that’s enough to make anyone jumpy,” he continued irritably. “Doesn’t it ever stop in this confounded place?”

“It goes on pretty steady in the rainy season. We have three hundred inches in the year. You see, it’s the shape of the bay. It seems to attract the rain from all over the Pacific.”

“Damn the shape of the bay,” said the doctor.

He scratched his mosquito bites. He felt very short-tempered. When the rain stopped and the sun shone, it was like a hothouse, seething, humid, sultry, breathless, and you had a strange feeling that everything was growing with a savage violence. The natives, blithe and childlike by reputation, seemed then, with their tattooing and their dyed hair, to have something sinister in their appearance; and when they pattered along at your heels with their naked feet you looked back instinctively. You felt they might at any moment come behind you swiftly and thrust a long knife between your shoulder blades. You could not tell what dark thoughts lurked behind their wide-set eyes. They had a little the look of ancient Egyptians painted on a temple wall, and there was about them the terror of what is immeasurably old.

The missionary came and went. He was busy, but the Macphails did not know what he was doing. Horn told the doctor that he saw the governor every day, and once Davidson mentioned him.

“He looks as if he had plenty of determination,” he said, “but when you come down to brass tacks he has no backbone.”

“I suppose that means he won’t do exactly what you want,” suggested the doctor facetiously.

The missionary did not smile.

“I want him to do what’s right. It shouldn’t be necessary to persuade a man to do that.”

“But there may be differences of opinion about what is right.”

“If a man had a gangrenous foot would you have patience with anyone who hesitated to amputate it?”

“Gangrene is a matter of fact.”

“And Evil?”

What Davidson had done soon appeared. The four of them had just finished their midday meal, and they had not yet separated for the siesta which the heat imposed on the ladies and on the doctor. Davidson had little patience with the slothful habit. The door was suddenly flung open and Miss Thompson came in. She looked round the room and then went up to Davidson.

“You low-down skunk, what have you been saying about me to the governor?”

She was spluttering with rage. There was a moment’s pause. Then the missionary drew forward a chair.

“Won’t you be seated, Miss Thompson? I’ve been hoping to have another talk with you.”

“You poor low-life bastard.”

She burst into a torrent of insult, foul and insolent. Davidson kept his grave eyes on her.

“I’m indifferent to the abuse you think fit to heap on me, Miss Thompson,” he said, “but I must beg you to remember that ladies are present.”

Tears by now were struggling with her anger. Her face was red and swollen as though she were choking.

“What has happened?” asked Dr Macphail.

“A feller’s just been in here and he says I gotter beat it on the next boat.”

Was there a gleam in the missionary’s eyes? His face remained impassive.

“You could hardly expect the governor to let you stay here under the circumstances.”

“You done it,” she shrieked. “You can’t kid me. You done it.”

“I don’t want to deceive you. I urged the governor to take the only possible step consistent with his obligations.”

“Why couldn’t you leave me be? I wasn’t doin’ you no harm.”

“You may be sure that if you had I should be the last man to resent it.”

“Do you think I want to stay on in this poor imitation of a burg? I don’t look no busher, do I?”

“In that case I don’t see what cause of complaint you have,” he answered.

She gave an inarticulate cry of rage and flung out of the room. There was a short silence.

“It’s a relief to know that the governor has acted at last,” said Davidson finally. “He’s a weak man and he shilly-shallied. He said she was only here for a fortnight anyway, and if she went on to Apia that was under British jurisdiction and had nothing to do with him.”

The missionary sprang to his feet and strode across the room.

“It’s terrible the way the men who are in authority seek to evade their responsibility. They speak as though evil that was out of sight ceased to be evil. The very existence of that woman is a scandal and it does not help matters to shift it to another of the islands. In the end I had to speak straight from the shoulder.”

Davidson’s brow lowered, and he protruded his firm chin. He looked fierce and determined.

“你是什么意思?”

“Our mission is not entirely without influence at Washington. I pointed out to the governor that it wouldn’t do him any good if there was a complaint about the way he managed things here.”

“When has she got to go?” asked the doctor, after a pause.

“The San Francisco boat is due here from Sydney next Tuesday. She’s to sail on that.”

That was in five days’ time. It was next day, when he was coming back from the hospital where for want of something better to do Macphail spent most of his mornings, that the half-caste stopped him as he was going upstairs.

“Excuse me, Dr Macphail, Miss Thompson’s sick. Will you have a look at her.”

“当然。”

Horn led him to her room. She was sitting in a chair idly, neither reading nor sewing, staring in front of her. She wore her white dress and the large hat with the flowers on it. Macphail noticed that her skin was yellow and muddy under her powder, and her eyes were heavy.

“I’m sorry to hear you’re not well,” he said.

“Oh, I ain’t sick really. I just said that, because I just had to see you. I’ve got to clear on a boat that’s going to ‘Frisco.”

She looked at him and he saw that her eyes were suddenly startled. She opened and clenched her hands spasmodically. The trader stood at the door, listening.

“So I understand,” said the doctor.

She gave a little gulp.

“I guess it ain’t very convenient for me to go to ‘Frisco just now. I went to see the governor yesterday afternoon, but I couldn’t get to him. I saw the secretary, and he told me I’d got to take that boat and that was all there was to it. I just had to see the governor, so I waited outside his house this morning, and when he come out I spoke to him. He didn’t want to speak to me, I’ll say, but I wouldn’t let him shake me off, and at last he said he hadn’t no objection to my staying here till the next boat to Sydney if the Rev. Davidson will stand for it.”

She stopped and looked at Dr Macphail anxiously.

“I don’t know exactly what I can do,” he said.

“Well, I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind asking him. I swear to God I won’t start anything here if he’ll just only let me stay. I won’t go out of the house if that’ll suit him. It’s no more’n a fortnight.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“He won’t stand for it,” said Horn. “He’ll have you out on Tuesday, so you may as well make up your mind to it.”

“Tell him I can get work in Sydney, straight stuff, I mean. ‘Tain’t asking very much.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“And come and tell me right away, will you? I can’t set down to a thing till I get the dope one way or the other.”

It was not an errand that much pleased the doctor, and, characteristically perhaps, he went about it indirectly. He told his wife what Miss Thompson had said to him and asked her to speak to Mrs Davidson. The missionary’s attitude seemed rather arbitrary and it could do no harm if the girl were allowed to stay in Pago-Pago another fortnight. But he was not prepared for the result of his diplomacy. The missionary came to him straightway.

“Mrs Davidson tells me that Thompson has been speaking to you.”

Dr Macphail, thus directly tackled, had the shy man’s resentment at being forced out into the open. He felt his temper rising, and he flushed.

“I don’t see that it can make any difference if she goes to Sydney rather than to San Francisco, and so long as she promises to behave while she’s here it’s dashed hard to persecute her.”

The missionary fixed him with his stern eyes.

“Why is she unwilling to go back to San Francisco?”

“I didn’t enquire,” answered the doctor with some asperity. “And I think one does better to mind one’s own business.”

Perhaps it was not a very tactful answer.

“The governor has ordered her to be deported by the first boat that leaves the island. He’s only done his duty and I will not interfere. Her presence is a peril here.”

“I think you’re very harsh and tyrannical.”

The two ladies looked up at the doctor with some alarm, but they need not have feared a quarrel, for the missionary smiled gently.

“I’m terribly sorry you should think that of me, Dr Macphail. Believe me, my heart bleeds for that unfortunate woman, but I’m only trying to do my duty.”

The doctor made no answer. He looked out of the window sullenly. For once it was not raining and across the bay you saw nestling among the trees the huts of a native village.

“I think I’ll take advantage of the rain stopping to go out,” he said.

“Please don’t bear me malice because I can’t accede to your wish,” said Davidson, with a melancholy smile. “I respect you very much, doctor, and I should be sorry if you thought ill of me.”

“I have no doubt you have a sufficiently good opinion of yourself to bear mine with equanimity,” he retorted.

“That’s one on me,” chuckled Davidson.

When Dr Macphail, vexed with himself because he had been uncivil to no purpose, went downstairs, Miss Thompson was waiting for him with her door ajar.

“Well,” she said, “have you spoken to him?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, he won’t do anything,” he answered, not looking at her in his embarrassment.

But then he gave her a quick glance, for a sob broke from her. He saw that her face was white with fear. It gave him a shock of dismay. And suddenly he had an idea.

“But don’t give up hope yet. I think it’s a shame the way they’re treating you and I’m going to see the governor myself.”

“现在?”

He nodded. Her face brightened.

“Say, that’s real good of you. I’m sure he’ll let me stay if you speak for me. I just won’t do a thing I didn’t ought all the time I’m here.”

Dr Macphail hardly knew why he had made up his mind to appeal to the governor. He was perfectly indifferent to Miss Thompson’s affairs, but the missionary had irritated him, and with him temper was a smouldering thing. He found the governor at home. He was a large, handsome man, a sailor, with a grey toothbrush moustache; and he wore a spotless uniform of white drill.

“I’ve come to see you about a woman who’s lodging in the same house as we are,” he said. “Her name’s Thompson.”

“I guess I’ve heard nearly enough about her, Dr Macphail,” said the governor, smiling. “I’ve given her the order to get out next Tuesday and that’s all I can do.”

“I wanted to ask you if you couldn’t stretch a point and let her stay here till the boat comes in from San Francisco so that she can go to Sydney. I will guarantee her good behaviour.”

The governor continued to smile, but his eyes grew small and serious.

“I’d be very glad to oblige you, Dr Macphail, but I’ve given the order and it must stand.”

The doctor put the case as reasonably as he could, but now the governor ceased to smile at all. He listened sullenly, with averted gaze. Macphail saw that he was making no impression.

“I’m sorry to cause any lady inconvenience, but she’ll have to sail on Tuesday and that’s all there is to it.”

“But what difference can it make?”

“Pardon me, doctor, but I don’t feel called upon to explain my official actions except to the proper authorities.”

Macphail looked at him shrewdly. He remembered Davidson’s hint that he had used threats, and in the governor’s attitude he read a singular embarrassment.

“Davidson’s a damned busybody,” he said hotly.

“Between ourselves, Dr Macphail, I don’t say that I have formed a very favourable opinion of Mr Davidson, but I am bound to confess that he was within his rights in pointing out to me the danger that the presence of a woman of Miss Thompson’s character was to a place like this where a number of enlisted men are stationed among a native population.”

He got up and Dr Macphail was obliged to do so too.

“I must ask you to excuse me. I have an engagement. Please give my respects to Mrs Macphail.”

The doctor left him crest-fallen. He knew that Miss Thompson would be waiting for him, and unwilling to tell her himself that he had failed, he went into the house by the back door and sneaked up the stairs as though he had something to hide.

At supper he was silent and ill-at-ease, but the missionary was jovial and animated. Dr Macphail thought his eyes rested on him now and then with triumphant good-humour. It struck him suddenly that Davidson knew of his visit to the governor and of its ill success. But how on earth could he have heard of it? There was something sinister about the power of that man. After supper he saw Horn on the verandah and, as though to have a casual word with him, went out.

“She wants to know if you’ve seen the governor,” the trader whispered.

“Yes. He wouldn’t do anything. I’m awfully sorry, I can’t do anything more.”

“I knew he wouldn’t. They daren’t go against the missionaries.”

“What are you talking about?” said Davidson affably, coming out to join them.

“I was just saying there was no chance of your getting over to Apia for at least another week,” said the trader glibly.

He left them, and the two men returned into the parlour. Mr Davidson devoted one hour after each meal to recreation. Presently a timid knock was heard at the door.

“Come in,” said Mrs Davidson, in her sharp voice.

The door was not opened. She got up and opened it. They saw Miss Thompson standing at the threshold. But the change in her appearance was extraordinary. This was no longer the flaunting hussy who had jeered at them in the road, but a broken, frightened woman. Her hair, as a rule so elaborately arranged, was tumbling untidily over her neck. She wore bedroom slippers and a skirt and blouse. They were unfresh and bedraggled. She stood at the door with the tears streaming down her face and did not dare to enter.

“What do you want?” said Mrs Davidson harshly.

“May I speak to Mr Davidson?” she said in a choking voice.

The missionary rose and went towards her.

“Come right in, Miss Thompson,” he said in cordial tones. “What can I do for you?”

她进了房间。

“Say, I’m sorry for what I said to you the other day an’ for—for everythin’ else. I guess I was a bit lit up. I beg pardon.”

“Oh, it was nothing. I guess my back’s broad enough to bear a few hard words.”

She stepped towards him with a movement that was horribly cringing.

“You’ve got me beat. I’m all in. You won’t make me go back to ‘Frisco?”

His genial manner vanished and his voice grew on a sudden hard and stern.

“Why don’t you want to go back there?”

She cowered before him.

“I guess my people live there. I don’t want them to see me like this. I’ll go anywhere else you say.”

“Why don’t you want to go back to San Francisco?”

“我已经告诉你了。”

He leaned forward, staring at her, and his great, shining eyes seemed to try to bore into her soul. He gave a sudden gasp.

“The penitentiary.”

She screamed, and then she fell at his feet, clasping his legs.

“Don’t send me back there. I swear to you before God I’ll be a good woman. I’ll give all this up.”

She burst into a torrent of confused supplication and the tears coursed down her painted cheeks. He leaned over her and, lifting her face, forced her to look at him.

“Is that it, the penitentiary?”

“I beat it before they could get me,” she gasped. “If the bulls grab me it’s three years for mine.”

He let go his hold of her and she fell in a heap on the floor, sobbing bitterly. Dr Macphail stood up.

“This alters the whole thing,” he said. “You can’t make her go back when you know this. Give her another chance. She wants to turn over a new leaf.”

“I’m going to give her the finest chance she’s ever had. If she repents let her accept her punishment.”

She misunderstood the words and looked up. There was a gleam of hope in her heavy eyes.

“You’ll let me go?”

“No. You shall sail for San Francisco on Tuesday.”

She gave a groan of horror and then burst into low, hoarse shrieks which sounded hardly human, and she beat her head passionately on the ground. Dr Macphail sprang to her and lifted her up.

“Come on, you mustn’t do that. You’d better go to your room and lie down. I’ll get you something.”

He raised her to her feet and partly dragging her, partly carrying her, got her downstairs. He was furious with Mrs Davidson and with his wife because they made no effort to help. The half-caste was standing on the landing and with his assistance he managed to get her on the bed. She was moaning and crying. She was almost insensible. He gave her a hypodermic injection. He was hot and exhausted when he went upstairs again.

“I’ve got her to lie down.”

The two women and Davidson were in the same positions as when he had left them. They could not have moved or spoken since he went.

“I was waiting for you,” said Davidson, in a strange, distant voice. “I want you all to pray with me for the soul of our erring sister.”

He took the Bible off a shelf, and sat down at the table at which they had supped. It had not been cleared, and he pushed the tea-pot out of the way. In a powerful voice, resonant and deep, he read to them the chapter in which is narrated the meeting of Jesus Christ with the woman taken in adultery.

“Now kneel with me and let us pray for the soul of our dear sister, Sadie Thompson.”

He burst into a long, passionate prayer in which he implored God to have mercy on the sinful woman. Mrs Macphail and Mrs Davidson knelt with covered eyes. The doctor, taken by surprise, awkward and sheepish, knelt too. The missionary’s prayer had a savage eloquence. He was extraordinarily moved, and as he spoke the tears ran down his cheeks. Outside, the pitiless rain fell, fell steadily, with a fierce malignity that was all too human.

At last he stopped. He paused for a moment and said:

“We will now repeat the Lord’s prayer.”

They said it and then; following him, they rose from their knees. Mrs Davidson’s face was pale and restful. She was comforted and at peace, but the Macphails felt suddenly bashful. They did not know which way to look.

“I’ll just go down and see how she is now,” said Dr Macphail.

When he knocked at her door it was opened for him by Horn. Miss Thompson was in a rocking-chair, sobbing quietly.

“What are you doing there?” exclaimed Macphail. “I told you to lie down.”

“I can’t lie down. I want to see Mr Davidson.”

“My poor child, what do you think is the good of it? You’ll never move him.”

“He said he’d come if I sent for him.”

Macphail motioned to the trader.

“去接他。”

He waited with her in silence while the trader went upstairs. Davidson came in.

“Excuse me for asking you to come here,” she said, looking at him sombrely.

“I was expecting you to send for me. I knew the Lord would answer my prayer.”

They stared at one another for a moment and then she looked away. She kept her eyes averted when she spoke.

“I’ve been a bad woman. I want to repent.”

“Thank God! thank God! He has heard our prayers.”

He turned to the two men.

“Leave me alone with her. Tell Mrs Davidson that our prayers have been answered.”

They went out and closed the door behind them.

“Gee whizz,” said the trader.

That night Dr Macphail could not get to sleep till late, and when he heard the missionary come upstairs he looked at his watch. It was two o’clock. But even then he did not go to bed at once, for through the wooden partition that separated their rooms he heard him praying aloud, till he himself, exhausted, fell asleep.

When he saw him next morning he was surprised at his appearance. He was paler than ever, tired, but his eyes shone with an inhuman fire. It looked as though he were filled with an overwhelming joy.

“I want you to go down presently and see Sadie,” he said. “I can’t hope that her body is better, but her soul—her soul is transformed.”

The doctor was feeling wan and nervous.

“You were with her very late last night,” he said.

“Yes, she couldn’t bear to have me leave her.”

“You look as pleased as Punch,” the doctor said irritably.

Davidson’s eyes shone with ecstasy.

“A great mercy has been vouchsafed me. Last night I was privileged to bring a lost soul to the loving arms of Jesus.”

Miss Thompson was again in the rocking-chair. The bed had not been made. The room was in disorder. She had not troubled to dress herself, but wore a dirty dressing-gown, and her hair was tied in a sluttish knot. She had given her face a dab with a wet towel, but it was all swollen and creased with crying. She looked a drab.

She raised her eyes dully when the doctor came in. She was cowed and broken.

“Where’s Mr Davidson?” she asked.

“He’ll come presently if you want him,” answered Macphail acidly. “I came here to see how you were.”

“Oh, I guess I’m O. K. You needn’t worry about that.”

“Have you had anything to eat?”

“Horn brought me some coffee.”

She looked anxiously at the door.

“D’you think he’ll come down soon? I feel as if it wasn’t so terrible when he’s with me.”

“Are you still going on Tuesday?”

“Yes, he says I’ve got to go. Please tell him to come right along. You can’t do me any good. He’s the only one as can help me now.”

“Very well,” said Dr Macphail.

During the next three days the missionary spent almost all his time with Sadie Thompson. He joined the others only to have his meals. Dr Macphail noticed that he hardly ate.

“He’s wearing himself out,” said Mrs Davidson pitifully. “He’ll have a breakdown if he doesn’t take care, but he won’t spare himself.”

She herself was white and pale. She told Mrs Macphail that she had no sleep. When the missionary came upstairs from Miss Thompson he prayed till he was exhausted, but even then he did not sleep for long. After an hour or two he got up and dressed himself, and went for a tramp along the bay. He had strange dreams.

“This morning he told me that he’d been dreaming about the mountains of Nebraska,” said Mrs Davidson.

“That’s curious,” said Dr Macphail.

He remembered seeing them from the windows of the train when he crossed America. They were like huge mole-hills, rounded and smooth, and they rose from the plain abruptly. Dr Macphail remembered how it struck him that they were like a woman’s breasts.

Davidson’s restlessness was intolerable even to himself. But he was buoyed up by a wonderful exhilaration. He was tearing out by the roots the last vestiges of sin that lurked in the hidden corners of that poor woman’s heart. He read with her and prayed with her.

“It’s wonderful,” he said to them one day at supper. “It’s a true rebirth. Her soul, which was black as night, is now pure and white like the new-fallen snow. I am humble and afraid. Her remorse for all her sins is beautiful. I am not worthy to touch the hem of her garment.”

“Have you the heart to send her back to San Francisco?” said the doctor. “Three years in an American prison. I should have thought you might have saved her from that.”

“Ah, but don’t you see? It’s necessary. Do you think my heart doesn’t bleed for her? I love her as I love my wife and my sister. All the time that she is in prison I shall suffer all the pain that she suffers.”

“Bunkum,” cried the doctor impatiently.

“You don’t understand because you’re blind. She’s sinned, and she must suffer. I know what she’ll endure. She’ll be starved and tortured and humiliated. I want her to accept the punishment of man as a sacrifice to God. I want her to accept it joyfully. She has an opportunity which is offered to very few of us. God is very good and very merciful.”

Davidson’s voice trembled with excitement. He could hardly articulate the words that tumbled passionately from his lips.

“All day I pray with her and when I leave her I pray again, I pray with all my might and main, so that Jesus may grant her this great mercy. I want to put in her heart the passionate desire to be punished so that at the end, even if I offered to let her go, she would refuse. I want her to feel that the bitter punishment of prison is the thank-offering that she places at the feet of our Blessed Lord, who gave his life for her.”

The days passed slowly. The whole household, intent on the wretched, tortured woman downstairs, lived in a state of unnatural excitement. She was like a victim that was being prepared for the savage rites of a bloody idolatry. Her terror numbed her. She could not bear to let Davidson out of her sight; it was only when he was with her that she had courage, and she hung upon him with a slavish dependence. She cried a great deal, and she read the Bible, and prayed. Sometimes she was exhausted and apathetic. Then she did indeed look forward to her ordeal, for it seemed to offer an escape, direct and concrete, from the anguish she was enduring. She could not bear much longer the vague terrors which now assailed her. With her sins she had put aside all personal vanity, and she slopped about her room, unkempt and dishevelled, in her tawdry dressing-gown. She had not taken off her night-dress for four days, nor put on stockings. Her room was littered and untidy. Meanwhile the rain fell with a cruel persistence. You felt that the heavens must at last be empty of water, but still it poured down, straight and heavy, with a maddening iteration, on the iron roof. Everything was damp and clammy. There was mildew on the walls and on the boots that stood on the floor. Through the sleepless nights the mosquitoes droned their angry chant.

“If it would only stop raining for a single day it wouldn’t be so bad,” said Dr Macphail.

They all looked forward to the Tuesday when the boat for San Francisco was to arrive from Sydney. The strain was intolerable. So far as Dr Macphail was concerned, his pity and his resentment were alike extinguished by his desire to be rid of the unfortunate woman. The inevitable must be accepted. He felt he would breathe more freely when the ship had sailed. Sadie Thompson was to be escorted on board by a clerk in the governor’s office. This person called on the Monday evening and told Miss Thompson to be prepared at eleven in the morning. Davidson was with her.

“I’ll see that everything is ready. I mean to come on board with her myself.”

Miss Thompson did not speak.

When Dr Macphail blew out his candle and crawled cautiously under his mosquito curtains, he gave a sigh of relief.

“Well, thank God that’s over. By this time to-morrow she’ll be gone.”

“Mrs Davidson will be glad too. She says he’s wearing himself to a shadow,” said Mrs Macphail. “She’s a different woman.”

“谁?”

“Sadie. I should never have thought it possible. It makes one humble.”

Dr Macphail did not answer, and presently he fell asleep. He was tired out, and he slept more soundly than usual.

He was awakened in the morning by a hand placed on his arm, and, starting up, saw Horn by the side of his bed. The trader put his finger on his mouth to prevent any exclamation from Dr Macphail and beckoned to him to come. As a rule he wore shabby ducks, but now he was barefoot and wore only the 熔岩熔岩 of the natives. He looked suddenly savage, and Dr Macphail, getting out of bed, saw that he was heavily tattooed. Horn made him a sign to come on to the verandah. Dr Macphail got out of bed and followed the trader out.

“Don’t make a noise,” he whispered. “You’re wanted. Put on a coat and some shoes. Quick.”

Dr Macphail’s first thought was that something had happened to Miss Thompson.

“What is it? Shall I bring my instruments?”

“Hurry, please, hurry.”

Dr Macphail crept back into the bedroom, put on a waterproof over his pyjamas, and a pair of rubber-soled shoes. He rejoined the trader, and together they tiptoed down the stairs. The door leading out to the road was open and at it were standing half a dozen natives.

“What is it?” repeated the doctor.

“Come along with me,” said Horn.

He walked out and the doctor followed him. The natives came after them in a little bunch. They crossed the road and came on to the beach. The doctor saw a group of natives standing round some object at the water’s edge. They hurried along, a couple of dozen yards perhaps, and the natives opened out as the doctor came up. The trader pushed him forwards. Then he saw, lying half in the water and half out, a dreadful object, the body of Davidson. Dr Macphail bent down—he was not a man to lose his head in an emergency—and turned the body over. The throat was cut from ear to ear, and in the right hand was still the razor with which the deed was done.

“He’s quite cold,” said the doctor. “He must have been dead some time.”

“One of the boys saw him lying there on his way to work just now and came and told me. Do you think he did it himself?”

“Yes. Someone ought to go for the police.”

Horn said something in the native tongue, and two youths started off.

“We must leave him here till they come,” said the doctor.

“They mustn’t take him into my house. I won’t have him in my house.”

“You’ll do what the authorities say,” replied the doctor sharply. “In point of fact I expect they’ll take him to the mortuary.”

They stood waiting where they were. The trader took a cigarette from a fold in his 熔岩熔岩 and gave one to Dr Macphail. They smoked while they stared at the corpse. Dr Macphail could not understand.

“Why do you think he did it?” asked Horn.

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. In a little while native police came along, under the charge of a marine, with a stretcher, and immediately afterwards a couple of naval officers and a naval doctor. They managed everything in a businesslike manner.

“What about the wife?” said one of the officers.

“Now that you’ve come I’ll go back to the house and get some things on. I’ll see that it’s broken to her. She’d better not see him till he’s been fixed up a little.”

“I guess that’s right,” said the naval doctor.

When Dr Macphail went back he found his wife nearly dressed.

“Mrs Davidson’s in a dreadful state about her husband,” she said to him as soon as he appeared. “He hasn’t been to bed all night. She heard him leave Miss Thompson’s room at two, but he went out. If he’s been walking about since then he’ll be absolutely dead.”

Dr Macphail told her what had happened and asked her to break the news to Mrs Davidson.

“But why did he do it?” she asked, horror-stricken.

“我不知道。”

“But I can’t. I can’t.”

“你必须。”

She gave him a frightened look and went out. He heard her go into Mrs Davidson’s room. He waited a minute to gather himself together and then began to shave and wash. When he was dressed he sat down on the bed and waited for his wife. At last she came.

“She wants to see him,” she said.

“They’ve taken him to the mortuary. We’d better go down with her. How did she take it?”

“I think she’s stunned. She didn’t cry. But she’s trembling like a leaf.”

“We’d better go at once.”

When they knocked at her door Mrs Davidson came out. She was very pale, but dry-eyed. To the doctor she seemed unnaturally composed. No word was exchanged, and they set out in silence down the road. When they arrived at the mortuary Mrs Davidson spoke.

“Let me go in and see him alone.”

They stood aside. A native opened a door for her and closed it behind her. They sat down and waited. One or two white men came and talked to them in undertones. Dr Macphail told them again what he knew of the tragedy. At last the door was quietly opened and Mrs Davidson came out. Silence fell upon them.

“I’m ready to go back now,” she said.

Her voice was hard and steady. Dr Macphail could not understand the look in her eyes. Her pale face was very stern. They walked back slowly, never saying a word, and at last they came round the bend on the other side of which stood their house. Mrs Davidson gave a gasp, and for a moment they stopped still. An incredible sound assaulted their ears. The gramophone which had been silent for so long was playing, playing ragtime loud and harsh.

“What’s that?” cried Mrs Macphail with horror.

“Let’s go on,” said Mrs Davidson.

They walked up the steps and entered the hall. Miss Thompson was standing at her door, chatting with a sailor. A sudden change had taken place in her. She was no longer the cowed drudge of the last days. She was dressed in all her finery, in her white dress, with the high shiny boots over which her fat legs bulged in their cotton stockings; her hair was elaborately arranged; and she wore that enormous hat covered with gaudy flowers. Her face was painted, her eyebrows were boldly black, and her lips were scarlet. She held herself erect. She was the flaunting quean that they had known at first. As they came in she broke into a loud, jeering laugh; and then, when Mrs Davidson involuntarily stopped, she collected the spittle in her mouth and spat. Mrs Davidson cowered back, and two red spots rose suddenly to her cheeks. Then, covering her face with her hands, she broke away and ran quickly up the stairs. Dr Macphail was outraged. He pushed past the woman into her room.

“What the devil are you doing?” he cried. “Stop that damned machine.”

He went up to it and tore the record off. She turned on him.

“Say, doc, you can that stuff with me. What the hell are you doin’ in my room?”

“What do you mean?” he cried. “What d’you mean?”

She gathered herself together. No one could describe the scorn of her expression or the contemptuous hatred she put into her answer.

“You men! You filthy, dirty pigs! You’re all the same, all of you. Pigs! Pigs!”

Dr Macphail gasped. He understood.

第八章•恩沃伊 •100字

WHEN your ship leaves Honolulu they hang 法律 round your neck, garlands of sweet smelling flowers. The wharf is crowded and the band plays a melting Hawaiian tune. The people on board throw coloured streamers to those standing below, and the side of the ship is gay with the thin lines of paper, red and green and yellow and blue. When the ship moves slowly away the streamers break softly, and it is like the breaking of human ties. Men and women are joined together for a moment by a gaily coloured strip of paper, red and blue and green and yellow, and then life separates them and the paper is sundered, so easily, with a little sharp snap. For an hour the fragments trail down the hull and then they blow away. The flowers of your garlands fade and their scent is oppressive. You throw them overboard.

(也可以在 古登堡计划 )
 
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