(雙語)月亮和六便士 第43章(3)

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When I come to his connection with Blanche Stroeve I am exasperated by the fragmentariness of the facts at my disposal. To give my story coherence I should describe the progress of their tragic union, but I know nothing of the three months during which they lived together. I do not know how they got on or what they talked about. After all, there are twenty-four hours in the day, and the summits of emotion can only be reached at rare intervals. I can only imagine how they passed the rest of the time. While the light lasted and so long as Blanche's strength endured, I suppose that Strickland painted, and it must have irritated her when she saw him absorbed in his work. As a mistress she did not then exist for him, but only as a model; and then there were long hours in which they lived side by side in silence. It must have frightened her. When Strickland suggested that in her surrender to him there was a sense of triumph over Dirk Stroeve, because he had come to her help in her extremity, he opened the door to many a dark conjecture. I hope it was not true. It seems to me rather horrible. But who can fathom the subtleties of the human heart? Certainly not those who expect from it only decorous sentiments and normal emotions. When Blanche saw that, notwithstanding his moments of passion, Strickland remained aloof, she must have been filled with dismay, and even in those moments I surmise that she realised that to him she was not an individual, but an instrument of pleasure; he was a stranger still, and she tried to bind him to herself with pathetic arts. She strove to ensnare him with comfort and would not see that comfort meant nothing to him. She was at pains to get him the things to eat that he liked, and would not see that he was indifferent to food. She was afraid to leave him alone. She pursued him with attentions, and when his passion was dormant sought to excite it, for then at least she had the illusion of holding him. Perhaps she knew with her intelligence that the chains she forged only aroused his instinct of destruction, as the plate-glass window makes your fingers itch for half a brick; but her heart, incapable of reason, made her continue on a course she knew was fatal. She must have been very unhappy. But the blindness of love led her to believe what she wanted to be true, and her love was so great that it seemed impossible to her that it should not in return awake an equal love.

當我開始敘述他同勃朗什·施特略夫的關(guān)系時，我也深為自己掌握材料不足所苦。為了把我的故事說得有頭有尾，我應(yīng)該描寫一下他們這一悲劇性的結(jié)合是如何發(fā)展的，但是我對他倆三個月的同居生活卻一無所知。我不知道他們?nèi)绾蜗嗵?，也不知道他們平常談一些什么。不管怎么說，一天是有二十四小時的，感情的高峰只是在稀有的時刻才達到的現(xiàn)象。其他的時間是怎么過的，我只能借助自己的想象力。在光線沒有暗淡下來以前，只要勃朗什的氣力還能支持住，我想思特里克蘭德總是不停筆地作畫。我想勃朗什對他這樣沉溺于自己的繪畫中，一定感到非常氣惱。整個這段時間，她只是他的模特兒，他根本沒有想到她的情婦的角色。此外，就是相對無言的漫長的時刻，對她說來，也一定是件怪可怕的事。思特里克蘭德曾對我透露，勃朗什獻身給他，帶有某種向戴爾克·施特略夫報復的感情在內(nèi)，因為戴爾克是在她丟盡了臉面的時候把她搭救起來的；思特里克蘭德泄露的這個秘密為許多玄妙的臆想打開了門戶。我希望思特里克蘭德的話并不真實；我覺得這有點兒太可怕了。但是話又說回來，誰能理解人心的奧秘呢？那些只希望從人心里尋到高尚的情操和正常感情的人肯定是不會理解的。當勃朗什發(fā)現(xiàn)思特里克蘭德除了偶爾迸發(fā)出一陣熱情以外，總是離她遠遠的，心里一定非常痛苦；而我猜想，即使在那些短暫的時刻，她也知道得很清楚，思特里克蘭德不過只把她當作自己取樂的工具，而不把她當人看待。他始終是一個陌生人，她用一切可憐的手段拼命想把他系牢在自己身邊。她試圖用舒適的生活網(wǎng)羅住他，殊不知他對安逸的環(huán)境絲毫也不介意。她費盡心機給他弄合他口味的東西吃，卻看不到他吃什么東西部無所謂。她害怕叫他獨自一個人待著，總是不斷地對他表示關(guān)心、照護，當他的熱情酣睡的時候，就想盡各種方法喚醒它，因為這樣她至少還可以有一種把他把持在手的假象。也許她的智慧告訴她，她鑄造的這些鏈條只不過刺激起他的天性想把它砸斷，正象厚玻璃會使人看著手癢癢，想撿起半塊磚來似的。但是她的心卻不聽理智的勸告，總是逼著她沿著一條她自己也知道必然通向毀滅的路上滑下去。她一定非常痛苦，但是愛情的盲目性卻叫她相信自己的追求是真實的，叫她相信自己的愛情是偉大的，不可能不在他身上喚起同樣的愛情來還答她。