雙語·面紗 第四十四章

44

Alone once more in the sordid parlor of the dead missionary, lying on the long chair that faced the window, her abstracted eyes on the temple across the river (now again at the approach of evening aerial and lovely), Kitty tried to set in order the feelings in her heart. She would never have believed that this visit to the convent could so have moved her. She had gone from curiosity. She had nothing else to do and after looking for so many days at the walled city across the water she was not unwilling to have at least a glimpse of its mysterious streets.

But once within the convent it had seemed to her that she was transported into another world situated strangely neither in space nor time. Those bare rooms and the white corridors, austere and simple, seemed to possess the spirit of something remote and mystical. The little chapel, so ugly and vulgar, in its very crudeness was pathetic; it had something which was wanting in the greatness of a cathedral, with its stained glass and its pictures: it was very humble; and the faith which had adorned it, the affection which cherished it, had endured it with a delicate beauty of the soul. The methodical way in which the convent's work was carried on in the midst of the pestilence showed a coolness in the face of danger and a practical sense, almost ironical it was so matter of fact, which were deeply impressive. In Kitty's ears rang still the ghastly sounds she heard when for a moment Sister St. Joseph opened the infirmary door.

It was unexpected the way they had spoken of Walter. First the Sister and then the Mother Superior herself, and the tone of her voice had been very gentle when she praised him. Oddly enough it gave her a little thrill of pride to know that they thought so well of him. Waddington also had told something of what Walter was doing; but it was not only his competence that the nuns praised (in Hong Kong she had known that he was thought clever), they spoke of his thoughtfulness and his tenderness. Of course he could be very tender. He was at his best when you were ill; he was too intelligent to exasperate, and his touch was pleasant, cool and soothing. By some magic he seemed able by his mere presence to relieve your suffering. She knew that she would never see again in his eyes the look of affection which she had once been so used to that she found it merely exasperating. She knew now how immense was his capacity for loving; in some odd way he was pouring it out on these wretched sick who had only him to look to. She did not feel jealousy, but a sense of emptiness; it was as though a support that she had grown so accustomed to as not to realise its presence were suddenly withdrawn from her so that she swayed this way and that like a thing that was top-heavy.

She had only contempt for herself because once she had felt contempt for Walter. He must have known how she regarded him and he had accepted her estimate without bitterness. She was a fool and he knew it and because he loved her it had made no difference to him. She did not hate him now, nor feel resentment of him, but fear rather and perplexity. She could not admit but that he had remarkable qualities, sometimes she thought that there was even in him a strange and unattractive greatness; it was curious then that she could not love him, but loved still a man whose worthlessness was now so clear to her. After thinking, thinking, all through those long days she rated accurately Charles Townsend's value; he was a common fellow and his qualities were second-rate. If she could only tear from her heart the love that still lingered there! She tried not to think of him.

Waddington too thought highly of Walter. She alone had been blind to his merit. Why? Because he loved her and she did not love him. What was it in the human heart that made you despise a man because he loved you? But Waddington had confessed that he did not like Walter. Men didn't. It was easy to see that those two nuns had for him a feeling which was very like affection. He was different with women; notwithstanding his shyness you felt in him an exquisite kindliness.

第四十四章

凱蒂再一次一個(gè)人在客廳里坐著，這個(gè)骯臟的客廳原來是屬于死去的傳教士的。她躺在長椅上，面對著窗戶，遠(yuǎn)眺河對面的廟宇（現(xiàn)在又接近傍晚，在天空的映襯下廟宇很可愛）。凱蒂在設(shè)法梳理清楚心中的感情，她沒有想到這次對修道院的造訪讓她如此感動，她本來是出于好奇才去的，因?yàn)殚e著沒事。原先她想探究河對岸那座用石墻圍起來的城鎮(zhèn)，一直琢磨了好些天，可真的到過那兒之后，她一眼也不想再看到那些神秘的街道了。

但是，一旦進(jìn)入了修道院，對她來說似乎到了另外一個(gè)超越時(shí)空的世界，那些沒有什么家具的房間，冷峻簡樸的白色走廊，好像擁有某種遙遠(yuǎn)和神奇的精神。那個(gè)小教堂，看上去是那么丑陋和粗俗，但在它粗陋的外表之下是悲天憫人之心，具有某種大教堂的富麗堂皇所不具備的東西。小教堂的花窗玻璃和圖畫都很寒酸，但其所傳達(dá)的信仰使其變得肅穆莊嚴(yán)，傳達(dá)出的博愛使其變得彌足珍貴，這些賦予了它內(nèi)在的淡雅之美。在瘟疫流行的中心地帶，修道院的工作在有條不紊地進(jìn)行著，顯示出面對危險(xiǎn)的冷靜和講求實(shí)際的作風(fēng)，幾乎與嚴(yán)峻的現(xiàn)實(shí)形成了具有諷刺意味的對比，給凱蒂留下了深刻的印象。同時(shí)，凱蒂的耳中至今還回蕩著圣約瑟夫修女打開醫(yī)院大門的那一刻所傳出來的鬼哭狼嚎般的聲音。

更出人意料的是他們對沃爾特的評價(jià)，首先是圣約瑟夫修女，然后是院長嬤嬤，當(dāng)她對他大加贊揚(yáng)時(shí)，語氣變得格外溫柔。很奇怪，當(dāng)凱蒂想到這兒時(shí)，竟讓她覺得有些驕傲和激動——她們對沃爾特的評價(jià)如此之高。威廷頓也說了一些沃爾特正在做的事情，但那不僅僅是修女們所贊揚(yáng)的能力（在香港時(shí)，她就已經(jīng)知道大家都說他聰明），而且還有他的深思熟慮和溫柔體貼。當(dāng)然，他可以是非常溫柔的，尤其是在你生病的時(shí)候，這種溫柔能夠達(dá)到極致。他非常聰明，不會動不動就生氣，他的撫摸也能使人身心愉快，解愁忘憂，好像有某種神奇的魔力，似乎只要他站在你面前，就能緩解你的痛苦。她知道自己再也不能在他的目光中找到深情款款的愛意了，這曾經(jīng)是她一度習(xí)以為常的神情，現(xiàn)在看到的只是惱怒?，F(xiàn)在她知道了他巨大的愛的能力，用某種奇怪的方式，他現(xiàn)在把這種愛都傾注在了他所照顧的可憐的病人身上了，她并不感到妒忌，只有一種深深的失落感。就好像一種她雖然沒有意識到，但早已習(xí)慣的支柱，被突然從她的身上抽走，使她變得頭重腳輕，走路搖搖晃晃起來。

她曾經(jīng)一度瞧不起沃爾特，現(xiàn)在她只感到自己瞧不起自己了。他一定知道她是怎樣看待他的，而且接受了她對他的看法，沒有感到絲毫的苦澀。她是個(gè)傻女人，他也知道這一點(diǎn)，但因?yàn)樗麗鬯?，所以對他來說沒有任何影響。她現(xiàn)在不再恨他了，也不再有怨氣了，有的只是害怕和困惑。她雖然不愿，但也不得不承認(rèn)他有很多了不起的品質(zhì)。有時(shí)，她認(rèn)為在他身上甚至有種奇怪的和讓人難以接近的偉大。匪夷所思的是過去她并不愛他，反而愛上了——現(xiàn)在仍然在愛著——一個(gè)毫無價(jià)值的男人，她此時(shí)越來越看清了這一點(diǎn)。經(jīng)過了一遍又一遍的思索，在這段漫長的日子里，她準(zhǔn)確地衡量了查理的價(jià)值，他是個(gè)再普通不過的男人，他身上的品質(zhì)都是二流的，要是她能把對他的愛連根拔除就好了，這種愛仍然在她心中揮之不去！她努力讓自己不去想他。

連威廷頓對沃爾特的評價(jià)都非常高，只有她自己對沃爾特的好視而不見，為什么會這樣？因?yàn)樗麗鬯⒉粣鬯?。究竟是什么東西在人們的心中作怪，使你輕視一個(gè)愛你的人呢？但是，威廷頓坦承他并不喜歡沃爾特，男人們都不會喜歡?？珊苋菀卓闯?，那兩個(gè)修女對沃爾特是由衷的欣賞和喜愛，在女人眼中他就不一樣了，盡管你能感覺到他的羞澀，但同時(shí)你也能感受到他身上散發(fā)出的優(yōu)雅成熟的氣質(zhì)。