目 录 上一节 下一节 
也许那样好些。" Mr Linley was the general manager of the collieries, an elderly man from the north, with not quite enough punch to suit Clifford; not up to post-war conditions, nor post-war colliers either, with their 'ca' canny' creed. But Connie liked Mr Linley, though she was glad to be spared the toadying of his wife. 林先生是矿场的总经理，是一个上了年纪的北方人，他有点软弱不振，这是克利福不满意他的地方，他不能迎合战后的新环境，和那些战后的矿工们一样，只守着他们的老成持重的成规。但是康妮却喜欢林来先生，虽然她讨厌他的太太的诌媚样子，心里高兴着他的太太并没有来。 Linley stayed to dinner, and Connie was the hostess men liked so much, so modest, yet so attentive and aware, with big, wide blue eyes arid a soft repose that sufficiently hid what she was really thinking. Connie had played this woman so much, it was almost second nature to her; but still, decidedly second. Yet it was curious how everything disappeared from her consciousness while she played it. 林来留在那儿吃饭，康妮显得是个男子们所极喜欢的主妇，她是这样的谦逊，而又这样的殷勤体贴，他的很大的蓝眼睛和她的幽娴的神态，是尽把她的心事掩藏起来的。这把戏康妮做得多了，已经差不多成了她的第二天性了，奇怪的就是当她做着这把戏时，虽然这是她的第二天性，而她却把一切都从心里忘掉。 She waited patiently till she could go upstairs and think her own thoughts. She was always waiting, it seemed to be her forte. 她忍耐着等待着，直至她能上楼去，去思索自己的事情。她老是等着，等待好象是她拿手的事情了。 Once in her room, however, she felt still vague and confused. She didn't know what to think. What sort of a man was he, really? Did he really like her? Not much, she felt. Yet he was kind. There was something, a sort of warm naive kindness, curious and sudden, that almost opened her womb to him. But she felt he might be kind like that to any woman. Though even so, it was curiously soothing, comforting. And he was a passionate man, wholesome and passionate. But perhaps he wasn't quite individual enough; he might be the same with any woman as he had been with her. It really wasn't personal. She was only really a female to him. 但是，当她回到房里示时，她依旧觉得模糊而昏乱，不知道打城想起。他究竟是怎样的一种人呢？他真喜欢她么？她不太相信，不过他是和蔼的。有着一种什么温暖的、天真的、和蔼的东西，又奇特而骤然，这东西差不多使她的子宫不得不为他展开，但是她觉得他也许对于任何妇女都是这么和蔼的，虽然是这样，他的和蔼却是奇异地使人觉得温慰的。他是一个热情的人，健全而热情的人。但是他也许并不是很专一的，他对她这样，而对任何妇女也许一样，那真是泛然不专的态度，她之于他，实在只是一个女性罢了。 
但是，也许这样还要好些，毕竟他所爱她的地方就是她的女性，这是从来没有男人做过的，男人们只爱她的外表，而不爱她的女性。他们残酷地轻蔑这女性，或茫然地不知有这女性。男人们对于康妮小姐或查太莱男爵夫人都是十分主蔼的，但是对于她的性却不然了。他呢，他是全不管什么康妮小姐或查太莱男爵夫人的，他只温柔地爱抚着她的两腰或她的乳房。 She went to the wood next day. It was a grey, still afternoon, with the dark-green dogs-mercury spreading under the hazel copse, and all the trees making a silent effort to open their buds. Today she could almost feel it in her own body, the huge heave of the sap in the massive trees, upwards, up, up to the bud-a, there to push into little flamey oak-leaves, bronze as blood. It was like a ride running turgid upward, and spreading on the sky. 第二天，她到树林里去，那是一个灰色的静的午后，沉绿的水银菜，在擦子树林下蔓生着，所有的树都在静默中努力着发芽了。她今天几乎可以感觉着她自己的身体里面，潮涌着那些大树的精液，向上涌着，直至树芽顶上，最后发为橡树的发光的小时儿，红得象血一样。那象是涨着的潮水，向天上奔腾。 She came to the clearing, but he was not there. She had only half expected him. The pheasant chicks were running lightly abroad, light as insects, from the coops where the fellow hens clucked anxiously. Connie sat and watched them, and waited. She only waited. Even the chicks she hardly saw. She waited. 她，来到林中的空旷地，但是他并不在那儿，她原来也不地抱着一半的心到这儿一会他的，小雄鸡儿轻捷得象昆虫似的，远在笼外奔窜着，黄母鸡在栏干里挂虎地咯咯着，康妮坐了下来，一边望着它们，一边等待着，她只是等待着，她差不多看不见什么小鸡，她等待着。 The time passed with dream-like slowness, and he did not come. She had only half expected him. He never came in the afternoon. She must go home to tea. But she had to force herself to leave. 时间梦一般的悠悠地过去，而他却不来，她只好怀着一半希望等着他，他是从不在下午到这儿来的，茶点的时间到了，她得回家去，但是她得很勉强地迫着自己，然后才站了起来走开。 As she went home, a fine drizzle of rain fell. 当她回家时，霏霏的细雨开始下起来。 
又下雨了么？"克利福看见了她摇着帽子上的雨滴，这样说："只一点儿细雨。" She poured tea in silence, absorbed in a sort of obstinacy. She did want to see the keeper today, to see if it were really real. If it were really real. 她默默地她静默地斟着茶，出神地深思着她的心事，她今天实在想会会那守猎人，看看那究竟是不是真的，那究间是不是真的。 'Shall I read a little to you afterwards?' said Clifford. " 回头你要不要我给你念念书？"克利福问道。 She looked at him. Had he sensed something? 她望着他，难道他猜疑什么了？ 'The spring makes me feel queer---I thought I might rest a little,' she said. " 春天使我觉得点有头晕……我想去休息一会儿。"她说。 
随你便罢，你真觉得不舒服吗？" 'No! Only rather tired---with the spring. Will you have Mrs Bolton to play something with you?' " 是的，有点儿疲倦……这是春天到了的缘故，你要不要波太太来和你玩玩脾？" 'No! I think I'll listen in.' " 不！我听听收音机好了。" She heard the curious satisfaction in his voice. She went upstairs to her bedroom. There she heard the loudspeaker begin to bellow, in an idiotically velveteen-genteel sort of voice, something about a series of street-cries, the very cream of genteel affectation imitating old criers. She pulled on her old violet coloured mackintosh, and slipped out of the house at the side door. 她听见了他的声音里，含着一种满足的异的音调，她到楼上寝室里去，在那儿，她听见放音矾在呼号着一种矫揉造作的娇媚蠢笨的声音，这象是一种布廛的嚣喧，象是一个人摹舍己为人一个老贩的令人呕吐的声音，她穿上了她的紫色的旧雨衣，从一个旁门闪了出去。 The drizzle of rain was like a veil over the world, mysterious, hushed, not cold. She got very warm as she hurried across the park. She had to open her light waterproof. 蒙蒙的细雨好象是遮盖着世界的帐幕，神秘，寂静而不冷。当她急促地穿过花园时，她觉得热起来了，她得把她的轻雨衣解开了。 
在细雨中，树林是静息而比几的，半开着的叶芽，半开着花，和孵估万千的卵子，充满着神秘，在这一切朦胧暗昧中，赤条条的幽暗的树木，发着冷光，好象反怕衣裳解除了似的，地上一切青苍的东西，好象在青苍地低哦着。 There was still no one at the clearing. The chicks had nearly all gone under the mother-hens, only one or two last adventurous ones still dibbed about in the dryness under the straw roof shelter. And they were doubtful of themselves. 在那空旷处，依然一个人也没有，小雄鸡差不多都藏到母鸡的毛以下去了，只有一两中较冒失的，还在那草棚下的干地上啄食着。它们都是犹豫不安的。 So! He still had not been. He was staying away on purpose. Or perhaps something was wrong. Perhaps she should go to the cottage and see. 好！他还没有来，他是故意不来的，也许，什么事情不好了罢，或者她最好是到村舍里去看看。 But she was born to wait. She opened the hut with her key. It was all tidy, the corn put in the bin, the blankets folded on the shelf, the straw neat in a corner; a new bundle of straw. The hurricane lamp hung on a nail. The table and chair had been put back where she had lain. 但是她是生成要等待的。她用她的钥匙，把小屋门打开丁，一切都很整齐，谷粒盛在一只箱里，几张毡子摺垒在架上，稻草整洁地堆在一个角落里，这是新添的一堆稻草，一盏风灯在钉子上悬着，在她躺过的地上，桌子和椅子也都放回原处了。 She sat down on a stool in the doorway. How still everything was! The fine rain blew very softly, filmily, but the wind made no noise. Nothing made any sound. The trees stood like powerful beings, dim, twilit, silent and alive. How alive everything was! 她走开着门口，坐在一张小凳子上，一切都非常静寂！细，雨轻柔地被风史着，但是风并没有声音，一切都没有声息。树木站立着，象是些有权威的生物，朦胧，幽明，静温而有生气，一切都多么地有生气！ 
夜色又近了，她得回去。他是在躲避着她。 But suddenly he came striding into the clearing, in his black oilskin jacket like a chauffeur, shining with wet. He glanced quickly at the hut, half-saluted, then veered aside and went on to the coops. There he crouched in silence, looking carefully at everything, then carefully shutting the hens and chicks up safe against the night. 但是突然地，他大踏步地来到了空旷处，他穿着车夫似的油布的短外衣，湿得发亮，他向小屋迅疾地望了一眼，微微地行了个礼然后转身走到鸡笼边去，他静静地蹲了下去，小心地注视着一切，然后小心地把笼门关好了。 At last he came slowly towards her. She still sat on her stool. He stood before her under the porch. 最后，他慢慢地向她走了过来，她还是坐在小凳上。他在门廓下站在她的面前。
| 
