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双语·月亮与六便士 第三十七章

所属教程:译林版·月亮与六便士

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2022年04月25日

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The circumstances of Blanche Stroeve's death necessitated all manner of dreadful formalities, but at last we were allowed to bury her. Dirk and I alone followed the hearse to the cemetery.We went at a foot-pace, but on the way back we trotted, and there was something to my mind singularly horrible in the way the driver of the hearse whipped up his horses.It seemed to dismiss the dead with a shrug of the shoulders.Now and then I caught sight of the swaying hearse in front of us, and our own driver urged his pair so that we might not remain behind.I felt in myself, too, the desire to get the whole thing out of my mind.I was beginning to be bored with a tragedy that did not really concern me, and pretending to myself that I spoke in order to distract Stroeve, I turned with relief to other subjects.

“Don't you think you'd better go away for a bit?”I said.“There can be no object in your staying in Paris now.”

He did not answer, but I went on ruthlessly:

“Have you made any plans for the immediate future?”

“No.”

“You must try and gather together the threads again. Why don't you go down to Italy and start working?”

Again he made no reply, but the driver of our carriage came to my rescue. Slackening his pace for a moment, he leaned over and spoke.I could not hear what he said, so I put my head out of the window;he wanted to know where we wished to be set down.I told him to wait a minute.

“You'd better come and have lunch with me,”I said to Dirk.“I'll tell him to drop us in the Place Pigalle.”

“I'd rather not. I want to go to the studio.”

I hesitated a moment.

“Would you like me to come with you?”I asked then.

“No;I should prefer to be alone.”

“All right.”

I gave the driver the necessary direction, and in renewed silence we drove on. Dirk had not been to the studio since the wretched morning on which they had taken Blanche to the hospital.I was glad he did not want me to accompany him, and when I left him at the door I walked away with relief.I took a new pleasure in the streets of Paris, and I looked with smiling eyes at the people who hurried to and fro.The day was fne and sunny, and I felt in myself a more acute delight in life.I could not help it;I put Stroeve and his sorrows out of my mind.I wanted to enjoy.

布兰奇·斯特罗伊夫的死因为情况特殊,需要办理所有烦人的手续,但最后我们还是得到允许把她埋葬了。就迪尔柯和我两个人护送灵柩运往墓地。我们去的时候就是平常走路的速度,可回来的路上,马儿一路小跑,因为车夫不断抽打着两匹马,让我心中涌起了莫名的恐怖感,似乎车上的人要抖动肩膀把死人摆脱掉一样。时不时地我能看到我们前面摇摇晃晃的柩车,我们的车夫吆喝着他的一对马儿,免得我们落后太远。我自己也暗自思忖,想把这件事从我的脑海中赶出去。我对这件跟我实际上关系不大的悲剧开始感到厌烦了。我假装跟自己说,我要没话找话是为了分散斯特罗伊夫的注意力,实际上谈点别的话题也是为了让自己能松口气。

“你没想过你最好能离开一段时间吗?”我说,“你现在在巴黎也没有什么可牵挂的了。”

他没作声,但我继续无情地追问下去。

“你对眼前的日子有什么计划吗?”

“没有。”

“你一定得理清头绪振作起来。为什么不到意大利去重新开始画画呢?”

他又一次没有作答,但是我们马车的车夫出来救了我的驾。他让马儿步伐放慢了一会儿,斜过身子开始说话。我听不清他在说什么,于是我把头伸出了车窗外。车夫想知道我们在哪儿落脚,我告诉他等我一分钟。

“你最好来跟我一起吃午饭吧,”我对迪尔柯说,“我告诉他在皮卡尔广场把我们放下吧。”

“我还是不去了,我想回我的画室。”

我犹豫了片刻。

“你想让我陪你一起去吗?”我随后问道。

“不用,我更想一个人回去。”

“那好吧。”

我给车夫指示了要走的方向,在再次的沉寂中,马车拉着我们继续走着。迪尔柯在那个悲惨的上午,也就是他们把布兰奇送进医院的那天之后,再也没回过他的画室。我很高兴他没让我陪着他,在他家门口我和他分了手,我如释重负地走开了。在巴黎的街道上,我又涌起了新的喜悦,用微笑的双眼看着周围来来往往、匆匆而过的人们。天空晴朗,阳光明媚,我觉得自己充溢着生活的欢愉,我无法自禁,就是开心。我把斯特罗伊夫和他的悲伤从脑海中抛到了九霄云外,我要尽情地享受生活。

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