双语·面纱 第三章

3

She went out on to the verandah and watched him leave the house. He waved his hand to her. It gave her a little thrill as she looked at him; he was forty-one, but he had the lithe figure and the springing step of a boy.

The verandah was in shadow; and lazily, her heart at ease with satisfied love, she lingered. Their house stood in the Happey Valley, on the side of the hill, for they could not afford to live on the more eligible but expensive Peak. But her abstracted gaze scarcely noticed the blue sea and the crowded shipping in the harbour. She could think only of her lover.

Of course it was stupid to behave as they had done that afternoon, but if he wanted her how could she be prudent? He had come two or three times after tiffin, when in the heat of the day no one thought of stirring out, and not even the boys had seen him come and go. It was very difficult at Hong Kong. She hated the Chinese city and it made her nervous to go into the filthy little house off the Victoria Road in which they were in the habit of meeting. It was a curio dealer's; and the Chinese who were sitting about stared at her unpleasantly; she hated the ingratiating smile of the old man who took her to the back of the shop and then up a dark flight of stairs. The room into which he led her was frowsy and the large wooden bed against the wall made her shudder.

“This is dreadfully sordid, isn't it?” she said to Charlie the first time she met him there.

“It was till you came in,” he answered,

Of course the moment he took her in his arms she forgot everything.

Oh, how hateful it was that she wasn't free, that they both weren't free! She didn't like his wife. Kitty's wandering thoughts dwelt now for a moment on Dorothy Townsend. How unfortunate to be called Dorothy! It dated you. She was thirty-eight at least. But Charlie never spoke of her. Of course he didn't care for her; she bored him to death. But he was a gentleman. Kitty smiled with affectionate irony: it was just like him, silly old thing; he might be unfaithful to her, but he would never allow a word in disparagement of her to cross his lips. She was a tallish woman, taller than Kitty, neither stout nor thin, with a good deal of pale brown hair; she could never have been pretty with anything but the prettiness of youth; her features were good enough without being remarkable and her blue eyes were cold. She had a skin that you would never look at twice and no color in her cheeks. And she dressed like--well, like what she was, the wife of the Assistant Colonial Secretary at Hong Kong. Kitty smiled and gave her shoulders a faint shrug.

Of course no one could deny that Dorothy Townsend had a pleasant voice. She was a wonderful mother, Charlie always said that of her, and she was what Kitty's mother called a gentlewoman. But Kitty did not like her. She did not like her casual manner; and the politeness with which she treated you when you went there, to tea or dinner, was exasperating because you could not but feel how little interest she took in you. The fact was, Kitty supposed, that she cared for nothing but her children: there were two boys at school in England, and another boy of six whom she was going to take home next year. Her face was a mask. She smiled and in her pleasant, well-mannered way said the things that were expected of her; but for all her cordiality held you at a distance. She had a few intimate friends in the Colony and they greatly admired her. Kitty wondered whether Mrs. Townsend thought her a little common. She flushed. After all there was no reason for her to put on airs. It was true that her father had been a Colonial Governor and of course it was very grand while it lasted--every one stood up when you entered a room and men took off their hats to you as you passed in your car--but what could be more insignificant than a Colonial Governor when he had retired? Dorothy Townsend's father lived on a pension in a small house at Earl's Court. Kitty's mother would think it a dreadful bore if she asked her to call. Kitty's father, Bernard Garstin, was a K.C. and there was no reason why he should not be made a judge one of these days. Anyhow they lived in South Kensington.

第三章

她走出起居室来到阳台上，目送他离开。他向她挥了挥手，看着他的身影，她仍然有点儿激动。他已经四十一岁了，但身形轻盈，走路像个大男孩似的蹦蹦跳跳。

阳台处于阴影当中了，她带着满足的爱，心也放松下来，反而觉得慵懒的感觉袭来。他们的这栋房子坐落在幸福山谷，在小山的一侧，住在山顶可能会更称心如意，但房价要贵得多，他们负担不起。她在阳台上逗留了一阵儿，但愣着神，似乎没有注意到蓝色的海洋和港口中拥挤的船只，满脑子想的只有她的情人。

当然，今天下午他们的所作所为是愚蠢的，但是如果他想要她，她又如何能做到小心谨慎？在午饭后，他以前也来过两三次，在一天正热的时候，没人会想到要出门，所以甚至仆人们也没看到他的到来和离开。在香港，他们幽会很困难，她不喜欢这座中国城市，每次走进位于维多利亚路上的那栋肮脏而狭小的楼房时，她总是非常紧张。这是个古董商店，也是他们经常幽会的地方，坐在里面的中国人盯着她，令人讨厌。她也不喜欢那个满脸堆笑的老头儿，他把她带到商店的后堂，然后爬上一段黑乎乎的楼梯，她被领进一间散发着霉味的房间，一张大木床紧靠着墙，让她不寒而栗。

“这也太脏了，不是吗？”当她第一次在那儿见查理时，她对他说道。

“你来了，这儿就不一样了。”他回答道。

当然，他把她搂入怀中的那一刻，她忘了一切。

哦，她是个有夫之妇，真是可恨，更可恨的是他们两个人都不是自由身。她不喜欢他的妻子，凯蒂漫无目的的思绪现在有那么一会儿落在了多萝西·汤森身上。叫多萝西这个名字可真是不怎么样！它是那么老气横秋，她至少三十八岁了，但是查理从不提她。当然，他也不在乎她，她让他烦得要死。但他是个绅士，丝毫没表现出嫌弃他妻子的样子。凯蒂充满感情又有些鄙夷地微笑着：这可真是他的做派，傻乎乎的老家伙，他可以对她不忠，但他又绝不会说出一个瞧不起她的字儿。多萝西是个高个子的女人，比凯蒂要高，既不胖也不瘦，淡褐色的头发很浓密。除了年龄还不算太大以外，她跟漂亮从不沾边。她的身材保持得很好，没有发福，蓝色的眼睛冷冷的，肤色让人没法看第二眼，脸颊上没有血色。但是她的穿着嘛，嗯，和她作为香港殖民地大臣助理妻子的身份还算匹配。想到这里，凯蒂笑了起来，还略微耸了耸肩。

当然，没人会否认多萝西·汤森有一副动人的嗓音，她也是一位好母亲，查理总是提到这一点，也就是凯蒂的母亲所说的淑女。但是，凯蒂并不喜欢她，也不喜欢她随意的举止。和你在一起的时候，她会礼貌地招待你，请你喝茶或者留下来吃饭，但就是这种礼貌会让你感到恼火，因为你能感觉到她根本没把你放在心上。凯蒂心想，她什么都不在乎，只在乎她的孩子们。她的两个儿子在英国上学，明年她还会把跟着她的六岁大的儿子也送回英国。她的脸仿佛戴着面具，她会边微笑着，边用她甜美的声音和礼貌的态度谈论符合她身份的事情，但是显然缺乏热诚，使你产生距离感。她在香港有几个闺中密友，她们都特别喜欢她。凯蒂想搞清在汤森太太的眼中，是否她多少有点儿出身寒酸，想到这里，她不禁脸有点儿红了。但多萝西也不该有什么理由来端架子，虽说她的父亲曾经官至殖民地的总督，当然在位时确实很风光——当他走进房间时，每个人都会起立；当他走过人们的身旁乘车离开时，男人们都会脱下帽子致敬——但是还有什么比一个退了休的殖民地总督更不起眼的呢？多萝西的父亲现在靠退休金度日，住在伯爵广场地区的一栋小房子里。凯蒂的母亲并不常让她回家看看，如果她去了，她母亲反而觉得无聊透顶。凯蒂的父亲，伯纳德·贾斯汀是一位王室法律顾问，有朝一日成为一名法官是水到渠成的事，他们一家住在南肯辛顿富人区。