双语·返老还童：菲茨杰拉德短篇小说选 伯妮斯剪短发 四
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BERNICE BOBS HER HAIR IV
On the following Wednesday evening there was a dinner-dance at the country club. When the guests strolled in Bernice found her place-card with a slight feeling of irritation. Though at her right sat G. Reece Stoddard, a most desirable and distinguished young bachelor, the all-important left held only Charley Paulson. Charley lacked height, beauty, and social shrewdness, and in her new enlightenment Bernice decided that his only qualification to be her partner was that he had never been stuck with her. But this feeling of irritation left with the last of the soup-plates, and Marjorie's specific instruction came to her. Swallowing her pride she turned to Charley Paulson and plunged.
“Do you think I ought to bob my hair, Mr. Charley Paulson?”
Charley looked up in surprise.
“Why?”
“Because I'm considering it. It's such a sure and easy way of attracting attention.”
Charley smiled pleasantly. He could not know this had been rehearsed. He replied that he didn't know much about bobbed hair. But Bernice was there to tell him.
“I want to be a society vampire, you see,” she announced coolly, and went on to inform him that bobbed hair was the necessary prelude. She added that she wanted to ask his advice, because she had heard he was so critical about girls.
Charley, who knew as much about the psychology of women as he did of the mental states of Buddhist contemplatives, felt vaguely flattered.
“So I've decided,” she continued, her voice rising slightly, “that early next week I'm going down to the Sevier Hotel barber-shop, sit in the first chair, and get my hair bobbed.” She faltered noticing that the people near her had paused in their conversation and were listening; but after a confused second Marjorie's coaching told, and she finished her paragraph to the vicinity at large. “Of course I'm charging admission, but if you'll all come down and encourage me I'll issue passes for the inside seats.”
There was a ripple of appreciative laughter, and under cover of it G. Reece Stoddard leaned over quickly and said close to her ear: “I'll take a box right now.”
She met his eyes and smiled as if he had said something surprisingly brilliant.
“Do you believe in bobbed hair?” asked G. Reece in the same undertone.
“I think it's unmoral,” affirmed Bernice gravely. “But, of course, you've either got to amuse people or feed 'em or shock 'em.” Marjorie had culled this from Oscar Wilde. It was greeted with a ripple of laughter from the men and a series of quick, intent looks from the girls. And then as though she had said nothing of wit or moment Bernice turned again to Charley and spoke confidentially in his ear.
“I want to ask you your opinion of several people. I imagine you're a wonderful judge of character.”
Charley thrilled faintly—paid her a subtle compliment by overturning her water.
Two hours later, while Warren McIntyre was standing passively in the stag line abstractedly watching the dancers and wondering whither and with whom Marjorie had disappeared, an unrelated perception began to creep slowly upon him—a perception that Bernice, cousin to Marjorie, had been cut in on several times in the past five minutes. He closed his eyes, opened them and looked again. Several minutes back she had been dancing with a visiting boy, a matter easily accounted for; a visiting boy would know no better. But now she was dancing with some one else, and there was Charley Paulson headed for her with enthusiastic determination in his eye. Funny—Charley seldom danced with more than three girls an evening.
Warren was distinctly surprised when—the exchange having been effected—the man relieved proved to be none ether than G. Reece Stoddard himself. And G. Reece seemed not at all jubilant at being relieved. Next time Bernice danced near, Warren regarded her intently. Yes, she was pretty, distinctly pretty; and to-night her face seemed really vivacious. She had that look that no woman, however histrionically proficient, can successfully counterfeit—she looked as if she were having a good time. He liked the way she had her hair arranged, wondered if it was brilliantine that made it glisten so. And that dress was becoming—a dark red that set off her shadowy eyes and high coloring. He remembered that he had thought her pretty when she first came to town, before he had realized that she was dull. Too bad she was dull—dull girls unbearable—certainly pretty though.
His thoughts zigzagged back to Marjorie. This disappearance would be like other disappearances. When she reappeared he would demand where she had been—would be told emphatically that it was none of his business. What a pity she was so sure of him! She basked in the knowledge that no other girl in town interested him; she defied him to fall in love with Genevieve or Roberta.
Warren sighed. The way to Marjorie's affections was a labyrinth indeed. He looked up. Bernice was again dancing with the visiting boy. Half unconsciously he took a step out from the stag line in her direction, and hesitated. Then he said to himself that it was charity. He walked toward her—collided suddenly with G. Reece Stoddard.
“Pardon me,” said Warren.
But G. Reece had not stopped to apologize. He had again cut in on Bernice.
That night at one o'clock Marjorie, with one hand on the electric-light switch in the hall, turned to take a last look at Bernice's sparkling eyes.
“So it worked?”
“Oh, Marjorie, yes!” cried Bernice.
“I saw you were having a gay time.”
“I did! The only trouble was that about midnight I ran short of talk. I had to repeat myself—with different men of course. I hope they won't compare notes.”
“Men don't,” said Marjorie, yawning, “and it wouldn't matter if they did—they'd think you were even trickier.”
She snapped out the light, and as they started up the stairs Bernice grasped the banister thankfully. For the first time in her life she had been danced tired.
“You see,” said Marjorie it the top of the stairs, “one man sees another man cut in and he thinks there must be something there. Well, we'll fix up some new stuff to-morrow. Good night.”
“Good night.”
As Bernice took down her hair she passed the evening before her in review. She had followed instructions exactly. Even when Charley Paulson cut in for the eighth time she had simulated delight and had apparently been both interested and flattered. She had not talked about the weather or Eau Claire or automobiles or her school, but had confined her conversation to me, you, and us.
But a few minutes before she fell asleep a rebellious thought was churning drowsily in her brain—after all, it was she who had done it. Marjorie, to be sure, had given her her conversation, but then Marjorie got much of her conversation out of things she read. Bernice had bought the red dress, though she had never valued it highly before Marjorie dug it out of her trunk—and her own voice had said the words, her own lips had smiled, her own feet had danced. Marjorie nice girl—vain, though—nice evening—nice boys—like Warren—Warren—Warren—what's his name—Warren—
She fell asleep.
伯妮斯剪短发 四
下个礼拜三晚上乡村俱乐部有一个晚宴舞会。当客人们迈着散漫的步子走进来的时候，伯妮斯找到了她的座位卡，心中有些懊恼。尽管右边坐着G.李斯·斯托达德，一个最让姑娘们动心、最优秀的年轻单身汉，而最重要的左边却只有查理·鲍尔森。查理个子不高，不英俊，没有社交才能。伯妮斯根据刚刚受到的启蒙，断定他只有一项资本做她的舞伴，那就是他从来没有被她绊住而脱不开身过。然而那丝不快的感觉随着最后一道菜而消失了，她想起了玛娇丽对她的特别指导。她把骄傲吞进肚里，转身对着查理·鲍尔森，突然打开了话题。
“你觉得我应该把头发剪短吗，查理·鲍尔森先生？”
查理吃惊地抬起头。
“为什么？”
“因为我在想，这样做一定能够吸引人们的眼球。”
查理愉快地笑了。他不知道这些话是排练过的。他回答说他对短发没有研究，不过伯妮斯可以给他讲讲。
“我想成为社交场上的万人迷，你知道。”她冷静地宣布道，然后继续告诉他，把头发剪短是必要的前奏。她补充说，她想征求一下他的意见，因为她听说他对女孩子很挑剔。
查理丝毫不了解女人的心思，如同他不了解佛家弟子的冥思一样。伯妮斯的话让他多少有点飘飘然。
“因此，我已经决定了，”她继续说着，把声音微微抬高了些，“下个礼拜，我会早早地去市区的塞维尔旅馆理发店，坐在第一把椅子上，把头发剪短。”她的声音颤抖着，注意到周围一片寂静，大家都在专注地听她讲话；她感到一阵慌乱，不过，很快想起了玛娇丽传授给她的秘籍。她对周围的人又说了一段事先准备好的台词。“当然我要收入场费的，不过，如果你们都来给我鼓劲的话，我会给你们发入场券的。”
人群中发出一阵赞赏的笑声，G.李斯·斯托达德马上靠近她，悄悄地凑在她的耳边说：“我现在就订一个包厢。”
她迎着他的目光，嫣然一笑，仿佛他说的话非常精彩。
“你觉得短发很迷人吗？”G.李斯像刚才一样小声地问道。
“我觉得这不符合传统道德，”伯妮斯一本正经地承认，“但是，当然，你必须要么让人们开心，要么让人们满足，要么让人们震惊。”这是玛娇丽借用奥斯卡·王尔德的一句话。男人们又报以一阵笑声，而姑娘们则频频投来专注的目光。然后，仿佛自己没说什么机智俏皮的话，伯妮斯立刻转向查理，和他悄悄耳语。
“我想听听你对几个人的看法。我觉得你很会看人。”
查理一阵战栗，差点晕倒——他碰翻了她的水杯，他以这微妙的方式向她表达了他的敬意。
两个小时后，当沃伦·麦金泰尔精神萎靡地站在没有女伴的男人队伍里，心不在焉地看着跳舞的人们，正想着玛娇丽不知和什么人消失到哪里去了。这时，一种与他毫不相干的情景开始渐渐引起他的注意——这个情景就是，在刚刚过去的五分钟内，有好几个人插进去和玛娇丽的表妹伯妮斯跳舞。他把眼睛闭上，又睁开。他看到，在接下来的几分钟里，她一直在和一个外地来的男孩跳舞，这很容易理解：一个外地来的男孩不了解情况。但是，现在她又换了人，而查理·鲍尔森正朝她走去，他的眼神热情而坚定。奇怪——查理一个晚上很少和三个以上的女孩跳舞。
伯妮斯频频交换舞伴——沃伦着实大感意外——这个刚刚被换下来的人不是别人，正是G.李斯·斯托达德。可是，G.李斯·斯托达德看起来丝毫没有如释重负的兴奋感。当伯妮斯再次跳到沃伦身边的时候，他目不转睛地打量她。是的，她很漂亮，漂亮极了；而且，今晚她看起来容光焕发。她的这种神情，即使是最擅长模仿的女人也装不出来——她看上去玩得非常愉快。他喜欢她今晚的发型，她的头发熠熠发亮，他不知道她是不是打了发蜡。还有，那件连衣裙很合身——深红色把她的眼神衬托得更加深邃，也使她的面颊更加红润。他记得，她刚来时，他还不知道她缺乏情趣，他曾经觉得她很漂亮。没有情趣的感觉太不好了——没有情趣的姑娘令人难以忍受——不过她当然还是蛮漂亮的。
他收回了飘飘忽忽的思绪，又想起了玛娇丽。她这次的消失和以前的每次消失一样。当她现身时，他会问她去哪儿啦——她会郑重其事地告诉他这不关他的事。她吃定他了，多么不幸！她知道他绝对不会对城里的其他姑娘动心，因此，她很得意；她敢断定，即使是吉纳维芙和罗伯塔也不可能让他坠入情网。
沃伦叹口气。要想获取玛娇丽的芳心真是不容易，他就像困在迷宫中找不到出路。他抬起头，伯妮斯和那个外地来的男孩又跳过来了。他恍恍惚惚地离开了没有女伴的男人队伍，朝伯妮斯的方向迈出了一步，又犹豫了。然后，他对自己说，他这是在做慈善。他朝她走去——突然和G.李斯·斯托达德撞在一起。
“抱歉。”沃伦说。
但是G.李斯没有停下来致歉。他再次插进去，和伯妮斯跳起来。
那天夜里一点钟，玛娇丽一只手放在客厅的电灯开关上，转过身，最后看了看两眼放光的伯妮斯。
“那么，我们的计划奏效了？”
“哦，玛娇丽，奏效了！”伯妮斯大声叫道。
“我看你今晚过得棒极了。”
“是的，棒极了！唯一的问题是，大约到了半夜，我没词了，不得不重复说过的话——当然是对不同的人说的。希望他们不会相互印证。”
“男人们不会那么干的，”玛娇丽说着，打了个哈欠，“即使他们这么做了，也没关系——他们会认为你是个捣蛋鬼。”
她啪的一声关了灯。她们上楼的时候，伯妮斯激动地抓住楼梯扶手，心中满是感激。她还是平生第一次跳舞跳到累。
“你瞧，”玛娇丽在楼梯最高的一个台阶上说，“一个男人看到另一个男人插进来，就会认为你一定有不凡之处。好了，明天我们要搞点新花样。晚安。”
“晚安。”
伯妮斯一边把头发放下来，一边回想晚上的情景。她完全听从了玛娇丽的指点，即使查理·鲍尔森第八次插进来和她跳舞，她也装作很高兴的样子，表现得兴致勃勃、受宠若惊。她没有谈论天气、奥克莱尔、汽车或者上学的事，只谈论你、我和我们。
然而，就在她昏昏欲睡的时候，一个大胆的念头在她脑海里懒洋洋地翻腾起来——毕竟，是她自己做了这些事情。虽然所有的谈话都是玛娇丽教她的，这一点不可否认，然而，玛娇丽教她说的话大都是从她读过的书里抄来的。那条红裙子是伯妮斯自己买来的，虽然在玛娇丽把它从箱子里翻出来之前她从来都没有觉得它很好看——她用自己的声音说出了动人的话语，她用自己的嘴唇笑得那般甜蜜，她用自己的双脚跳出优雅的舞步。玛娇丽，好姑娘——但是，很虚荣——美好的夜晚——不错的男孩子们——像沃伦——沃伦——沃伦——他叫——什么——名字——沃伦——
她睡着了。
