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双语·返老还童:菲茨杰拉德短篇小说选 伯妮斯剪短发 六

所属教程:译林版·返老还童:菲茨杰拉德短篇小说选

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2022年05月15日

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BERNICE BOBS HER HAIR VI

Bernice did not fully realize the outrageous trap that had been set for her until she met her aunt's amazed glance just before dinner.

“Why Bernice!”

“I've bobbed it, Aunt Josephine.”

“Why, child!”

“Do you like it?”

“Why Ber-nice!”

“I suppose I've shocked you.”

“No, but what'll Mrs. Deyo think to-morrow night? Bernice, you should have waited until after the Deyos' dance—you should have waited if you wanted to do that.”

“It was sudden, Aunt Josephine. Anyway, why does it matter to Mrs. Deyo particularly?”

“Why child,” cried Mrs. Harvey, “in her paper on ‘The Foibles of the Younger Generation’ that she read at the last meeting of the Thursday Club she devoted fifteen minutes to bobbed hair. It's her pet abomination. And the dance is for you and Marjorie!”

“I'm sorry.”

“Oh, Bernice, what'll your mother say? She'll think I let you do it.”

“I'm sorry.”

Dinner was an agony. She had made a hasty attempt with a curling-iron, and burned her finger and much hair. She could see that her aunt was both worried and grieved, and her uncle kept saying, “Well, I'll be darned!” over and over in a hurt and faintly hostile tone. And Marjorie sat very quietly, intrenched behind a faint smile, a faintly mocking smile.

Somehow she got through the evening. Three boys called; Marjorie disappeared with one of them, and Bernice made a listless unsuccessful attempt to entertain the two others—sighed thankfully as she climbed the stairs to her room at half past ten. What a day!

When she had undressed for the night the door opened and Marjorie came in.

“Bernice,” she said, “I'm awfully sorry about the Deyo dance. I'll give you my word of honor I'd forgotten all about it.”

“'Sall right,” said Bernice shortly. Standing before the mirror she passed her comb slowly through her short hair.

“I'll take you down-town to-morrow,” continued Marjorie, “and the hairdresser'll fix it so you'll look slick. I didn't imagine you'd go through with it. I'm really mighty sorry.”

“Oh, 'sall right!”

“Still it's your last night, so I suppose it won't matter much.”

Then Bernice winced as Marjorie tossed her own hair over her shoulders and began to twist it slowly into two long blond braids until in her cream-colored negligée she looked like a delicate painting of some Saxon princess. Fascinated, Bernice watched the braids grow. Heavy and luxurious they were moving under the supple fingers like restive snakes—and to Bernice remained this relic and the curling-iron and a to-morrow full of eyes. She could see G. Reece Stoddard, who liked her, assuming his Harvard manner and telling his dinner partner that Bernice shouldn't have been allowed to go to the movies so much; she could see Draycott Deyo exchanging glances with his mother and then being conscientiously charitable to her. But then perhaps by to-morrow Mrs. Deyo would have heard the news; would send round an icy little note requesting that she fail to appear—and behind her back they would all laugh and know that Marjorie had made a fool of her; that her chance at beauty had been sacrificed to the jealous whim of a selfish girl. She sat down suddenly before the mirror, biting the inside of her cheek.

“I like it,” she said with an effort. “I think it'll be becoming.”

Marjorie smiled.

“It looks all right. For heaven's sake, don't let it worry you!”

“I won't.”

“Good night, Bernice.”

But as the door closed something snapped within Bernice. She sprang dynamically to her feet, clinching her hands, then swiftly and noiseless crossed over to her bed and from underneath it dragged out her suitcase. Into it she tossed toilet articles and a change of clothing, Then she turned to her trunk and quickly dumped in two drawerfulls of lingerie and summer dresses. She moved quietly, but with deadly efficiency, and in three-quarters of an hour her trunk was locked and strapped and she was fully dressed in a becoming new traveling suit that Marjorie had helped her pick out.

Sitting down at her desk she wrote a short note to Mrs. Harvey, in which she briefly outlined her reasons for going. She sealed it, addressed it, and laid it on her pillow. She glanced at her watch. The train left at one, and she knew that if she walked down to the Marborough Hotel two blocks away she could easily get a taxicab.

Suddenly she drew in her breath sharply and an expression flashed into her eyes that a practiced character reader might have connected vaguely with the set look she had worn in the barber's chair—somehow a development of it. It was quite a new look for Bernice—and it carried consequences.

She went stealthily to the bureau, picked up an article that lay there, and turning out all the lights stood quietly until her eyes became accustomed to the darkness. Softly she pushed open the door to Marjorie's room. She heard the quiet, even breathing of an untroubled conscience asleep.

She was by the bedside now, very deliberate and calm. She acted swiftly. Bending over she found one of the braids of Marjorie's hair, followed it up with her hand to the point nearest the head, and then holding it a little slack so that the sleeper would feel no pull, she reached down with the shears and severed it. With the pigtail in her hand she held her breath. Marjorie had muttered something in her sleep. Bernice deftly amputated the other braid, paused for an instant, and then flitted swiftly and silently back to her own room.

Down-stairs she opened the big front door, closed it carefully behind her, and feeling oddly happy and exuberant stepped off the porch into the moonlight, swinging her heavy grip like a shopping-bag. After a minute's brisk walk she discovered that her left hand still held the two blond braids. She laughed unexpectedly—had to shut her mouth hard to keep from emitting an absolute peal. She was passing Warren's house now, and on the impulse she set down her baggage, and swinging the braids like pieces of ropeflung them at the wooden porch, where they landed with a slight thud. She laughed again, no longer restraining herself.

“Huh,” she giggled wildly. “Scalp the selfish thing!”

Then picking up her staircase she set off at a half-run down the moonlit street.

伯妮斯剪短发 六

直到晚饭前,伯妮斯看到姨妈吃惊的眼神,才完全明白她中了一个专门为她量身定做的、极其恶劣的圈套。

“为什么,伯妮斯?”

“我把头发剪短了,约瑟芬姨妈。”

“为什么,孩子?”

“你喜欢我的发型吗?”

“为什么,伯——妮斯!”

“我想我吓着您了。”

“你没有吓着我,只是明天晚上德约夫人会怎么想?你应该等到参加完德约家举行的舞会再去剪头发——如果你想将头发剪短的话,也应该等一等。”

“是临时决定的,约瑟芬姨妈。不过,这和德约夫人有什么关系?”

“哦,孩子,”哈维夫人大声说道,“她在上一次礼拜四俱乐部聚会上宣读了她的论文《年轻一代的怪癖》,她用了一刻钟的时间来谈论短发。这是她最厌恶的发型。而这场舞会是专门为你和玛娇丽举办的。”

“我很抱歉。”

“哦,伯妮斯,你母亲会怎么想?她会认为是我让你把头发剪掉的。”

“我很抱歉。”

吃晚饭是件令人苦恼的事。她急匆匆地想用卷发钳把头发打理一下,反而烫伤了手指,也烧焦了许多头发。她看得出姨妈又急又伤心,姨夫不停地说:“真是没想到!”他一遍又一遍地重复着这句话,带着一副反感和受到伤害的腔调。玛娇丽静静地、岿然不动地坐着,嘴角漾着一丝微笑,一丝嘲弄的微笑。

无论如何,她终于熬过了这个夜晚。三个男孩来访;玛娇丽和其中一个消失了,伯妮斯无精打采地试图取悦另外两个男孩,没有成功——当她十点半爬上楼梯回房间时,他们叹着气,算是对她的答谢。这一天糟透了!

她脱了衣服,准备睡觉,这时门开了,玛娇丽走了进来。

“伯妮斯,”她说,“关于德约家的舞会,我非常抱歉。我发誓,我把这件事忘得干干净净了。”

“没关系。”伯妮斯立刻说道。她站在镜子前,用梳子慢慢地梳着她的短发。

“明天我带你去市里,”玛娇丽继续说,“美发师会帮你补救,所以,你会漂亮起来的。我没想到你真的会把头发剪掉。真的非常抱歉。”

“哦,没关系!”

“不过,你就要走了,所以,我想关系不会太大。”

接着,玛娇丽把长发甩到肩上,开始慢条斯理地将头发编成两条金色的长辫子,然后穿上乳白色的睡衣,看起来就像一位优雅的撒克逊公主从画中走来。看着这一切,伯妮斯受伤的心瑟缩了一下。这两条沉甸甸的辫子越来越长,光彩熠熠,在玛娇丽灵活的指间绕来绕去,像两条躁动不安的蛇,伯妮斯羡慕极了。对伯妮斯而言,长辫子已经成为历史,等待她的是面前的卷发钳以及明天众人诧异的目光。她能预见到倾慕她的G.李斯·斯托达德端着哈佛大学生的派头,对和他一同进餐的人说,不该让伯妮斯看那么多电影;她可以看到德雷克特·德约和他母亲交换一下眼色,然后小心谨慎地、满怀同情地朝她走来。不过,也许等不到明天,德约夫人就会听说这件事;就会差人送来一封冷冰冰的短笺,要求她不要参加舞会了——她身后的所有人都捧腹大笑,而且都知道玛娇丽捉弄了她;她的美貌被一个自私的女孩因嫉妒而产生的怪诞念头毁掉了。她突然咬着两腮在镜子前坐下来。

“我喜欢这个发型。”她艰难地说,“我想这个发型很适合我。”

玛娇丽笑了。

“看上去很好。看在上帝的分上,别再烦恼了。”

“不会的。”

“晚安,伯妮斯。”

然而,就在门关上的那一刻,伯妮斯突然产生一个念头。她浑身是劲地跳起来,紧握拳头,悄悄地、迅速地走到床边,从床下拉出行李箱,把洗漱用品和一件换洗衣服扔进去。然后,她又打开大行李箱,迅速把两抽屉贴身内衣和夏天穿的裙子扔了进去。她动作麻利,没有弄出一点动静。三刻钟后,她锁上了大行李箱,捆上带子,她也穿戴整齐,一身合身的新旅行服,这是玛娇丽帮她挑选的。

她坐在桌子旁给哈维夫人写了封短笺,简明扼要地解释了回家的原因。她把信封好,写上收信人,放在枕头上。她看了看表,火车一点钟出发。她知道,如果她走过两个街区到达马尔堡酒店,就能很容易叫到出租车了。

她突然猛吸一口气,眼神突然变得十分诡异。或许,只有经验丰富的相面人才能看得出此刻的这个眼神和她坐在理发店椅子上时的那个决绝的眼神有某种模糊的联系——从某种程度上来说,此刻的这个眼神比那时的眼神还要让人捉摸不透。对伯妮斯而言,这是一个完全不同的眼神——它预示着某种后果。

她悄悄走到书桌旁,拿起放在上面的一件东西,关上所有的灯,静静地站着,直到眼睛开始适应黑暗。她轻轻地推开玛娇丽房间的门。她能听到玛娇丽平静、均匀、坦然的呼吸。

此时此刻,她已经走到玛娇丽的床边,从容而镇静。她动作非常麻利。她弯下腰,看到玛娇丽的一根辫子,她的手顺着辫子往上摸,一直摸到发根,然后稍微松了松手,免得这个睡梦中的人感觉到有人在拉她的辫子。她把剪刀伸进来,把辫子剪掉。她拿着辫子,屏着呼吸。睡梦中的玛娇丽咕哝了句什么。伯妮斯迅速剪掉她的另一根辫子,停了片刻,然后迅速撤离,悄悄地回到自己的房间。

她下了楼,打开大门,轻轻地把它在身后关上。她感到莫名地开心,欢快地走出门廊,投身到朦胧的月光里。她甩着手中沉甸甸的、购物袋似的辫子,迈着轻快的步子走了一会儿,发现左手依然抓着两根金色的辫子,她突然笑起来——她得把嘴紧紧闭上,以免失去控制笑出声来。现在,她正经过沃伦家,便一时冲动,放下行李,把两根辫子在手中来回荡了荡,像甩绳子一样扔到了木头做的门廊上,辫子在门廊上发出轻轻的撞击声。她又笑起来,开怀大笑起来。

“哈哈!”她狂笑不止,“自私的家伙!扒了你的头皮!”

然后,她提起箱子,在洒满月光的路上小跑起来。

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