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双语·剧院风情 第二十八章

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2022年06月29日

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Chapter 28

Three days later Roger went up to Scotland. By the exercise of some ingenuity Julia had managed that they should not again spend any length of time alone together. When they happened to be by themselves for a few minutes they talked of indifferent things. Julia was not really sorry to see him go. She could not dismiss from her mind the curious conversation she had had with him. There was one point in particular that unaccountably worried her; this was his suggestion that if she went into an empty room and someone suddenly opened the door there would be nobody there. It made her feel very uncomfortable.

“I never set out to be a raving beauty, but the one thing no one has ever denied me is personality. It's absurd to pretend that because I can play a hundred different parts in a hundred different ways I haven't got an individuality of my own. I can do that because I'm a bloody good actress.”

She tried to think what happened to her when she went alone into an empty room.

“But I never am alone, even in an empty room. There's always Michael, or Evie, or Charles, or the public; not in the flesh, of course, but in the spirit, as it were. I must speak to Charles about Roger.”

Unfortunately he was away. But he was coming back for the dress-rehearsal and the first night; he had not missed these occasions for twenty years, and they had always had supper together after the dress-rehearsal. Michael would remain in the theatre, busy with the lights and so on, so that they would be alone.They would be able to have a good talk.

She studied her part. Julia did not deliberately create the character she was going to act by observation; she had a knack of getting into the shoes of the woman she had to portray so that she thought with her mind and felt with her senses. Her intuition suggested to her a hundred small touches that afterwards amazed people by their verisimilitude; but when they asked her where she had got them she could not say. Now she wanted to show the courageous yet uneasy breeziness of the Mrs. Marten who played golf and could talk to a man like one good chap to another and yet, essentially a respectable, middle-class woman, hankered for the security of the marriage state.

Michael never liked to have a crowd at a dress-rehearsal, and this time, anxious to keep the secret of the play till the first night, he had admitted besides Charles only the people, photographers and dressmakers, whose presence was necessary. Julia spared herself. She had no intention of giving all she had to give till the first night. It was enough if her performance was adequate. Under Michael's businesslike direction everything went off without a hitch and by ten o'clock Julia and Charles were sitting in the grill-room of the Savoy. The first thing she asked him was what he thought of Avice Crichton.

“Not at all bad and wonderfully pretty. She really looked lovely in that second-act dress.”

“I'm not going to wear the dress I wore in the second act. Charley Deverill has made me another.”

He did not see the slightly humorous glance she gave him, and if he had would not have guessed what it meant. Michael, having taken Julia's advice, had gone to a good deal of trouble with Avice. He had rehearsed her by herself upstairs in his private room and had given her every intonation and every gesture. He had also, Julia had good reason to believe, lunched with her several times and taken her out to supper. The result of all this was that she was playing the part uncommonly well. Michael rubbed his hands.

“I'm very pleased with her. I think she'll make quite a hit. I've half a mind to give her a contract.”

“I wouldn't,” said Julia. “Not till after the first night. You can never really tell how a performance is going to pan out till you've got an audience.”

“She's a nice girl and a perfect lady.”

“A nice girl, I suppose, because she's madly in love with you, and a perfect lady because she's resisting your advances till she's got a contract.”

“Oh, my dear, don't be silly. Why, I'm old enough to be her father.”

But he smiled complacently. She knew very well that his lovemaking went no farther than holding hands and a kiss or two in a taxi, but she knew also that it flattered him to imagine that she suspected him capable of infidelity.

But now Julia, having satisfied her appetite with proper regard for her figure, attacked the subject which was on her mind.

“Charles dear, I want to talk to you about Roger.”

“Oh yes, he came back the other day, didn't he? How is he?”

“My dear, a most terrible thing has happened. He's come back a fearful prig and I don't know what to do about it.”

She gave him her version of the conversation. She left out one or two things that it seemed inconvenient to mention, but what she told was on the whole accurate.

“The tragic thing is that he has absolutely no sense of humour,” she finished.

“After all he's only eighteen.”

“You could have knocked me down with a feather when he said all those things to me. I felt just like Balaam when his ass broke into light conversation.”

She gave him a gay look, but he did not even smile. He did not seem to think her remark as funny as she did.

“I can't imagine where he got his ideas. It's absurd to think that he could have thought out all that nonsense for himself.”

“Are you sure that boys of that age don't think more than we older people imagine? It's a sort of puberty of the spirit and its results are often strange.”

“It seems so deceitful of Roger to have harboured thoughts like those all these years and never breathed a word about them. He might have been accusing me.” She gave a chuckle. “To tell you the truth, when Roger was talking to me I felt just like Hamlet's mother.” Then with hardly a break: “I wonder if I'm too old to play Hamlet?”

“Gertrude isn't a very good part, is it?”

Julia broke into a laugh of frank amusement.

“Don't be idiotic, Charles. I wouldn't play the Queen. I'd play Hamlet.”

“D'you think it's suited to a woman?”

“Mrs. Siddons played it and so did Sarah Bernhardt. It would set a seal on my career, if you know what I mean. Of course there's the difficulty of the blank verse.”

“I have heard actors speak it so that it was indistinguishable from prose,” he answered.

“Yes, but that's not quite the same, is it?”

“Were you nice to Roger?”

She was surprised at his going back to that subject so suddenly, but she returned to it with a smile.

“Oh, charming.”

“It's hard not to be impatient with the absurdity of the young; they tell us that two and two make four as though it had never occurred to us, and they're disappointed if we can't share their surprise when they have just discovered that a hen lays an egg. There's a lot of nonsense in their ranting and raving, but it's not all nonsense. One ought to sympathize with them; one ought to do one's best to understand. One has to remember how much has to be forgotten and how much has to be learnt when for the first time one faces life. It's not very easy to give up one's ideals, and the brute facts of every day are bitter pills to swallow. The spiritual conflicts of adolescence can be very severe and one can do so little to resolve them.”

“But you don't really think there's anything in all this stuff of Roger's? I believe it's all a lot of communist nonsense that he's learnt in Vienna. I wish we'd never sent him there.”

“You may be right. It may be that in a year or two he'll lose sight of the clouds of glory and accept the chain. It may be that he'll find what he's looking for, if not in God, then in art.”

“I should hate him to be an actor if that's what you mean.”

“No, I don't think he'll fancy that.”

“And of course he can't be a playwright, he hasn't a sense of humour.”

“I daresay he'll be quite content to go into the Foreign Office. It would be an asset to him there.”

“What would you advise me to do?”

“Nothing. Let him be. That's probably the greatest kindness you can do him.”

“But I can't help being worried about him.”

“You needn't be. Be hopeful. You thought you'd only given birth to an ugly duckling; perhaps he's going to turn into a white-winged swan.”

Charles was not giving Julia what she wanted. She had expected him to be more sympathetic.

“I suppose he's getting old, poor dear,” she reflected. “He's losing his grip of things. He must have been impotent for years; I wonder it never struck me before.”

She asked what the time was.

“I think I ought to go. I must get a long night's rest.”

Julia slept well and when she awoke had at once a feeling of exultation. Tonight was the first night. It gave her a little thrill of pleasure to recollect that people had already been assembling at the pit and gallery doors when she left the theatre after the dress-rehearsal, and now at ten in the morning there was probably already a long queue.”

“Lucky it's a fine day for them, poor brutes.”

In bygone years she had been intolerably nervous before a first night. She had felt slightly sick all day and as the hours passed got into such a state that she almost thought she would have to leave the stage. But by now, after having passed through the ordeal so many times, she had acquired a certain nonchalance. Throughout the early part of the day she felt only happy and mildly excited; it was not till late in the afternoon that she began to feel ill at ease. She grew silent and wanted to be left alone. She also grew irritable, and Michael, having learnt from experience, took care to keep out of her way. Her hands and feet got cold and by the time she reached the theatre they were like lumps of ice. But still the apprehension that filled her was not unpleasant.

Julia had nothing to do that morning but go down to the Siddons for a word-rehearsal at noon, so she lay in bed till late. Michael did not come back to lunch, having last things to do to the sets, and she ate alone. Then she went to bed and for an hour slept soundly. Her intention was to rest all the afternoon; Miss Phillips was coming at six to give her a light massage, and by seven she wanted to be at the theatre. But when she awoke she felt so much refreshed that it irked her to stay in bed, so she made up her mind to get up and go for a walk. It was a fine, sunny day. Liking the town better than the country and streets more than trees, she did not go into the Park, but sauntered round the neighbouring squares, deserted at that time of year, idly looking at the houses, and thought how much she preferred her own to any of them. She felt at ease and light-hearted. Then she thought it time to go home. She had just reached the corner of Stanhope Place when she heard her name called in a voice that she could not but recognize.

“Julia.”

She turned round and Tom, his face all smiles, caught her up. She had not seen him since her return from France. He was very smart in a neat grey suit and a brown hat. He was tanned by the sun.

“I thought you were away.”

“I came back on Monday. I didn't ring up because I knew you were busy with the final rehearsals. I'm coming tonight; Michael gave me a stall.”

“Oh, I'm glad.”

It was plain that he was delighted to see her. His face was eager and his eyes shone. She was pleased to discover that the sight of him excited no emotion in her. She wondered as they went on talking what there was in him that had ever so deeply affected her.

“What on earth are you wandering about like this for?”

“I've been for a stroll. I was just going in to tea.”

“Come and have tea with me.”

His flat was just round the corner. Indeed he had caught sight of her just as he was going down the mews to get to it.

“How is it you're back so early?”

“Oh, there's nothing much on at the office just now. You know, one of our partners died a couple of months ago, and I'm getting a bigger share. It means I shall be able to keep on the flat after all. Michael was jolly decent about it, he said I could stay on rent free till things got better. I hated the idea of turning out. Do come. I'd love to make you a cup of tea.”

He rattled on so vivaciously that Julia was amused. You would never have thought to listen to him that there had ever been anything between them. He seemed perfectly unembarrassed.

“All right. But I can only stay a minute.”

“O.K.”

They turned into the mews and she preceded him up the narrow staircase.

“You toddle along to the sitting-room and I'll put the water on to boil.”

She went in and sat down. She looked round the room that had been the scene of so many emotions for her. Nothing was changed. Her photograph stood in its old place, but on the chimney-piece was a large photograph also of Avice Crichton. On it was written for Tom from Avice. Julia took everything in. The room might have been a set in which she had once acted; it was vaguely familiar, but no longer meant anything to her. The love that had consumed her then, the jealousy she had stifled, the ecstasy of surrender, it had no more reality than one of the innumerable parts she had played in the past. She relished her indifference. Tom came in, with the tea-cloth she had given him, and neatly set out the tea-service which she had also given him. She did not know why the thought of his casually using still all her little presents made her inclined to laugh. Then he came in with the tea and they drank it sitting side by side on the sofa. He told her more about his improved circumstances. In his pleasant, friendly way he acknowledged that it was owing to the work that through her he had been able to bring the firm that he had secured a larger share in the profits. He told her of the holiday from which he had just returned. It was quite clear to Julia that he had no inkling how much he had made her suffer. That too made her now inclined to laugh.

“I hear you're going to have an enormous success tonight.”

“It would be nice, wouldn't it?”

“Avice says that both you and Michael have been awfully good to her. Take care she doesn't romp away with the play.”

He said it chaffingly, but Julia wondered whether Avice had told him that this was what she expected to do.

“Are you engaged to her?”

“No. She wants her freedom. She says an engagement would interfere with her career.”

“With her what?” The words slipped out of Julia's mouth before she could stop them, but she immediately recovered herself. “Yes, I see what she means of course.”

“Naturally, I don't want to stand in her way. I mean, supposing after tonight she got a big offer for America I can quite see that she ought to be perfectly free to accept.”

Her career! Julia smiled quietly to herself.

“You know, I do think you're a brick, the way you've behaved to her.”

“Why?”

“Oh, well, you know what women are!”

As he said this he slipped his arm round her waist and kissed her. She laughed outright.

“What an absurd little thing you are.”

“How about a bit of love?”

“Don't be so silly.”

“What is there silly about it? Don't you think we've been divorced long enough?”

“I'm all for irrevocable divorce. And what about Avice?”

“Oh, she's different. Come on.”

“Has it slipped your memory that I've got a first night tonight?”

“There's plenty of time.”

He put both arms round her and kissed her softly. She looked at him with mocking eyes. Suddenly she made up her mind.

“All right.”

They got up and went into the bedroom. She took off her hat and slipped out of her dress. He held her in his arms as he had held her so often before. He kissed her closed eyes and the little breasts of which she was so proud. She gave him her body to do what he wanted with, but her spirit held aloof. She returned his kisses out of amiability, but she caught herself thinking of the part she was going to play that night. She seemed to be two persons, the mistress in her lover's embrace, and the actress who already saw in her mind's eye the vast vague dark audience and heard the shouts of applause as she stepped on to the stage. When, a little later, they lay side by side, he with his arm round her neck, she forgot about him so completely that she was quite surprised when he broke a long silence.

“Don't you care for me any more?”

She gave him a little hug.

“Of course, darling. I dote on you.”

“You're so strange today.”

She realized that he was disappointed. Poor little thing, she didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was very sweet really.

“With the first night before me I'm not really myself today. You mustn't mind.”

When she came to the conclusion, quite definitely now, that she no longer cared two straws for him she could not help feeling a great pity for him. She stroked his cheek gently.

“Sweetie pie.” (“I wonder if Michael remembered to have tea sent along to the queues. It doesn't cost much and they do appreciate it so enormously.”) “You know, I really must get up. Miss Phillips is coming at six. Evie will be in a state, she won't be able to think what's happened to me.”

She chattered brightly while she dressed. She was conscious, although she did not look at him, that Tom was vaguely uneasy. She put her hat on, then she took his face in both her hands and gave him a friendly kiss.

“Good-bye, my lamb. Have a good time tonight.”

“Best of luck.”

He smiled with some awkwardness. She perceived that he did not quite know what to make of her. Julia slipped out of the flat, and if she had not been England's leading actress, and a woman of hard on fifty, she would have hopped on one leg all the way down Stanhope Place till she got to her house. She was as pleased as Punch. She let herself in with her latchkey and closed the front door behind her.

“I daresay there's something in what Roger said. Love isn't worth all the fuss they make about it.”

第二十八章

三天后,罗杰去了苏格兰。朱莉娅巧妙地让他俩没有机会再独处。当他们不凑巧需要在一起待几分钟时,两人也会谈一些无关紧要的事情。见到他离开,朱莉娅并没有感到遗憾。她无法从她脑袋里清除她和他的那段奇怪的对话。其中,有一点尤为让她莫名其妙地忧虑;那就是他所暗示的如果她进入一个空房间,然后某个人突然打开了门,发现那房间里根本没有任何人。这让她觉得非常不舒服。

“我从来不是一个绝代佳人,但我身上有一样东西人们从来没有否定过,那就是个性。就因为我可以用一百种不同的方式来扮演一百个不同的角色,便认定我没有自己的个性,这太荒谬了。我能做到这一切是因为我是个相当不错的女演员。”

她试图思考当她独自进入一个空房间时会发生什么。

“但我从来都没有独自一人,即便是在一个空房间里。总会有迈克尔,或者伊维,或者查尔斯,或者观众;当然,这并不是实实在在的,而是精神上的。我必须跟查尔斯说说罗杰。”

不幸的是,查尔斯并不在市里。但他会在彩排的时候回来,首演夜也会来;二十年来他从未错过这些时刻,并且在彩排后他们总是会一起吃晚餐。迈克尔会留在戏院里,忙着处理灯光和其他道具,这样他们就能独处。他们能好好聊一聊。

朱莉娅研究着她的角色。她并不用观察的方式来刻意创造将要表演的角色;她有个本领,能进入她所扮演的角色的世界,用角色的思维进行思考,用角色的感官来体会。她的本能让她捕捉到上百种细微的感触,随后这些细小的感触会让观众因其逼真而感到惊讶不已;但当人们问起她这些感触的来源,她又回答不上来。现在,她要展现这个勇敢但又故作潇洒的马顿太太,这个能打高尔夫又能像正派小伙那样对一个男人讲话,但本质上又是一个令人尊敬、渴望婚姻进入安稳状态的中产阶级妇女。

迈克尔从来不喜欢彩排的时候有一堆人围观,这次,为了将戏剧的神秘性保留到首演,除了查尔斯,他只让摄影记者、裁缝等必须在场的人观看了彩排。朱莉娅的表演也有所保留。她无意在首演前展现自己所能给予这角色的全部。她只需适当表演就够了。在迈克尔井井有条的指导下,一切进展得都非常顺利,到十点的时候,朱莉娅和查尔斯已经坐在萨伏伊饭店的烧烤屋里了。她问他的第一句话便是他认为艾维斯·克赖顿怎么样。

“很不错,非常漂亮。她穿第二场的戏服非常可爱。”

“我不打算穿我第二场的戏服。查理·德夫里尔为我做了另外一件。”

他并没有看到朱莉娅向他投来的略带幽默的眼光,即便他看到了,也猜不出那是什么意思。迈克尔听了朱莉娅的建议后,在艾维斯·克赖顿身上花了不少心思。他在楼上自己的私人房间里对她单独进行指导,告诉她每一个发音和手势的运用。朱莉娅有理由相信,迈克尔不仅与她一同吃了几次午餐,还带她外出共赴晚宴。这一切的结果就是她将这个角色演得不同寻常的精彩。迈克尔搓了搓手。

“我对她很满意。我觉得她会引起轰动。我有点想把她签下来。”

“我不会这么做,”朱莉娅说道,“至少不会在首演夜之前。在呈现给观众之前,你无法确定演出是否会顺利进行。”

“她是个很好的女孩,一个十足的淑女。”

“是个很好的女孩,我想是因为她疯狂地爱着你,又是十足的淑女,因为她一直在抗拒你的勾引,直到她拿到合同。”

“哦,我亲爱的,别犯傻了。我老得都可以做她父亲了。”

但他得意扬扬地微笑着。她非常清楚,迈克尔的示爱不过是牵牵手,在出租车里吻上一两下,但她知道,她对他不忠的怀疑让他很受用。

但现在,朱莉娅在适当照顾自己身材的前提下满足了自己的胃口,开始跟查尔斯说起她心里的事情。

“亲爱的查尔斯,我想跟你谈谈罗杰。”

“哦,好,他前几天回来了,对吧?他怎么样?”

“亲爱的,发生了很糟糕的事情。他变成了一个令人担忧的学究,我不知道该拿他怎么办。”

她向查尔斯复述了他们之间的对话,漏掉了一两件她认为不太方便提及的事情,但她整体上说得比较准确。

“悲剧的是他一点幽默感都没有。”她最后说道。

“毕竟,他只有十八岁。”

“他说那些话的时候,我十分震惊。我觉得自己就像听到他的驴开始跟他讲话的巴兰。”

她开心地看了他一眼,但他甚至都没有笑。他并不觉得她的评论有她认为的那么好笑。

“我无法想象他是从哪里来的这些想法。如果要说这些胡扯都是他自己想出来的,那就太荒唐了。”

“你确定那个年纪的男孩不会比我们大人想象的要思考得多吗?这是一种精神上的青春期,结果往往很奇特。”

“这些年来,罗杰一直怀揣这些想法却守口如瓶,简直虚伪。他可能在指责我。”她大声笑了笑,“跟你讲实话,当罗杰对我说这些的时候,我觉得我像哈姆雷特的母亲。”然后,她紧接着说道:“我在想如果我扮演哈姆雷特,会不会太老了?”

“格特鲁德不是个很好的角色吗?”

朱莉娅感到有趣,放声大笑起来。

“别犯傻,查尔斯。我不会演王后。我会演哈姆雷特。”

“你觉得这角色适合女人来演?”

“西登斯夫人演过,萨拉·伯恩哈特也演过。它将是我职业生涯上的一个里程碑,你懂我的意思吧。当然,有无韵诗的难题。”

“我听有些男演员讲过,跟散文没多大区别。”他回答道。

“是,但并不一样,不是吗?”

“你对罗杰好吗?”

她对查尔斯突然讲回刚才的话题感到惊讶,但她只是笑了笑。

“哦,非常好。”

“要对年轻人的荒诞行为做到有耐心其实很困难;他们跟我们讲二加二等于四,就好像我们从来不知道一样,并且,当他们刚刚发现母鸡能下蛋,而我们又无法分享他们的惊讶时,他们又会大失所望。他们的夸夸其谈和大声咆哮中很多都是胡言乱语,但不完全是。我们应该同情他们;应该尽最大努力去理解他们。我们应该记得,当我们最初面对生活的时候,有多少需要忘记,有多少需要学习。放弃一个人的理想不是一件容易的事情,每日残酷的事实就是要吞下去的苦药。年轻人精神上的矛盾冲突可能会非常严重,而对解决它们又无能为力。”

“但你不会真的觉得罗杰的那番话有什么道理吧?我觉得都是他在维也纳学到的一套胡言乱语。真希望我们没有把他送到那儿去。”

“你可能是对的。可能再过一两年,他就看不到光荣的云彩,并接受生活的锁链。他可能会发现自己寻找的东西,如果不是在上帝身上,就是在艺术里。”

“我可不希望他成为一名演员,如果你是这个意思的话。”

“不,我觉得他并不想成为演员。”

“当然,他也不可能成为剧作家,他一点幽默感都没有。”

“我敢说,他应该很乐意进入外交部。在那儿没有幽默感正好可以成为他的一大长处。”

“你觉得我应该怎么办?”

“什么也别做。随他去吧。这或许是你能给予他的最大的慈爱。”

“但我总是担心他。”

“没有必要。要抱有希望。你以为你生了一只丑小鸭;或许他会变成一只白天鹅。”

查尔斯的回答并不是朱莉娅想要的。她原以为查尔斯会更同情她。

“我想他可能是变老了,可怜的宝贝儿。”她想,“他正在失去对事情的控制。他肯定阳痿好些年了;为什么以前我从来没想过这一点。”

她问了问时间。

“我想我该走了。我必须要好好休息一晚。”

朱莉娅睡得很好,她一醒来就感到浑身兴奋。今晚就是首演。回想到昨晚彩排结束她离开剧院时,人们已经在正厅后座和顶层后座的门外聚集,她感到一阵激动,现在是早上十点,估计那儿已经有一条长长的队伍了。

“幸好今天天气不错,可怜的粗人。”

以往在首演夜前她总是紧张得不得了。她会一整天感到不适,随着时间流逝,甚至有了想要离开舞台的心情。但现在,经过这么多次的磨炼后,她已经能镇定自若地面对了。整个上午,她仅仅感到开心,并有一点兴奋;直到下午,她才开始觉得不适。她变得沉默,想要独处,还有一点易怒;迈克尔早已从多年经验中摸透了她的脾气,此时也刻意不去招惹她。她的手脚开始冰凉,等她到达剧院时,手脚冷得像冰块一样。但是,她的恐惧并没有那么让人不悦。

那天早上,朱莉娅除了中午前到西登斯剧院对台词之外,并没什么可忙的,因此她在床上待到很晚。迈克尔要对布景做最后的调整,没有回来吃午餐,于是她自己吃了饭。然后,她上床美美地睡了一个小时。她想整个下午都休息;菲利普斯小姐六点的时候会给她稍稍按摩一会儿,她想在七点的时候到达剧院。但当她醒来后,她感到自己焕然一新,实在无法继续躺在床上,于是她决定起来出去走一走。那天风和日丽,阳光普照。她喜欢城市胜过乡村,喜欢街道胜过树林,因此她并没有去公园,而是在附近的广场漫步。这个时节的广场人迹罕至,她闲散地看着周围的房子,心想比起这些房子,她多么喜欢自己的那幢。她感到很自在,心情轻松。不久,她觉得是时候回去了。她刚刚走到斯坦霍普广场,就听到一个她一下就能辨认出的声音在喊她的名字。

“朱莉娅。”

她转过身来,汤姆满脸堆笑地迎上来。自她从法国回来还没有见过他。他穿着一身整洁的灰色西服,戴着一顶棕色帽子。他被太阳晒黑了。

“我以为你不在城里。”

“我周一回来的。没有打电话是因为我知道你忙着最后的排练。我今晚会来;迈克尔给了我一张正厅前排的票。”

“哦,我很开心你能来。”

很明显他见到她很开心。他的脸上洋溢着热切之情,眼里泛着光。她很高兴地发现,看到他已经不会在她心里惹起任何涟漪。他们聊天时,朱莉娅在想,他身上到底有什么竟让她以前如此神魂颠倒。

“你究竟为何像这样在这里闲逛?”

“我来散散步。我正打算去喝茶。”

“来跟我一起喝一杯吧。”

他的公寓就在拐角处。事实上,他正是在沿着小巷回家的时候看到她的。

“你怎么回来得这么早?”

“近来办公室没什么忙的。你知道,我们有一个合作伙伴几个月前去世了,这样一来我会拿到更大的份额。这就是说我可以接着住在那套公寓里。迈克尔在这事儿上很慷慨,他说我可以不交房租先住着,直到情况好转一些。我实在不愿被迫搬到别的地方去。请一定要来,我很愿意请你喝茶。”

他兴冲冲地喋喋不休,让朱莉娅觉得好笑。听他说的这些话,你很难想象他们之间曾发生过什么。他看起来一点都不尴尬。

“好吧。但我只能待一小会儿。”

“好的。”

他们走进小巷,她在他前面走上那狭窄的楼梯。

“你进客厅待着,我去烧水。”

她走进去,坐了下来。她向四周看了看,对她来说,这里发生过多少悲欢往事啊。一切都没有改变。她的照片还摆在老地方,但在壁炉架上还摆着艾维斯·克赖顿的一张大照片。照片上写着“致汤姆,艾维斯赠”。朱莉娅把一切都看在眼里。这房间好像她曾经演过戏的一个场景;她感到有些熟悉,但这一切对她而言都不再有意义。彼时让她心力交瘁的爱,她强迫自己压抑的嫉妒,以及委身于对方时的狂喜,这一切并没有比她曾演过的角色多几分真实。她为自己的漠然沾沾自喜。汤姆拿着她送的茶点台布走进来,利索地布置好茶具,那茶具也是她送给他的。她不知道,为何看到他仍旧随意地使用她送他的那些小礼物使她想要大笑。然后,他端着茶走进来,他们并排坐在沙发上喝茶。他对她讲了更多有关他经济条件改善的情况,并以亲切友好的方式承认,多亏通过她,他才能给事务所带来那些业务,让他得以保住更大份额的利润。他跟她讲了他刚刚结束的假期。朱莉娅很清楚,他对他带给她的痛苦一无所知。这也让她想要大笑。

“我听说今晚你会大获成功。”

“能成功就很棒,对不对?”

“艾维斯说你和迈克尔都对她非常好。当心别让她轻而易举地因此剧而成功。”

他说话的语气虽然是在开玩笑,但朱莉娅怀疑是否艾维斯告诉他这是她所期望的。

“你跟她订婚了吗?”

“没有。她想要自由。她说订婚会阻碍她的艺术生涯。”

“阻碍她的什么?”朱莉娅脱口而出,来不及收回,但她立刻恢复镇定,“是的,我当然明白她的意思。”

“我自然不想挡她的路。我是说,假如今晚后她获得了去美国发展的大好机会,我非常理解她应该有充分的自由去接受它。”

她的艺术生涯!朱莉娅暗自笑了。

“你知道,我觉得你真的是个大好人,看到你对她这样好。”

“为什么要这么说?”

“哦,好吧,你知道女人是什么样子!”

他说这些时,伸出胳膊搂住了她的腰,并亲吻了她。她径直笑了出来。

“你真是个混账小东西。”

“亲热一会儿怎么样?”

“别犯傻了。”

“有什么可犯傻的?你不觉得我们分开太久了吗?”

“我主张跟你彻底分开,不再复合。艾维斯怎么办?”

“哦,她是不同的。来吧。”

“你难道忘了我今晚是首演吗?”

“时间足够。”

他用两只手臂搂着她,轻轻地吻她。她双眼充满嘲笑地看着他。突然间她下了决心。

“好吧。”

他们站起来,走进卧室。她摘下帽子,脱下裙子。他像以前那样抱着她。他亲吻她闭着的双眼,还有她引以为傲的小乳房。她让自己的身体配合他,但她的心灵保持冷漠。她出于友好而回敬他的吻,但她发现自己在思考晚上要表演的角色。她似乎变成了两个人,一个是她情人怀中的情妇,另一个是已经在脑海中看到模糊的黑黝黝的一片观众并听到登台时热烈掌声的女演员。过了一会儿,当他们并肩躺在床上,他的手臂搂着她的脖子,她已经彻底忘记了他的存在,因此当他打破长久的沉默时,她被惊了一下。

“难道你已经不在乎我了吗?”

她微微抱了他一下。

“当然在乎,亲爱的。我很宠爱你。”

“今天你很奇怪。”

她意识到他的失望。可怜的小东西,她并不想伤害他的感情。他真的很可爱。

“马上就是首演夜了,我现在不在状态。你一定别介意。”

当她非常明确地得出结论,她已经不再把他放在心上了,不禁对他感到深深的怜悯。她轻轻地抚摸着他的脸颊。

“小甜心。(不知迈克尔有没有给排队的人送茶。这花不了多少钱,但他们却会感激不尽。)你知道,我必须得起来了。菲利普斯小姐六点会过去。伊维要急死了,她不知道我去哪儿了。”

她一边穿衣服,一边开心地聊着天。虽然她没有看他,但她知道汤姆有些不自在。她戴上帽子,然后双手捧起他的脸,给了他一个友好的吻。

“再见,我的宝贝儿。今晚过得愉快。”

“祝你好运。”

他尴尬地笑了笑。她察觉到,他不知道该拿她怎么办。朱莉娅溜出公寓,如果她不是英格兰一等一的女演员,不是一个五十岁的女人,她会从斯坦霍普广场一路蹦跶着回到家里。她扬扬得意,神气十足。她用钥匙开了大门,进去后把门关上了。

“我看罗杰的话确实有些道理。爱情并不值得人们为此大惊小怪。”

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