第 31 节
作者:猫王      更新:2021-02-27 00:40      字数:8956
  and   the   comfortable   ease   of   a   well…provided   establishment   for   what   she
  could   not   but   see   was   an   extreme   hazard。    It   showed   an   eagerness   for
  adventure; a readiness for the hand…to…mouth; which the care she took of
  her home and her love of good housewifery made not a little remarkable。
  She must be a woman of complicated character; and there was something
  dramatic in the contrast of that with her demure appearance。
  I was excited by the encounter; and my fancy worked busily while I
  sought to concentrate myself on the game I was playing。 I always tried my
  best    to  beat   Strickland;    because     he   was   a   player   who    despised     the
  opponent      he   vanquished;      his  exultation    in  victory    made    defeat    more
  difficult   to   bear。   On   the   other   hand;   if   he   was   beaten   he   took   it   with
  complete good…humour。            He was a bad winner and a good loser。               Those
  who   think   that   a   man   betrays   his   character   nowhere   more   clearly   than
  when he is playing a game might on this draw subtle inferences。
  When he had finished I called the waiter to pay for the drinks; and left
  them。      The   meeting   had   been   devoid   of   incident。     No   word   had   been
  said to give me anything to think about; and any surmises I might make
  were unwarranted。 I was intrigued。            I could not tell how they were getting
  on。 I would have given much to be a disembodied spirit so that I could see
  them in the privacy of the studio and hear what they talked about。                    I had
  not the smallest indication on which to let my imagination work。
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  Chapter XXXIII
  Two or three days later Dirk Stroeve called on me。
  〃I hear you've seen Blanche;〃 he said。
  〃How on earth did you find out?〃
  〃I   was   told by  someone   who   saw  you   sitting   with   them。 Why  didn't
  you tell me?〃
  〃I thought it would only pain you。〃
  〃What do I care if it does?         You must know that I want to hear the
  smallest thing about her。〃
  I waited for him to ask me questions。
  〃What does she look like?〃 he said。
  〃Absolutely unchanged。〃
  〃Does she seem happy?〃
  I shrugged my shoulders。
  〃How can I tell? We were in a cafe; we were playing chess; I had no
  opportunity to speak to her。〃
  〃Oh; but couldn't you tell by her face?〃
  I shook my head。       I could only repeat that by no word; by no hinted
  gesture; had she given an indication of her feelings。 He must know better
  than I how great were her powers of self…control。             He clasped his hands
  emotionally。
  〃Oh;    I'm  so   frightened。    I   know    something     is  going   to  happen;
  something terrible; and I can do nothing to stop it。〃
  〃What sort of thing?〃 I asked。
  〃Oh; I don't know;〃 he moaned; seizing his head with his hands。                  〃I
  foresee some terrible catastrophe。〃
  Stroeve   had   always   been   excitable;   but   now   he   was   beside   himself;
  there   was   no   reasoning    with  him。    I  thought   it  probable   enough    that
  Blanche Stroeve would not continue to find life with Strickland tolerable;
  but one of the falsest of proverbs is that you must lie on the bed that you
  have made。 The experience of life shows that people are constantly doing
  things   which   must   lead   to   disaster;   and   yet   by   some   chance   manage   to
  evade the result of their folly。       When Blanche quarrelled with Strickland
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  she had only to leave him; and her husband was waiting humbly to forgive
  and forget。     I was not prepared to feel any great sympathy for her。
  〃You see; you don't love her;〃 said Stroeve。
  〃After   all;   there's   nothing   to   prove   that   she   is   unhappy。   For   all   we
  know they may have settled down into a most domestic couple。〃
  Stroeve gave me a look with his woeful eyes。
  〃Of course it doesn't much matter to you; but to me it's so serious; so
  intensely serious。〃
  I was sorry if I had seemed impatient or flippant。
  〃Will you do something for me?〃 asked Stroeve。
  〃Willingly。〃
  〃Will you write to Blanche for me?〃
  〃Why can't you write yourself?〃
  〃I've   written   over   and   over   again。   I   didn't   expect   her   to   answer。   I
  don't think she reads the letters。〃
  〃You make no account of feminine curiosity。               Do you think she could
  resist?〃
  〃She could  mine。〃
  I looked at him quickly。         He lowered his eyes。          That answer of his
  seemed to me strangely humiliating。             He was conscious that she regarded
  him   with   an   indifference   so   profound   that   the   sight   of   his   handwriting
  would have not the slightest effect on her。
  〃Do you really believe that she'll ever come back to you?〃 I asked。
  〃I want her to know that if the worst comes to the worst she can count
  on me。     That's what I want you to tell her。〃
  I took a sheet of paper。
  〃What is it exactly you wish me to say?〃
  This is what I wrote:
  DEAR MRS。  STROEVE;
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  Chapter XXXIV
  But though I was no less convinced than Stroeve that the connection
  between Strickland and Blanche would end disastrously; I did not expect
  the issue to take the tragic form it did。         The summer came; breathless and
  sultry; and even at night there was no coolness to rest one's jaded nerves。
  The sun…baked streets seemed to give back the heat that had beat down on
  them   during   the   day;   and   the   passers…by   dragged   their   feet   along   them
  wearily。     I had not seen Strickland for weeks。 Occupied with other things;
  I   had   ceased    to  think   of   him   and   his   affairs。   Dirk;    with   his   vain
  lamentations; had begun to bore me; and I avoided his society。                    It was a
  sordid business; and I was not inclined to trouble myself with it further。
  One   morning   I   was   working。      I   sat   in   my   Pyjamas。   My   thoughts
  wandered;       and   I  thought    of  the   sunny    beaches     of  Brittany    and   the
  freshness   of   the   sea。   By    my   side   was   the   empty   bowl   in   which   the
  concierge      had   brought    me   my      and   the   fragment    of
  croissant which I had not had appetite enough to eat。 I heard the concierge
  in the next room emptying my bath。 There was a tinkle at my bell; and I
  left her to open the door。 In a moment I heard Stroeve's voice asking if I
  was in。 Without moving; I shouted to him to come。                 He entered the room
  quickly; and came up to the table at which I sat。
  〃She's killed herself;〃 he said hoarsely。
  〃What do you mean?〃 I cried; startled。
  He made movements with his lips as though he were speaking; but no
  sound issued   from  them。        He   gibbered   like   an idiot。   My  heart   thumped
  against my ribs; and; I do not know why; I flew into a temper。
  〃For   God's   sake;  collect   yourself;  man;〃   I   said。   〃What on   earth   are
  you talking about?〃
  He made despairing gestures with his hands; but still no words came
  from his mouth。        He might have been struck dumb。              I do not know what
  came   over   me;   I   took   him   by   the   shoulders   and   shook   him。   Looking
  back;   I   am   vexed   that   I   made   such   a   fool   of   myself;   I   suppose   the   last
  restless nights had shaken my nerves more than I knew。
  〃Let me sit down;〃 he gasped at length。
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  I filled a glass with St。      Galmier; and gave it to him to drink。 I held it
  to his mouth as though he were a child。 He gulped down a mouthful; and
  some of it was spilt on his shirt…front。
  〃Who's killed herself?〃
  I do not know why I asked; for I knew whom he meant。