第 37 节
作者:猫王      更新:2021-02-27 00:40      字数:9307
  applied the scalpel boldly。
  〃Stroeve told me that picture you painted of his wife was the best thing
  you've ever done。〃
  Strickland took his pipe out of his mouth; and a smile lit up his eyes。
  〃It was great fun to do。〃
  〃Why did you give it him?〃
  〃I'd finished it。    It wasn't any good to me。〃
  〃Do you know that Stroeve nearly destroyed it?〃
  〃It wasn't altogether satisfactory。〃
  He was   quiet   for   a   moment   or   two; then he   took his   pipe   out   of his
  mouth again; and chuckled。
  〃Do you know that the little man came to see me?〃
  〃Weren't you rather touched by what he had to say?〃
  〃No; I thought it damned silly and sentimental。〃
  〃I   suppose    it  escaped   your   memory      that  you'd   ruined    his  life?〃  I
  remarked。
  He rubbed his bearded chin reflectively。
  〃He's a very bad painter。〃
  〃But a very good man。〃
  〃And an excellent cook;〃 Strickland added derisively。
  His callousness was inhuman; and in my indignation I was not inclined
  to mince my words。
  〃As a mere matter of curiosity I wish you'd tell me; have you felt the
  smallest twinge of remorse for Blanche Stroeve's death?〃
  I   watched   his   face   for   some   change   of   expression;   but   it   remained
  impassive。
  〃Why should I?〃 he asked。
  〃Let me put the facts before you。           You were dying; and Dirk Stroeve
  took you into his own house。          He nursed you like a mother。 He sacrificed
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  his time and his comfort and his money for you。 He snatched you from the
  jaws of death。〃
  Strickland shrugged his shoulders。
  〃The absurd little man enjoys doing things for other people。 That's his
  life。〃
  〃Granting that you owed him no gratitude; were you obliged to go out
  of your way to take his wife from him?             Until you came on the scene they
  were happy。       Why couldn't you leave them alone?〃
  〃What makes you think they were happy?〃
  〃It was evident。〃
  〃You   are   a   discerning   fellow。    Do   you   think   she   could   ever   have
  forgiven him for what he did for her?〃
  〃What do you mean by that?〃
  〃Don't you know why he married her?〃
  I shook my head。
  〃She was a governess in the family of some Roman prince; and the son
  of the house seduced her。         She thought he was going to marry her。             They
  turned her out into the street neck and crop。 She was going to have a baby;
  and she tried to commit suicide。 Stroeve found her and married her。〃
  〃It was just like him。       I never knew anyone with so compassionate a
  heart。〃
  I had often wondered why that ill…assorted pair had married; but just
  that explanation had never occurred to me。               That was perhaps the cause
  of   the   peculiar   quality   of   Dirk's   love   for   his   wife。 I   had   noticed   in   it
  something       more    than  passion。    I  remembered      also   how    I  had   always
  fancied that her reserve concealed I knew not what; but now I saw in it
  more than the desire to hide a shameful secret。              Her tranquillity was like
  the   sullen   calm   that   broods   over   an   island   which   has   been   swept   by   a
  hurricane。     Her cheerfulness was the cheerfulness of despair。              Strickland
  interrupted my  reflections   with an observation the  profound   cynicism  of
  which startled me。
  〃A woman can forgive a man for the harm he does her;〃 he said; 〃but
  she can never forgive him for the sacrifices he makes on her account。〃
  〃It must be reassuring to you to know that you certainly run no risk of
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  incurring     the  resentment     of  the   women     you   come    in  contact    with;〃   I
  retorted。
  A slight smile broke on his lips。
  〃You are always prepared to sacrifice your principles for a repartee;〃
  he answered。
  〃What happened to the child?〃
  〃Oh; it was still…born; three or four months after they were married。〃
  Then I came to the question which had seemed to me most puzzling。
  〃Will you tell me why you bothered about Blanche Stroeve at all?〃
  He did not answer for so long that I nearly repeated it。
  〃How do I know?〃 he said at last。           〃She couldn't bear the sight of me。
  It amused me。〃
  〃I see。〃
  He gave a sudden flash of anger。
  〃Damn it all; I wanted her。〃
  But   he   recovered   his   temper   immediately;   and   looked   at   me   with   a
  smile。
  〃At first she was horrified。〃
  〃Did you tell her?〃
  〃There   wasn't   any  need。     She   knew。     I   never   said   a   word。   She   was
  frightened。     At last I took her。〃
  I  do   not   know    what    there   was   in  the   way    he  told   me   this  that
  extraordinarily suggested the violence of his desire。              It was disconcerting
  and rather horrible。       His life was strangely divorced from material things;
  and it was as though his body at times wreaked a fearful revenge on his
  spirit。   The satyr in him suddenly took possession; and he was powerless
  in the grip of an instinct which had all the strength of the primitive forces
  of nature。     It was an obsession so complete that there was no room in his
  soul for prudence or gratitude。
  〃But why did you want to take her away with you?〃 I asked。
  〃I didn't;〃 he answered; frowning。           〃When she said she was coming I
  was nearly as surprised as Stroeve。           I told her that when I'd had enough of
  her   she'd   have   to   go;   and   she   said   she'd   risk   that。〃 He   paused   a   little。
  〃She   had   a   wonderful   body;   and   I   wanted   to   paint   a   nude。  When   I'd
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  finished my picture I took no more interest in her。〃
  〃And she loved you with all her heart。〃
  He sprang to his feet and walked up and down the small room。
  〃I don't want love。       I haven't time for it。      It's weakness。 I am a man;
  and   sometimes   I   want   a   woman。       When   I've   satisfied   my   passion   I'm
  ready   for   other   things。    I  can't   overcome     my    desire;  but   I  hate  it;  it
  imprisons my spirit; I look forward to the time when I shall be free from
  all desire and can give myself without hindrance to my  work。                     Because
  women       can   do    nothing    except    love;   they've    given    it  a   ridiculous
  importance。 They want to persuade us that it's the whole of life。                   It's an
  insignificant   part。    I   know   lust。   That's   normal   and   healthy。   Love   is   a
  disease。     Women are the instruments of my pleasure; I have no patience
  with their claim to be helpmates; partners; companions。〃
  I had never heard Strickland speak so much at one time。 He spoke with
  a passion of indignation。         But neither here nor elsewhere do I pretend to
  give   his   exact   words;   his   vocabulary   was   small;   and   he   had   no   gift   for
  framing   sentences; so   that one had   to   piece   his   meaning together   out   of
  interjections; the expression of his face; gestures and hackneyed phrases。
  〃You should have lived at a time when women were chattels and men
  the masters of slaves;〃 I said。
  〃It just happens that I am a completely normal man。〃
  I could not help laughing at this remark; made in all seriousness; but
  he went on; walking up and down the room like a caged beast; intent on
  expressing what he felt; but found such difficulty in putting coherently。
  〃When a woman loves you she's not satisfied until she possesses your
  soul。    Because   she's   weak;   she   has   a   rage   for   domination;   and   nothing
  less will satisfy her。      She has a small mind; and she resents the abstract
  which she is unable to grasp。           She is occupied with material things; and
  she    is  jealous   of   the  ideal。   The     soul   of  man    wanders     through    the
  uttermost regions of the universe; and she seeks to imprison it in the circle
  of her account…book。         Do you remember my wife? I saw Blanche little by
  little trying all her tricks。 With infinite patience she prepared to snare me
  and bind me。 She wanted to bring me down to her level; she cared nothing
  for me; she only wanted me to be hers。             She was willing to do everything
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