Chapter 58 Volume 8 Girlfriends (5)

He quietly read the terms of the contract to Christophe, which was signed by Christopher without reading it at the time. It was also made in accordance with the rules of ordinary contracts for music publishers:-" Mr. Ai Qutuo obtained all the rights of the author, and Ai Qutuo exclusively published, distributed, engraved, printed, translated, rented, sold, performed in concerts, coffee shop concerts, dance halls, theaters, etc., corrected, modified To make it suitable for any instrument, or to add lyrics, or to change the title, or...all are at the discretion of Mr. Aiqutuo, and have nothing to do with anyone..."

"You see," he said, "I'm still very polite." "Yes," said Christophe, "I must thank you. You can also change my septet into a minor key for the concert in the café." He fell silent, put his head in his hands in embarrassment, and said repeatedly: "I sold my soul." "Don't worry," Werther said sarcastically, "I will never abuse my rights." "Does your republic allow such a trade? You say man is free. In reality you are auctioning off ideas." "You have paid the price," replied Welchett. "Yes, thirty centimes," said Christophe. "Take it back."

He fumbled in his pocket for the three hundred francs to return to Echeto, but he could not.Ai Chutuo smiled, with an air of contempt.This smile made Christophe even more angry. "I want my work," he said, "and I redeem it from you." "You have no right of redemption," replied Hector. "But I have never been willing to force others. As long as I can compensate for my loss, I promise you to redeem it." "Well, if it means selling myself for that." He accepted the conditions Ai Chituo proposed half a month later without any debate.In a foolish way, he decided to take back the publishing rights of all his works, at a price fifty times more than his previous income, although the amount of compensation cannot be said to be exaggerated: because it was precisely calculated by Eddie based on actual profits.Christophe was unable to repay for a while, and this was already expected by Eddy.He didn't want to hit Christophe, thinking that as an artist, as an ordinary person, he is more worthy of attention than any young musician; but he wants to teach Christophe a lesson: he will never allow others Interfere with actions within his rights.And the rules of those contracts were not made by him, but prevailed at that time; so he felt it was fair.In addition, he also sincerely believes that those provisions are as beneficial to writers as they are to publishers. Publishers know how to promote their works better than writers. , but it runs counter to his real interests.He is determined to teach Christophe to be successful, but in his own way, Christophe must be completely at his mercy.He wanted to make Christophe feel that it would not be so easy without his help.So they set up an agreement: if Christophe can't compensate the loss within six months, Christophe's works will be completely owned by Eddie.Obviously, within that time limit, Christophe may not even be able to collect a quarter of this sum.

But he insisted on being stubborn, so he returned the rent of such a memorable house, rented another cheap one, sold a lot of things, - he was surprised to find that none of them were valuable, - borrowed debts, and asked for help For the good Mork, unfortunately he was very sick at that time, suffering from arthritis, and couldn't go out.He went to other publishers, and the conditions were everywhere as unfair as those of Witchett, and some were not even willing to accept them. It was the period when music publications attacked him most violently.One of the great Parisian newspapers was particularly cruel to him, and an anonymous editor took him for a spanking: not a week passed without writing something slanderous in the "Echo" column, describing him as ridiculous.Another music critic returns to oboe with his faceless colleague: any slight pretense will set him free for a savage bestiality.This was only the first battle: he predicted another battle of complete annihilation in a few days.They took their time, knowing that no conclusive accusation would have as much effect on the masses as repeated sarcasm, so they played with Christophe like a cat with a mouse, sending him every text.Although he held a contemptuous and disdainful attitude, he could not help but suffer from it.And yet he remains silent, does not answer the insults,—(and would not be able to, even if he should),—only obsessively struggles with his publisher for the sake of useless, overblown pride.He lost time, energy, money, and at the same time his only weapon, because he was too impulsive to let Emeritus promote his music again.

Suddenly, everything changed.The text of the notice in the newspaper has never been published.The sarcasm to the crowd was also silenced.The attack stopped suddenly.And not only that: two or three weeks later, the critic of that daily paper chanced to write a few lines of praise which seemed to confirm that they had made peace.A well-known publisher in Leipzig had a letter requesting that his work be printed, and the terms of the contract were very favorable to the author.A letter of compliment bearing the seal of the Austrian embassy, ​​expressing to Christophe his willingness to play his music at the embassy's celebration.The nightingale, which Christophe admired, was also invited to play.After this, Nightingale was immediately invited by the nobles living in Paris from Germany and Italy.Once Christophe had to attend this kind of concert, and was warmly received by the ambassador.But after only a few words, he knew that the master did not understand music, and knew nothing about his works.So where did this sudden goodwill come from?It seemed that someone was taking care of him in the dark, removing obstacles for him, and opening the way for him.Under Christophe's inquiry, the ambassador mentioned two of Christophe's friends, saying that Count and Countess Peleni admired him very much.Christophe had never even heard of these two surnames; and on the night he went to the embassy, ​​he had no chance to see them.He doesn't have to know them.At this time, others feel disgusted with everyone and distrust friends as much as enemies.He believes that friends and enemies are equally unreliable, and they will change with a gust of wind; we should not rely on them, but as the famous seventeenth-century man said:

"God gave me friends; took them back. They deserted me. I lost them too, and never said a word about it." Since he left Olivier's house that day, Olivier had heard from him; everything seemed to be over between them.Christophe didn't want to make new friends. He thought that the Countess and Countess Peleni were also fashionable people who called themselves his friends, so he didn't want to meet them at all, but avoided them deliberately. Not only that, but he wanted to hide from all of Paris.He needs to retreat for a few weeks in intimate and solitary surroundings.what!If only he could go to his hometown to meditate for a few days--just a few days!This thought slowly turned into a morbid desire.He wants to see his Rhine again, his sky, the land where his dead are buried.He had to see him again.But that was the risk of being arrested: since his death, the arrest warrant has not been withdrawn.But he felt that in order to go back, even if it was only for a day, he would do anything stupid.

Fortunately he mentioned this wish with a new patron.A young attache of the German embassy met him at a party playing his works and said that his country must be very proud of a musician like him. Christophe replied very sadly: "Yes, The motherland was so proud of me that it even let me die outside the gate of the country and refused to let me in." The young diplomat asked him to explain why.A few days later, he went to Christophe and said to him: "There are people concerned about you. A very high-ranking figure, who has the power to suspend the arrest warrant, knows your situation and sympathizes with you. I don't know how your music can make him like it; because ——(Let’s be honest between us)——He’s not very funny, but he’s a smart guy with a good heart. Although he can’t cancel your arrest right now, if you want to go back for two days, see your family If you don't, the local authorities can play dumb. Here's a passport. Teach them to check when you arrive and when you leave. Be careful not to attract attention."

Christophe saw his hometown again.According to the time limit promised by others, he stayed for two days, and only had some old conversations with the village and the people buried in the village.He saw his mother's grave.The grass grows long, but the flowers are recent; father and grandfather sleep side by side.He sits at their feet.Behind the tomb is the wall, and at the top is the shade of a chestnut tree that grows on the sunken road outside the wall.Looking over from the low wall, you can see the golden crops, the warm wind blows soft waves on them, the sun shines on the lazy land; quails are calling in the wheat field, and the cypresses are rustling above the cemetery.Christophe was in a trance by himself, and his mind was very quiet: he sat with his hands on his knees, his back against the wall, and looked at the sky.He closed his eyes for a moment.Ah, how simple it all is!He seemed to be in his own home, with his loved ones.He was very close to them, holding hands.A few hours passed like this.In the evening, there was a sudden sound of footsteps on the sandy walkway.The keeper of the grave passed by and looked at Christophe who was sitting on the ground.Christophe asked who provided those flowers.The man replied that she was the mistress of the farm in Pouilly, who came here once or twice a year.

"Is it Login?" Christophe asked. They chatted about it. "Are you a son?" asked the gardener. "She has three sons," replied Christophe. "I'm talking about the one in Hamburg. The other two are worthless." Christophe tilted his head back slightly, remained motionless and silent.The sun is setting. "I'm closing," said the gardener. Christophe stood up and walked around the cemetery with him.The gardener took him to see where he lived.Christophe stopped there for a while, looking at the name of the deceased.Ah, the names of so many acquaintances are here!Old Yu Lai, - Yu Lai's son-in-law, - and his childhood companion, the little girl who played with him, - finally there was a name that moved his heart: Ada! ...rest in peace for all...

The sunset is like a belt, spreading on the calm horizon.Christophe walked out of the cemetery and wandered for a long time in the fields.The stars are all lit up... He went again the next day and spent the afternoon in the same place.But the peaceful state of mind of the previous day became active.An anthem of carefree joy sang in his heart, and he penciled that song into a pamphlet, sitting on the headrail.Another day passed like this.He felt that he was working in the small room of the year, and his mother was next door.When he finished writing the song and was about to set off—he had already walked a few steps—he suddenly changed his mind and came back to hide the booklet in the grass.The sky was dripping with rain.Christophe thought:

"Soon it will be reduced to dust. Come on! . . . I'm for you alone, not for anyone else." He saw the river again, saw the familiar streets: the situation was very different from before.At the gate of the city, on the walkway of the abandoned Haogou, there is a small saponins grove, which he planted by watching him before, but now it occupies a large area, and the old trees are crowded.Walking along the wall of the garden at the T. Crich's house, he still recognized the boundary marker on which he had climbed to look at the garden when he was a child; he found it strange that the street, the wall, and the garden had become narrow.In front of the iron gate, he stopped for a while, and when he continued to look forward, a car happened to pass by; he raised his head inadvertently, and saw a bright, fat, proud young woman, curiously walking in the car sized him up.Then she gave a cry of surprise, gestured the car to stop, and called, "Is that Mr. Kraft?" He stopped. She smiled and said, "I'm Minna..." He went to meet her, almost as flustered as when he first met her.With her was a tall, bald-headed, self-satisfied man with an upturned beard whom she introduced as "Mr. Justice Hon Bronbaha,"—her husband.She asked Christopher to come to her house.He tried to decline.But Minna kept yelling: "No, no, you must come, and you must have dinner at our house." ---------------- ① Refer to Volume 2: "Morning". ——Original note She spoke loudly and urgently, and without waiting for Christophe to ask, she told all about her situation in the past few years.Christophe was so dazed by her yelling that he only heard half of it and just looked at her.Ah, ah, there was his little Minna!She was strong, plump, with good skin, a rosy color, but loose lines, especially the plump nose.Poses, attitudes, demeanor, all the same; only figure has changed. She was always talking, telling Christophe her past history, her private affairs, the way she loved her husband and the way he loved her.Christophe was embarrassed by this.She was very optimistic, not at all critical, and felt—(at least in front of other people)—her city, her house, her family, were better than any other city, other house, other family.She told her husband that he was "the greatest man she had ever seen" and that he had "a superhuman strength" in him.And the "greatest man" patted Minna on the cheek while smiling, and said to Christophe that she was "a wonderful and wise wife".The judge seemed to know about Christophe, and he was not sure whether to show respect or contempt for him, since on the one hand he had an old case pending, and on the other hand he had the protection of the elders; in the end he decided to use both attitudes. .Minna was always talking, telling Christophe a lot about herself, and then turning the subject to mention him; she asked him this and that with the same intimacy as hers. Confession is the same, because what she just said is the answer to the question that he did not ask but was imagined by herself.She was overjoyed to see Christophe again; she knew nothing of his music, but knowing that he had become famous, it was quite possible to feel loved by him—(and rejected by her)— Complacent, he mentioned that matter in jokes, regardless of the elegance and vulgarity of the wording.She asked him to sign a yearbook, and she asked him hard questions about Paris.Her curiosity about the city was exactly equal to her contempt.She claimed to know Paris, had been to the cabaret, the Opera, Montmadele, Saint-Gru.According to her, Parisian women are sluts, who have no motherhood, wish for as few children as possible, ignore them when they do, and leave them at home to go to the theaters and entertainment places.She never allowed anyone to express dissent.In the evening, she asked Christophe to play a piece on the piano.She thought it was wonderful, but she thought that her husband played the piano as well as Christophe. Christophe was delighted to see Minna's mother, Frau de Kerich.He was always secretly grateful to her because she had treated him well before.She was still so compassionate at the moment, and more natural than Minna, but she always had a slightly teasing attitude towards Christophe, which had annoyed him before.She was exactly the same as when he left her back then, she liked the same things, felt that everything was fine, and it was impossible to have another face.She compared the Christophe in the past with the Christophe today, and she still liked the Christophe when she was a child. Except for Christophe, no one around Frau Kerich was changed of mind.He couldn't bear the narrow vision of the dead town.For part of that evening the hosts were speaking ill of people he did not know.They always pay attention to the ridiculousness of their neighbors, and call everything that is different from them ridiculous.This malicious curiosity, always concerned with some frivolous things, finally made Christophe very uncomfortable.He mentioned his life in a foreign country, but felt at once that they could not grasp this kind of French civilization.He hated this civilization in the past, but now he comes back to his own country and thinks it is valuable on behalf of this civilization; ——The first law of the free Latin spirit is to understand that "morality" should be sacrificed in exchange for "as far as possible learn".In the masters, and especially in Minna, he rediscovered that pride which had hurt him before and which he had forgotten,--a pride which arose from weakness as well as from virtue--only knew how to keep Duty without a little compassion, they look down on others with their own virtues: they look down on any defects that they don't have; the most important thing is decency, and "unconventional" superiority is undesirable.Minna was placid, dignified, convinced that she was never wrong; she always used the same scale when she judged others, and she didn't bother to understand them, only cared for herself.Her selfishness is tinged with a vaguely metaphysical tinge, and nothing is possible without her ego and self-aggrandizement.Maybe she has a good heart and can love others.But she loves herself too much, especially respects herself too much.She seems to be forever adding the word "elder" or "salute" to her ego.We can imagine that if the man she loves the most dares to disrespect her dignified self for a moment—(he will regret it later)—she will not love him, never love him... Hey !Why not let go of your "self" and think about "you"? ... However, Christophe did not look at her with severe eyes.He was usually so easily annoyed, but now he was very patient and listening, not allowing himself to criticize her, but covering her with childhood memories like a halo, wholeheartedly trying to find the shadow of little Minna in her.Certain postures of her did retain the appearance of those days, and some timbres of her voice can also arouse moving memories.He indulged in these things, kept silent, did not listen to her, only pretended to listen, and always showed her a kind of tender respect.But he could not concentrate much: the croaking of the present Minna prevented him from hearing the old Minna.At last he got a little tired, and he stood up, thinking to himself: "Poor little Minna! They tried to teach me to believe that you were here, on this beautiful, fat woman who yelled and bored me. But I knew it was not. Come on, Minna. We are with these people." Irrelevant." He left, pushing to come back tomorrow.If he said that he would leave that night, they would not let him go out until the driving time.After walking a few steps in the dark, he regained the pleasant impression he had had before he had met Minna.The unpleasant evening was quickly forgotten; Rhine's voice drowned everything out.He walked to the river, near the house where he was born.He recognized it immediately.The shutters were tightly closed, and the people inside were already asleep.Christophe stopped in the middle of the road, feeling that if he knocked at the door, those familiar ghosts would surely come and open it.He walked up to the prairie around the house and sat down by the river where he used to talk to his uncle.The old days seemed to come back.And the beloved little girl who had a wonderful dream of first love with him also came back to life.The tenderness of the youth, the sweet tears, and the boundless hope are all revisited.He laughed at himself and said to himself: "I simply haven't learned my life lesson. Knowingly committing...knowingly committing...the same dream forever." How good it is to be able to love consistently, to have faith consistently!Whoever is loved is immortal. "Mina, with me—not with another man... Minna, Minna who never grows old! . . . " The hazy moon came out from the clouds, shining silver light on the river.Christophe felt that the river was much closer to the land on which he was sitting than before.He walked over and took a closer look.Yes, once upon a time here, outside this pear tree, there was a sandy area and a small lawn, and he used to play on it.The river has eroded them; water has soaked to the roots of the pear trees.Christophe could not help feeling sad.Then he walked towards the station.There has also become a new urban area: - there are houses of the poor, there are factories under construction, and there are factory chimneys.Christophe remembered the saponins forest he saw in the afternoon and thought: "Over there, the river is also eroding..." The old city sleeping in shadows, and all living and dead in it, were all the more precious to him, for he felt them threatened... The enemy has taken possession of the city walls... Hurry up and rescue our people!Death watches over all we love.Quickly make the vanishing face into a permanent bronze statue.We have to save the national treasure from the flames, before it burns down the palace...   Christophe, like a man fleeing the flood, boarded the train and left.But just like those who rescued the moat god from the city, Christophe took the sparks of love that exploded from the countryside, the holy souls of the past, and took them away together in his arms. For a certain period, Jacqueline and Olivier drew closer to each other.Jacqueline's father died.Before the real suffering, she felt that other sufferings were boring; and Olivier's tenderness also rekindled her feelings for him.She felt as if she had been thrown back a few years, living a life like those bleak, love-filled days after Aunt Maddow's death.She thought she was so dissatisfied with life that she should thank life for not taking back the few things it had given.Now that she knows the value of these few things, she desperately grabs them.The doctor advised her to leave Paris for a while, so as not to think about the funeral forever; she took a trip with Olivier to the place where they lived in the year of their first marriage, and the result was all the more touched.The journey of life turned a corner, and they saw the love that they thought had disappeared before, and saw it coming, and knew that it would still disappear,—how long will it disappear?Maybe forever! ——So the two of them held on to their love helplessly... "Stay here, stay with us!" But they clearly knew what they were going to lose... When Jacqueline returned to Paris, she felt that she had a little life on fire with love.But the love is over.This gradually increasing burden did not bring her and Olivier closer.She didn't feel the happiness she expected, but asked herself very uneasy.When she was depressed before, she often thought that having a child would definitely save her.Now the child has come, but the savior has not come.It was a plant with roots deep in her flesh: she felt, to her horror, that it was growing, drinking her blood.She was absorbed in listening all day long, and her whole life was attracted by this strange life that occupied her.It was a vague, soft, hypnotic, mournful, buzzing sound.She woke up suddenly, sweating profusely, shivering, and wanted to resist.She fell into the snare of "nature" and tried to struggle.She wants to live, to be free, and feels cheated by "nature".Then she felt shameful about these thoughts, felt cruel, and wondered if her heart was worse than other women, or if she was completely different from them.Then she slowly calmed down again, thinking about the "living fruit" ripening in her bosom.What does it look like in the future? ... At its first cries, at the sight of that poor, charming little body, her whole heart melted, and she tasted for a moment the glorious joy of motherhood, the greatest joy in the world: to emerge from pain. To create a creature made of his own flesh and blood, a human being.The great wave of love that instigates the universe envelops her from head to toe, rolls and rolls, and lifts her to heaven... Oh, God!The woman who creates is equal to you; and you have not known her joy: because you have not suffered...   Then, the wave went down, and the heart sank to the bottom of the sea again. Olivier, trembling with excitement, looked at the child.He smiled at Jacqueline, wanting to know what mysterious life-like relationship existed between them and this poor, half-human creature.Gently and somewhat disgusted, he kissed the little yellow wrinkled head with his lips.Jacqueline looked at him, pushed him away jealously, took the child, hugged her tightly in her arms, and kissed desperately.When the child yelled, she immediately put it down, turned around and cried.Olivier came to hug her and wiped her tears.She hugged him too, and forced a smile.Then she asked to let her rest, to keep the baby with her... Alas!Pitiful!Once love is dead, what else can be done?Men give most of themselves to wisdom. As long as they have strong feelings, they will never leave a trace or a concept in their minds.He may no longer love, but he must not forget that he once loved.A woman who loves others for no reason at all, but once she doesn't love her at all for no reason, there is nothing she can do.Make a wish?Are you lying to yourself?But what if she was too cowardly to make a wish, too sincere to lie to herself? ... Jacqueline leaned her elbows on the bed and looked at the child tenderly and pitifully.What is he?Whatever he is, he is not quite himself.He is also "the other".And this "other one", she no longer loves.poor child!dear child!She was annoyed at this creature that was trying to connect her to a dead "past"; she looked down at him, embraced him, embraced him... The great misfortune of modern women is that they are too free and not free enough.If they are a little more free, they can try to find something to rely on, so as to get pleasure and security.Had they not had the freedom they now have, they would have endured a conjugal relationship they knew could not be broken with less pain.But the worst thing is that they cannot be bound by ties, and forced by responsibilities. If Jacqueline believed that she was destined to stay in this small family for the rest of her life, then she might not feel that the family is so narrow and inconvenient, and she would arrange it more comfortably, and finally she would love the family as much as she did at the beginning .But she felt suffocated inside the house knowing she could get out of the house.She could rebel: she ended up believing it was right to rebel. Modern moralists are queer animals.They have sacrificed their entire lives to the "observation organ".They just want to see life; they don't know it very well, let alone have any desire.They recognized human nature, and when they wrote it down, they thought they had done their duty: "See, that's the way life is," they said. They don't want to transform human nature. In their minds, it seems that "existence" is a kind of virtue.All imperfections therefore have a divine right.Society is democratized.In the past, only the monarch was irresponsible, but now everyone, especially the scoundrels, is irresponsible.What an amazing mentor!They take pains to teach the weak how weak they are, how it is in their nature, and should always be.In this situation, what else can the weak do besides holding their arms in a daze?He who does not appreciate his own weaknesses is considered superior.But when a woman always hears that she is a sick child, she prides herself on being sick and immature.People nurture their cowardice and help them become more cowardly.If anyone dares openly declare that there is an age in youth when, because the mind is not yet balanced, there is great danger of crime, of suicide, of corruption, and that these are excusable:—then there is crime immediately.It is an adult, as long as you tell him repeatedly that he cannot be independent, he can be involuntary and be dominated by animal nature.Conversely, a woman can do this by simply telling her that she has power over her body and her will.But you cowardly fellows are not willing to say: because you want to take advantage of their ignorance of this truth and profit from it! ... The deplorable circumstances in which Jacqueline found herself at last completely lost her.Since she was estranged from Olivier, she returned to the society she had despised in her youth.Around her and her married girlfriends there was a small company of rich young men and women, all handsome, leisurely, intelligent, and weak-willed.Their thoughts and speeches are absolutely free, but they are extremely funny, not to the point of being too free, on the contrary, it makes the freedom a bit tonic.They are happy to quote Rabelais' maxim: Do whatever you like. Actually this is their bragging, because they don't have much aspirations, they are just bored characters in the Tenranmer Seminary.They are happy to preach the doctrine of "freedom of instincts," but these instincts have almost died out in them; their indulgence is only a dream in the head.They are happiest to dissolve themselves in the bathing pool of this civilization, to breathe the thin air of sensuality;--human energy, strong life, primitive animality, faith, will, passion, responsibility, all in the tepid water The mud turned into liquid.Jacqueline's beautiful body was immersed in this viscous thought.Olivier could not stop her.He also caught the epidemic of the time, thinking that he had no right to limit the freedom of his loved ones; he was unwilling to fight for anything except through the power of love.Jacqueline was not satisfied with him, because she thought freedom was her right. ---- ①In the 15th century, Rabelais created this group, gathering generally noble and outstanding figures, with the purpose of advocating elegant life. What's worse, she entrusted her whole heart to this double-lived society, and her heart never tolerates ambiguity: once you have faith, you have to give it to each other; Her soul, even in selfish behavior, burns all her veins fiercely, and during her life with Olivier, she also maintains the spirit of not making excuses when things happen, even if it is immoral. I am also ready to do it thoroughly. Her average new friend is too cautious to show others the truth about herself.If in theory they profess to be absolutely free from moral and social prejudices, they arrange in practice never to be cut off from any prejudice in their favour; Owner.From idleness, and from habit, they also stole from each other.Quite a few husbands know that their wives have lovers.These screwdrivers also knew that the husband was having an affair.They each have their own way.As long as you don't make any noise, there's nothing wrong with it.These good couples have a tacit understanding like partners—or accomplices, so to speak.But Jacqueline was more frank and serious about everything.First, be sincere.Second, be sincere.Third, we must be sincere and always be sincere.Sincerity was also one of the virtues preached at the time.But here we see that to the sane man all is sane; to the corrupt mind all is corrupt.How ugly is sincerity sometimes!It is a sin for ordinary mediocre people to look into their hearts.Because they only see their own mediocrity and are complacent. Jacqueline was always studying herself in the mirror, and saw things which she had better never see: for once she saw them, she did not have the courage to look away; instead of extinguishing them, she looked at them. Growing up, becoming gigantic, finally taking her eyes and mind together. Children do not enrich her life.She couldn't breastfeed by herself, and the child was getting tired day by day.Had to hire a wet nurse.She was very sad at first...and then relieved.The child is healthy and strong, but he is very well-behaved, silent, often falls asleep, and seldom cries at night.The wet nurse is a sturdy woman who is not a first-time nurse, with an instinctive, jealous, exaggerated affection for the baby—she is, on the contrary, like a real mother.If Jacqueline expressed any opinion, the nurse would just follow her own mind; if Jacqueline argued a few words, she would immediately find that she knew nothing.Since giving birth, her health has never recovered: the initial phlebitis made her mentally shocked; she was even more distressed after lying still for several weeks, and her frantic thoughts were nailed to the same problem over and over again, always the same problem. A few words of complaint: "I didn't live at all, and now my life is over..." Because she was nervous, she thought she was permanently disabled, and thought that the child was the cause of the disease, and secretly hated him very much.This kind of mentality is not as rare as most people think, but it is covered by a heavy curtain; women who have this kind of mentality dare not admit it to themselves, and feel shameful.Jacqueline reproaches herself: selfishness and motherly love are at war in her breast.看到婴儿睡得那么甜蜜，她就软心了；但一忽儿她又好不辛酸的想道：“他要了我的命。” 同时她对于孩子无知无觉的酣睡有种反感：他的幸福是用她的痛苦换来的。便是她病好了，孩子大了一些之后，她暗地里仍旧怀着这种敌意。但因为她觉得可耻，便把敌意转移到奥里维身上。她继续拿自己看做病人，老是担忧健康问题，医生们又推波助澜，鼓励她一事不做，——其实一事不做就是她的病根，——使她和婴儿隔离，绝对不能行动，绝对的孤独，几星期的躺着，百无聊赖，吃得饱饱的睡在床上，象一只填鸭，——结果她的注意力都集中在自己身上。现代的医学治疗真是古怪，它拿另外一种病——自我扩张病，去代替神经衰弱！你们为什么不替他们的自私病施行放血治疗呢？倘若他们的血不太多，那末为什么不把他们头里的血移一部分到心里去？ 病后，雅葛丽纳身体更强壮，更发福，更年轻了，——精神上却是比什么时候都病得厉害。几个月的孤独把她和奥里维思想上最后的联系给斩断了。只要留在他旁边，她还能受到这个理想主义者的影响，因为他虽然懦弱，还维持他的信念。她一向想摆脱一个精神上比她更强的人的控制，想反抗那洞烛她的内心而有时使她不得不责备自己的目光，只是徒然。但她一朝偶然跟这个男人分离了，没有他那种明察秋毫的爱压在她心上，她完全获得自由以后，他们之间友善的信心立刻会消灭，代之而起的是一种怨恨的心理，恨自己曾经倾心相与，恨长时期的受着感情的束缚，这感情自己是早已没有的……在一个你所爱的而你也以为爱你的人心中酝酿的怨恨，简直没法形容。一夜之间，什么都变了。上一天她还爱着，似乎爱着，自以为爱着。忽而她不爱了，把先前所爱的人在心上丢开了。他突然发见了这一点，觉得莫名片妙，完全没看到她心中长时期的酝酿，从来没猜疑到她暗中日积月累的恨意，也不愿意去体会这种报复与仇恨的原因。那些原因往往是长久以前就潜伏着的，多方面的，捉摸不到的，——有些是埋在床帷之下的，——有些是自尊心受了伤害，心中的秘密被对方窥见了，批判了，——又有些……连她自己都不知道。有种暗中的伤害，虽然是无心的，可是受到的人永远不能原谅。这等伤害，人们永远不能知道，她自己也不大清楚；但伤痕已经深深的刻在她的肉体上，而她的肉体就永远忘不了。 要挽回这种可怕的越来越冷淡的感情，必须一个性格和奥里维不同的男人才有办法；——这种人一定是更接近自然，更单纯，同时也更有伸缩性，没有婆婆妈妈的顾虑，本能很强，必要时能采取为他的理性不赞成的行动。奥里维却是没有上阵就打败了，灰心了；太明察的目光使他早已在雅葛丽纳身上辨认出比意志更强的遗传性，——她母亲的心灵；他眼看她象一块石子般掉在她那个种族的深渊里；而他又懦弱又笨拙，所有的努力反而使她往下掉得更快。他强自镇静。她却无意之间有种打算，不让他保持镇静，逼他说出粗暴鄙俗的话，使自己更有理由轻视他。要是他忍不住而发作了，她就瞧不其他。如果他事后羞愧，她就更瞧不其他。如果他耐着性子，不上她的当，——那末她恨他。最糟的是他们一连好几天的不说话。令人窒息、骇怖的沉默，连最温和的人也受不住而要为之发狂的；有时你还感到一种想作恶、叫喊、使别人叫喊的欲望。静默，漆黑一片的静默，爱情会在静默中分解，人会象星球般各走各的，湮没在黑暗中去……他们甚至会到一个阶段，使一切的行为，即使目的是求互相接近，结果都促成他们的分离。双方的生活变得没法忍受了。而一桩偶然的事故更加速了事情的演变。 一年以来，赛西尔·弗洛梨时常在耶南家走动。奥里维最初在克利斯朵夫那里碰到她；以后，雅葛丽纳请她到家里去，赛西尔便常常去探望他们，便是在克利斯朵夫和他们分手之后也是这样。雅葛丽纳对她很好，虽则自己不大懂音乐，认为赛西尔很平凡，但喜欢她的唱，觉得一看到她，精神上很舒服。奥里维很高兴和她一起弹琴唱歌。久而久之，赛西尔做了他们的朋友。她使人感到心神安定：一踏进耶南家的客厅，那双坦白的眼睛，健康的皮色，微嫌粗野但令人听了怪舒服的笑声，好比浓雾中透入一道阳光。奥里维和雅葛丽纳的心都为之苏慰了。她每次离开的时候，他们很想对她说：“你再坐坐罢，坐坐罢！我多冷啊！” 雅葛丽纳出门养病的时期，奥里维见到赛西尔的次数更多了；他不能对她瞒着心中的悲伤，便不假思索的尽量诉说，正如一个懦弱而温柔的心灵在苦闷的时候需要发泄一样。赛西尔听了很感动，用些慈爱的话安慰他。她替他们俩惋惜，鼓励奥里维不要灰心。可是或许因为她觉得听了这些心腹话比他更窘，或许因为别的什么理由，她托辞把访问的次数减少了。没有问题，她以为自己的行动对雅葛丽纳不大光明，她没权利知道这些秘密。奥里维认为她的疏远是为了这个理由，而且那理由也很充分：他埋怨自己不应该向她诉苦。可是疏远的结果，他发觉了赛西尔在他心中的地位。他已经惯于把自己的思想交给她分担；唯有她才能使他从压其他的痛苦中解放出来。他素来把自己的感情看得雪亮，所以他这一回对赛西尔的感情究竟是哪一种，胸中早已了然。他绝对不和赛西尔说，但禁不住要把自己所感到的写下来。近来他又恢复那危险的习惯，借笔墨来自言自语。在他和雅葛丽纳爱情浓厚的几年中，这种嗜好已经戒掉了；但一朝恢复了只身独处的生活，遗传的癖性又发作了：这是痛苦的发泄，也是一个喜欢自我分析的艺术家的需要。他描写自己，描写他的痛苦，好似对赛西尔当面说着一样，——而且可以更自由，因为赛西尔永远不会看到这些文字。 但不巧这些文字竟落在雅葛丽纳眼里。那天她正觉得自己精神上和奥里维非常接近，那接近的程度是多年来没有的。她整着柜子，翻到他以前给她的情书，感动得哭了。坐在柜子的黑影里，没法再收拾东西，她把过去的历史温了一遍，眼看自己把它毁了，懊悔到极点，同时又想到奥里维的悲伤。关于这一点，她从来不能无动于衷；她可能忘掉奥里维，但想到他为她而痛苦就受不住。她心碎肠断，真想扑在他的怀里和他说：“啊！奥里维，奥里维，咱们怎么搞的？咱们是疯子，疯子！别再自寻烦恼了罢！” 要是他这时候走进屋子的话可多么好！ ... 不料正在这时候，她发见了奥里维给夜莺的那些信……于是什么都完了。 ——她是不是以为奥里维真正欺骗了她呢？Maybe.但这一点是不相干的。她认为精神上的欺骗比行为方面的欺骗更要不得。她可以原谅她所爱的人有一个情妇，可不能宽恕他私下把心给了另外一个女子。当然，她这个想法是不错的。 “这有什么了不起！”有的人会这样说。因为一般可怜的人直要到爱情的欺骗成为事实的时候才感到痛苦。……殊不知只要心不变，肉体的堕落是不足道的。要是心变了，那就一切都完了。 雅葛丽纳不想把奥里维再争取回来。那已经太晚了！她对他的爱不象以前那么深切了。或者是太爱他了……但这不是嫉妒，而是全部信心的崩溃，而是她对他所有的信仰与希望的破灭。她没想到原来是她瞧不起这信仰与希望的，是她使他灰心的，逼他倾向于这次的爱情的，也没想到这爱情是无邪的，一个人的爱或不爱究竟是不能自主的。她从来没想到拿自己和克利斯朵夫的调情跟这次的事作比较：她不爱克利斯朵夫，所以那根本不算一回事。在过分冲动的情形之下，她以为奥里维对她扯谎，完全不把她放在心上了。正当她伸出手去抓握最后一个倚傍的时候，竟扑了一个空……一切都完了。 奥里维永远没知道她那一天所感到的痛苦。但他一见她的面，也觉得一切都完了。 从此以后，他们不再交谈，除非当着别人的面。他们互相观察，好比两头被追逐的野兽，提心吊胆，非常害怕。耶雷米阿斯·高特海尔夫①曾经淋漓尽致的描写一对不再相爱而互相监视的夫妇，各人窥探对方的健康，疾病的征象，不是希望对方速死，但似乎希望一件意外的祸事，希望自己比对方身体强壮。有时雅葛丽纳和奥里维就是互相以为有这种思想，其实两人都没有；但仅仅有这种怀疑就够痛苦了：例如雅葛丽纳在夜里胡思乱想而失眠的时候，便想到丈夫比她健旺，正在慢慢的磨她，不久会把她压倒……一个人的幻想与心灵受惊以后，竟会有这样疯狂的念头！ ——然而他们俩心中最优秀的部分暗地里还是相爱的！ ... --- ①十九世纪瑞士小说家。 奥里维被压倒了，不想再奋斗；他站在一边，把控制雅葛丽纳心灵的舵丢下了。没有了把舵的人，她对着她的自由头晕眼花；她需要有个主宰好让她反抗：倘使没有的话，就得自己造一个出来。于是她老是执着一念。至此为止，她虽然痛苦，还从来没有离开奥里维的意思。从那天气，她以为所有的约束都摆脱了。她要趁早爱一个人；因为她年纪轻轻，却已经自以为老了。——她曾经有过那些幻想的，强烈的热情，对于第一个遇到的对象，一张仅仅见过一次的脸，一个名人，或者只是一个姓氏，一朝依恋之后，再也割舍不掉；而且那些热情硬要她相信，她的心再也少不了它所选择的对象：它整个的被他占据了，过去的一切都给一扫而空：她对别人的感情，她的道德观念，她的回忆，她的自我的骄傲，对别人的尊重，统统被这新的对象排挤掉。等到固执的意念没有了养料，烧过了一阵也归于消灭的时候，一个新的性格便从废墟里浮现出来，是个没有慈悲，没有怜悯，没有青春，没有幻象的性格，只想磨蚀生命，好似野草侵犯倾圮的古迹一样。 这一次，固执的念头照例属意于一个玩弄感情的人物。可怜的雅葛丽纳竟爱上了一个风月场中的老手。他是个巴黎作家，既不好看，又不年轻，臃肿笨重，气色赭红，憔悴不堪，牙齿都坏了，人又狠毒，唯一的价值是当时很走红，唯一的本领是糟蹋了一大批女性。她并非不知道他自私自利：因为他在作品中拿来公然炫耀。他这么做是有作用的：用艺术镶嵌起来的自私好比捕雀的罗网，吸引飞蛾的火焰。在雅葛丽纳周围，上钩的已不止一个：最近她朋友中一个新婚少妇，被他很容易的骗上了，接着又丢掉了。这些女子可并没因之死去活来，只是为了怨恨而闹些笑柄，让别人看了开心。受害最烈的女子，因为太顾虑自己的利益和社会关系，只得勉强忍受。她们并不闹得满城风雨。尽管欺骗丈夫和朋友，或是被丈夫和朋友欺骗，事情决不张扬。她们是为了怕舆论而不惜牺牲自己的女英雄。