Chapter 7 A brainstorm
I guess very few people know what motivated Mrs. Albert Forrester to write The Statue of Achilles.Since this book has been called one of the greatest novels of our time, I thought that if I made a brief statement of all the things that occurred in the writing of this novel, it would be useful for all serious research. It must be extremely interesting for college students of literature.Indeed, as literary critics have said, this is a masterpiece that will live forever.And my following account can be used to pass the time when there is nothing to do.Perhaps future historians can use it as an unofficial reference when compiling the literary chronicle of our time.
Of course, anyone who participated in the publication of The Statue of Achilles remembers the success of the book.The printers are working hard day and night to print, and the bookbinders are busy binding, but the supply is still in short supply.The novel went out in edition after edition, but booksellers were flooded with orders neither in England nor in America.The book was quickly translated into all European languages.It was recently announced that Japanese and Urdu editions may soon be published.But the novel first appeared in magazines on both sides of the Atlantic as a chapter-backed series.That's what the editors at Mrs. Abbott Forrester's Agency did.They are eager to cash in, but seem a little too hasty.A play based on the novel has been staged, and it has become a sensation in New York.There is no doubt that when the play is staged in London it will be equally a great success.In addition, the film copyright of this novel also fetched a high price.While it is widely believed in literary circles that the amount of Mrs. Abbott Forrester's profit from this book may be exaggerated, there is no doubt that it will be enough for her to live out her old age without having to read it again. Worry about money.
It is unusual in itself for a book to be so popular in both publishing and literary criticism.And she, and only she (I made this comment boldly) can quell the discord in this circle.This proves her worth even more.In the past, while Mrs. Abbott Forrester has been convincingly praised by her critics (and deservedly so), the public has remained as indifferent to her exploits as ever.Each of her published novels is not too thick, and is beautifully printed and has a hard white cover; her books are highly praised as masterpieces, and they have been reported repeatedly in the literary review sections of newspapers, and in literary weekly magazines. A full-page review (these weeklys are now only found in old clubs. They are stacked in the club's dusty library).All well-read people have read these books and think highly of them.But well-read people don't seem to buy books.Therefore, her books did not sell much.
It is a real scandal that such a distinguished writer, whose work is recognized as beautiful and complex, is unknown to the general public.In America she is almost completely unknown.Although Mr. Carl van Vechten once published an article in which he denounced the public's insensitivity.But the public remains insensitive.Her surrogate is an ardent admirer of her.This person pressured an American publisher to publish two of her novels.Said that if her book was not published, he would refuse to provide him with other manuscripts (which were undoubtedly rubbish) that he desperately needed.Therefore, these two books were published in time.The press's evaluation of these two books is quite high, which shows that the cultural elites in the United States are fully aware of her literary genius.But before the publication of her third novel, American publishers still told her agent in the usual rude tone of publishers that instead of using the money to publish her book, she might as well use the money to buy a few bottles of Du Gin drink it.
Since The Statue of Achilles became popular, Mrs Albert Forrester's other books have been reprinted (Mr Carl van Vechten wrote another review, firmly But it is sad to point out that fifteen years ago, he wrote an article to call the public's attention to this outstanding writer).Review articles about these books are flooded in major newspapers and magazines, and of course they will attract widespread attention from readers.Therefore, I need not describe these books further here.And it would certainly be a fool's errand to write a review of these two novels after Mr. Carl van Vechten has already written two masterful reviews.Mrs. Albert Forrester began writing very early.She published her first book (a series of elegiac collections) when she was an eighteen-year-old girl.Since then, every two or three years she has released a new book, either a collection of poems or a collection of essays.She treats her literature as art, and never makes things up just to make up numbers.She was fifty-seven years old when The Statue of Achilles was completed, and it can be inferred from this that she published a considerable number of works.She has published six volumes of poetry.And they all use Latin as the titles of these collections of poems, such as Felicitas, Pax Maris and Aes Triplex.The contents of all these collections of poetry are very serious.What she pursues is the artistry of her works, and she abandons the frivolous and absurd road.Her writing has always maintained the characteristics of elegy, and sonnets represent her writing style.The most characteristic feature of her work is the extensive use of the ode genre, a poetic form that is somewhat forgotten by people today.It can be asserted that her ode "To the Rector Fallier" deserves inclusion in any collection of English poetry.This poem is praised not only for its clear rhythm, but also for its vivid description of the lovely land of France.Mrs. Albert Forrester described the Loire Valley region of France in Du Belle's memory with the memory trilogy "Duberet", depicting the city of Chartres in France and the large windows inlaid with gemstones. Church, depicting the vibrant towns and cities of the Provence region of France.The language she uses in this collection of essays is affectionate, for the Boulogne region is the most remote region she has ever visited in France.After her marriage, she took a steamer from Margate, England, to this area for a brief tour.But she suffered from seasickness, and was devastated to discover that the inhabitants of the seaside resorts could not understand her fluent and idiomatic French.So she decided not to come to this place again, lest she not only suffer physically, but also lose face.Although she praised this place many times in her poetry collection "The Sea of Peace" and praised the bravery and harmony of the people here, she has never come to this dangerous place by boat since then.
In the poem "Ode to Wood Wilson", there are also many beautiful chapters.But to my regret, the author has decided not to publish this collection of poems because of her changed feelings towards this fine man.But I think Mrs. Albert Forrester's best work is her prose.She wrote several collections of essays, all related.The titles of these collections of essays are: Autumn in Sussex, Queen Victoria, Death, Norfolk Spring, Georgian Architecture, Mr. Dediaghilev, and Dante.She also writes some essays.The lines of these essays are full of profound learning and rich imagination. They are written about the life of the Jesuit priests in the seventeenth century and about the literature of the Hundred Years War.It is her prose that won her great acclaim and made her one of the greatest masters of English literature in this century.She believes that her writing style is both sonorous and powerful, but also lively and humorous;She thinks this is her strength in writing.Only in her prose can she catch a glimpse of her pleasant but restrained pen, and her humorous language keeps readers hooked on her work.Not only are her ideas and words humorous in her works, but even more subtle, her punctuation is very humorous.Under sudden inspiration, she discovered that connectors can also produce comic effects.She uses this figure of speech a lot in her own work, to great effect.If you are a cultured person with a strong sense of humor, you will not laugh off the use of horse-collar (horse yoke) in her works, but will keep giggling; The more educated you are, the harder you will laugh.Her friends said her kind of humor made other forms of humor seem crude and exaggerated.Several writers have tried to imitate her style of writing, but without success.Whatever one may say about Mrs. Abbott Forrester, it must be admitted that she does use connectors to the extreme, and wring out all the humor out of them, and her talent in this respect can only be matched by others.
The apartment where Mrs. Albert Forrest lived was not far from Marble Arch.The location is good and the rent is cheap.Her apartment had a grand drawing room facing the street, a very spacious bedroom for Mrs. Albert Forrester, a dining room off the street, slightly dark, and a small bedroom next to the kitchen. .This bedroom belonged to Mr. Albert Forrest.He is also responsible for paying the rent for the entire apartment.It was in this stately drawing room that Mrs. Albert Forrester met her friends every Tuesday afternoon.The layout of her home is plain and simple.The pattern of the wallpaper on the walls was designed by William Morris himself, and there are decorative paintings framed in ordinary black wooden frames on the walls.These paintings are all printed using the metal printing method.Metal printing was relatively cheap at the time.Except for the roll-top desk, the rest of the furniture is Chippendale period.This table is from the Louis XVI period and matches well with the rest of the furniture.Mrs. Albert Forrester wrote on this desk.This was something that would be introduced to all first-time visitors to her, and there were very few who saw the desk without being thrilled.The carpet in the living room is thick, but the light is slightly dark.Mrs. Albert Forrester usually sat in an old-fashioned straight-backed armchair.The armchair was covered with a red brocade cover, but there was nothing notable about it.But this chair was the only comfortable seat in the living room. Sitting here alone, she stood out from the group of guests.A woman whose age cannot be guessed brought the tea.She was expressionless and said nothing.No one came to introduce who she was.But she did not need Mrs. Albert Forrester to ask her to do the annoying work of pouring tea for each guest, so she also had an opportunity to talk to each guest.It must be admitted that she has a good conversation.Although her tone of voice is less lively and her accent is hard to hear, giving the impression of a lack of humor, her talk is broad, well-grounded, and inspiring and entertaining.Mrs. Albert Forrester is well versed in social sciences, law and religion.She is well-read and has an amazing memory.She is very good at citing scriptures, and she casually said a proverb, which seemed very wise.During the thirty years, she met many famous people, so she knew many anecdotes.But she doesn't show off these stories, she just tells them occasionally so as not to be offended.Mrs. Albert Forrester had a knack for attracting all kinds of people.Of course I am also one of them.In her living room, you can simultaneously meet a former prime minister, a newspaper owner and an ambassador to a world-class power.I always thought that these big shots came to her to meet some bohemians; these bohemians were now neatly dressed, and the big shots didn't have to worry about them staining their crisp suits.Mrs. Abbott Forrester was very interested in politics, and I heard a cabinet minister tell her frankly that she understood as well as a man.She has always opposed women's suffrage.But when women were finally granted this right, she occasionally even had the idea of running for parliament.What troubles her is that she doesn't know which party to choose.
"All in all," she joked, shrugging her fleshy shoulders, "I'm not going to start a party myself."
Like many serious patriots, she decided to wait and see how things turned out when she was not sure, and did not express her political position clearly.Later, when the Labor Party gained the upper hand, she turned decisively to the Labor Party.If she is invited to be a Labor member of Parliament, as is expected, she will not hesitate to accept the MP and enter politics as a champion of the downtrodden working class.
There are always foreign guests in her living room.If the guests were Czechoslovaks, Italians, and French, these guests must be some famous people; if they were Americans, even unknown people could be her guests.But she is not a snob who only associates with the powerful.You rarely see any duke in her drawing room.Of course, unless there was a major change in the status of the duke, she would rarely have a noble widow in her drawing room.Unless this woman made a big mistake.Such as getting divorced, or writing a novel, or forging checks, and so on.In this way she would gain the sympathy of Mrs. Albert Forrester.She seldom associates with painters, who are quiet and shy; she has no interest in musicians. If these musicians are a little famous, if you ask them to play a piece, They are generally not very happy.And music can also be a hindrance to conversation.If people want to listen to music, they can go to the concert hall to listen.Personally, she prefers literature that reveals a subtle inner voice.She was willing to receive writers, especially those who were unknown but promising, often with kindness.She favored newcomers to literature who had talent.Those famous writers who come to her for a cup of tea from time to time have almost all received her encouragement and guidance when they first entered the road of literature.Her literary status is secure enough that she doesn't have to worry about envy.She also heard gossip.It is said that the talented young writers who admire her are very envious of those colleagues who are not interested in her, and those writers with the same talent have achieved great success.
Mrs. Albert Forrester trusted the judgment of her followers and ignored the gossip.It is precisely because of this that she can successfully create parties similar to the French salons of the eighteenth century.In our uncivilized country, this is a precedent that no one has ever succeeded.It has become a consensus in literary circles that it is a very dignified thing to be invited to "have a snack and a cup of tea on Tuesday".When you sit in the Chippendale chairs in this austere, dark drawing room, you can't help but feel as if you are in the halls of literary history.The American ambassador once said this to Mrs. Albert Forrester:
"Mrs. Forrester, having a cup of tea with you is a treat for the mind. It keeps me coming back for more."
Such occasions do sometimes evoke a certain trepidation.Mrs. Albert Forrester's taste is such that she can smell fragrances and see jade in the rough, and I am admired and sometimes dumbfounded by her ability.
As far as I'm concerned, she's a towering figure.To enter her social circle, which seems to be above the clouds, I must first embolden myself with a cocktail or two.To be honest, I don't think I will ever be able to be part of this circle.So one afternoon, when I came to her door, I should have said to the maid who opened the door, "Is Mrs. Forrester at home?" Instead, I asked, out of nowhere, "Is there a church service today?"
Of course I said that quite by accident, and it made the maid chuckle.But unfortunately, at this time, Alan Hannaway came to change the wellies in the corridor and heard this sentence.She was one of Mrs. Albert Forrester's most ardent admirers.She told the hostess my question before I entered the drawing room.So, when I entered, Mrs. Albert Forrester fixed me with a piercing eye.
"Why are you asking if there is worship today?" she asked.
I explained that I was a little out of my wits.But Mrs. Albert Forrester continued to stare at me.Her gaze was irresistible.
"You mean my party is a kind of..." She was looking for the right word, "sacrament?"
I don't know what she meant by that, but I didn't want to appear ignorant in front of so many smart guests.I think the only way at this point is to prevaricate with compliments.
"Madam, your party is as beautiful and holy as you are."
Mrs. Albert Forrester's huge body trembled slightly.She was like a man who suddenly walks into a room full of daffodils, whose fragrance makes him so intoxicated that he almost loses his balance.But she showed mercy and let me go.
"If you like a joke," said she, "I wish you would do it with my guests, but not with my maid. Miss Warren will serve you tea."
Mrs. Albert Forrester shook my hand and let me go, but she did not let go of the subject.For the next two or three years, whenever she introduced me to someone, she never forgot to say:
"Don't let him go. He's come here to repent. He always asks at my door: Is there a church today? He's too funny, isn't he?"
But Mrs. Albert Forrester doesn't just host a weekly tea party.Every Saturday, she hosts a luncheon party for just eight people.She thinks that's the best number for a casual chat, and her restaurant is too small to accommodate more people.Mrs. Albert Forrester's greatest pride was not her mastery of the rhythms of the English language, which no one could match, but her luncheons.She chooses her guests carefully.If anyone is lucky enough to be invited to this banquet, he will not only be flattered, but also feel like being enshrined.The conversation at this lunch table is of a class which no ordinary tea party can match.After the guests left, most of them had a better understanding of Mrs. Albert Forrest's ability, and they had more confidence in the good side of human nature.Since she is a staunch feminist and wants to meet women elsewhere, she invited only men to the luncheon.She fully understood the desire of her guests to converse only with their neighbors, and thus avoided discussing public topics during the banquet.In this way, the guests can not only concentrate on feasting, but also feel very relaxed and happy.It should be pointed out here that Mrs. Albert Forrester provided the guests with high-end food and wine and first-class cigars.Most people engaged in literary creation have a high level of ideology, but their living standards are low.They are always engrossed in their own thoughts, and don't pay much attention to whether the roast lamb is done or not, or whether the potatoes are cold or not.They can be content with a glass of beer, and sometimes a glass of wine to refresh themselves.But it would be wise for them not to drink coffee.Now facing a table full of delicious food and wine, they will feel that the food is too rich, how can they not be satisfied?Mrs. Albert Forrester always seemed very happy when her guests complimented her dinner.
"It's a great honor for people to have lunch with me," she said. "It's only fair that I give them as good a meal as possible. I want them to feel at home."
But if the flattery is too much, she will object.
"I'm ashamed of you to praise me like that. It's not my credit. You should praise Mrs. Bullfinch."
"Who is Mrs. Bullfinch?"
"She's my cook."
"Then she is wonderful. But you don't want me to believe that she made these wines, too?"
"Is the wine good? I didn't pay attention at all. I'll buy whatever wine the wine merchant says is good. I completely listen to him."
But Mrs Albert Forrester beamed when the cigars on the table were mentioned.
"Oh, if you like these cigars, you must thank Abbott. The cigars are all selected by him himself. I just know that he is an absolute expert on cigars."
She looked at her husband at the other end of the table.Her eyes became bright with the pride of a purebred hen (a buff Orpington picked out) looking at her only chick.So the guests at last found an opportunity of thanking their host, and were eager to pay homage to this specialty of his.The living room suddenly became noisy.
"You are very kind," he said, "I'm glad you enjoy these cigars."
Then he'll give a short speech about cigars.He will explain what is good about the cigars he has chosen, and he will regret that the quality of these cigars has declined.He has been keeping a close eye on trade in the industry.Mrs. Albert Forrester would watch him with a smile.Apparently, she was very pleased with his little success.Of course, a banquet can't talk endlessly about cigars.As soon as she realized that her guests were impatient with the subject, she was able to bring up a more general topic.Of course, the topic would be more interesting and meaningful.Albert fell silent again.But he has already made a splash.
Mrs. Forrester's luncheons were, in the eyes of some, somewhat inferior to her tea parties, as Albert was somewhat tiresome.Although Mrs. Forrester was fully aware of this, she believed that Albert should be present to the guests, so as to show that there was another master in the house.So he showed up at the luncheon every Saturday (other times, he was busy).Mrs. Albert Forrester thought it a blow to her self-respect if her husband appeared on these gay occasions.She would never inadvertently let the outside world know that she had such a husband who was so intellectually different from her.Perhaps during countless sleepless nights, she would ask herself, how could she marry such a man?Mrs. Albert Forrester's friends were also puzzled that she never talked about things at home.They say that such a good woman should marry such a man, what a flower stuck in cow dung.They asked each other why she would think of marrying him.To their desperation, respondents (mostly single) said that no one knew the answers to questions like why one person should marry another.
Abbott was never boring.He never pulls you to tell endless stories or jokes that don't make sense, he doesn't pester you with trite things.He's just very boring, like a nobody.Clifford Braston is a well-known writer who is highly respected by French Romantic literati.He once said: Abbott just walked into a room, but you looked into the room, but there was no one.Mrs. Albert Forrester's friends thought the remark was brilliant.Ross Watford shares this sentiment.She is a famous novelist and a most fearless woman.She ventured to tell Mrs. Albert Forrester this.Although she pretended to be angry, a smile appeared on the corner of her mouth involuntarily.Her attitude towards Albert made her admired even more by her friends.She told her friends that no matter what they thought of Abbott, he was her husband and they should all show him the courtesy they deserved.Her own attitude towards her husband is also admirable.Whenever he occasionally opened his mouth to say something, she listened with joy on his face; when he handed her a book she wanted, or a pencil to jot down her sudden inspiration She always wants to say thank you.Nor did she allow her friends to simply ignore him.She is a woman who is very experienced in dealing with people and knows that if she always brings him by her side, it will cause a lot of inconvenience to others.Therefore, she goes out by herself most of the time.But her friends knew she wanted them to invite him to dinner at least once a year.When she was going to a big party and gave a speech, he was always by her side; if she was going to give a speech, she always took care to have a seat for him on the podium.
Albert was of medium height, but people thought of him only when his wife was mentioned, and his wife was a tall, fat woman, which may be why people thought him small.He is thin and looks much older than his actual age.This is the same as his wife.He had short, thinning hair, and it was all white.His mustache was short and thick, and it was all white.His face was narrow and lined, without any striking features.His blue eyes, which may have been beautiful once, were pale and tired now.His clothes are always very neat.He always wore the same pattern of black and white striped trousers, a black coat, a gray tie, and a small pearl pin on it.He is completely unobtrusive.When he stood in Mrs. Albert Forrester's drawing room, welcoming the guests invited to luncheon, he was like a piece of gentlemanly furniture, staying there quietly, a little Nor is it noticeable.He is very polite.When he shook hands with guests, he always showed a polite smile on his face, which made people feel happy.
"Hi, nice to meet you," he greeted as warmly as an old friend. "How are you doing?"
But if the guests are first-timers, complete strangers, when they enter the drawing-room, he greets them at the drawing-room door and says:
"I am the husband of Mrs. Albert Forrester. I will introduce you to my wife."
He would then lead the guests to where Mrs. Albert Forrest stood.With her back to the window, she would come forward with a smile on her face and give a warm welcome to the guests.
He was very proud of his wife's literary reputation, but tried to hide it.It's very interesting.He only thinks of his wife in everything, and he never shows off.When he needs to come forward, he will always appear there; when he needs to avoid it, he always finds an excuse to avoid it.His clever move, if not intentional, was intuitive.Mrs. Albert Forrester was the first to recognize his worth.
"I don't know where I would be without him," she says. "He means so much to me. I can see what he thinks about my work, and his criticism is generally very useful."
"It's like Molière and his cook," said Miss Waterford.
"Is that interesting, Rose dear?" asked Mrs. Albert Forrester, somewhat sharply.
If she disagreed with anything others said, she had a way of embarrassing many people.That's asking if you're telling a joke that she's too stupid to understand.But it was not a way of embarrassing Miss Waterford.She was a woman who had had countless affairs in her life, but only once had she actually been emotionally involved.And this time, the city was full of storms.Mrs. Albert Forrester resented her frivolity, but tolerated her.
"Come, come, darling," she answered, "you know very well that without you he is nothing, that he cannot know us. To him it is the wisest thing in our time to know so many , the most famous person, that is really undreamed of."
"A bee may die without a hive to shelter in; but a hive cannot exist without bees."
Though well versed in literature and art, Mrs. Albert Forrester's friends were almost entirely ignorant of natural history.Therefore, there is nothing to say about her high opinion.She continued:
"He doesn't interfere in my affairs. He knows intuitively when I don't want to be disturbed. Really, after careful consideration, I find that he has been a great service to me in this family, not a burden."
"He's like a Persian cat to you," went on Miss Waterford.
"A very well-trained, well-bred, very polite Persian cat," snapped Mrs. Albert Forrester, and made Miss Waterford afraid.
But Mrs. Albert Forrester was not done with her evaluation of her husband.
"We intellectuals," she says, "have a tendency to be too exclusionary. We're interested in the abstract and not in the concrete. Sometimes I think we're too detached from the hustle and bustle of the world, too high up. Don't you feel that our indifference to human affairs is dangerous? I will always be indebted to Abbott for keeping me in touch with ordinary people."
Her friends all agreed that her statement was indeed insightful and best representative of her long-held views.It was for this reason that Abbott became, for a while, a very well-known "normal person" among her close circle of friends.But after a short time, his nickname was forgotten by people.He came to be known as the "Stamp Collector".It was the nickname given to him by the crooked Clifford Bryston.One day, he racked his brains about what to talk to Albert, but he couldn't think of a topic.In desperation, he casually asked:
"Do you collect stamps?"
"No," replied Abbott politely, "I don't collect stamps."
But Clifford Bryston asked the question offhand.He once wrote a book on the marriage of Baudelaire's aunt.This book attracts the attention of all those interested in French literature.And it is well known that, after thoroughly studying the spirit of France, he himself absorbed a great deal of the agility and wisdom of the Gauls.He ignored Abbott's denials, and was quick to tell Mrs. Abbott Forrester's friends that he had finally discovered Abbott's secret.He said Abbott liked to collect stamps.Since then, whenever he saw Albert, he would ask:
"Oh, Mr. Forrester, how's your stamp collection?" Or, "What stamps have you collected since I last saw you?"
Although Abbott continued to deny that he collected stamps, it was of no use at all. The idea was too clever, and of course others would borrow it.Friends of Mrs. Albert Forrester insisted that he definitely collected stamps, and whenever they saw him they asked him how he had been collecting lately.Even Mrs. Albert Forrester, when in a particularly good mood, humorously referred to her husband as "the philatelist".The nickname was like a glove on his hand, and he couldn't take it off.They called him that nickname sometimes even in his presence, and he accepted it silently.So everyone had to admire his good temper.He just smiled and wasn't angry at all.Now he doesn't even protest their random names.
Mrs. Abbott Forrester, of course, was so experienced in society that she would never have risked her luncheon breaking up by having her most important guests sit at Albert's side.She took special care to reserve these two places only for her very close and old friends.When the chosen ones came into the parlour, she would say to them:
"I know you don't mind sitting next to Albert, do you?"
They could only reply that they were happy with the arrangement.If someone's face is obviously displeased, she will pat his hand jokingly and say:
"You can sit next to me next time. Abbott is not used to sitting with strangers; and you know him well enough to know how to deal with him."
They do know: they just pretend he doesn't exist.It was as if there was no one in the seat he was sitting in.But when others ignored his existence, he didn't mean to be unhappy at all.And these people are eating his and drinking his.On Mrs. Forrester's income her guests could not eat spring salmon and artificially grown asparagus.He just sat there quietly, without saying a word.If he spoke, it was simply telling a maid to do something.If a guest feels strange to him, he will stare at him.如果不是他的目光充满了童稚之气，这个客人一定会感到非常尴尬。他似乎在问自己，这个陌生人到底是个什么样的人呢？但他目光平和地仔细观察后到底得出了什么结论，他从来也不对他人吐露一个字。如果餐桌上的谈话非常热烈，他就会坐在那里，一会儿看看这个人的脸，一会儿瞧瞧那个人的面部表情。但他那张瘦长的脸上没有任何表情，你无法知道他对餐桌上那些斗嘴的离奇理论有何看法。
克利福德·波赖斯顿说，那些隽言妙语从阿伯特的耳朵中穿过，就像水从鸭子背上滑掉了一样，没有留下任何痕迹。他现在已经不指望自己能听懂他们在说些什么了。他只是摆出一副在听的样子罢了。哈利·奥克兰是一个全能评论家。他就持不同的看法。他说，这些隽言妙语全都进入阿伯特的脑子里了。他认为这些话语太妙了，不能放走。但他可怜的脑袋里本来就满是浆糊了，现在又灌进了这么些东西，他无论怎样拼命琢磨这些话的意思，也还是摸不着头脑。当然，在伦敦城里，他一定吹嘘他认识很多名人。也许在这个城市里，人们还把他视为非常有知识和学问的人，一个思想理论的权威。人们听他谈论这些的时候，一定有一种非常神圣而庄严的感觉。哈利·奥克兰是阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人最忠诚的崇拜者之一。他曾模仿她的风格写作了一篇既文采飞扬又语义朦胧的散文。他五官端正，长相可以称得上英俊；但头发老长，而且乱蓬蓬的，就像是一个圣塞瓦斯蒂安人一头撞翻了一桶生发剂后的结果。他非常年轻，还不到三十岁，但却正在对艺术感到有点儿厌烦了。他时不时地声称要转行去搞体育评论，到那个领域去施展拳脚。
我应该说明的是，阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人的朋友们都认为，阿伯特即使在伦敦城里都算不上富人，所以她真是不幸。但她居然都能容忍下来，这真让他们感到钦佩。如果他是一个掌握着国家经济命脉的豪商巨贾，或者拥有一个大型船队，他满载珍稀香料的船只来往于地中海上，直抵地中海东部的累范特地区各港口。这些港口的名字虽然读起来都很绕口，但经常出现在古典诗歌之中。如果是这样的话，他俩的生活中还可能有某种浪漫的事情。但阿伯特仅仅是一个做葡萄干生意的小商人，他挣的钱恐怕只够阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人维持她引人注目，甚至有点儿慷慨的生活。由于他要在办公室内忙着自己的生意，所以在星期二下午六点之前，他从不在福雷斯特夫人的聚会上露面。他回家的时候，最重要的客人们已经离开了。客厅里只剩下了三四个福雷斯特夫人最亲密的朋友在随便而诙谐地谈论着那些已经离开的客人。当他们听到大门响起了阿伯特开门的钥匙声时，他们才同时意识到时间已经太晚了。当他迟迟疑疑地推开大门，一脸和善地向客厅内张望时，阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人立时露出灿烂的笑容，迎上前去。
“进来，阿伯特，进来。我想客厅里的人你都认识。”
阿伯特走进客厅，同他妻子握握手。
“你刚从城里回来吗？”她热情地问道。尽管她知道除了城里他不会到其他地方去，但还是这样问。“喝杯茶好吗？”
“不喝了，谢谢，亲爱的。我在办公室喝过了。”
阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人依然是一脸灿烂的笑容，客厅内的客人们都认为她非常依恋她的丈夫。
“哦，但我知道你还喜欢再喝一杯。我来亲自给你倒茶。”
她走到茶几旁，全然忘了茶已经泡了一个半小时，现在是冰凉了。她为他倒了一杯，然后加上牛奶和方糖。阿伯特说了声谢谢后接过了茶杯，然后顺从地搅了搅。当阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人继续与客人们刚才停顿下来的谈话时，他就悄悄地将茶杯放下，一口未喝。他回家就是聚会行将结束的信号。剩下的几个客人也都相继告辞了。但有一次，众人的谈兴正浓，谈话的内容又非常重要，阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人坚持让客人们再坐一会儿。
“这个问题必须出个结论，”她的语气几乎是有些故作调皮，“就这个问题阿伯特也许要发表点儿看法。让我们也听听他的观点。”
话题是讨论何时女人开始时兴短发，阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人是否应该剪一个墙面板式短发发型。阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人是一个外表很有权威性的女人。她骨骼粗大，皮肥肉厚，只是她身材非常高大才没有显得过于臃肿。尽管如此，她给人的感觉依然是风度翩翩。她的脸盘比一般人要略大一些，这让她的容貌显得有些阳刚和睿智。而她也确是人如其貌。她的皮肤很黑，让你不禁会想，她的血管中也许还流淌着一点儿黎凡特人的血液。她自己也承认，她有时想，自己的诗狂放不羁的特征说明，自己一定是有点儿吉卜赛人的基因。她的眼睛很大，又黑又亮；她的鼻子很像惠灵顿大公，但肉要多些；她的下巴很宽，显得非常刚毅；她有一张大嘴，厚厚的红嘴唇一点儿没欠化妆品的情。阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人从不屈尊去擦点儿口红。她的头发呈灰色，又粗又硬。她将头发高高地盘在头顶，使她的身材显得更加高大。单从外表上看，她虽说还不至于让人感到害怕，但绝对是气势逼人。
她总是身穿暗色调的衣服，衣着非常得体。虽然她的外表是一个地地道道的知识女性，但她也是一个女人，而且穿时装也不影响自尊。所以她谨慎地追随着潮流，衣服的样式也很时髦。我想，她渴望将自己的头发剪成板式短发已经有一段时间了。但她认为采取这个行动前最好还是征询一下朋友们的意见，不能冲动行事。
“哦，您一定要剪，一定，”哈利·奥克兰连声说道，语调中带着他特有的男孩的热情，“您要是剪了，看起来一定非常棒。”
克利福德·波赖斯顿正在写一本关于曼特农夫人的书。他对这个看法有所怀疑。他认为这样做很危险。
“我想，”他一面用细麻纱布的手帕擦着眼镜，一面说道，“我想一个人一旦习惯了某种发型，他就应该坚持下去。大家想想，路易十四如果不戴假发的话会是个什么样子？”
“我也正在犹豫，”福雷斯特夫人说道，“但不管怎么说，一个人也得跟上时代潮流。我身处这个时代之中，不想让自己显得落伍了。正如威廉·麦斯特所言，美国人正在领风气之先。”她一脸笑意地转向阿伯特。“关于这个问题，我的主子老爷有什么看法？你持什么观点呢，阿伯特？剪还是不剪，这可是一个十分重要的问题呀。”
“恐怕我说什么都不太重要，亲爱的。”他诺诺地答道。
“你的意见对我来说非常重要。”阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人奉承地说道。
她看得出来，她对“集邮家”的态度让朋友们钦佩得五体投地。
“你必须回答，”她继续说道，“你必须回答。没有谁比你更了解我了，阿伯特。这个发型适合我吗？”
“也许是这样吧，”他答道，“我唯一担心的是，你身材高大，体态端庄，如果再留着短发，别人会不会认为……这样说吧，希腊各岛屿上燃烧着萨福的爱，飘扬着萨福的歌声。”
没有人吭声，客厅内的气氛非常尴尬。
罗斯·沃特福德轻轻地笑了笑，但其他人依然一声不吭。福雷斯特夫人脸上一片冰冷，微笑被冻结在嘴唇上。阿伯特失言了。
“我一直认为拜伦是个非常平庸的诗人，现在看来错了。”阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人最后说道。
聚会到此结束。阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人没有去剪短发。事实上，这个话题就再也没有被提起过。
就在阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人的另一个星期二聚会即将进入尾声的时候，发生了一件事情。这件事对她的文学生涯产生了重大影响。
这次聚会极为成功。工党的领导人参加了聚会，阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人与他的关系可以说又近了一步。她现在已经准备完全转向工党了。时机已经成熟，如果她要投身于政界，就必须在此拿出决断了。这时克利福德·波赖斯顿将一个法兰西学院的院士领进了客厅。虽然她知道他对英语一无所知，但客人对她华丽而清晰文风的恭维还是让她感到十分满足。客人中包括美国大使，还有一位年轻的俄罗斯王子。这位王子多亏他那纯正的罗曼诺夫血统才使他免于看起来像个男妓。客人中还有一位品位很高的公爵夫人。她最近刚刚与公爵办理了离婚手续，嫁给了一位赛马骑师。她就像草莓叶，虽然干枯发黄了，也能让大家当调味品来用。虽然客人中的文学才俊曾经灿若星河，但现在除了克利福德·波赖斯顿、哈利·奥克兰、罗斯·沃特福德、奥斯卡·查尔斯与西蒙斯之外，其他人都不来了。奥斯卡·查尔斯个子矮小如侏儒。他虽然年纪轻轻，却长着一张狡诈的猴子一般干瘦的脸，而且还带着一副金边眼镜。他在政府部门工作，但业余爱好文学。他从不为那些六便士一期的廉价期刊写稿，对一般人都非常鄙夷。阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人很喜欢他，认为他很有天赋。他虽然一直都表示自己非常钦佩她的写作风格（正是他给她起了“连接符的情妇”这个绰号），但他说话却非常尖刻，以至于她都有点儿怕他了。西蒙斯是她的经纪人。他是一个脸盘圆圆的男人，带着一副特大的眼镜，镜片后面的眼睛看起来有些奇怪和变形。看到他的眼睛，你不由得会联想起水族馆中原始的甲壳纲动物。阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人的聚会他是场场不落。部分原因是他真心实意地崇拜她的天才；部分原因是他发现，在她的客厅里可以发现潜在的客户。
西蒙斯虽然常年为阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人在生意上奔波操劳，但得到的酬劳甚微。不过他认为自己挣钱虽然不多，但都是干净的，并不为此而懊悔。而她也留意向任何一个可能销售文学书籍的人介绍他，用热情的语言向对方表示感谢。她很骄傲地回想到，《圣斯威森夫人回忆录》最初就是在她的客厅内拍板决定出版的。结果这本书出了名，赚了大钱。
客人们坐成一圈，阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人的座位居中。他们热烈地议论着当时各类出名的人物。但必须承认，他们所用的语言多少有些恶毒。脸色苍白的沃伦小姐在一旁伺候他们已经有两个小时了。她一直在默默地收拾茶杯。这些茶杯在客厅里东一个、西一个，扔得到处都是。她有一个不太稳定的工作，但总能抽出时间来为阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人沏茶倒水，招待客人。晚上她还过来为阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人的手稿打字。阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人认为自己允许她来效劳，已经是对这个可怜女人的最大关怀了，所以从不为她的这些工作付酬。但她有时将别人白给她的电影票送给这个女人，或者将自己不想再穿的衣服送几件给她。
阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人的声音低沉而饱满，她正滔滔不绝地发表着议论，而其他人都在认真地听着。她现在大脑兴奋，思路清晰，脱口而出的滔滔话语可以直接打印出来而无需修改。忽然，走廊里传来了一阵嘈杂的声音。似乎有很沉的东西掉在了地面上，然后就是一阵争吵声。
阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人停了下来，皱了皱她高贵的眉头，脸色有些阴沉。
“我想他们应该知道我不允许在我家里出现这样的喧哗。沃伦小姐，你能叫用人过来问问，这么大动静到底是怎么回事吗？”
沃伦小姐按了下电铃，女佣马上出现在客厅门口。沃伦小姐走过去低声跟她说了些什么，以免打扰客厅内的谈话。但阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人生气地停下自己的话头。
“卡特，这到底是怎么了？是房子要倒了还是红色革命要爆发了？”
“请您息怒，夫人。是新厨师的箱子，”女佣答道，“搬运工在把箱子搬进屋的时候将箱子掉在了地上，因此厨师就跟他吵了起来。”
“你说什么？新厨师是什么意思？”
“布尔芬奇夫人今天下午不干了，夫人。”女佣回答道。
阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人吃惊地望着她。
“我可是刚刚听到这个消息。布尔芬奇夫人预先告知了吗？福雷斯特先生回家后马上让他过来，说我有话要对他说。”
“好的，夫人。”
女佣走出客厅。沃伦小姐又缓步走到茶桌旁。虽然谁也没有说要倒茶，她还是机械地倒了几杯茶。
“这可真是一场大灾难！”沃特福德小姐大声说道。
“您必须要让她回来，”克利福德·波赖斯顿说道，“这个女人可是一个无价之宝。她不仅厨艺高超，而且厨艺每天都有新的提高。”
这时女佣又返回客厅。她手里端着一个托盘，托盘上放着一封信。她将信递给她的女主人。
“这是什么？”阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人问道。
“福雷斯特先生说，如果您问起他的话，就把这封信交给您，夫人。”女佣答道。
“那么，福雷斯特先生在哪里？”
“福雷斯特先生已经走了，夫人。”女佣回答道，好像对这个问题感到很突然。
“走了？知道了。你可以离开了。”
女佣离开了客厅。阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人那张大脸盘上写满了困惑。她打开了信。罗斯·沃特福德后来告诉我说，她脑子中出现的第一个念头就是：由于布尔芬奇夫人走了，阿伯特害怕他妻子生气，因此投泰晤士河自尽了。阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人读着信，脸上出现了惊慌失措的表情。
“这也太可恶了，”她喊道，“太可恶了！太可恶了！”
“怎么了，福雷斯特夫人？”
阿伯特夫人就跟一匹烦躁亢奋的马用蹄子挠地那样用脚挠着地毯，两只胳膊用一种难以形容的姿势一搭（不过这种姿势您有时在卖鱼婆撒泼时可以见到），俯视着她那些好奇而极为吃惊的朋友。
“阿伯特与那个厨娘私奔了。”
客厅里出现了一阵由于惊愕而产生的喘息声，然后就发生了一件可怕的事。站在茶几后面的沃伦小姐突然噎住了。这位一向不吭声，也从来没有人跟她说过一句话的沃伦小姐，这位足有三年的时间每周都出现在这间客厅内，而所有客人都对她视而不见，就是走在大街上也不一定能认出她来的沃伦小姐，她突然忍不住放声大笑起来。众人大吃一惊，就像中了魔法一样，同时转身朝她望去。他们的感受一定同巴兰发现他骑的驴突然张口说话时的感受一样。她的笑声简直就是在尖叫。这种情景真让人感到恐怖，就像屋里的桌椅没有任何预兆而骤然在地板上跳起舞来那样使您目瞪口呆。沃伦小姐想要控制自己不笑，但她越是想要抑制自己，她的笑声就越大。她抓过一方手帕塞进嘴里，急忙跑出客厅。客厅的门在她身后砰地一声关上了。
“她犯癔症了。”克利福德·波赖斯顿说道。
“当然，她的癔症还不轻呀。”哈利·奥克兰说到。
但阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人一言未发。
这封信落在了她与西蒙斯的脚下。她的经纪人将信捡起来递给她。她不接这封信。
“把这封信读出来，”她说道，“大声地读出来。”
西蒙斯先生把他的眼镜推高到脑门上，将信紧贴在眼前，读了起来。
信读完了，没有一个人吭声。西蒙斯先生又将眼镜推回到鼻梁上。尽管他们都是些聪明绝顶的人，通常都能找到适当的话题进行交谈。但此时此刻，谁都不知道该说些什么才好。阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人可不是那种轻易就能安慰的女人。谁都不愿意因为说点儿套话而受到她的奚落。最后还是克利福德·波赖斯顿勇敢地站出来说了句话，使众人摆脱了尴尬的局面。
“大家都不知道该说什么。”他说道。
There was another silence.然后罗斯·沃特福德说道：
“布尔芬奇夫人长得什么样？”
“我怎么知道？”阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人有点儿乖戾地答道，“我从来就没有认真看过她一眼。雇仆人都是阿伯特的事。她只被领过来见过我一面，我只是闻闻她身上的气味是否符合我的要求。”
“但您每天早上起来做家务的时候肯定能见到她呀。”
“阿伯特负责做家务。他喜欢管家，我也就乐得埋头自己的工作。任何一个人的精力都是有限的。”
“阿伯特也负责为您安排午餐的菜谱吗？”
“当然。这是他分内的事。”
克利福德·波赖斯顿惊讶地抬起了眉毛。自己真是太蠢了，竟然从来没有猜出，是阿伯特负责安排福雷斯特夫人精美可口的午餐！当然，那些午餐时摆上餐桌的沙布利酒也是出自他的主意了。那些美妙的白葡萄酒入口时凉丝丝的，但又不过凉，恰到好处地保持着原有的酒香和味道。
“他肯定是美食和美酒方面的专家。”
“我一直对你们说，他有自己的长处，”阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人答道，仿佛她正在责备自己一样，“你们大家都嘲笑他。我告诉你们我欠他很多情时，你们都不相信我的话。”
谁也没有答话。客厅里又是一片沉寂，而且非常沉重，有一种不祥之兆。突然，西蒙斯先生扔出了一枚炸弹。
“您必须让他回来。”
阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人大吃一惊。要不是她靠着壁炉架站着，她肯定会向后踉跄两步。
“你这句话是什么意思？”她喊道，“只要我还有一口气，我就决不会再见他一面。把他带回来？不可能。即使他来下跪求我，那也不可能。”
“我没有说把他带回来呀，我说的是，让他的心回来。”
但阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人并没有理会这句不当的插言。
“为他，该做的我都做了。我问你们，如果没有我，他会是个什么样子？他现在的地位他做梦也想不到啊。”
无法否认，在阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人愤愤不平的话语中，有一种高贵的成分。但这些似乎对西蒙斯毫无影响。
“那您今后怎么生活呢？”
阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人狠狠地瞪了他一眼，从前那种和蔼可亲的目光全然不见了。
“上帝会安排好的。”她的话音冰冷之极。
“上帝是靠不住的。”他反驳道。
阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人耸了耸肩膀。她一脸愤怒。但西蒙斯在椅子上舒服地跷起了二郎腿，还点着了一支烟。
“您知道自己对文学的热爱不如我。”他说道。
“词用错了，要用第一人称的我。”克利福德·波赖斯顿更正道。
“或者也不如你，”西蒙斯继续平淡地说道，“我们大家都持这样的观点，您代表了目前文学界的最高水平。无论是散文还是诗歌，您绝对都是一流。您的写作风格——好吧，不说了，人人都知道您的写作风格。”
“她的写作兼有托马斯·布朗爵士的华美和纽曼大主教清晰易懂的特点。”克利福德·波赖斯顿说道，“同时还有约翰·德莱顿的生动活泼与乔纳森·斯威夫特的精确。”
唯一表示出阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人听到了这句话的迹象就是，她一副凄惨之态的嘴角露出了一丝微笑。
“您很幽默。”
“在这个世界上还有任何一个其他人，”罗斯·沃特福德小姐大声说道，“可以将运用得如此风趣，如此具有讽刺意味，如此带有喜剧色彩吗？”
“但实际情况是，您的书仍然卖不动。”西蒙斯不为所动，坚持自己的看法，“我经营您的书已经有二十年了。坦白地对您说吧，靠卖您的书我根本挣不到钱。我没有放弃，原因就是我偶尔想要为这些优秀的文学作品去做点儿什么。我一直很相信您，我曾希望我们早晚能让公众接纳您的书。但如果您认为可以靠写这类书赚钱谋生，我不得不告诉您，一点儿可能都没有。”
“我降生到这个世界太晚了。”阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人叹道，“我应该活在十八世纪。那时有钱人可是大把地赞助他们喜欢的文人。”
“葡萄干的生意收入如何？”
“收入不多。阿伯特告诉我，他一年大约能挣一千二百英镑。”
“他一定是一个很能干的经理。这样的话，他只有这点儿收入，您也就无法指靠他分给您多少了。听我的建议吧，您现在只有一条路可走，那就是想办法让他回来。”
“我宁愿自己住在一间阁楼内。您认为我能容忍下他给我的这个侮辱？您难道要让我去与我的女厨争宠？您忘了，对我这样一个女人来说，比起生活安逸，还有一件更有价值的东西，那就是尊严。”
“我正要说的也就是这个问题。”西蒙斯冷冷地说道。
他瞥了一眼其他人。他的眼珠斜向一边时就更像是个鱼一样的怪物了。
“毫无疑问，”他继续说道，“您是我极为尊敬的人，我认为您在文学界具有无人可取代的位置。您代表着某种脱俗的东西。您从来不为了肮脏的金钱而出卖自己的节操。您一直高举着纯文学的旗帜。您一直想着能成为一名国会议员。我自己对政治所知不多，但成为国会议员无疑能为您的作品起到很好的宣传广告效应。如果您能进入国会，我敢说我可以为您安排一次以国会议员身份在美洲大陆的巡回演讲。我敢说，这样的话您就会大获成功。甚至那些从不读书的人也会对您的书尊崇备至。但眼下摆在您面前的问题是，您不能出这个丑，成为众人闲谈的笑柄。”
阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人猛然一惊。
“您这话到底是什么意思？”
“我对布尔芬奇夫人一点儿也不了解，只知道她是个非常受人尊敬的女人。但现实情况是，一个男人与他的女厨私奔了，这肯定会让他的妻子成为众人闲谈的笑柄。如果他要是同一个女演员或贵夫人私奔，我敢说对您就不会造成什么伤害。但他现在是跟一个厨娘私奔了，这样您就完了。用不了一个星期，整个伦敦城内都会传遍您的笑话。对一个作家或一个政治家而言，最致命的就是成为众人奚落的对象。您必须把您的丈夫找回来，而且必须尽快把他找回来。”
阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人的脸色一下阴沉了下来，但她没有马上回答。她的耳边突然响起了刚才沃伦小姐发出的莫名其妙的笑声。她的笑声如此肆无忌惮，以至于她不得不跑出了房间。
“这里的人都是您的朋友，我们肯定会慎言这件事的。”
福雷斯特夫人看看她的朋友们。她看到罗斯·沃特福德的眼睛里已经有一种不怀好意的眼神了；在奥斯卡·查尔斯干瘪的脸上，露出的是一副古怪的表情。有一刹那她真希望自己不告诉他们这件事就好了。然而西蒙斯了解这些文学圈内的人，他无动于衷地看着他们。
“不管怎么说，您是这个圈子的核心人物。您丈夫不仅是背叛了您，而且也背叛了我们大家。这件事对我们大家也不光彩。事实摆在那里，阿伯特·福雷斯特让我们大家显得像是一群大傻瓜蛋。”
“我们所有人，”克利福德·波赖斯顿说道，“我们大家都在一条船上。他说得很对，福雷斯特夫人，集邮家必须回来。”
“Et tu, Brute。”
西蒙斯不懂拉丁语，所以上面这句话他自然也就不明白具体是什么意思。如果他懂的话，他很可能会被阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人的这句话所感动。他清了清嗓子。
“我的建议是，阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人应该在明天就去见他。幸运的是，我们有他居住的地址。您要去劝他重新考虑自己的这个决定。我不清楚在这样的场合一个女人该说点儿什么，但福雷斯特夫人拥有智慧和想象力，她肯定能找到适当的话说。如果福雷斯特先生提出任何条件，您都要接受。您必须想尽一切办法来使他回家。”
“如果您这件事办得高明的话，您肯定能在明天晚上与他一起回到这个家里。”罗斯·沃特福德轻轻说道。
“您决定这样做了吗，福雷斯特夫人？”
至少有两分钟的时间她扭过头去不瞅他们。她就这样瞧着空荡荡的壁炉。然后，她站起身来，挺直了腰板，面对着众人。
“为了艺术，而不是为了我自己，我不会允许集邮家开的这场下流玩笑玷污了你们大家的名声，玷污所有那些我视为善良、真诚和美好的事物。”
“太好了，”西蒙斯一面赞道，一面站起身来，“我明天回家的时候要注意观察点儿路面，希望能看到您和福雷斯特先生像一对斑鸠一样，肩并肩地走着，卿卿我我的情景。”
他拔脚离开了。其他人生怕自己被留下来，一个人陪着情绪激动的阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人，也都一块随他而去了。
第二天下午，当阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人从公寓中出来时，天色已经有点儿暗了。她穿着一身黑色丝绸外衣，头戴一顶天鹅绒的无边女帽，仪表堂堂。她要搭乘一辆从大理石拱门站发车的巴士，坐到维多利亚火车站下车。西蒙斯已经给她打过电话了，将到达卡宁顿大街最快、最省钱的乘车路线告诉她。她的外貌不像大利拉，心里也没有想着要去迷惑一个男人。到达维多利亚站下车后，她转乘一辆开往沃克斯豪尔大桥路的有轨电车。车过泰晤士河后，可以看到伦敦的这部分城区嘈杂、肮脏，到处熙熙攘攘，与她居住的城区景况截然不同。但她过于沉浸在自己的思绪中，对这些车窗外景物的差别视而不见。她看到电车开上了卡宁顿大街，松了一口气。她告诉售票员她要在哪里下车。下车的站距她要找的房子不远。她下车后，有轨电车就轰轰隆隆地开走了，将她一个人留在了车水马龙的大街上。来到这个陌生的地方她感到有点儿转向，就像是一个东方神话故事中的旅行者，被巨灵神扔到了一个异国他乡的城市。她慢慢走着，左顾右看。尽管她心中依然充满着愤慨和尴尬，她还是想到，这件事也可以成为一篇美妙散文的素材。她住的那个小家束缚住了她的感觉，她对这片城区的认识还停留在以往的年代，那时这里还几乎是一片乡村。阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人从她储量惊人的大脑中调出一条信息，她现在必须找到卡宁顿大街的这个住址。411号是一排破旧房屋中的一栋，这些房屋距离公路有一段距离。这栋房屋前是一条窄窄的缺乏修剪的草坪；一条铺着石子的小道通向一个木框门廊，门廊上的油漆大都剥落了，露出了斑驳的颜色。这些，再加上攀附在房屋前面的几株低矮的攀缘植物，使人感觉这栋房屋就像是一栋乡间小阁。不远处就是车水马龙的公路，使这里显得更加奇异，甚至有一种不祥的气氛。这栋房屋给人一种说不出的感觉，让你感到这里住的是一位女人，她生性快乐，但命运多舛。
开门的是一个瘦骨嶙峋的女孩。她大约十五岁的样子，细长的腿，头发乱蓬蓬的。
“请问，布尔芬奇夫人住在这里吗？”
“您按错门铃了。她住在二层。”女孩一面指着楼梯，一面尖声喊道，“布尔芬奇夫人，布尔芬奇夫人，有人找你。”
阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人在阴暗的楼梯间向上走去。楼梯的地面上铺着破旧的地毯。她慢慢向上走着，不想让自己喘不上气来。快到二楼的时候，一扇门打开了，她认出了她的厨娘。
“下午好，布尔芬奇，”阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人颇有尊严地说道，“我想要见见你的主人。”
布尔芬奇夫人犹豫了片刻，然后将门全部打开。
“请进，太太。”她转过头来，“阿伯特，福雷斯特夫人来看你了。”福雷斯特夫人疾步踏进房间，阿伯特身穿衬衣，脚上趿拉着拖鞋，正在火炉旁一把有皮垫的椅子上坐着。只是椅子有些破旧。他正一面吸着烟，一面在看晚报呢。看到阿伯特·福雷斯特夫人走进房间，他站了起来。
“你好呀，亲爱的，”阿伯特快活地打着招呼，“我希望你一切都好。”
“你最好穿上外衣，阿伯特，”布尔芬奇夫人说道，“要不福雷斯特夫人会怎么看你，你就这个样子？我可不喜欢。”
外衣挂在墙上的一个挂钩上，她拿了下来，帮他穿上。她向下拽了拽他的马甲，免得将衣领顶起来。这个动作显示，她很熟悉男人服装的穿着特点。
“我看了你留下的信，阿伯特。”福雷斯特夫人说道。
“我猜你也读过了，要不你不会知道我的住址的，对不对？”
“您不坐下吗，太太？”布尔芬奇夫人