Chapter 3 The Fall of Edward Barnard

Bateman Hunt slept badly.For two weeks by boat from Tahiti to San Francisco, he was busy making up an excuse; for three days by train, he kept repeating what he had to say.He would be arriving in Chicago in a few hours, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with doubts, and his usually sentimental heart could no longer rest.He wasn't quite sure he was doing his best, and he had a reputation for giving 120 percent of everything.What makes him feel uneasy is that in an event that is closely related to his own interests, he let his personal interests overcome the above-mentioned good habits.Self-sacrifice had a powerful pull on him, as far as he understood it, and his inaction in the event left him with a sense of disillusionment, like a single-minded philanthropist building a set of ideals for the poor in a good deed is ten per cent the satisfaction he derives from it, a reward he cannot refuse, but he feels that his virtue and purity However, his reputation was damaged because of this, which made him a little embarrassed.Bateman Hunt knew he was pure at heart, but what he wasn't sure about was the scrutiny in Isabel Longstaff's cold gray eyes if he told his story to him. How long can he bear it? Those are shrewd eyes full of wisdom!She uses her rigor and integrity to measure the moral standards of others, and she will express her dissatisfaction with silent and indifferent behaviors that do not conform to her strict norms, which is more effective than any blame; moreover, once her "judgment" Once made, there can be no "appeal" anymore, because the decision she made can never be changed.But Bateman didn't think there was anything unusual about her, because he loved her, not only for her beauty—her slender figure, formidable head held high—but for her beautiful soul.Her honesty, her strong sense of honor, and her fearlessness seemed to him the most admirable qualities a woman of his country could possess.He felt that she was not just a perfect American girl, but in a way, her grace was also very special in her environment.He was sure that no other city but Chicago could produce such a girl.But it pained him terribly at the thought of the fatal blow he must have dealt to her pride, and at the thought of Edward Barnard a rage burned within him.

But when the train rolled into Chicago, and he saw the long streets with the gray houses on either side, he began to jump for joy.Thinking of America and Wabash County, with its crowded sidewalks, traffic, and noise, made him anxious—at last!He prides himself on being born in America's most important city.San Francisco is a small place, New York lacks vitality, and the future of the United States will depend on its potential for economic development, so Chicago will surely become the true capital of the United States with its superior location and the vitality of its residents. "I think I'll live long enough to see it become the biggest city in the world," Bateman thought as he walked off the platform.

His father came to pick him up.Both father and son were tall, slender, and well-proportioned, with the same delicate, serious features and thin lips.After shaking hands warmly, the two walked out of the train station together.Mr Hunter's car was waiting for them and they got into it.Mr Hunt saw his son scanning the street with proud, cheerful eyes. "Are you happy to be back, son?" he asked. "I think so," replied Bateman. His eyes stared at the bustling street scene outside. "I think there's a little more traffic here than your South Pacific islands," Mr. Hunt asked. "Do you like it there?"

"Tell me about Chicago, Dad," said Bateman. "You didn't bring Edward Barnard back?" "No." "how is he?" Bateman was silent for a moment, his handsome, sensitive face darkened. "I don't want to talk about him, Dad," he said at last. "That's all right, my son, I think your mother will be happy today." They emerged from the busy streets of the Loop and walked along the lake until they came to a magnificent building.It was built by Mr. Hunt himself a few years ago, and it is no different from those villas on the Loire.When Bateman was alone in the room, he called immediately to get a number.When the call came, his heart beat wildly.

"Good morning, Isabel!" he said cheerfully. "Good morning, Bateman." "How did you know it was my voice?" "It's not been long since I last saw you. Besides, I've been waiting for your call." "When can I see you?" "If you have nothing better to do, maybe you can have a meal with us tonight." "You know very well that I can't have anything better." "I guess you have a stomach full of new news." He thought he could smell a hint of tension in her tone. "Yes." he replied. "Here, tell me tonight. Goodbye!"

She hung up the phone.It was in her character to wait unnecessarily long hours for something that worried her deeply.In Bateman's view, there was an admirable grit to her self-discipline. At dinner, when there was no one but him, Isabelle, and her parents, he watched her lead the conversation into a kind of polite small talk.It suddenly occurred to him that a marquise who lived under the shadow of the guillotine, knowing that she would no longer have a tomorrow, could still deal with the day's affairs with ease in this way—her delicate features, aristocratically short Her upper lip and thick blond hair reminded her of a Marquess, and she clearly had the best blood in Chicago, even if she wasn't exactly famous.The design of the restaurant was very harmonious with her soft and beautiful appearance. It was built according to the appearance of a palace on the Grand Canal in Venice. Isabel invited a British designer to arrange it according to the style of Louis XV.The elegant design is reminiscent of the amorous monarch, which adds a little bit of Isabel's loveliness, and also obtains a deeper meaning from it.Isabelle had a mind well stocked, and her conversation, however casual, was never rash.Now she talked about the concert she and her mother had gone to in the afternoon, about the lecture an English poet gave in the auditorium, about the political situation, about the Old Master paintings her father had bought in New York for fifty thousand dollars.Listening to her talk, Bateman felt very comfortable.He felt that he had returned to the civilized world once again, and returned to the center of culture and glory. As for the noisy voices that haunted him and rebelled against him in his heart, they finally quieted down.

"Ah, it's nice to be back in Chicago," he said. Finally, dinner was over and they walked out of the restaurant.Isabel said to her mother: "I'm taking Bateman to my room, we have some different things to talk about." "Well, dear," said Mrs. Longstaff, "you'll find me and your father in Dubarry's room when you've finished talking." Isabel took the young man upstairs and led him into the room that left him with countless fond memories.Although he knew this place all too well, he couldn't help shouting with excitement - even though this same room used to rob him of his joy.Isabel smiled and looked around.

“I feel like the room was designed successfully,” she said. “The key is to get it right. If it’s not from the era, you can’t have an ashtray.” "I think that's why it's so perfect, like everything you do, it's just brilliant." They sat down before the fire, and Isabel looked at him with calm, serious eyes. "What are you going to say to me now?" she asked. "I just don't know where to start." "Will Edward Barnard return?" "not coming back." There was a long silence before Bateman spoke again, during which time both of them thought a lot.It was an unspeakable experience, because many things would offend Isabel's sensitive ears, and he couldn't bear to talk about it; but for the sake of fairness, for her, and for himself, he had to tell the whole truth.

It all started long ago, when he and Edward Barnard were in college.The two met Isabel Longstaff at a tea party—a tea party specially organized to introduce Isabel into society.They had known Isabel since she was a little girl and they were both boys with long legs.But she spent two years in Europe to complete her studies, so what a surprise and joy it was when this lovely girl returned from her studies and they got to know her again!Both are hopelessly in love with her, but Bateman soon discovers that she only has eyes for Edward.Out of loyalty to his friend, he finally gave up and only regarded himself as a good friend of hers.He's had some painful moments, but he can't deny that Edward deserves the good fortune; he values ​​their friendship so dearly that nothing can mar it, so he's careful never to reveal his truth emotion.Six months later, the young couple got engaged.But as they were still very young, Isabel's father decided that they would not marry until at least after Edward had graduated, which meant that they would have to wait another year.At the end of that winter, Bateman remembered, Isabel and Edward were to be married.He still remembered the balls, theatrical evenings, and informal celebrations that winter, and he was always by their side as the eternal "third person".His love for her hasn't diminished because of her soon-to-be best friend's wife; instead, he's been enchanted by her smiles, the sweet things she's said to him, and the secrets of her emotions.He even congratulated himself with some self-satisfaction, for he was not in the slightest envious of their happiness.At this time, an accident happened.A major bank has failed, panic is pervasive on the stock exchange, and Edward Barnard's father finds himself bankrupt.He came home one evening and told his wife that he was penniless.After supper he went into his study and raised the gun to himself.

A week later, Edward Barnard came to Isabel with a tired and pale face and asked her to break off the engagement with him.She put her arms around his neck, tears welling up in her eyes. "Don't be hard on me anymore, dear," he said. "Do you think I'm going to let you go? I love you." "How can I let you marry me? Everything is irreversible. Your father will not agree, and I am now penniless." "Do I care about this? I love you." He told her his plan, he was going to make money right away.George Brunsummit, a family friend, offered to let him into his personal business.George is a South Pacific businessman, and his business has branches in many Pacific islands.He advised Edward to spend a year or two in Tahiti, where he would have his best administrators, under whom he could learn the details of various trades.He also promised to transfer him to Chicago in a year or two, which is a great opportunity.After Edward finished explaining, Isabel began to smile brightly again.

"You silly boy, how can you keep me in pain?" "Isabel, didn't you say you would wait for me?" "Do you think you're worth my waiting?" she laughed. "Ah, stop taunting me this time. I beg you to take this seriously, it could go on for two years." "Don't be afraid, I love you, Edward. I will marry you when you come back." Edward's employer, who didn't like procrastination, told Edward that if he accepted the job he offered, he would have to sail from San Francisco within the week.In this way, Edward can only spend the last night with Isabel.After supper, Mr. Longstaff said he would speak to Edward, and led him into the smoking-room.Mr. Longstaff readily accepted what his daughter had told him, and Edward could not imagine any more mysterious exchanges with him.He was perplexed to see Mr. Longstaff look embarrassed.He faltered and babbled, and finally blurted out: "I think you've heard of Arnold Jackson." He said, frowning at Edward. Edward hesitated, he didn't want to admit what he knew, but his true nature forced him to do so. "Yes, I've heard of it, but it was a long time ago, and I don't think I'd care." "There are very few people in Chicago who haven't heard of Arnold Jackson," said Mr. Longstaff bitterly, "and even if they haven't, it's easy to find someone willing to tell him. Did you know he's my wife's brother?" "Yes, I know that." "Of course, we haven't been in touch for many years. He left the country as soon as he was able, and I don't think the country wants to see him. We know that he lives in Tahiti. My advice to you is, Keep your distance. If you hear anything about him, let us know, and my wife and I will be delighted." "of course can." "That's what I'm telling you, I think you want to meet the ladies now." Few families do not have a prodigal son whom the family would love to forget—if the neighbors agree, of course.The family would have been lucky if, a generation or two later, his eccentricity had been given a charming romance.However, when the prodigal son is alive, if his eccentricity cannot be forgiven by the sentence "It is not others who are against him, but he himself is against himself", then the safe and only feasible way for his family is to keep silent —You know, in those days, drinking and promiscuity were no better than crime.This is exactly how the Longstaffs treated Arnold Jackson.They never talked about him, not even the streets where he lived.They are all kind people and did not want his wife and children to suffer with him, so they have supported them for many years.But they feel that they should live in Europe.They did everything they could to erase the memory of Arnold Jackson, but also realized that his story was as fresh in the public eye as it was when the scandal broke and shocked the world.No family could bear Arnold Jackson—a wealthy banker, well-known in his church, a philanthropist, and widely admired, and not just because he Because of his relatives (he was of Chicago aristocratic blood), but also because of his own integrity.But suddenly one day, he was arrested for fraud.The court revealed that his fraud was not caused by a sudden temptation, but was intentional, step-by-step and planned-Arnold Jackson was actually a villain!When he was sent to prison, almost everyone thought he would easily escape seven years in prison. At the last moment of separation on the last night, a pair of lovers cannot do without tenderness and vows. Isabel's eyes were blurred with tears, but Edward's passionate love brought some comfort to her heart.It was a strange feeling, her heart broken by his departure, but her joy at his admiration for her. This was over two years ago. Since then, he has written to her as many as twenty-four letters, because he writes once a month.All his letters were like those of a lover, full of sweet joy and tenderness, sometimes humorous, especially the late ones.At first, his letters were filled with homesickness--he longed so strongly to return to Chicago, and to Isabel; and Isabel, she wrote to him anxiously, begging him to persevere.She was afraid that he would give up this opportunity and fly back, and she did not want her lover to have no patience, so she quoted the following words to him: But before long, he seemed to settle down.Isabel was gratified to see him bring the American way into that forgotten corner of the world with enthusiasm day by day.But she knew him, and he was going to be in Tahiti for at least a year; at the end of the year, she hoped to influence him as much as possible and dissuade him from going home—it was obviously preferable to learn the business thoroughly, since They can wait a year, and it is not impossible to wait another year.She had talked this over and over with Bateman (they had been the most generous of friends, and in the first few days of Edward's absence she was at a loss for herself), and they both agreed that Edward's future was more important than anything else.To her relief, she found that as time went on, he did not express his intentions to come back. "He's excellent, isn't he?" she called to Bateman. "He's a decent guy, 100 per cent decent guy." "I could read between the lines in his letter that he didn't want to be there, but he persisted because..." A blush came over her cheeks, and Bateman smiled solemnly--so charmingly--and finished for her: "Because he loves you." "It made me feel so inferior," she said. "You are wonderful, Isabel, wonderful, flawless." However, the second year is also passing by a little bit.Isabel was still hearing from Edward every month, but it seemed strange that he soon stopped talking about his return.According to what he wrote in his letters, it seemed inevitable that he would settle in Tahiti, and that he could live there comfortably.She was amazed, and then read all his letters several times, this time really "reading between the lines," and found a change which she had not noticed before, which puzzled her.The later letters are as sweet and tender as the first, but in a different tone.She had some vague suspicions about the humor in the letter—she had a feminine distrust of things that couldn't be explained clearly.Now, she found a tinge of frivolity in it, which puzzled her.She was not sure if the Edward who was writing to her now was the same Edward she knew well.One afternoon—the day before she had just received another letter from Tahiti, she was driving with Bateman, and he said to her: "Did Edward tell you when he set sail?" "No, he didn't. I thought he might have told you something." "Not a single word." "You know what Edward is," she replied, laughing. "He has no sense of time. Next time you write a letter, if it comes to your mind, ask him when he thinks of coming back." She spoke so lightly that only a man as sensitive as Bateman could hear her strong intentions.He smiled softly. "Okay, I'll ask him, I really can't imagine what he thinks." When she saw him again a few days later, she noticed he was having trouble.They had spent much time together since Edward's departure from Chicago, they were both devoted to him, and anyone who wished to talk about this absence could find a willing listener.In this way, Isabel knew every expression on Bateman's face.Now no matter how much he hides it, it will be useless in front of her strong intuition.She seemed to know from his disturbed expression that it was about Edward, and she had to let him talk, or she would have no peace. "The thing is," he said at last, "that I have found out through indirect sources that Edward no longer works for Mr. Brensummit and his company. Yesterday I had an opportunity to ask Mr. Brensumit myself." "Oh?" "Edward left them almost a year ago." "It's strange that he didn't mention it." Bateman hesitated, but at this point he had to finish, which made him feel extremely embarrassed. "He was fired." "God, why?" "They seemed to warn him once or twice and finally told him he had to leave. They said he was lazy and incompetent." "Edward?" They were silent for a while, and then seeing Isabelle start to cry, he instinctively grabbed her hand. "Oh, dear, no, no," he said, "I can't stand you." She was so nervous that she didn't withdraw her hand from his and he tried to comfort her. "Unbelievable, isn't it? It doesn't look like Edward. I still think there must be something wrong." She didn't say a word, and when she spoke again after a while, she hesitated. "Did you feel that his latest letter was a little weird?" she asked, looking away, tears in her eyes. He wasn't quite sure how to answer. "I've noticed a change," he admitted, "that he seems to have lost the seriousness he used to have, and that's something I admired. People almost take the important things—oh, they don't matter. " Isabel didn't answer, she was a little dazed and uneasy. "Maybe he'll tell you when he'll be back in his reply, and we'll just have to wait." They both had another letter from Edward, but still no mention of the return journey; but it is probable that he had not received an inquiry from Bateman at the time of his writing, as may be in the next letter.The next letter came, and Bateman showed Isabel the letter he had just received, but she saw, by a glance in his face, that he was somewhat alarmed.She read it carefully, and read it again with her lips biting. "It's a strange letter," she said. "I don't understand it." "It's likely to make people think he's teasing me." Bateman blushed. "It seems so, but it's definitely not intentional. It's not like what Edward said at all." "He didn't bring it up." "If I didn't have such strong faith in my love for him, I'd feel... I just can't figure it out." Just then Bateman came up with a plan, which he had conceived in the afternoon.His father founded a company that produced various vehicles, of which he is now a partner.The company was about to set up distribution offices in Honolulu, Sydney and Wellington, and Bateman offered to go to those locations in place of the proposed manager.He could return from Wellington, so he had to go through Tahiti to meet Edward. "I have to solve the mystery here myself, this is the only way." "Oh, Bateman, how nice you are!" she cried. "You know, I want nothing more in this world than to make you happy, Isabel." She looked at him and held out her hand to him. "You are very kind, Bateman. I know there is no one like you in the whole world. How can I thank you?" "I don't need your gratitude, I just want to allow me to help you." She lowered her eyes, her face flushed slightly.She knew him so well that she forgot how handsome he was.His figure was as tall and well-proportioned as Edward's, but he was dark and pale, while Edward was ruddy.Of course she knew that he loved her, which moved her quite a bit, and she was very gentle towards him. Now, Bateman Hunter returned from exactly this trip. On this trip he spent a little longer than expected on official business, which allowed him plenty of time to think about his two friends.He came to the conclusion that what was holding Edward back home would not be a big deal; perhaps it was his ego: it made him decide that he must achieve personal success before marrying the bride he wanted, but such ego issues were need to be treated rationally.Isabel was not happy, Edward had to go back to Chicago with him, marry her right away, and he could find a job for him at Hunter Motor Motors.Bateman's heart was bleeding, but he was overjoyed at the thought of sacrificing himself and finding happiness for the two people he loved most in the world.He would never marry, he would be godfather to Edward and Isabel's children, and when they were both gone years later, he would tell her daughter how much he loved her mother, long, long ago.Bateman's eyelids were soaked with tears as these images came to mind. Because he intended to surprise Edward, he did not send a telegram to inform him that he was coming.Finally, after landing in Tahiti, he had a young man take him to the Hotel de la Blossom—the young man said he was the son of the proprietor.He giggled at the thought of his friend's surprise at seeing him, the most unexpected visitor.He walked into the young man's office. "By the way," he said as he walked, "could you tell me where I can meet Mr. Edward Barnard?" "Barnard?" asked the young man. "I seem to know that name." "He's an American, tall, with light brown hair and blue eyes, and he's been here two years." "Of course, I now know who you're talking about. You're talking about Mr. Jackson's nephew." "Whose nephew?" "Mr. Arnold Jackson." "I don't think we're talking about one person," replied Bateman grimly. He was appalled that Arnold Jackson was so obviously well known here, that it was odd that he should live here with his own stigma attached to it, but he couldn't imagine who the man was posing as his nephew.Lady Longstaff was his only sister, and he never had an older or younger brother.The young man beside him was speaking fluent English with an exotic accent, and Bateman squinted at him, noticing what he had overlooked just now: the man had obvious local blood, and his demeanor could not help adding There was a hint of arrogance.When they arrived at the hotel and arranged for a room, Bateman then demanded that he be taken immediately to the location of Brensumit's company.The company is located on the coast, facing the lake.After eight days of sailing at sea, he was happy to be standing on solid land again. He walked slowly along the Sunshine Avenue to the water's edge.Once in place, Bateman handed his card to a supervisor, who led him through a lofty, barn-like room (half store, half warehouse) and into a In an office sat a stocky, balding man wearing glasses. "Where can I find Mr. Edward Barnard? I know he spent some time in this office." "Indeed, but I don't know where he is now." "I think he came here with a special letter of recommendation from Mr. Brensumit, whom I know very well." The fat man gave Bateman a wary, suspicious look, then yelled at a young man in the warehouse. "Henry, tell me where Barnard has gone, do you know?" "He works at the Cameron store, I think." A voice came, and the man didn't even bother to come over. The fat man nodded. "After you go out, turn left and walk for three minutes, and you will find the Cameron store." Bateman hesitated. "I thought I should tell you that Edward Barnard was my best friend, and I was very surprised when I heard he had left Brensummit." The fat man's eyes narrowed until they were a line, and his scrutiny made Bateman uncomfortable, and he felt himself blush. "I suppose it's because Brunsummet and Mr. Edward Barnard disagree on certain points," he answered. Bateman didn't like the man's behavior, so he stood up with dignity, said "Excuse me" and left.As he left he had the strange feeling that the man who had just visited knew a great deal but was unwilling to tell him.He walked in the direction he indicated and soon found the Cameron store.It was a sales shop run by a merchant, like the five or six shops he had seen along the way.The first person he encountered on entering was none other than Edward: he was wearing a shirt, cutting a length of trade cotton.Bateman was startled to see him at such a humble job, but as soon as he appeared Edward looked up and saw him, and exclaimed in delight: "Bateman! I didn't expect to see him here." you!" He stretched his arm over the counter and grabbed his hand tightly. There was no embarrassment in his words or deeds, only Bateman was embarrassed. "Wait a minute, I'll pack this bag." He skilfully cut the cloth with scissors, folded it, packed it into a package, and handed it to a dark-skinned customer. "Please pay at the service desk." Then he turned to Bateman with a grin, a light in his eye. "How did you get here? Wow! I'm so glad to see you, sit down, old friend, and relax!" "Can't talk here, go to the hotel with me, I think you can leave?" Bateman added with some concern. "Of course you can leave. Not everything is serious here in Tahiti." He shouted to a Chinese behind the opposite counter: "Ah Liang, when the boss came, tell him that I have a friend from the United States, let's go out for a drink .” "Okay." The Chinese grinned. Edward put on a coat and hat, and accompanied Bateman out of the shop.Bateman tried to start their exchange jokingly. "Didn't realize you were selling cloth, that three-and-a-half foot rag to a greasy nigger," he laughed. "Bren Summit fired me, you know, but I don't think that's anything special." Edward's frankness seemed surprising to Bateman, but he did not think it wise to talk about it now. "I don't think you can make a lot of money in this place," he said dryly. "I don't think so, but it's enough to live on, and I'm quite content with that." "You wouldn't have thought that two years ago." "Wisdom comes with age," replied Edward cheerfully. Bateman glanced at him.Edward was wearing a pair of worn-out canvas trousers, which were dirty, and a large local-style straw hat. He was much thinner than before, and his skin was sun-tanned, but he was still more attractive than usual, that's for sure.But there was something about him that disturbed Bateman.He walked with a liveliness that he hadn't seen before, with a carelessness in his manner, and he was elated by ordinary things.These could have been beyond reproach, but they puzzled Bateman. "Who knows what the hell made him so happy!" he thought to himself. They entered the hotel and sat down on the balcony.A Chinese boy brought them cocktails.Eager to hear all the news from Chicago, Edward fired questions at his friend.The interest he showed was natural and genuine, but it was strange that, among so many topics, his interest was not differentiated.He wanted to know how Bateman's father was, and he also wanted to know what Isabel was up to, and his enthusiasm for the two things was indistinguishable.Talking about Isabel, he didn't have the slightest embarrassment, her fiancée was like his sister.Bateman has not guessed the exact meaning of Edward, he found that the topic has turned to his own work and the building his father built recently, he is determined to turn the topic to Isabel.Looking for an opportunity, he saw Edward wave his hand enthusiastically.A man came out on the balcony and was coming towards them, but Bateman, with his back turned to him, did not see it. "Come and sit down." Edward said happily. The newcomer came along.This is a tall and thin man, wearing white overalls, with beautiful bright yellow curly hair, a long and thin face, a tall hooked nose, a beautiful mouth shape, and expressive expressions. "This is my old friend Bateman Hunter, I told you about it," said Edward, with the smile still on his lips. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hunter. I used to know your father." The stranger held out his hand, and squeezed the young man's hand tightly in a friendly way, until Edward mentioned his name. "Mr. Arnold Jackson." Bateman's face turned pale, and he felt his hands grow cold.This is the forger, the criminal, Isabel's uncle!He didn't know how to speak, he just wanted to cover up his panic.Arnold Jackson winked at him and looked at him. "I think my name is familiar to you." Bateman didn't know whether to say "yes" or "no," and to his embarrassment, both Jackson and Edward seemed amused by him.It sucks that someone who can't hide has to meet on an island, especially when he finds himself being taunted.Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions too soon, for Jackson, without pausing, added: "I know. You are very friendly with the Longstaffs. Mary Longstaff is my sister." 现在贝特曼心里想，阿诺德·杰克逊是否认为自己不知道芝加哥无人不晓的那个最大丑闻呢？但杰克逊把手放在了爱德华肩上。 “我不能坐了，特迪，”他说，“我很忙，不过你们两个小家伙最好晚上过来，我们一起吃饭。” “好的。”爱德华说。 “你真是太好了，杰克逊先生。”贝特曼淡然道，“不过，我在这里只能停留很短时间，明天我的船就走了，你知道。我想你会原谅我的，我不能赴约。” “哦，别胡说了。我请你们吃当地菜，我妻子是极好的厨师。特迪会带你来的，早点过来好看看日落。如果你们愿意，也可以在我那里临时睡一晚。” “我们当然去，”爱德华说，“晚上船一来酒店里吵死了，我们可以在你的房子里聊聊天。” “我不会让你走的，亨特先生。”杰克逊用最大的热诚继续说道，“我要听听关于芝加哥和玛丽的所有消息。” 贝特曼还没来得及再开口，他已点点头离开了。 “在塔西提是不可以拒绝人的，”爱德华笑道，“再说，你也可以品尝一下岛上最佳的美食。” “他说他妻子是个好厨师，是什么意思？我刚好知道他妻子在日内瓦。” “做妻子的那也过于遥远了，是吧？”爱德华说，“他很久没见到她了，我想他说的是另一位妻子。” 贝特曼很久没有说话，脸色阴沉，双眉紧锁。不过当他抬头看到爱德华欣喜的眼神时，他的脸一下子变成了紫红色。 “阿诺德·杰克逊是个卑鄙的流氓。”他说。 “我非常担心他是。”爱德华笑道。 “我不明白，一个体面人怎么能跟他有任何交往。” “或许我不是个体面人。” “你跟他见面多吗，爱德华？” “是的，很多。他收养我做他的侄子。” 贝特曼向前倾了倾身，用探寻的目光注视着爱德华。 “你喜欢他吗？” "I like it very much." “难道你不知道——这里的人都不知道吗？他是个伪造者，是个罪犯，他应该被驱逐出文明社会。” 爱德华注视着一个烟圈，它正从他的雪茄烟上袅袅升起，静静地漂浮在芳香的空气中。 “我也觉得他是个十足的恶棍，”他最后说，“我不能自以为是地认为，他对自己行为的忏悔就让人有了宽恕他的借口。他是个诈骗犯，是个伪君子，但你无法离开他，我从来没遇到过一个更让人愉快的伙伴，他教会了我所知道的一切。” “他教会你什么了？”贝特曼吃惊地嚷道。 “怎样生活。” 贝特曼大声讥笑起来： “真是个好师傅！是他教会了你扔掉赚钱的大好机会，整天站在一个小杂货店的柜台后面谋生吗？” “他其实有着完美的人格，”爱德华不急不恼地微笑道，“或许今晚你就知道了。” “我是不会跟他一起吃饭的——如果你指的是这个，什么也别想让我走进那个人的家门。” “帮帮我吧，贝特曼。我们这么多年来都是好友，我求你帮忙你是不会拒绝的。” 爱德华现在的语气有了贝特曼不熟悉的特点，它是那样温柔，那样具有说服力。 “如果你这样说，爱德华，我一定去。”他微笑道。 贝特曼又想到，尽量去了解一下阿诺德·杰克逊也未尝不可，他对爱德华显然有着支配性影响——既然要打仗就需要把握战争的各个要素。他跟爱德华交谈越多，越发现他身上有了一个变化。直觉告诉他需要小心行事，他决定在更清楚地弄懂真相之前不要暴露此行的真实目的。他开始漫无边际地谈论一些话题，从旅行本身到旅行的收获，从芝加哥的政治到共同的朋友，还谈到了一起度过的大学时光。 最后爱德华说他得回去工作了，并建议五点来接贝特曼，然后一起驾车前去阿诺德·杰克逊家。 “顺便说一下，我也希望你能住在这家酒店，”贝特曼走出花园时对爱德华说，“据我所知，这是此地唯一像样的酒店。” “我不这么想，”爱德华笑道，“对我来说这个酒店过于豪华了，我在城外租了间房子，既干净又便宜。” “如果我没记错的话，在芝加哥时这些对你来说都是无所谓的。” “哼，芝加哥！” “我不明白你这是什么意思，爱德华，芝加哥是世界上最伟大的城市。” “我知道。”爱德华说。 贝特曼飞快地瞥了他一眼，但脸上不动声色。 “你什么时候回去？” “我也经常在考虑。”爱德华笑道。 这个回答以及回答方式让贝特曼有些踌躇，他正要让他再做些解释，一辆汽车从身边开过，爱德华朝混血司机挥了挥手。 “拉我一段，查理。”他说。 他冲贝特曼点点头，然后朝前面几码处停下的汽车跑去，把贝特曼一个人撇在后面，整理着一大堆迷茫不解的思绪。 爱德华坐着一辆年老牝马拉的摇摇晃晃的轻便马车回来接他，他们沿着海边的一条大道向前驶去。道路两旁是成片的椰子和香草种植园，不时看到黄色、红色、紫色的巨大芒果掩映在葱郁的绿叶之间；时而还可瞥见水平如镜的蓝色湖，以及长着高大棕榈树的优美小岛。阿诺德·杰克逊的房子坐落在一座小山上，只有一条路通上去，所以他们解下母马拴在一棵树上，把马车停在路边。对贝特曼来说，似乎只能随遇而安了。不过在他们向房子走近时，一个高挑、端庄的当地女子过来迎接他们，爱德华同她热情握手，然后把贝特曼介绍给她。 “这是我的朋友亨特先生，我们跟你们一起吃饭，拉维娜。” “好的，”她粲然一笑道，“阿诺德还没回来。” “我们到海边洗个澡，请给我们几条缠腰布。” 女子点点头，进了房子。 “那是谁？”贝特曼问。 “哦，她是拉维娜，阿诺德的妻子。” 贝特曼咬紧了嘴唇，没说什么。过了一会儿，女子拿着一包缠腰布出来了，递给爱德华，然后两个男人沿一条陡峭的小径爬下去，走向海边的一片椰子林。他们脱掉衣服，爱德华教给他的朋友怎样把被他们称作缠腰布的红色贸易棉布条扭成一条非常合身的游泳裤。很快，他们就在温热的浅水中扑腾开了。爱德华兴致极高，又叫又唱，笑声不断，好像一个十五岁的少年，贝特曼从来没见过他如此快乐。后来两人在海滩上躺下来，点上支烟，呼吸着清新的空气——他的轻松惬意让人迷醉，贝特曼不由地吃了一惊。 “你似乎发现生命本身就是巨大的快乐。”他说。 "yes." 他们听到了轻轻的脚步声，转过头来看到阿诺德·杰克逊正向他们走来。 “我想我应该下来把你们两个小伙子带回去。”他说，“你洗得开心吗，亨特先生？” “非常开心。”贝特曼回答。 阿诺德·杰克逊没有再穿整洁的工装裤，而只是在腰上系上了缠腰布，再无其他衣着，走路都是赤脚来的。他的身体已被太阳晒成了深褐色，长长的淡黄色卷发及苦行僧般的一张脸使身着当地人服装的他看上去颇不寻常，不过没有一丝一毫的忸怩作态。 “如果你们洗好了，我们就上去吧。”杰克逊说。 “我还要穿上衣服。”贝特曼说。 “怎么，特迪，你难道没给你的朋友带一条缠腰布吗？” “我想他还是想穿衣服。”爱德华说道。 “我当然要穿衣服。”贝特曼看到他还没穿上衬衣，爱德华就已把缠腰布系好准备出发了，便冷冷回应道。 “不穿鞋，难道你不觉得路面不好走吗？”他问爱德华，“我觉得路上岩石有些多。” “哦，我已习惯了。” “从城里回来系上缠腰布会很舒服。”杰克逊说，“假如你要留在这里，我强烈建议你接受它，这是我见过的最绝妙的服饰之一：凉爽、方便、廉价。” 他们向房子走去，杰克逊把他们带进了一个粉刷过的开顶大房间，里面已摆好了饭桌。贝特曼注意到吃饭时间定在了五点钟。 “伊娃，过来见见特迪的朋友，再跟我们碰一个，喝杯鸡尾酒。”杰克逊喊道。 然后他把贝特曼领到一个低矮的长长的窗子前。 “看那，”他用一个生动的手势说，“好好看。” 窗子下面便是椰树林，沿地势陡直地延伸下去，直至湖边。在黄昏的余晖中，湖的色彩柔和而变幻莫测，宛如鸽子的胸部一般。稍远处的小小港湾里有成片的当地人房舍。一条快船在后面礁石的映衬下，投过来极为清晰的侧影，几个当地人正在捕鱼。更远处便是浩瀚平静的太平洋。二十英里之外的一切灵动而缥缈，如同诗人编织的想象。这就是这个叫做莫里阿岛的岛屿令人窒息的美丽。到处都是那么妙不可言，贝特曼站在那里，感到局促不安。 “这样的地方我从未见过。”他终于说道。 阿诺德·杰克逊在他前面驻足凝视着，眼睛透出梦幻般的柔和，精瘦沉思的面孔庄重异常。贝特曼迅速看了他一眼，再一次感受到他内心强烈的悸动。 “美啊！”阿诺德·杰克逊喃喃道，“很少能这样跟美丽面对面。亨特先生，好好欣赏一下吧，以后就见不到这些了。这一刻将转瞬即逝，但它会留在你的心里，永远不会磨灭——因为你感受到了永恒。” 他的嗓音低沉而洪亮，似乎要把最纯粹的理想主义从胸中吐出来。贝特曼不得不强行提醒自己跟他说话的人是个罪犯，一个无情的骗子。不过，这时爱德华仿佛听到了什么声音，一下子转过身来。 “这是我的女儿，亨特先生。” 贝特曼跟她握了握手。她漆黑的迷人眼睛和红润的嘴唇随着笑声颤动着，皮肤是褐色的，一头乌黑的卷发如波浪般从肩上倾泻下来。她只穿着一件衣服，是哈伯德大妈式的粉色绵料长罩衣，光着双脚，戴着一个用白色馥郁的花朵编成的花冠。真是个可人的尤物，宛如波利尼西亚春天的女神。 她有些羞涩，但也不比贝特曼的羞涩多出多少。对他来说，整个情形让他颇为尴尬。看着这个精灵般的窈窕女子挥舞着调酒器娴熟地调制着鸡尾酒，不能让他的内心得到一点轻松。 “让我们尽情享受一下吧，孩子们！”杰克逊说。 她把酒倒好，笑意粲然地给每人递上一杯。贝特曼对自己调制鸡尾酒的精巧技艺一向自负，现在呷了一口，惊讶地发现酒味极好。杰克逊看到客人由衷露出的赞叹神色，哈哈大笑起来。 “不坏，是吧？是我亲自教给孩子的。以前在芝加哥，我觉得全城的调酒师没有一个能跟我相提并论。我在坐牢时假如无所事事，就考虑设计新的鸡尾酒调制法来自娱自乐，不过说真的，什么酒都比不上干马提尼。” 贝特曼突然觉得自己的幽默感似乎遭到了重创，他感到自己的脸先是变红，接着又变得苍白。不过，在他还没想好要说的话时，一个本地男孩端进来一大碗汤，大伙便坐下来吃饭。刚才的话似乎引起了阿诺德·杰克逊心中一连串的回忆，因为他开始谈论起狱中的日子来。他娓娓叙说着，毫无怨恨情绪，好像是在一所异国大学讲述他的人生经历。他把贝特曼当做自己的听众，这让贝特曼先是感到迷惑，接着感到慌乱了。他看到爱德华正凝视着他，眼睛里闪烁着快乐，他的脸一下子变得通红，因为他突然想到杰克逊是在愚弄他，不过很快就觉得有些荒谬，他知道杰克逊没必要这样做。他又开始愤怒起来，阿诺德·杰克逊是厚颜无耻的，只能用这个词来形容他；他的冷酷无情，不管假定与否，都让人无法忍受。晚饭还在进行，贝特曼被劝着吃各式饭菜，有生鱼及他叫不上名字的食物。出于所受的教养，他只能大口吞咽着，不过他惊异地发现饭菜真的非常美味。这时意外发生了，对贝特曼来说，这是整个晚上最让人羞窘的事。他的面前放着一个小小花冠，为找到话题，他大着胆子谈起花冠来。 “这是伊娃给你做的，”杰克逊说，“我想她是由于过于羞涩没有亲自交给你。” 贝特曼用手拿起花冠，对女孩礼貌地说了几句感谢的话。 “你得把它戴上。”她羞红了脸，微笑着说道。 “我？我可不想戴。” “这是这个国家的美好风俗。”阿诺德·杰克逊说。 他前面也有一个，他拿起来戴上了，爱德华也跟着这样做了。 “我想我的穿着不适合这个。”贝特曼忐忑道。 “你要缠腰布吗？”伊娃飞快地问道，“我马上去拿一条。” “不了，谢谢。我还是现在这样舒服些。” “教给他怎么戴，伊娃。”爱德华说。 这时，贝特曼恨起他最好的朋友来。伊娃从桌子旁站起来，笑嘻嘻地把花冠戴在他的黑发上。 “你戴上太合适了，”杰克逊夫人说，“花冠适合他吗，阿诺德？” “当然适合。” 贝特曼每个毛孔都在流汗。 “天黑了，很遗憾吧？”伊娃说，“我们本来可以给你们三个一起照张相的。” 贝特曼对天色已晚感激不尽。他觉得，自己身穿蓝色西装，衣领高耸——是那样整洁得体，绅士十足——而头上顶着个古怪花冠，样子一定愚蠢至极。他不由得怒火中烧，因为他有生以来从未像现在这样自我克制过，而表面上却又谦恭有礼。他对那个老家伙感到愤怒，你看他——高坐在上座上，半裸着身体；一脸的圣人模样，黄发也漂亮，上面却戴着个花冠，整个人的样子真是荒诞至极。 晚餐结束了，伊娃和她母亲留下来收拾餐桌，而三位男士在阳台上坐下。天气是煦暖的，夜晚盛开的白花使空气中弥漫着清香。一轮圆月轻移在晴朗的夜空，在宽阔的海面上照出一条光的通道，伸向永恒世界的无垠王国。阿诺德·杰克逊开始讲起话来。他的声音浑厚而富有音乐节律。他讲到了本地人及这个国家的古老传说，讲到了过去发生的离奇故事和探险未知世界的危险经历，谈到了爱情与死亡，憎恨和复仇；他还讲到了发现遥远岛屿的探险家，在岛上定居并娶了大酋长女儿的水手，以及在银色沙滩上度过丰富人生的赶海人。贝特曼起初感到羞辱和恼怒，满脸阴沉地听着，但很快，阿诺德语言中的某种魔力掌控了他，他坐在那里听得入了迷——浪漫的海市蜃楼遮蔽了普通日子的光线。他忘记了阿诺德·杰克逊有一副如簧巧舌，忘记了他正是靠着他的巧舌从轻信的民众身上骗得了大量金钱，忘记了也是那副舌头让他差一点就逃离了刑事惩罚吗？没有人比他更辩才无碍，没有人对层层推进的表达方式有着更敏锐的感觉。突然，他站了起来。 “好了，你们两个小家伙很久没有见面，我应该留下你们单独聊一聊。如果你们要睡觉，特迪会告诉你房间在哪儿。” “哦，不过我没考虑在这里过夜，杰克逊先生。”贝特曼说道。 “你会发现这里更舒服，而且保证明天早上及时叫醒你。” 阿诺德·杰克逊跟他有礼貌地握了握手，神情庄重得如同一个穿着法衣的主教，然后离开了他的客人。 “如果你想回帕皮提，我当然会开车送你。”爱德华说，“不过，我建议你今晚留这儿，明天一大早开车回去，路上的感觉非常棒。” 接下来的几分钟两人都没说话。贝特曼在想怎样展开那个话题，白天发生的一切让他觉得形势更加紧迫。 “你何时回芝加哥？”他突然问道。 “我不知道，或许永远都不回去了。” “你到底什么意思？”贝特曼叫道。 “我在这里很开心，再做出改变不是很愚蠢吗？” “老天！你不可能在这里过一辈子的。在这里人不是活着，是当活死人。哦，爱德华，趁着还不太晚，赶紧走吧。我觉得这里出了什么问题，你已经鬼迷心窍、屈服于邪恶的势力了，你只需要扭转一下自己就行。当你完全摆脱了这里的环境，你会感激众神，你会像一个摆脱了毒品的瘾君子，那时会明白过去的两年你呼吸的都是有毒的气体。当家乡清新的空气再次涨满你的心胸，你想象不出会有多么欣慰。” 他说得很快，由于情绪激动，众词语连滚带爬地冲了出来。他的声音充满了真诚和关爱，让爱德华备受感动。 “你如此关心我，真是太好了，老朋友。” “明天跟我走吧，爱德华。你到这个地方来就是个错误，这里的生活不属于你。” “既然你谈到了这样那样的生活，你认为我们怎样才能从生活中获得最美好的东西？” “这个嘛，我认为不可能有第二个答案，只能通过履行职责，通过辛勤劳动，以及完成国家和身份所赋予的全部义务。” “那回报呢？” “回报就是他意识到自己实现了心中梦想。” “在我听来有些怪异。”爱德华说。在轻柔的夜色中，贝特曼看到他在微笑。“我恐怕你认为我已经可悲地堕落了。在我看来，现在有些东西——我想说——是我三年前不能容忍的。” “你是从阿诺德·杰克逊那里学来的？”贝特曼讥讽道。 “你不喜欢他是吧？也许你也不想那样，我刚到这里时也是如此，跟你一样对他抱有成见。他其实是个非常了不起的人，你自己也看到了，他毫不掩饰曾经坐牢的经历，我不清楚他是否为此、为他的罪行感到懊悔，我只听他抱怨过出狱时健康受到了损害。我想他根本不知道什么叫悔恨，跟道德不道德毫不搭界。他接受一切，也接受自己，他是个慷慨、善良的人。” “对别人的钱，”贝特曼插嘴道，“也总是如此。” “我发现他是个很好的朋友。觉得一个人不错就去接受他，这有什么不正常吗？” “那结果就是你变得是非不分。” “不，对是非的界限我跟以前一样清楚，不过对于好人坏人的区别我倒是有些迷惑了。阿诺德·杰克逊是个做好事的坏人，还是做坏事的好人？这个很难回答。也许我们过于强调人和人之间的分别了，也许我们中最好的人都是些有罪者，最坏的人却是圣人，谁知道呢？” “你绝不可能让我相信黑就是白，白就是黑。”贝特曼说。 “我肯定不能，贝特曼。” 贝特曼不明白，即便如此同意自己的说法，他的嘴唇上仍闪过一丝微笑。爱德华沉默了一会儿。 “今天早上我跟你见面的时候，贝特曼，”他说，“我似乎看到了两年前的自己，同样的衣领，同样的鞋子，同样的蓝西装，同样的精气神儿，也是同样的毅然决然。上帝！我当时是那样活力四射，这地方让人昏昏欲睡的生活方式刺激了我的血液，我四下里走动，发现到处都有发展自己及事业的可能，这里有钱可赚。在我看来，从这里用麻布袋装上干椰子肉运到美国榨油是荒谬的，本地生产会节约更多，这里劳力便宜，还能减少运费。我已看到岛上建了大片工厂。另外，我觉得他们的榨油方式极其不当，我发明了一种机器，可以切开果壳挖出果肉，速率达到每小时两百四。这里的港口不大，我计划扩建一下港口，然后创建一家辛迪加公司来购置土地，建两到三座酒店，也给那些临时居民造些房屋。我还有一个改进轮船服务的计划，以便吸引来自加利福尼亚的游客。二十年后，这里就不再是一个半法国化的慵懒的帕皮提小城，而是一个了不起的美国城市，你能看到十层的建筑和有轨电车，还有电影院、歌剧院、股票交易所，以及一名市长。” “继续说呀，爱德华，”贝特曼激动地从椅子上跳起来叫道，“你有的是想法和能力，哇，你将成为澳大利亚和美国之间这块区域最有钱的人。” 爱德华温和地轻声笑了笑。 “不过，我并不想成为最有钱的人。”他说。 “你是说你不想要钱，不想要大把的钱吗？多达百万计的钱？你知道有那么多钱你都能干什么吗？你知道它有多大魔力吗？如果你自己不在乎，想想你可以做哪些事，你能给人类事业的发展开拓新的渠道，你能为成千上万的人提供就业。我脑袋晕了，你的话让我产生了幻觉。” “那坐下吧，亲爱的贝特曼，”爱德华笑道，“我切割椰子果的机器是一直不会开机的；就我而言，有轨电车也永远不会在帕皮提空荡荡的街道上行驶。” 贝特曼重重地跌坐在椅子里。 “我不明白你在说什么。”他说。 “我只是随便这么想想，我其实慢慢地喜欢上这个地方了——它是那样安逸休闲，这里的人心情舒畅，脸上笑容灿烂，我在想我以前从来没有那样过，我开始读些东西。” “你总在读东西。” “我以前阅读是为了应付考试，是为了在交谈时不被驳倒，是因为课堂要求，在这里读书是为了快乐。我学习如何讲话，你知道交谈是生活中最大的快乐之一吗？但交谈需要悠闲，而我以前总是过于忙碌。逐渐地，原来生活中对我极为重要的一切开始显得琐碎、庸俗。匆匆忙忙有什么用？苦苦奋斗又有什么用？现在我觉得芝加哥是个黑色、灰暗的城市，如石头般冷酷无情——就像一座监狱，混乱永无止息。人忙忙碌碌到底有什么价值？每个人都享受到最美好的生活了吗？那不是我们来到这个世界上的初衷吗？难道就整天急匆匆去上班，连续工作到黑夜，再急着赶回家吃饭，饭后到剧场看场演出？我的年轻时代不是要这样度过吗？青春如此短暂，贝特曼。当我年纪大了，我还有什么可期待的？依然早上从家里赶到办公室，工作到晚，再匆忙回家吃饭、看演出吗？如果你发了大财，这或许也值得——但我不知道能不能发财，这因人而异；假如你发不了财，那还值得吗？我希望生活更有意义，贝特曼。” “那你在生活中看重什么？” “恐怕你要笑话我了，贝特曼，我看重的是真、善、美。” “你不觉得在芝加哥就可以得到那些？” “有些人或许可以，但我不行。”爱德华一下子站了起来，“我跟你说，一想到以前的生活，我就感到恐怖。”他猛地大嚷起来，“想到曾经逃离的危险，我吓得浑身发抖。直到来到这里，我才明白我拥有自己的灵魂，如果我还是个富人的话，也许永远都失去它了。” “我不明白你为何这样说，”贝特曼愤然道，“我们过去常常谈到的。” “是的，我知道，但那跟同聋哑人谈和声差不多，我再也不回芝加哥了，贝特曼。” “那伊莎贝尔呢？” 爱德华走到阳台边上，向前探着身，出神地望着具有魔力般的朦胧夜色。不过等他转过身面对贝特曼时，他脸上露出了浅浅的微笑。 “对我来说，伊莎贝尔过于美好了，好过我无数倍。我爱慕她胜过我见过的任何女人。她有一颗优秀的头脑，心灵同她的容貌一样迷人，对她的活力和抱负我充满钦仰，她天生就是生活的成功者，我完全配不上她。” “她并不这样想。” “但你必须告诉她，贝特曼。” “我？”贝特曼叫道，“我最不愿干这种事。” 爱德华背对着可人的月光，看不清他的脸，他是否又在微笑呢？ “对她做任何掩饰都没用，贝特曼。她很机敏，五分钟就能对你了解个底翻天。你最好马上跟她开诚布公地谈谈。” “我不懂你什么意思。当然我会告诉她见过你了。”贝特曼生气道，“老实说，我不知道该跟她说什么。” “告诉她我没成功；告诉她我不仅贫穷，而且甘于贫穷；告诉她我被解雇了，因为我既懒惰又怠慢；告诉她你今晚看到的一切，还有我跟你说过的所有话。” 就在一刹那间，贝特曼似乎突然明白了，他一下子跳起来，带着无可抑制的慌张盯着爱德华。 “老天！你难道不想跟她结婚了？” 爱德华严肃地看着他。 “我永远不会请求她给我自由。如果她希望我信守承诺，我会尽最大努力做一个优秀、忠诚的丈夫。” “你希望我把这个消息传递给她吗，爱德华？哦，我不能这样做。太可怕了。她从未想过你不想跟她结婚。她爱你，我怎么能让她承受这样的羞辱？” 爱德华又笑起来。 “你为什么不跟她结婚，贝特曼？你爱她多年了，你们极其般配，而且你会让她幸福的。” “不要跟我这样说话，我受不了。” “我退出对你是好的，贝特曼。你比我更适合。” 爱德华的语气里有什么东西让贝特曼迅速抬起头来，但爱德华的眼神是郑重的，没有任何笑意。贝特曼心慌意乱，不知道该说什么。他不知道爱德华是否怀疑他来塔西提有着特别的目的。尽管他清楚这件事糟糕至极，但无法阻止内心深处的狂喜。 “如果伊莎贝尔写信给你终止你们的婚约，你怎么办？”他缓缓问道。 “挺过去。”爱德华说。 贝特曼心里如此激荡以至没听到他的回答。 “我希望你换上件普通衣服，”他有些恼怒地说，“你在做一个极其重大的决定，你现在身上的奇装异服也过于随意了。” “你放心，我裹缠腰布、戴玫瑰花冠跟穿燕尾服、戴高礼帽一样庄重。” 这时贝特曼脑子里闪过另一个念头。