Chapter 117 The Fifth Female Prisoner (1)

Every morning, with my face to the wall, I knew what the weather was like before I turned around to see the shade of sunlight on the top of the curtain.The initial noise in the street, sometimes passing through the humid and heavy air, becomes hoarse and disjointed, and sometimes it appears fierce and loud like an arrow passing through the open forest field in the thin, steep and clear morning; These voices brought me information about the weather.The first tram passed by, and I could hear the rumble of the wheels stagnant in the drizzle, or was about to gallop into the clear blue sky.But perhaps before I heard these voices, there was already something quicker, stronger, and ever-diffusing, slipping quietly through my sleep, or casting a melancholy veil on the twilight drowsiness. Colors that herald the coming of winter snow, or make some elf that appears and disappears sing song after song to the glory of the sun, until I start to smile in my sleep and close my eyelids to bear Dazzling light finally woke up to the sound of lively music.Speaking of which, during this period of time, I hardly ever went out, and only felt the life of the outside world in this bedroom.I know that Bloch once said that when he came to see me in the evening, he always heard voices; since my mother was far away at Combray, and he never found anyone in my room, he believed that I was in the house. Talk to yourself.A long time later, when he learned that Albertine was living with me and that I hid her from anyone, he declared that he understood at last why I had never refused to go out.He was wrong.But he is justifiable, because everything, even if it is logically inevitable, we can't see it clearly from the beginning; and some people, often He loves to catch a certain factual detail in other people's life, and then rush to draw a conclusion that is not the case at all, or immediately make a completely irrelevant explanation based on a little fact that has just been discovered.

I am thinking at the moment that my friend, after returning with me from Balbec, has given up the idea of ​​traveling by boat and lives in the same house as me in Paris, her room is not more than twenty steps away from mine. Road, at the end of the corridor, in my father's tapestry-decorated study.When we parted late at night, she always put her tongue in my mouth, as if this was my daily food and nourishment. There are so many bodies in the world, and the pain we suffer for them will eventually make us Enjoying a spiritual pleasure, her tongue has such an almost divine quality.As a comparison, what I immediately think of is not the night that Captain Borodino allowed me to spend in the barracks, and what his kindness could cure was only a temporary distress. I think of my father letting my mother Come to sleep that night in the little bed next to me.Whenever life again tries to free us from what seems to be an inescapable pain, it often does so under different, even diametrically opposed circumstances, so that we see the grace it bestows At that moment, I can't help but feel that there seems to be a sacrilege in it!

Albertine heard from Françoise that I stayed in the dark room with the curtains drawn tightly, but did not sleep, so she took a bath without fear of being in her bathroom. Make a sound.That way, I often don't wait any longer and head into my comfortable bathroom adjoining hers to shower early.Once upon a time there was a theater manager who spent hundreds of thousands of francs to have real emeralds dotted on the throne where the red horn played the queen.The Russian ballet has taught us that as long as the lighting is just right, the flickering of the light alone can change the same luxurious and dazzling, but more colorful and rare treasures.This relatively immaterial decoration is wonderful, but when the sun pours in at eight o'clock in the morning, making everything that a person who sleeps until noon sees in the daily life suddenly shines, the landscape is so beautiful. But it looks much more beautiful.The windows of the two bathrooms are not made of light glass, but an old-fashioned frosted glass, so that people can't see the inside from the outside.The sun suddenly illuminated the gauze-like glass, covering them with a layer of golden yellow. Bathed in this comfortable sunshine, it seemed that it was no longer me who had been obliterated by the same rhythm of life for a long time, but a When I was younger, I was intoxicated in the memories, as if I was in the open nature, facing the trees dyed golden, and even a bird was faintly singing in my ears.This was because I heard Albertine humming a song over and over again:

The sadness in my heart is already crazy, Whoever listens to it speaks is crazier. ① I love her so much that I just smile amusedly at her terrible taste in music.Madame Bontemps was very fond of this song last summer, but it was not long before she heard that it was a silly song, and since then she never called Albertine when she had company. Sing this song, and let her sing: A farewell song springs from the tumultuous heart, ② It also became "An old Massenet tune that this girl made us groan in our ears". -------- ①A refrain in "The Bagpipes" by French popular composer Théodore Bottrell (1868-1925).

②A phrase in the "Love Psalms" by the French composer Jules Massenet (1842-1912). A dark cloud passed across the sky, blocking out the sun, and I watched the embossed frosted glass dim and melt into the grayness.The partition between the two bathrooms is very thin (Albertina's is exactly the same, it is also a bathroom, when my mother was there, she never used it because she was afraid of noise, but she is on the other side of our apartment There is another room), we can talk to each other when we take a bath in our respective bathrooms, and there will be no other sounds to interrupt our conversation except the sound of water. It is very close, and you can often feel it, but it is very rare in Paris.

Some mornings, I just lay in bed like this, daydreaming as hard as I could, because I had ordered that no one should come into my room until I rang the bell, and the pull switch installed above the bed was very well installed. It's inconvenient, I always have to search for a long time to find the column, and often I get impatient when I find it, and I would rather lie on the bed alone, so I almost have to sleep again.This is not to say that I am indifferent to Albertine living here.Her separation from those girlfriends spared my heart new pains, and allowed it to rest in a kind of doze to heal its wounds.The peace she gave me, however, was not joy, but a relief from pain.This does not mean that in this tranquility I have not experienced many joys from which I have been cut off by too intense a grief, but it was not Albertine who brought me, and I no longer feel her. There was nothing beautiful about her, I was already tired of her, I clearly felt that I did not love her, but that, on the contrary, I had enjoyed those joys when Albertine was not with me.Therefore, when I wake up in the morning, especially on a good day, I don't send someone to call her right away.I feel that the elf that sings in the body mentioned above makes me happier than her, so I stay there for a while, and then lie down for a while, listening to it sing the carol of the sun to me alone.Each of us is made up of a few little spirits, the most important of which are not the most visible ones.In me, after they are knocked down by the disease one by one, there will probably be two or three elves with particularly tenacious vitality left, among them there must be such a philosopher, who can only understand between two works of art and two feelings. You will be happy only when you find something in common.But this last one, I wondered sometimes to myself, was not like that little dwarf in the window of the optician at Combray who forecast the weather, who lifted his hood when it was sunny, and put it back on when it rained. superior.I've learned selfishness from this little man: when it's about to rain I'll always get suffocated, and the fits won't be relieved until the rain comes down, and the little man doesn't care about that, When the rain I've been waiting for finally falls, he puts away his jovial look and slams his hood on in a huff.On the other hand, I believe that on my deathbed, when all the other "I"s in me have died and I have only my last breath, if a ray of sunlight falls from the sky, the barometer will People will also lift up their hoods and sing happily: "Oh! It's finally sunny."

I rang for Françoise.I opened Le Figaro.After reading it, I know that the article I sent to the newspaper, or the so-called article, was written a long time ago when I was sitting in Dr. Perspier's carriage and gazing at the belfry of Matanville. , after I found it out recently, I sent it with only a few minor changes.Next, I read my mother's letter.A young girl was living alone with me, which made her feel strange and disgusted.On the day of leaving Balbec, when she saw me despondently, and felt uneasy about leaving me alone in Paris, she heard that Albertine was with us, and that Albertine's trunk was taken away. She may be very happy to load the little train, and those narrow and long black boxes are next to our own boxes (the same boxes that made me cry all night beside them at the Balbeck Hotel. ), I just think they look like coffins, but I don't know whether they will bring life or death to the family.But I didn't even think about it at the time, because I was overjoyed to be able to take Albertine with me on such a sunny morning after the fear of detaining Balbec.But for this arrangement, if there was no hostility from my mother at first (she spoke to my girlfriend very politely, like a mother whose son has just been seriously injured expressing gratitude to the young mistress who did her best to take care of him love), then when she saw that the arrangement was fully fulfilled and the girl stayed with us longer and longer without other family members at home, her attitude changed completely.However, I have to say that she has never expressed this kind of hostility to me on any occasion, just as she did not dare to blame my impetuousness and laziness in the past. I can see it, or I don’t want to see it—I’m afraid that gossip about this girl who I said will be my wife in the future will cast a shadow on my life and weaken my love for my wife in the future, and maybe it’s here I sowed the seeds of guilt that, when my mother died, I would regret that I had made her unhappy by marrying Albertine.She prefers to make a gesture of approval for a decision she knows she can't get me to change.However, everyone who met my mother during those days told me that in addition to her sadness because of her grandmother's death, she always had a worried look.This irresistible thought, this internal ups and downs, made her temples swell and burn, and she kept the window open all day to keep herself cool.But she still couldn't make a decision, she was afraid that it would have a bad "influence" on me and destroy what she thought was my happiness.She could not even make up her mind not to allow Albertine to stay at home for the time being.Mamma didn't want to appear more critical than Mrs. Bontemps, and it was a real surprise to Mamma that she didn't think there was anything inappropriate in the matter, not to mention the lady.But in any case, when she left for Combray, she felt a little remorse for leaving me and Albertine in this way, because my aunt needed her care day and night, so she might have to be there. Stayed (did, in fact) for several months.But when she arrived at Combray, she had nothing to do, thanks to the grace and sincerity of Legrandin, and the gentleman took care of everything and postponed it week by week. On the trip back to Paris, he didn't know my great-aunt very well. He did it because first of all, she was a friend of his mother's, and secondly, he felt that the dying patient would like to be cared for by him. open him.Artyness is a very reproachable state of mind, but it does not spread and damage the whole soul.I was of the opposite opinion to Mamma, and I was very glad that she was going to Combray, because otherwise I would have to worry (because I couldn't tell Albertine to keep her secret) that Mama would find Albertine and her sooner or later. Mademoiselle Vandeuil was very friendly.As far as my mother was concerned, it was not only a marriage that she asked me not to say to Albertine, but which I myself found more and more intolerable, but also a response to the fact that Albertine was allowed to stay in the house. An insurmountable obstacle to the thing itself.In addition to this crucial reason, which the mother does not know, the mother's attitude is also affected by two aspects. On the one hand, because the grandmother admires George Sand very much and believes that virtue lies in the noble heart, and the mother also takes the grandmother as a model. , so she was influenced by this kind of instructive, open-minded ideas, and on the other hand, some of my indecent actions also affected her. Under this double influence, her words and deeds towards women now Her demeanor was quite forgiving, and she would have been stern in former times, or even today, with a girl who belonged to her bourgeois circle in Paris or Combray, but now that I was in front of her I tried to Praise these women for their noble hearts, and she loves me so much that she forgives them in many ways.

However, even leaving aside the question of suitability, I believe that there are many things about Albertine that my mother finds it unbearable.From Combray, from Aunt Léonie, and from all her relations, Mamma retained a methodical and methodical habit which had never entered the mind of my friend.She never closed the door when she entered a room, and if it was open, she would have no scruples to go straight in, just like a dog or a cat.Her somewhat ignorant charm made her at the moment not look like a young girl in this house, but like a domesticated kitten and dog, who just went in and out of the room and appeared unexpectedly in the house. Everywhere you don't want her to come, and sometimes come and jump into bed and lie next to me--which is a wonderful rest for me--like making a nest for myself, just staying motionless Don't mess with me at all; if it were a human being, it wouldn't be like this.But at last she gave in to my sleep regime, and not only stopped barking into my room, but she stopped making a sound until I rang the bell.It was Françoise who made her dare not take these rules lightly.She was one of Combray's devoted maids, who knew their master's place, and the least they could do was to give him exactly what they thought he deserved.When a stranger left and wanted to give Françoise some money to share with the young maid who helped the kitchen, it was often before the gentleman had time to put the money into Françoise's hands. , she was already addressing the maid who came to thank her, and her words were quick and solid, and she could not be ignored, until the maid did what she asked, not coyly, but generously. The priest of Combray was not a genius, but he also knew what he had to do.Thanks to his persuasion, the daughter of a Protestant cousin of Mrs. Sasra converted to Catholicism, and had a marriage that seemed to him perfect.The other party in this marriage was a nobleman of Méséglise.The young man's parents wrote a letter, originally intending to learn more about the situation, but the tone was quite arrogant, and they criticized the woman's original religion of Protestantism.The abbe of Combray wrote a strongly worded reply, and the nobleman of Méséglise immediately replied in a very different tone, begging humbly for the honor of being married to the young girl.

After all, Françoise was incapable of making Albertine respect my sleep.But in her body, it can be said that traditional breast milk has permeated her whole body.She either kept silent or flatly refused Albertine's completely unintentional requests to come into my room or ask me to give her something. A strange place, where a strange set of customs prevailed, and everything she did was governed by rules that she could not disobey.She had a premonition of this at Balbec, but when she arrived in Paris, she simply gave up the idea of ​​​​resistance, and waited patiently every morning to hear my bell before daring to make a sound.

Besides, Françoise's instruction to Albertine was also beneficial to the old maid herself. After returning from Balbec, she had been sighing and sighing all day long, and now she gradually stopped hearing.When she was about to board the train, she suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to say goodbye to the "housekeeper" of the hotel. The woman with the long mustache who took care of the floors on each floor hardly knew Françoise, but she was quite friendly when they met. polite.But Françoise insisted on getting off the train and hurrying back to the hotel to say good-bye to the housekeeper and not start until the next day.Out of reason, and more out of fear of Balbec, I did not agree to her to realize this wish, but she was unhappy because of this, and was in a sick, restless and bad mood all day long, even if things passed. , the situation still did not improve, and she carried this feeling all the way to Paris.Because, according to the code in Françoise's mind, as she can see from the relief painting of Saint-Andre Church, it is permissible to hope that an enemy will die early, or even to kill him with his own hands. Yes, but if you don't do your job well, if you don't return the courtesy, like a real brute, if you don't say goodbye to a floor manager before leaving, then you are treasonous.During the whole journey, the memory of not saying goodbye to that woman would reappear before Françoise's eyes every moment, bringing a frightening scarlet color to her cheeks.All the way to Paris, she didn't eat anything or drink a sip of water, not so much to punish us, but maybe it's because that memory weighed on her stomach, and it really made the "stomach bag" "heavy" (Each class has its pathology).

My mother sends me a letter every day, and each letter must contain excerpts from Mrs. de Sevigny's letters. There are many reasons for this, and there are also factors of nostalgia for my grandmother.My mother wrote in the letter: "Mrs. Sasra invited us to eat a breakfast that she has won alone. If your poor grandmother is still alive, she should quote Mrs. de Sevigny. We can pass the loneliness by not inviting guests to our house.” At the beginning of my reply, I said stupidly: “From these excerpts, your mother can tell at a glance that you picked them.” Now, three days I read it later: "Poor boy, if you want to tell me about my mother, then you are going to the wrong door to ask Mrs. de Sevigny for help. She will answer Mrs. de Grignan as she did." Said to you: "'Is she so insignificant to you?I thought you were a family. '" At this moment, I heard my sweetheart's footsteps coming and going in and out of her room.I rang the bell because it was time for André to fetch Albertine with a chauffeur, a friend of Morrel's, whom he had borrowed from the Verdurins.I had once mentioned to Albertine the remote possibility of our marriage; but I had never spoken of it formally to her; , but it might be possible," she would always shake her head with a melancholy smile, as if to say, "No, it won't," which meant, "I'm so poor." While telling her that we "can't say anything" about our future, I try to make her happy and make her life more comfortable in the present. Maybe I also subconsciously try to make her want to marry me by doing this.She has a mocking attitude towards this extravagant life. "Andre's mother saw that I had become a rich lady like her, a lady who, as she said, 'had cars, horses and pictures', and she was going to be serious about me. What? I never Didn't tell you she said that? Oh, she's a queer one! It astonishes me that she's still elevating pictures to the level of chariots and horses." As we shall see below, although Albertine's habit of talking stupidly has not been broken, she has indeed made amazing progress.But this has nothing to do with me. I have always been indifferent to a woman's intellectual advantages.Perhaps, the only thing that amuses me is Celeste's language genius with another merit.For example, when she saw that Albertine was not there and came to chat with me in time, I couldn't help laughing for a while. She called me: "An angel resting on the bed!" I said: " See what you say, Celeste, what's an 'angel'?" "Oh, if you think you have anything in common with the mortals who roam this humble land of ours, you're very mistaken. wrong!" "Then why is it 'resting' on the bed? You clearly saw that I was lying down and sleeping." "You're not sleeping on your back. Have you ever seen anyone sleeping like this? You're just here to rest. Now, you're wearing this white pajamas, and you're swaying your neck like this." , looks like a white dove." Albertine, even in the most trifling matters, was very different from the little girl who had been at Balbec a few years before.I don't know if it was at this time that she learned to say "that's wonderful" when referring to a political event that she disliked. Bad Books says: "It's kind of an interesting book, but then again, it's written by a pig." My room was off limits until I rang the bell, which amused her.Since she had a family biography of excerpts from our family, she quoted from the few tragedies she acted in the convent, and I told her I liked it, and kept comparing me to Ahabine. Lu ①: Visit without summons It is the audacity to act recklessly. Regardless of rank, regardless of gender, There is no way to escape bad luck, which makes people cowardly. even i... Also bound by the law, no different from other women, In order to talk to him, if you don't wait for luck At least wait for his summons. -------- ① The character in the tragedy "Esther" by the French playwright Racine, the king of Persia.The play is based on biblical stories, and the following quotes are from Queen Esther in Act I, Scene III. Her appearance also changed.The long thin blue eyes--slenderer and longer now--have changed a little; the color remains the same, but they look like clear water.So that when she closes her eyes, you feel as if a curtain is closed, blocking your view of the sea.It is probably this part of her face that left the deepest impression on my mind-of course, this only refers to when I break up with her every night.Because, for example, the next morning, the wavy hair would amaze me just as much, as if I were looking at something I had never seen before.But above the smiling eyes of a young girl, what could be more beautiful than a head of hair like a purple and black shining crown?The smile adds a bit of affection, and those clear little curls on the end of the thick hair are closer to the lovely body, as if this is the sudden ripples coming from there, which makes people feel flustered . As soon as she came into my room, she jumped on the bed, and sometimes explained to me with all seriousness what was so clever about me, and swore to me with a genuine passion that she would rather die than leave Me: In those days I didn't call her until after I had shaved.She was one of those women who couldn't figure out why she felt a certain way.The pleasure that a clean-shaven face gives them is interpreted as the moral merit of a man who they regard as a blessing to their future, but which is accompanied by a beard. It grows and becomes eclipsed and becomes something unnecessary. I asked where she was going. "I think Andre is going to take me to the Butte-Caumont Park, I've never been there." Of course, I couldn't tell from all the other words if she was lying.Besides, I am sure Andrea will tell me all the places Albertine has been with her.At Balbec, when I was terribly bored with Albertine, I once half-truthfully said to André: "My little André, if only I had met you sooner! would have fallen in love with you. But now my heart has been staked elsewhere. But we can see each other often, because love for another woman makes me so sad, only you can help me, give me For comfort." Who would have thought that these jokes would be taken seriously after three weeks.André must have thought that I was lying when she was at Balbec, and that I was actually in love with her, and she may still think so in Paris now.Because for each of us, the truth of the matter is so unpredictable that others can hardly understand the mystery.And since I knew she would tell me all about what she was doing with Albertine, I invited her to come here, and she accepted, and came to see Albertine almost every day. .This way, I can stay at home with peace of mind.André had been one of those girls, and from that I was sure that she would get from Albertine everything I wanted to know.To tell the truth, I can now tell her with all my heart that she is the only one who can soothe my soul and bring it to rest.On the other hand, my choice of André (who had just changed her mind and stayed in Paris instead of going back to Balbec) for the company of Albertine also had something to do with what Albertine told me, that in At the time of Balbec, this girlfriend of hers was very fond of me, but I always thought that André hated me at that time. If I knew this was the case, maybe I would have fallen in love with her. "Why, you don't know anything about it?" said Albertine to me. "We often joke about it. Besides, don't you ever notice that she imitates you in everything she says and thinks? It is all the more obvious when she comes back from you. There is no need for her to tell us whether she has seen you. When she arrives like this, as long as she has just come from you, one look on her face You could tell. We were all laughing and laughing. She was like a charcoal burner, all black from head to toe, trying to make people believe he wasn't a charcoal burner. Mill The fellow doesn't have to tell anyone what he does, they know it all when they look at his flour suit and the bag marks on his shoulders. So did Andrei, who frowned just like you, and afterwards And twisting the long neck like this, there are many other tricks that I can't tell. If I take a book from your room, even if I go outside to read it, people will know that it was from you. Because there is a strange smell of smoked medicine in this book. There are also some things, which are trivial and inconspicuous when you talk about them, but they are really interesting things in your heart. Whenever someone talks about how you are, it seems I value you very much, and Andrei will be delighted." However, I was worried that Albertine would play tricks while I was away, so I advised her not to go to the Butte-Chaumont Park that day, but to go to another place, such as Santa Cruz. Of course it was not at all because I was still in love with Albertine, as I knew it myself.Love, perhaps, is nothing more than the aftermath of those whirlpools that make your heart churn after a thrill.When Albertine told me about Mademoiselle van Duy to me at Balbec, there were indeed such whirlpools that stirred my heart up and down, but they have calmed down now.I no longer love Albertine, because at this moment in my heart the pain I felt when I learned of Albertine's girlhood on the train at Balbec, and knew that she might still be a frequent visitor to Montchouvin, Indeed it no longer exists.I've had enough of thinking about all this, and the pain has subsided.But something in Albertine's way of talking made me now and again suspect—I don't know why—that she must have received many compliments and courtships during the short course of her life. and accepted it with joy, that is to say, with a tweedy coquettish gesture.So she said to everything: "Is it? Really?" Of course, if she said, like Odette: "Is it true?" This kind of heart, because such words are ridiculous enough in themselves, people will only think that this woman is simple-minded and a bit stupid.But the inquiring air with which Albertine said "Really?" gave the strange impression, on the one hand, that a fellow woman, incapable of judging herself, was appealing to you for confirmation, and she It seems that you don't have the same ability as you (people say to her: "We have been out for an hour" or "It's raining", and she also asks: "Is it?"), on the other hand, unfortunately This lack of ability to make judgments about external phenomena cannot be the real reason for her saying "Really? Really?"It seems rather that from the day she was a young girl, these words were used to cope with things like "You know, I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you," "You know how much I love you, I love you like crazy" or something like that.These "Is it? Really?" is to answer those words with a pretentious demeanor while coquettishly agreeing.And since Albertine has been with me, they have only one use left for her, which is to answer an unanswerable question with a question, as in: "You have been asleep for more than an hour." "Really?" I don't think I have any love for Albertine anymore. I never think of the time we spent together when recalling the joys of the past, but I am always secretly concerned about her daily behavior. heart; of course, I ran away from Balbec, so that she would never be able to meet her friends again. Maybe it was just to amuse me and do something obscene, so I made a quick decision to get out of there, with the intention of cutting off once and for all all these harmful ties to her.Albertine had an extraordinary laziness, a knack for forgetting everything and taking it easy, so that once those ties were severed, the phobias that had plagued me for so long disappeared without a trace.But like the unspeakable evil from which it arises, this fear can manifest itself in various guises.Until my jealousy finds a new possession, I can have a period of peace when the pain is past.But just as a slight cause can cause a relapse of a chronic disease, so a little chance can trigger (after a chaste interval) the wickedness of the man who arouses this jealousy to once again exert its power. on different objects.I could separate Albertine from her companions, and thus drive away the visions that haunted me like demons; but even if I could make her forget the gang, cut her off from them, her desire for pleasure But it's deeply ingrained, and perhaps waiting for the moment to come out.And Paris and Balbec likewise offer opportunities for such catharsis.无论在哪个城市都是一样的，她根本无须去寻找，因为邪恶不仅存在于阿尔贝蒂娜身上，而且存在于别人身上，任何寻欢作乐的机会都是那些人所求之不得的。只消一个心领神会的眼神，就能把两个如饥似渴的人儿撮合在一起。对一个机灵的女人来说，先装出什么也没瞧见的样子，过五分钟再朝那个已经心领神会、兀自等在一条小马路上的人儿走去，三言两语就安排好一次幽会，这真是再容易不过的事了。有谁能看出半点破绽来呢？对于阿尔贝蒂娜，事情更加简单，她若想把那种暧昧关系保持下去，只用对我说她挺喜欢巴黎的某处近郊，很想再去一次就行了。所以，只要她回来得太晚，或是出去兜风的时间长得难以解释（尽管结果也许还是让她轻而易举地给解释了过去，而且其中决无半点与情欲有涉的理由），就足以让我旧病复发，这回它可是跟我想象中的一幕幕背景并非巴尔贝克的场景缠在了一起，而我则极力想把这些场景连同以前的印象一并抹去，仿佛排除一次转瞬即逝的诱因，就能消弭一场先天疾病的病因似的。我没有意识到，我之所以能这么做，靠的正是阿尔贝蒂娜多变的性格，正是她那种对不久前还是情之所钟的对象说忘就忘，甚至立时生出厌恨来的本领，我这样做，不时会使某个我不认识、但曾给她以乐趣的对象蒙受深切的痛苦，我更没有意识到，我把痛苦加在这一个个对象身上，其实也是枉然的，因为这些对象都将相继被抛弃、替补，在被她轻率抛弃的旧人横陈沿途的这条通道之侧，还有一条平行的小路展示在我面前，那是一条只容我偶而停步匆匆喘口气的无情的畏途；如果当时能仔细想一想，我该明白只有在阿尔贝蒂娜和我两人中有一个已经走到生命尽头的那个时刻，我的痛苦才会休止。还在我们刚回到巴黎的那会儿，我就对安德烈和司机关于陪阿尔贝蒂娜外出兜风的报告不满意，当时我就感觉到，巴黎的近效和巴尔贝克的近郊同样的使我不放心，有好几天，我亲自陪阿尔贝蒂娜出游，可是不管上哪儿，我照样摸不透她到底在干些什么，她照样尽可以背着我做小动作，我一个人监视她，困难更多，最后我干脆带她回了巴黎。说实话，离开巴尔贝克那会儿，我还以为就此带着阿尔贝蒂娜离开了戈摩尔①呢；唉！戈摩尔在这世上真是无所不在哟。我一半出于嫉妒，一半出于对这种兴趣（非常难得遇到的情形）的懵懂无知，无意间安排下了一场捉迷藏的游戏，而阿尔贝蒂娜在这中间始终没让我逮住过。我会冷不丁地向她发问：“喔！顺便问一句，阿尔贝蒂娜，不知是我瞎想还是您真对我说过，您认识希尔贝特·斯万？”是嘛，我说过她在课堂里老爱跟我说话，因为她有一套法国历史的笔记；她还挺客气的，把这些笔记借给我，我看完以后就带回教室去还她，我俩只在课堂上见面。 ”您看她是不是属于那种我所不喜欢的姑娘？”“哦！完全不是，正好相反呐。” 不过，除了一味作这种类似审讯的聊天以外，我更经常地是把待在家里节省下来的这点精力，全部花在想象阿尔贝蒂娜出游的情景上，我用一种热切的口吻跟她谈到咱俩一起出游的计划，无从兑现的计划使这种热切显得那么无可指摘。我表示了去巴黎圣堂②重睹彩绘玻璃风采的强烈欲望，并为无法单独陪她成行深感遗憾，她瞧着我那种热切的模样，就温柔地对我说：“哦，我的小乖乖，既然您看来这么想去，那么就上点劲儿，和我们一块儿去呗。只要您愿意，我们等多久都行，等到您准备好为止。另外，要是您觉得单独和我在一起更有趣的话，我只消打发安德烈回家，让她下回再来就是了。”然而这些邀我出游的话，却正增强了我的安全感，使我更安心地待在家里了。 -------- ①《圣经·旧约》中因居民罪恶深重被神毁灭的古城。通常借指罪恶渊薮。 ②位于巴黎市中心的古教堂，其中建造于十三世纪的彩绘大玻璃窗极为壮观。 我没想到，把看守阿尔贝蒂娜以平息我内心骚乱的任务，如此这般地托付给安德烈和司机，让他俩去费神监视阿尔贝蒂娜之后，我却就此变得愈来愈迟钝，那种绞尽脑汁驰骋想象的冲动给遏制下去了，那些由揣度、阻止别人要做的事的意愿所激发的灵感也不复出现了。更危险的是，就我的个性而言，可能性所构成的世界总要比日常生活的现实世界更让我觉得容易明白些。这固然有助于去了解人的心灵，但也容易受人欺骗。我的嫉妒由想象而生，是一种精神上的自我折磨，而与可能性并不相干。然而，人们乃至整个民族（因而我也包括在内），在其生命史上都可能会有那么一天，感到自己身上需要有一个警长，一个明察秋毫的外交官，一个完全部门的首脑，这些人物从不根据可能性去作八面来风的臆测，而是进行准确的推理，暗自在算计着：“倘若德国如此这般宣称，那么它必是另有企图，那决非某种泛泛而谈的企图，而是极其明确的某事某事，而且可能已在付诸实施。”“如果此人已经逃跑，他一定不是逃往目的地a，b，d，而是逃往目的地c，必须在该地组织搜捕，具体方案如下……”天哪，这方面的本领我生来就欠缺，现在我又习惯了让别人去代我操那份监视阿尔贝蒂娜的心，自己图个清静，所以干脆听任那点微弱的本能麻木、萎缩乃至消亡。 至于我想待在家里的原因，我是很不愿意向阿尔贝蒂娜讲穿的。我告诉她说，医生嘱咐我卧床。这不是真话。即便是真话，当初这道医嘱也并没能阻止我陪阿尔贝蒂娜出游。我请她允许我不跟她和安德烈一起出去，在此我只想说其中的一个原因，一个出于明智的考虑的原因。每次我和阿尔贝蒂娜出去，只要她稍稍离开我一会儿，我就会惴惴不安：我揣想她也许是在和什么人说话，或者是在拿眼风瞧什么人。要是她情绪不佳，我又会想，大概我把她的约会给搅了或是耽误了她的时间。真实，从来就只是一种把我们引向未知世界的诱饵，而我们在探索这未知世界的道路上，是没法走得很远的。最好的办法是尽量不去知道，尽量不去多想，不为嫉妒提供任何具体的细节。遗憾的是，即使与外界生活隔绝，内心世界也会滋生种种事端；即使我不陪阿尔贝蒂娜出去，独自在家遐想，纷沓的思绪中时而也会冒出一鳞半爪真实得不能再真实的东西，它们就象一块磁铁那样，把未知世界的某些蛛丝马迹牢牢地吸住，从此成了痛苦的渊薮。哪怕我们生活在密封舱里，意念的联想和回忆，仍然在起作用。但这些内心的撞击并不一定是即刻产生的。阿尔贝蒂娜刚出门，孤独所具有的那种启人心智的效能，俄顷之间就使我恢复了生气；我也要在这刚开始的一天享受自己的乐趣。可要是当天的天气不仅不能唤起我对往昔的想象，而且也不能向我展示眼前的真实世界，展示这个对任何没有为一些不起眼（因而不足道）的情况所迫，非得待在家里不可的人来说都是一目了然的真实世界，那么光凭享受一番乐趣的一厢情愿的愿望——这种任性的、纯粹出于本能的愿望——是还不足以给我带来这些乐趣的。有些个晴天，寒意袭人，街上的声音异常清晰地传到耳际，与我之间的沟通显得那么畅达，仿佛房子四周的墙壁都给拆了似的，每逢电车驶过，它那叮叮当当的铃声就宛如一把银刀在敲击玻璃的房子。更美妙的，是我在心里听到的那把潜在的小提琴奏出的令人陶醉的新的旋律。随着温度和外界光线的变化，琴弦变得时而紧张，时而放松。在我们体内，这潜在的乐器在日复一日单调划一的生活节奏中保持着沉默，让它奏出如歌旋律的正是差异和变化音乐的那个源泉：有些日子里，天气的变化会使我们即刻从一种音乐氛围转换到另一种氛围。我们会回忆起一支久已忘怀的曲调，歌的旋律会以数学般的精确浮现在记忆中，甚至都来不及去辩认这到底是哪支歌，便会信口唱了出来。唯有这些内在的变化（尽管它们也是受外界影响产生的），才会引起我对外部世界印象的改变。脑海中那扇久久关闭的交流沟通之门开启了。小城生活的片段，欢愉郊游的场景，都在意识中浮现出来了。随着琴弦的颤动，我全身都震颤了起来，我相信，为了能再有一次如此奇妙的体验，我会愿意付出业已逝去和行将到来的全部生命作为代价——这些生命所留下的痕迹，早晚是要给习惯这块橡皮拂拭殆尽的。 虽然我没有陪阿尔贝蒂娜去作长途的郊游，但是我的心神却比她的行踪更加飘忽不定，我拒绝了用我的感官去领略这个美好的早晨，但我在自己的想象中欣赏着所有那些与之相似的早晨，那些已经有过和还会再有的早晨，更确切地说，我在欣赏的是某一个典型的早晨，所有跟它相似的早晨都只是它时断时续的再现，我一眼就能认出它们：因为清洌的风儿吹过，就会把当天的福音书掀到一页页合适的位置，稳稳当当地齐着我的视线，让我躺在床上就能清楚地看到它们。这个理想的早晨，以酷肖所有类似的早晨的永恒的真实，充实我的心灵，给我带来一种不因体质孱弱而兴味稍减的欢乐：幸福舒畅的感觉，往往并不是从健全的体魄，而是从不曾消耗的盈余精力中产生的，我们不必靠充实精力，只须靠缩减活动，就能同样地获得这种感觉。我在病床上积累的充盈精力，使我全身震颤，心头突突地跳个不停，犹如一部不能移动的机器兀自在原地运转。 弗朗索瓦丝来生火，往炉膛里扔了些小树枝引火。一个夏天下来已被遗忘的那股气味，氤氲在炉膛四周，生成一个魔幻般的氛围，我在其中依稀觉得自己正在看书，一会儿在贡布雷，一会儿又在东锡埃尔，我感到快活极了，尽管人还在巴黎的房间里，却仿佛正要动身沿梅塞格利斯的方向去散步，要不就是去找圣卢和他的那些在军营的朋友们。常常有这样的情况，我们回想积聚在记忆中的往事所感受到的乐趣，在有些人身上，例如在那些身受病痛折磨而又时刻怀着康复希望的人身上，会表现得格外强烈，难支的病体和怀抱的希望，一方面使他们不可能到大自然中去寻找跟回忆吻合的图景，另一方面又使他们有足够的自信，以为自己很快就能那么去做，因而面对这些回忆仍会显得充满渴念、无限神往，面前的这一切，在他们已不仅仅是回忆或图景。然而，即使它们对我来说永远只是些回忆而已，即使我在回想起它们时仅仅是看见一些图景而已，有时冷不丁的，由于一种感觉同一效应，它们会使我整个儿的变成那个当初见到它们的孩子或少年。不仅户外的天气起了变化，室内的气味有了异样，而且在我身上年龄倒了回地去，人也变了模样。清冷的空气中透出的树枝气味，宛如一段逝去的岁月，一块从往昔的冬日飘来的见不到底的浮冰，闯进了我这间不时留有这种香味或那种亮光痕迹的屋子，这些痕迹犹如岁月流逝留下的印痕，甚至还在我怀着契阔已久的希望的喜悦辩认出它们以前，我就已经置身其间，整个儿沐浴在它们当中了。阳光照在我的床上，穿过我瘦弱躯体的透明遮挡，温暖着我，使我有如水晶玻璃似的变得通体灼热。这会儿，我就象一个连医生还禁止他吃的菜肴也照吃不误的饿慌了的恢复期病人，又想起了阿尔贝蒂娜，心想跟她结婚势必会弄糟我的生活，既然我得承受把自己奉献给别人这么一个对我来说过于沉重的负担，而且由于她无时无刻不在我跟前，我势必得过一种丧失自我的生活，再也没法享受到那种悠然独处的乐趣。 问题还不止于此。即便我们所要求于生活的只是它能给予我们的种种愿望，其中也总有一些——那些不是由物，而是由人激起的愿望——会有它们独特的禀性。所以，倘若我从床上起来，撩开一会儿窗帘，那可并不仅仅是象音乐家打开一会儿琴盖那样，也不仅仅是为了证实一下阳台和街上的阳光是不是完全和我的回忆合得上辙，我那样做，也是想瞧一眼那个挎着筐衣裳的洗衣女工和穿着件蓝罩衫的面包铺女掌柜，或者是那个用弯弯的扁担挑着牛奶罐、穿着围裙翻出白帆布袖口的送奶女人，再不就是想瞧瞧那个跟在家庭女教师后面、满脸骄气的金发小姑娘，总之，我想瞧的是这样一幅图景，它跟其他图景在外表上看似微不足道的差别，已足以使它跟那些图景之间，用音乐的语言来说，有如两个不同的音符那样迥然相异，而我只要有哪一天见不到它，这一天就会因其无法为我追求幸福的愿望提供对象而显得苍白贫乏。不过，见到这些事先想象不到的女性，虽然给我带来了愈来愈多的欢愉，使这街道，这城市，这世界都变得更令我向往，更值得我去探索，但因此也使我急不可耐地渴望恢复健康，走到外面去，没有阿尔贝蒂娜在身边，做个自由自在的人。有多少次，当那个将把遐想留给我的陌生女人或是步行，或是把车子开得飞快地从屋前经过的时候，我总为自己的病体没法跟上目光而感到痛苦，我的目光追随着那个女人，犹如火枪的枪子儿从窗洞里射出去似的落在她身上，不让她的脸容从我的眼里消失，因为我在这张脸上期待着幸福—— 一个幽居如我的人从未尝到过的幸福——的赐予！ 至于阿尔贝蒂娜，我对她的情况已经不感什么兴趣。她一天比一天变得难看。只有当我听说她怎么撩拨起别的男人的欲念的那会儿，我才重又感到痛苦，想把她从他们那儿夺回来，让她当着我的面给高高地吊在桅杆上。她能使我痛苦，但决不会使我快乐。正是这种痛苦，维系着我和她之间的这种乏味腻人的关系。一旦这种痛苦得以解脱，减轻痛苦的努力——它有如一种让人倍受折磨的游戏，逼得我付出全部精力——也随之变得全无需要之后，我就觉得她对我已经变得毫无意义，而我对她想必亦是如此。使我感到沮丧的是这种状况还会持续下去，我有时甚至希望听到她干下了什么骇人听闻的丑事，能让我在病体康复之前跟她吵一场，然后好让我俩重归于好，让那根把两人拴在一起的链子换个样儿，变得柔软些。