Chapter 120 The Fifth Female Prisoner (4)

Some evenings, when Albertine did not want to read to me, she would play me some piano, or play a few games of checkers, or chat with me, which in either case would be interrupted by my kissing her.The simplicity of our relationship made me feel very comfortable.Just because her life is boring, she is extraordinarily enthusiastic and obedient to what I ask her to do.Behind this girl, just as behind the red light of Balbec coming in from under the curtains in my room (while the musicians were playing), flickered the blue light of the sea.Wasn't she (she was so used to seeing me in her heart as someone so close that, after her aunt, I was probably the person she thought the least necessary to separate from each other) the same one who wore the polo when I first met at Balbec? A hat, with a stubborn smile in her eyes, a strange girl whose shadow looks so light against the background of the sea?The images of the past are so vivid in our memory that when we think of them we are always amazed at how different they are from the people we know; Reshape a person's image.Albertine in Paris, by the fireside in my room, makes my heart flutter because of the lust aroused in my heart by the proud and radiant girls on the beach It is still rippling there, just as Rachel in the eyes of Saint-Loup, even after he let her leave the stage, always retains the charm of the stage career. In Albertina in my family, I can still see the excitement and excitement of her life on the seashore, and the flustered appearance of her communication with people, and I can still feel her insatiable vanity and unsteadiness. desire to live.Now she lives reclusively, some nights I don’t even have people to ask her to leave her room and come to mine, but back then she was the object of everyone’s pursuit, that time she rode a bicycle and I followed Those who were out of breath behind did not follow her, and even the young man who drove the elevator couldn't help me catch her. I thought I couldn't expect her to come now, but I still waited for her all night.She walked on the scorching beach in front of the hotel, like a big star making her appearance on the stage of nature, and without even saying a word, she amazed the regular guests in the theater of nature. so dazzled that she dwarfs the other girls, and follows her with envious eyes wherever she goes; At home, far away from those who seek in vain, and every day she was either in my room or in her own room sketching on paper, I sometimes couldn't help thinking, this Albertine, really. Is that Albertine?

When I think about it now, during the days when Albertine first stayed at Balbec, her living environment was not quite the same as mine, but it was gradually approaching (when I lived at Elstier's house), Later, as I got closer to her first in Balbec, then in Paris, and then in Balbec, the living environment of the two became the same.In addition, I went to Balbec twice before and after, and the pictures of these seaside towns left in my impressions are all composed of the same sea, the same beach villas, and the same girls going from villas to the beach.But how stark is the difference between the two pictures before and after!When I went to Balbec for the second time, I was already very familiar with the girls around Albertina. Their strengths and weaknesses were written on their faces for me to see clearly. At the beginning, these fresh and mysterious Strange girls, whenever they rushed into that Swiss mountain chalet-style villa laughing and shouting, and bumped tamarisks in the aisle, my heart would always throb. Can you still recognize those girls from these girls when you are there?Their big round eyes are not as bright as they used to be, partly because they are no longer children, and partly because of those cute strange girls, those actors who were full of romantic sentiments (since then) I have never interrupted my investigation of their situation), there is no longer any mystery for me.They have been very accommodating to my waywardness, but in my eyes they are just girls like flowers, and I am quite proud of being able to pick the most beautiful rose from them.

Between these two very different Balbec scenes, there is a gap of years in Paris, interspersed with repeated visits from Albertine.I met Albertine at two different periods of my life, which meant to me two different periods of my life, and I felt that those days when I did not see her, the long Time is really wonderful, the rose-like person in front of me, on the transparent background of time, shapes her image with a mysterious shadow and strong three-dimensional sense.This three-dimensional effect is not only formed by the different images of Albertina in my mind, but also by the superimposition of her many advantages in intelligence and heart, as well as some shortcomings in character. , these advantages and disadvantages, which I did not know beforehand, were Albertine's use of them as a germ, a self-propagating shoot, a fleshy, dark-coloured plant, added to a previously scarcely existing, Now it has gone to the unfathomable personality.For any figure, even one that haunts us in our dreams, is pictured to us, like those painted by Benozzo Gozzoli on a dark green background, to whom we think only ourselves Standing still, keeping the same distance, so long as the light is the same, they will always be like this, but as soon as their relationship to us changes, they themselves change; The beautiful figure in her body has now become plump, firm, and her shape has also become larger.

-------- ① Gozzoli (1420-1497), a famous painter in the early Italian Renaissance. It is not only the sea at dusk that is associated with my Albertine, but sometimes it is the sea that lingers dreamily on the sand under the bright moonlight.Is it not true that sometimes I get up and go to my father's study to look for a book, and Albertine asks me to let her lie down for a while; she is really tired after going out all morning and afternoon, although I It's only been a while since I left, but when I went back to the house, she was already asleep, so I didn't wake her up.Stretched out from head to toe, she lay on my bed in a pose so natural that no painter could have imagined it, and I thought she was like a slender sapling bursting with buds, to be posed by anyone. There it was; and so it was: the power of fantasy which I possessed only in her absence, came back to me in this moment of presence with her, as if, in such a sleep, she had become became a plant.In this way, her sleep makes love possible to a certain extent: when I am alone, I can think about her, but she is not there, I do not possess her; when she is present, I talk to her. But there is very little of the real self left, and the ability to think has been lost.And when she's asleep, I don't have to talk, I know she's not looking at me anymore, and I don't have to live on the surface of myself anymore.

When I closed my eyes and became dimly conscious, Albertine shed layer after layer of the cloak of human nature, which had disappointed me from the time I knew her.All that remained of her was the unconscious life of the plant, of the tree, a life quite different from mine, but more truly mine, her self no longer like mine. Like when chatting, escape through hidden thoughts and eyes at any time.She recalled everything that escaped into herself, and she hid, closed, and condensed herself in the flesh.As I looked at and touched the flesh, I felt I possessed all of her that I never had in her waking hours.Her life has been delivered to me, and is breathing its light breath on me.

I listened to this mysterious and gentle voice, as warm as the sea breeze, as ethereal as the clear light of the moonlight—that was her hazy drowsiness.As long as the drowsiness lasted, I could think of her to my heart's content, gazing at her, and as the drowsiness grew deeper, I could touch her and kiss her.What I feel at this time is a pure, super-material, mysterious love, just as I am facing those inanimate creations that embody the beauty of nature.In fact, after giving birth to her more deeply asleep, she was no longer just the plant she had been; and I sank into thought on the verge of her sleepiness with a refreshing pleasure I would never have Tired, wishing to enjoy it endlessly; her sleepiness, to me, is a fertile field of beauty, and her sleepiness has left around me something so serene, so sensual, like Baal Baker's moonlit nights, when the branches almost stopped swaying, and when he lay on the beach, he could hear the sound of the ebb tide breaking into little waves.

When I returned to the house, I stood at the door first, afraid of making any noise, and held my breath to listen to the even and continuous breath exhaled from my lips. It was very similar to the ebb tide on the seashore, but quieter and softer.Listening to this wonderful sound, I felt that the lovely female prisoner lying in front of me, her whole being, her whole life, were condensed in this sound.There were noisy sounds from the vehicles passing by on the street, but her forehead was still so stretched and pure, and her breathing was still so soft, as if it was so soft that only a trace of pulse remained.Then, seeing that I was not going to disturb her sleep, I walked cautiously into the room and sat first on the chair by the bed, then on the bed.

I spent many good evenings with Albertine, chatting and playing cards, but never so sweet as watching her sleep.Even when she chats and plays cards, she has a free and easy and natural look that actors can't imitate, but it is not as fascinating as the deeper, higher level of free and easy and natural meaning in her sleep.Its long hair fell over a pretty face and spilled over the bed, and now and then a lock of it stood straight up, looking like those Raphaelite paintings by Elstir, which stood tall and slender in the depths. A slender pale tree in the dim moonlight.Although Albertine's mouth was closed, her eyelids seemed not to be closed from my position, and I almost wondered if she was really asleep.However, the drooping eyelids already set a harmonious tone to the face, and even if the eyes were not closed, this harmonious perfection would not be disturbed.Some people's faces have an unusual beauty and majesty as long as they avert their eyes a little.

I studied Albertine lying at my feet.From time to time, she would make a sudden and slight movement, like an unexpected breeze passing through the treetops, making the leaves rustle and tremble for a moment.She reached out to brush her hair, and then, because she couldn't tell her mind to fix her hair, she stretched out her hand again, the movement was so coherent and calm, I thought she was going to wake up.It was not; she was drowsy, and became quiet again.And she hasn't moved since then.I almost laughed when I saw her hand resting on her breast, and her arm hanging childishly over her ribs, that prim, innocent loveliness that we find in young children. can often see.

I could see several Albertines in one Albertine at the same time, so it seemed to me that I saw other Albertines sleeping beside me.I have never seen the curved eyebrows. I saw that the two eyebrows surrounded the hemispherical eyelids, which looked like two soft kingfisher nests.Her face bears the marks of race and atavism, as well as the marks of disorder.Every time she shifted her head, she became a new, often quite unexpected girl.I felt that I possessed not one but many young girls.Her breathing gradually became deeper, her chest rose and fell rhythmically, and the hands crossed on her chest and the string of pearl necklaces also moved in different ways with the same rhythm, just like being caught in the waves. Hit the swaying boats and cables.At this moment, I knew that she was sleeping sweetly, and I would not touch the reef of consciousness submerged in the sea of ​​sleep at the moment, so I boldly climbed into bed quietly, lay down next to her, and held her in my arms. I grabbed her waist, kissed her face and heart, and then kissed every part of her body. The empty hand was like the string of pearls, rising and falling with the breathing of the sleeping girl; Gently swaying in an even rhythm: my boat jolts over Albertine's sleepiness.

Sometimes, I also taste a kind of fun that is not as pure as this.This is really easy for me, I put one leg lightly on hers, just like letting a paddle float on the water, and feel a slight shaking from it from time to time, like a line flying across the sky Like a sleeping bird, flapping its wings intermittently.I chose this angle to observe her, and I saw a face that no one had ever seen before, and it was beautiful.I think it is not difficult to understand that the letters from the same person to you are always roughly the same. They paint a picture of the person so different from the person you know that you see a second image of the person. nature.But a woman—like Rosida and Dordiga—is so seamlessly connected to another woman (whose other beauty suggests another personality) that in order to see clearly How strange it is that you have to see the one from the side, and the other from the front.Albertine's breathing became heavier, and it sounded like the gasping sound of a happy orgasm. When my breathing became more and more short, I hugged her and kissed her without waking her up. she.It seemed to me that at last I possessed her more completely at this moment, as if I possessed an insensible and at the mercy of silent nature.I don't care about the words she sometimes yells in her sleep, because I don't understand the meaning at all. Besides, even if it's calling someone I don't know, so what, when her From time to time, my hands trembled slightly, and when they twitched subconsciously, they still pressed my hands and cheeks.With a kind of detached and quiet love, I admired her sleep with great interest, as if lingering on the seashore for a long time to listen to the sound of the surging waves. -------- ① A pair of famous sister song and dance actors in Siam. Maybe we have to let others suffer so much for us, so that when we get relief, we can feel the kind of tranquility and serenity that nature gives.At this moment, I don't have to answer as I do during the conversation. Even if I don't have to speak when she speaks, but while listening to her, after all, I can't see her heart so deeply.From time to time, I continued to listen to and accept the faint breeze-like breathing, a life in a completely physiological sense, presented to me from her pure breath, which belonged to me; just like at the beginning Like lying on my back on the beach for hours on end under the bright moonlight, I would stay by her side and watch her and listen to her voice for a long time.Sometimes I am told that the sea is breaking up, that the gulf wind portends a storm in the sea, and I still cling to the sea and listen to its rumbling snoring. Sometimes Albertine felt very hot, and when she was about to fall asleep, she took off her kimono and threw it on the armchair.When I saw her asleep, I reckoned that all her letters and letters were in the inner pocket of this nightgown, because she always kept them there.A signature at the end of a letter, a note about a tryst, is enough for me to expose her lies or clear up my doubts.Feeling that Albertine was fast asleep, I slid down from the heel of the bed on which I had been watching her for so long, and, full of eager curiosity, I took a step forward, feeling that there was a person on the armchair. Life is pitifully, completely helpless, allowing me to pry into its secrets.I walked away like this, maybe also because I was tired of watching her sleep all the time.So I walked softly towards the armchair, looking back to see if she had woken up, and when I got to the chair, I stopped, staring at the pajamas for a long time, as if it was staring at Al for a long time. Bettina.But (maybe I'm wrong) I didn't touch it after all, I didn't touch the inside pocket, and I didn't read the letters.At the end, knowing that I could not make up my mind, I crept back to Albertine, and looked at her again in her sleep, though she would tell me nothing, and the sleeping man in the armchair Maybe the robe will tell me something. Just like those who are willing to pay hundreds of francs a day to rent a room at the Balbec Hotel just to breathe the fresh air of the sea, I think it is natural to spend more money on Albertine, since I can feel her warm breath on my cheek, on my slightly parted lips facing hers, feeling her life flowing through the tip of my tongue. The pleasure of watching her sleep was as sweet as feeling the rhythm of her life, but it was interrupted and replaced by another pleasure, the pleasure of watching her wake up.That was the joy in a deeper, more mysterious sense—the joy of realizing that she and I lived under the same roof.It is true that I felt this warmth and sweetness when she stepped out of the carriage and came into my house in the afternoon.But when she climbed the last few steps of the dream in the sleeping country, and finally woke up in my room, she couldn't figure out "Where am I?" and looked around the decorations, and saw the soft light shining on her sleepily. After reading the sleepy desk lamp, I realized that this was waking up at my home, so I said to myself very naturally, oh, she is at my home, and at this time, I will feel this warm and sweet feeling even more .In this first beautiful moment of her drowsiness, I felt myself possessing her again and more completely, for when she returned from going out, she returned not to her room but to mine, and when she woke When she recognized the room where she was about to be imprisoned, there was no uneasiness in her eyes, as if she had never slept this sleep before.The sleepy bewilderment that emanated from her silence was completely absent from her eyes. When she could finally speak, she called me "my—" or "my dear—" followed by my Christian name, and I had the narrator take the same name as the author of this book, so it was "My Marcel" or "My dear Marcel".From then on, I forbade anyone in my family to call me "dear," and those lovely words that Albertine uttered should not be sullied by others.After she pursed her lips slightly and said these words, she often gave me a kiss. As fast as she fell asleep just now, she woke up as fast now. The plumpness of Albertine's figure, the development of her personality, were not comparable to the changes which the passage of time had made in me, or to look at a young girl sitting beside me in the light, which was the same as she was when she walked along the beach. The fact that the sun shone on her quite differently during the walk is the main reason why I see her so differently now than I saw her at Balbec in the first place.Between these two images, even if there was a longer time interval, it would not necessarily have produced such a complete change; this change came after I learned that Albertine was almost brought up by Mademoiselle van Deuil's girlfriend. In an instant, it was basically done all at once.If in the past I had always been delighted to see the secret in Albertine's eyes, now only when I read from them, or even from them, those eyes which are so tender at the moment, will be full in the next instant. Only when you can see that there is no secret on the sullen cheeks, you will be happy.The image I was looking for, the image that would make me feel comfortable, that would make me want to die next to her, was not an Albertine who had a strange experience, but an Albertine that made me feel as familiar as possible (just Therefore, this love must be connected only with misfortune, because it does not satisfy the requirement of mystery in its essence), a not as a symptom of some distant world, but-indeed there were times , that seems to be the case—an Albertine who wants nothing but to be with me, exactly like me, an Albertine who is the embodiment of what is really mine, and not the incarnation of the unknown. . If that's how love is born when a woman makes you feel anxious, when you're worried about whether you'll be able to keep her and keep her from going away, it will bear the imprint of the turmoil that made it possible, It will be difficult for us to recall the images we saw in our minds whenever we thought of this woman before.Perhaps the impressions of my first meeting with Albertine on the seashore played a small part in my love for her; , whether it is when we are involved in the vortex of passion or in the torment of pain, or when love feels the need for tenderness, the need to return to those quiet and warm memories, those that can let us immerse ourselves in it, without asking about the woman we love They occupy only a very small place in which to take refuge in remembrances of things (even those abominable things which we ought to know)--even if we retain the impressions of the past, this love is Consists of some irrelevant content! Sometimes I turn out the lights before she enters the house.In the dark, by the faint light of a match, she came and lay down next to me.My eyes, the eyes that are often afraid to see her transformed again, cannot see her figure, but I can feel her presence on my hands and cheeks.Thanks to this blind love, she may have felt that she was being caressed more tenderly than usual. I took off my coat and lay on the bed, Albertine sat on the edge of the bed, and we continued the game of chess or the chat which had been interrupted by the kiss; When we are dominated by our own desires, our own characters will always be fully expressed (even if we have abandoned many different objects we once loved), so once, I hugged Albertina and kissed her, calling her "" "My little girl" and saw in the mirror that melancholy and excited expression on my face, as when I kissed that long-forgotten Hilbert, or someday another girl—if I Albertine must be forgotten sooner or later—the expression was exactly the same, and it reminded me that I was detached from personal considerations (instinct always makes us regard the object before us as the only real object), in a kind of Fulfilling my duty, driven by a passionate and painful devotion dedicated to youth and femininity as a sacrifice.However, in my original intention to keep Albertine with me every night, the desire to give youth the glory of "exvoto", and the memory of Balbec, there is a mixture that is new to me. A feeling that I have never experienced, if not in my life, at least in my love life.It was a comforting feeling I had never known since those distant nights when my mother bent over Combray's bed and kissed me to put me to sleep.If someone had told me at that time that I was not so innocent, that I would even deprive other people of their happiness, I would have been very surprised.At that time, I seemed to be too lacking in self-knowledge, because it was really not very honorable for me not to let Albertine leave my fun, but it was actually to remove this budding girl from that which everyone can do. Pulled out of the world of intimacy, so that if she can't give me much joy, at least she can't give it to others.Ambition and success have made me cold.I even lost the sense of resentment.For me, however, love in the carnal sense means, after all, to savor the joy of defeating many rivals, and I can never have too much of it, it is an incomparable sedative. -------- ① Latin: votive offerings. Although I had my doubts about Albertine before she came home, and I speculated about her every move in Montchouvin's room: but when she sat opposite me in her bathrobe, or more often I lay in bed, And she was sitting on the edge of the bed at my heel, and I couldn’t help but express my doubts and doubts with the devoutness of a believer in prayer, and only hoped that she would help me unload these mental burdens and dispel the doubts that just popped up in my mind .She curled up mischievously on my bed all night, playing with me like a big chubby cat; her coquettish eyes gave her a kind of sly look that is often seen on the faces of some fat people, The small pink nose also seems to be more delicate, and the pattern of this nose makes the whole face look naughty and stubborn; sometimes she closes her eyes slightly, hangs her arms loosely, letting a lock of long black hair Draping on her rosy pink cheeks, she seemed to be saying to me: "You can do whatever you like"; before leaving at night, she leaned over to kiss me goodbye, this kind of tenderness is almost completely family-like warmth , so that I could not help kissing and kissing the sides of her strong neck, and at this moment I just felt that the neck was not tanned enough, and the sun spots were not enough, as if these reliable marks were related to Albertine. bound together by a certain virtue of loyalty. "Are you going out with us tomorrow, my big bad?" she asked me as we parted. "Where are you going?" "It depends on the weather and your happiness. But, did you write something today, my dear? No? Oh, it's better not to go. That's right." , let me ask you something, when I entered the house, you heard my footsteps, did you immediately guess it was me?" Can I not hear my little one hopping, little woodsnipe? I only think it would be a great honor for her to allow me to take off her shoes before she goes to bed. These white lace How cute and delicate it makes you look." That's how I answered her; perhaps you can smell something of my mother and grandmother in these sensual words.Because, gradually, I became more and more like all my relatives, like my father—but he was probably very different from me, because the old things reappeared in different ways—the way the weather Caring in every way, and more and more like Aunt Leonie.Otherwise, I should have regarded Albertine as my reason for going out, and that was to keep her from being alone and out of my control.I indulge in all kinds of pleasures, but Aunt Leonie is a faithful believer who never enjoys pleasure. She only knows how to count the rosary and pray all day long. But he is the only one in the family who doesn't understand that reading is not a way to pass the time and "pastime". As a result, during Easter Sunday, although serious things are not allowed to concentrate on prayers, reading is allowed. I and such An aunt is so alien in appearance that I would have sworn I had nothing in common with her.However, although I can every day find a reason why I am uncomfortable, there is one person who keeps me in bed, not Albertine, not a person I love, but A man stronger than the man I loved, whose tyranny prevented me from expressing even jealous suspicions, or at least from proving their validity, was Aunt Léonie.I care about the weather as much as my father, who just looks at the barometer, and I am a living barometer; , and staying in the room, or even watching on the bed, isn’t that even worse?Now I speak to Albertine as I spoke to my mother when I was a boy at Combray, or as my grandmother spoke to me.When each of us reaches a certain age, the spirit of the child we were, and the spirits of the dead through whom we came into the world, will give us their wealth and doom at once, demanding Intersecting with the new feelings we experience, let us erase their old images in these feelings and recast them a new image.Therefore, the distant past of my childhood, and even the old past of my relatives, infused my not pure love for Albertine with a kind of sweetness that is not only the tenderness of a son to his mother, but also the tenderness of a mother to her son.At some point in our lives, we have to be ready to welcome all these loved ones who have been reunited with us from faraway places. I had unbuttoned her blouse before Albertine promised me to take off her shoes.Her small, high breasts, with their bulging shape, looked not like a part of the body, but like two ripe fruits; The very ugly part of the body (like an iron hook inserted into the body of the sculptured Buddha who has stepped down from the alcove), at the place where it meets the thigh, forms a peaceful and comfortable place like the horizon when the setting sun gathers all the afterglow. , two curved petals of such a deep curve.She took off her shoes and lay down beside me. Oh, think about the appearance of the pair of men and women who still had clay on their bodies in Genesis, ignorantly seeking union in the chaos. The Creator divided them with a ball of mud. When Eve woke up next to Adam, she was stunned. And obedience, as when he was alone, before the God who made him.Albertine stretched out her arms under her black hair, her hips swelled, and the line of her legs bent softly like a swan's neck, stretched, and returned to the beginning of the curve again.When she was sleeping fully on her side, there was something about her face (so kind, such a beautiful face from the front) that terrified me, the hooked nose of some of Leonardo's cartoons, evil Glimpses of this face at home terrified me, with the cunning of greed, greed, and espionage, as it turned so sideways as if the mask had been removed.I quickly took Albertine's face in my hands and turned her around. "Be good, and promise me that if you don't go out tomorrow, you will write at home," said Albertine, putting on her shirt. "Okay, but don't wear your dressing gown yet." Sometimes, I fell asleep beside her.The room was getting cold and needed more firewood.I stretched my hand up the wall, trying to find the lever for the bell, but I couldn't find it. I groped for other brass levers. On the bed, the most important thing is to get up from the bed, I said to her: "Don't be busy, sleep a little longer, I can't find the bell." These may seem like warm, joyful, pure moments, but already there is a possibility of disaster: a disaster that will make our love life dangerous, with volcanoes of sulfur and lava after the most joyous moments The rain came unexpectedly, and then, lacking the courage to learn from the disaster, we immediately resettled on the edge of a crater that could only erupt disaster.I am as careless as those who always think that their happiness will last forever.Just as this kind of tenderness is necessary to conceive pain--and it soothes it from time to time later--so when a man brags about how good a woman has been to him, he treats others, even He may be sincere to himself, but on the whole there is always a painful undercurrent of anxiety lurking in his relationship with his lover, which flows in a secret way, unknown to others ，或者至多通过一些问题的探询无意中稍有流露。然而，这种焦虑不安必定又以温馨甜蜜作为前奏；即使在这股暗流形成以后，为了让痛苦变得可以忍受，为了避免破裂，不时也需要有些温馨甜蜜的时刻点缀其间；把自己跟这个女人共同生活中不可与人言的痛苦隐藏起来，甚至把这种关系说成非常甜蜜地炫耀一番，这表明了一种真实的观点，一种带有普遍意义的因果关系，一种使痛苦的产物变得可以承受的模式。 阿尔贝蒂娜就在我家里，明天要不是跟我一起，就是在安德烈的监护下出去，这在我已经毫无值得惊奇之处了。这种格局，为我的生活圈定了粗粗的轮廓线，除阿尔贝蒂娜之外谁也无法涉足其中，另外（在我尚不知晓的未来的生活图景上，犹如在建筑师为很久以后才能耸立起来的大厦画的蓝图上）远远的还有好些与之平行、幅度更宽的线条，在（有如一座孤寂冷僻的小屋的）我的心间描划了未来爱情生活多少有些刻板、单调的程式；而所有这一切，实际上都是在巴尔贝克的那个晚上画下的，那个晚上阿尔贝蒂娜在小火车上向我吐露了她从小由谁带大的真情，我听后就想，无论如何不能让她再受某些影响，说什么也不能让她在以后几天离开我的身边。光阴荏苒，这种生活模式成了习焉不察的例行公事。但正如历史学家企图从古代仪式中找出微言大义一样，我可以（但并不很想）回答那些问我这种甚至不再涉足剧院的隐居生活有何意义的人说，它的起源乃是某个晚上的忧虑以及在这以后感到的一种需要，也就是说我感到需要向自己证明，我业已了解她不幸的童年生活的这个女人，即使她自己愿意，也不会再有受到同样的诱惑的可能性了。对这种可能性，我已很少去考虑，但它毕竟还影影绰绰地存在于我的意识之中。看到自己一天天地在摧毁它——或者说尽力在摧毁它——这大概正是我在吻这并不比许多别的姑娘更娇嫩的脸颊时，心里会格外感到乐滋滋的缘故；凡在达到相当程度的肉欲的诱惑背后，必定潜伏着某种贯串始终的危险。 我答应阿尔贝蒂娜，要是不出门一定好好工作。可是第二天，仿佛这屋子趁我睡熟时，奇迹般地飘浮了开去，我一觉醒来，天气变了，时令也不对头了。一个人在出于无奈的情况下登上一片陌生的国土，这时他是不会有心思着手工作的。然而每个新的一天，对我都是一个新的国度。就说我的懒散吧，它一旦换了新的花样，你说叫我怎么还认得出它呢？有些日子，人人都说天气糟透了，逢到这种时候，静静地待在家里，听到屋外淅淅沥沥下个没完的雨声，才能体会航行在海上的那种平静滑行的况味，感受到那种宁谧的乐趣；有时天空响晴，这时候一动不动地待在床上，瞧着光影绕着自己慢慢地转过去，就象瞧着一株大树的影子在转动。也有时候，邻近的修道院刚敲响稀落如同清晨去祈祷的信徒的头遍钟声，半天里纷纷扬扬洒下的雪花，在熏风吹拂下溶化、飘散，而天空依然灰蒙蒙的不见透出亮色，但我已经能够辨认出这一天是会风雨交加，还是变幻不定，抑或是个晴朗的好天气，屋顶被骤雨打湿过后，阵阵和风拂过，缕缕阳光照临，它就又在收干，只听得屋檐滴滴答答地在滴水，仿佛这屋顶是趁风儿重新刮起之前，让自己尽情地承受不时从云层探出脸来的太阳的抚爱，青灰色的石板瓦闪耀着美丽的虹彩；这样的日子，风风雨雨的，一天里充满着天气、氛围的变化，懒人因此倒也自得其乐，不觉得这一天是白过了，因为他正兴味盎然地关注着在他不介入的情形下，周围的环境从某种意义上说代他作出的种种表现；这样的日子好比那些发生动乱或者革命的日子，那些日子对于不再去上学的小学生并不是毫无意义的，因为当他在司法大厦四周转悠或是念着报纸的时候，虽说他没做自己的功课，他却会觉着从正在发生的事件中发现了一种对他确有教益，同时也使他对自己的闲散感到心安理得的东西；这样的日子，还好比我们一生中碰上某些特殊的危急关头的日子，这时候，一个向来无所事事的人会这么想，只要这个难关能顺利地渡过，他就会从此养成勤勉的习惯：比如说，那是在一天早晨他出门去赴一场条件特别苛刻的决斗的时候；于是，在这个生命也许行将逝去的当口，他仿佛骤然意识到了生命的价值，这生命他本来是可以用来做一番事业，或者至少好好享受一下人生乐趣的，而他却什么也没干。“要是我能活着回来，”他对自己说，“我一定要马上坐下来工作，还要玩个痛快！”原来，生活突然在他眼里变得那么珍贵了，因为他看到的已经是他以为生活所能给予他的一切美好的东西，而不是日复一日从生活中真正得到的那点可怜的东西。他是按照自己的愿望，而不是根据生活经验所能告诉他的模样，也就是说那种平庸无聊的模样，来看待生活的。此刻，生活中充满着工作，旅行，登山和一切美好的事物，而所有这一切，他对自己说，都将随着这场决斗的悲惨结局化为乌有，他没有想到其实早在有这场决斗以前，由于那种即便没有决斗也会长此以往的坏习惯，它们就已经是这样了。他安然无恙地从决斗场回了家。但是他重又觉得阻碍重重，没法去玩儿，去兜风，去旅行，去做那些他一度认为可能将被死亡剥夺的事情；单单生活本身，就已经足以剥夺这些可能了。至于工作——特殊的环境会在一个人身上激发出先前已存在于他身上的秉性，在勤勉的人身上激发出勤勉，在懒散的人身上激发出懒散——他给自己放了假。 我就象这人一样，自从下决心从事写作以来始终依然故我，下这决心已是很久以前的事，但又好象才是昨日的事，因为我把一天天都放了过去，仿佛它们并不曾存在过似的。上面提到的这一天，我也是这么给打发掉的，我无所事事地瞧着它风疏雨骤，瞧着它雨过天晴，心想明天再开始工作吧。可是当湛蓝的天空上没有一丝云彩的时候，我已不复是昨天的我了；教堂大钟金光灿灿的音色里，不仅象蜂蜜一样有着光亮，而且有这光亮的感觉（还有果酱的味道，因为在贡布雷时，这钟声经常在我们刚吃好饭要吃甜食的当口，象只胡蜂似的姗姗来迟）。在这么个阳光耀眼的日子里，整天都那么闭上眼睛躺着，真可以说是桩可以允许的、已成习惯的、有益于健康的、合乎时令特点的赏心乐事，这就跟放下百页窗挡住强烈的阳光是一个道理。我第二回去巴尔贝克时，头几天就是在这种天气里，听见乐队的提琴声伴着涨潮时蓝盈盈的海水飘卷而来的。然而今天，我是多么完全地占有了阿尔贝蒂娜啊！那些日子里，有时教堂报时的钟声，会让那不断扩散的声波面捎来具体入微潮湿或明亮的感觉，仿佛它是在把美妙的雨水或阳光转译成盲人的语言，或者不如说，转译成音乐的语言。这时，闭着双眼躺在床上的我，不由得在心里对自己说，瞧，一切都是可以转换的，一个仅靠听觉的世界也是可以跟另一个世界同样地丰富多采的。日复一日，仿佛乘着一叶小舟缓缓地溯流而上，但见眼前闪过一幅幅不停变换着的欢乐往事的图景，这些图景不是由我挑选的，片刻之前它们都还是无法看见的，现在它们接二连三地、不容我选择地呈现在我的记忆里，我在这片匀和的空间上方，悠悠然地倘徉在阳光之中。 巴尔贝克的这些晨间音乐会并不是遥远的往事。可是，在这些相对来说还是的不久的往日，我却很少想到阿尔贝蒂娜。刚到巴尔贝克的那几天，我甚至都不知道她在那儿。那么，是谁告诉我的呢？oh!对，是埃梅。那天也是象这样的一个阳光明媚的晴天。我的好埃梅！他见到我高兴极了。可是他不喜欢阿尔贝蒂娜。她并不是个能让人人都喜欢的姑娘。没错，是他告诉我阿尔贝蒂娜在巴尔贝克的。那他又是怎么知道的呢？oh!他碰到过她，他觉得她风度欠佳。当我这么想着埃梅告诉我的事儿，而且碰巧是从一个跟我当时听他讲的那会儿不同的角度去考虑，我那在这以前一直在无忧无虑的海面上惬意飘荡的思绪，冷不丁地乱了套，就象是突然碰上了一颗暗暗埋在记忆中的这个地点而我又没法看见的危险的地雷。埃梅对我说他遇见过她，觉得她风度欠佳。他说风度欠佳是什么意思呢？我当时以为他的意思是说举止俗气，因为我想先发制人，说过她举止优雅之类的话。可是，且慢，没准他的意思是指那种戈摩尔风度呢。她是跟另一个姑娘在一起，没准两人还彼此搂着腰，一起打量着别的女人，没准她们表现的，确实是有我在场时从没在阿尔贝蒂娜身上见过的一种“风度”呢。那另一个姑娘是谁？埃梅是在哪儿碰上这么个叫人讨厌的阿尔贝蒂娜的？我竭力回忆埃梅对我到底是怎么说的，想弄明白他指的究竟是我揣度的那回事，还是就不过是个普通的风度问题。可是我再怎么问自己也是枉然，因为提出问题的人，和能够提供回忆的人，唉，都是同一个人，就是在下呗，一时间我有了两重真身，可是一点也没变得高大些。不管我怎么提问，总是我自己来回答，毫无新的结果。我已经不去想凡德伊小姐了。由一种新的猜疑引起的骤然发作的嫉妒，使我感到痛苦不堪，它也是一种新的嫉妒，或者说是那种新的猜疑的持续和延伸；场景的地点是相同的，不再是蒙舒凡，而是埃梅碰到阿尔贝蒂娜的那条街；作为对象的，是阿尔贝蒂娜的那几个女友，其中某一个或许就是那天和她在一起的那位。那可能是某个伊丽莎白，或者就是上回在游乐场里阿尔贝蒂娜装出不经意的样子从镜里偷看的那两个姑娘。她大概跟她们，而且跟布洛克的那位表妹爱丝苔尔，都有那种关系。她们的那种关系，倘若是由某个第三者向我透露的，准会把我气个半死，但现在因为是我自己在揣度，所以就小心设法蒙上了一层足以缓解痛苦的不确定的色彩。我们可以用猜疑的形式，一天又一天地大剂量吞服我们受了骗的这同一个念头，而倘若这药剂是用一句揪心的话这支针筒扎在我们身上，那么一丁点儿的剂量就足以致命。大概就为这缘故，也许还出于一种残存的自卫本能，那个妒意发作的男人往往会单凭人家给他看的一点所谓证据，就无视明明白白的事实，立时三刻想入非非地胡乱猜疑起来。况且，爱情本来就是一种无可救药的顽症，正如有些先天性体质不好的人，一旦风湿病稍有缓解，继之而来的就是癫痫性的偏头痛。一旦充满妒意的猜疑平静下来，我就会埋怨阿尔贝蒂娜对我缺乏温情，说不定还和着安德烈在奚落我。我不胜惊恐地想道，要是安德烈把我俩的谈话一五一十地告诉了她，她准会这么做的，我只觉得前景不堪设想。这种忧郁的情绪始终困扰着我，直到一种新的充满妒意的猜疑驱使我去作新的寻索，或者反过来，阿尔贝蒂娜对我表现得温情脉脉，让我觉着我的幸福都变得无足轻重了。那另一个姑娘到底是谁呢？我真得写信去问问埃梅，或者设法去见他一次，然后我就可以拿他的证词跟阿尔贝蒂娜对质，让她招认。但现在，我认定了她是布洛克的表妹，所以就写信给懵懵然一无所知的布洛克，要他给我一张她的照片，要不，能安排我跟她见个面更好。 有多少人，多少城市，多少道路，是妒火中烧的我们迫不及待地想要了解的啊！这是一种洞察内情的渴望，凭着它，我们可以从零零碎碎的迹象中，一件件一桩桩地搜罗到几乎所有的信息，但唯独得不到我们所想知道的消息。猜疑是说来就来，谁也没法预料的，因为，冷不丁的，我们会想起某句话意思有些暖昧，某个托词想必背后有文章。可是这会儿人已不在眼前，这是一种事后的，分手以后才滋生出来的嫉妒，一种马后炮。我有个习惯，爱在心里保存好些愿望，我向往得到一位好人家的姑娘，就象我见到由家庭教师伴着从窗下走过的那些少女似的，但圣卢（他是寻花问柳的老手）对我说起过的那位姑娘却格外叫我动心，我向往那些俊俏的侍女，尤其是普特布斯夫人身边的那个妞儿，我向往在早春天气到乡间再去看看英国山楂树和花朵满枝的苹果树，再去领略一下海边的风暴，我向往威尼斯，向往坐下来工作，向往能和别人一样地生活——在心里不知餍足地存储这些愿望，而且对自己许诺说我不会忘记，将来总有一天要让它们实现——也许，这个因循的旧习，这个拖宕永无尽期，被德·夏吕斯先生斥为惰性的习惯，我因久久浸润其中，故而那些充满妒意的猜疑也濡染了它的余泽，尽管我在心里对自己说，可别忘了哪天得让阿尔贝蒂娜把埃梅遇见的那位姑娘（也可能是那几位姑娘，这桩公案在我的记忆里变得有点模模糊糊、含混不清，或者说难以捉摸了）的事解释清楚，但又总是习惯成自然地一天拖一天。总之，这天晚上我没对阿尔贝蒂娜提起这个茬儿，怕让她觉着我妒心重，惹她生气。 可是到第二天，一等布洛克把他表妹爱丝苔尔的照片寄来，我就赶忙寄去给埃梅。与此同时，我记起了早上阿尔贝蒂娜没肯跟我亲热一番，因为那恐怕确实会使她很累。那么她莫非是想留点精力，也许在下午，给某个别人吗？给谁呢？嫉妒心就是这样地纠缠不休，因为即便我们所爱的人，譬如说已经死了，不能再用自己的行为来激起我们的妒意了，也还可能有这种情况，就是事后的种种回忆，蓦然间在我们的脑海里浮现出来，就象那些事情本身那样，而这些回忆，直到那时还并没让我们参透它们的含义，显得无关紧要似的，但只要我们静心细想，用不着任何外来的启发，就能赋予它们一种新的可怕的含义。你根本用不到跟情妇待在一起，只要单独在她房里细细想想，就能参透她欺骗你的那些新招，即便她已死了也一样。因此，在爱情生活中，不能象在日常生活中那样，先为未来担心，而得同时也为常常要到未来都已成了过去以后才能看清的往事操一份心，这儿所说的不仅仅是在事后才知晓的那些往事，而且是我们久久留存在记忆中，然后突然间明白了其中含义的那些往事。 但不管怎么说，眼看下午就要过去，又可以跟阿尔贝蒂娜待在一起，从中求得我所需要的慰藉了，我心里感到很高兴。可惜的是，这个夜晚恰恰是个没能给我带来这种慰藉的夜晚，阿尔贝蒂娜在跟我分手时给我的那个不同寻常的吻，并不能如同当年临睡前母亲在对我生气，我不敢去叫她来，但又觉得自己睡不着的那些夜晚所终于得到的母亲的吻那样使我的心得到宁静。这种夜晚，现在成了阿尔贝蒂娜已经想好第二天的计划，但又不愿让我知道的夜晚。其实，如果她把自己的计划告诉我，我是会以一种只有她才能在我身上激起的热情，尽力去促成其实现的。可是她什么也没告诉我，而且根本没觉着有必要告诉我；她一回到家，刚在我的房门口露出身影，连那顶宽边帽或软便帽都没摘下，我就看出她正在心里盘算着那种执拗，顽梗，一意孤行，而且不为我所知的念头。而这些夜晚，往往又正是我怀着万般柔情等她回家，盼望着能充满爱怜地搂住她脖子把她紧紧抱住的夜晚。唉，尽管以前跟父母也常有这种情形，我满怀爱心地跑上去吻他们，却发现他们冷冰冰的，在生我的气，但是那点芥蒂，比起情人间的隔阂来，又算得了什么呢。此中的痛苦远非那么表面，而要难以承受得多，它驻留在心灵更深的层次。 这天晚上，阿尔贝蒂娜还是把心里盘算的那个主意，对我露了口风；我马上明白了她是想第二天去拜访维尔迪兰夫人，这个主意本身，并没任何叫我不高兴的地方。不过事情明摆着，她上那儿去是要跟什么人碰头，准备干那种好事。要不然她是不会对这次趋访如此看重的。我的意思是说，要不然她是不会一再对我说这次出访没什么要紧的。我素来奉行一条原则，跟那些非要等到认定书写文字只是一套符号之后才想到用表音文字的人们背道而驰；多年来，我完全是在别人不受拘束地直接对我讲的那些话里，来寻觅他们真实的生活、思想的线索，结果事情到了这种地步，只有那些并非对事实作出理性的、分析的表述的证据，我才认为它们是有意义的；话语本身，只有当它们通过一个受窘的人涨得通红的脸，或者通过更能说明问题的突然缄默不语得到诠释时，才会对我有所启发。一个小小的字眼（譬如说，当德·康布尔梅先生知道了我是“作家”，尽管他还从没跟我说过话，在谈到有一回他去维尔迪兰府上拜访时，却转过身来对我说：“您瞧，博雷利①也在那儿。”）会由于交谈双方都没有明说，但我可以通过适当的分析或者说电解的方法从中提炼出来的两种思想却在无意间、有时甚至很危险地发生了撞击，而在芜杂的话语中蓦然闪耀出光亮来，它告诉我的内容，胜过一席洋洋洒洒的长篇大论。阿尔贝蒂娜谈话间，不时会有诸如此类的珍贵的杂拌儿，我总是听在耳里当下就赶紧“处理”，以便使之转换成明晰的思想。 -------- ①博雷利子爵是十九世纪末贵族诗人，经常出入上流社会。 虽说具体的细节——那是要在对众多的可能情况进行试探、侦查之后才能知道的——如此难以发现，事情的真相却是那么容易看穿，或者说那么容易猜到，这对一双恋人来说可真是件大煞风景的事。在巴尔贝克那会儿，我常发现阿尔贝蒂娜出神的望着某几位向她遽然投来缠绵目光的姑娘，这种目光的交流，就象肉体的接触，过后，如果我认识那几位姑娘，阿尔贝蒂娜就对我说：“咱们叫她们来怎么样？我挺想骂她们几句。”但打那以后，也就是自从她大概摸透了我的性格以后，她就从没提过要请某人来，闭着嘴，目光也变得散漫而黯淡，有点目不斜视的样子，再加上脸上那种茫然失神的表情，却就跟当初磁铁也似的目光同样的令人起疑。然而我既不能责怪她，也不能对那些按她的说法是小事一桩，不值一提，而我却似乎偏要拿来过过“吹毛求疵”的瘾的事情问长问短。问“干吗您老瞧对面那姑娘”已经是够难的，问“干吗您不瞧她啦？”就更难了。不过，如果说我本来就没打算相信阿尔贝蒂娜的表白，那么对这目光所包含、所表明的全部内容，我还是明白，或者说至少是应该明白的，正象我明白她说话中自相矛盾之处的含义一样，这些往往是在离开她很久以后才看出来的自相矛盾之处，让我整夜不能成眠，但又不敢对她提起，它们还不时周期性地光临我的记忆。在巴尔贝克海滩或者巴黎街头的那会儿，有时只是瞧见她偷眼看了人家一眼，我就禁不住会暗自思忖，不知那人只是个她临时属意的对象呢，还是个老相识，抑或是她也只听人家对她说起过，而我曾对这种介绍大为吃惊的某个姑娘——她跟我想象中阿尔贝蒂娜可能结识的姑娘真是相差何止十万八千里。然而当代的戈摩尔犹如一幅扑朔迷离的拼板图，拼上去的每个小块都是从最意想不到的地方拣来的。这不，我在里夫贝尔的一次晚宴上碰到十位女宾，碰巧我都认识，或者至少都叫得出名字，这十位女士真是要说有多不一样就有多不一样，可她们却处得和睦极了，我简直还从没见过气氛这么融洽的宴会呢——虽说这么混杂。