Chapter 4 third chapter

This period was the most politically active in Orlando's career.But it is precisely at this stage that we know the least about him, and that is indeed unfortunate and regrettable.We know that he performed his duties to the fullest - as evidenced by his Order of Bath and dukedom; we also know that he was involved in some of the finest negotiations between King Charles and the Turks - in the archives The treaty is the best proof.But the revolution during the reign of King Charles, and the conflagration that followed, so thoroughly destroyed those well-documented documents that we have so little to offer our readers.The place scorched yellow by the fire is often exactly the middle of the most important sentence.Just when we thought we were about to unravel a mystery that has puzzled historians for more than a century, a hole bigger than a finger suddenly appeared in the manuscript.From the charred fragments that survived, we did our best to piece together a poor outline, but from time to time we had to resort to conjecture, speculation, and even fantasy.

That's how a day in Orlando seems to go.He got up at seven in the morning, wrapped himself in a tunic, lit a chegar, leaned his elbow on the railing, and just stood gazing at the city below him, fascinated.At this time of the morning, in the dense fog, the dome of the Hagia Sophia Church and everything in the city seemed to be floating in the air; when the fog gradually dissipated, the true face of the city was slowly revealed. The dome is like a frozen bubble; here you will see a river, and the Galata Bridge, and there you can see pilgrims with green turbans covering their noses and eyes begging along the streets, and wild animals eating leftovers. Dogs, women in shawls, countless donkeys, and men on horseback with poles.In the blink of an eye, the whole town will be boiling, echoing with the crackling of whips, the beating of gongs, the sound of loud prayers, and the rattle of brass wheels; while the sour smell of leavened bread, incense, and spices Er, floated all the way to the top of Mount Pera, as if it was just the breath of this noisy town with mixed savages.

He gazed at the streetscape now gleaming in the sun, and it seemed to him that it was very different from the countryside of Surrey and Kent, or the towns of London and Tunbridge Wells.On the left and right sides are the desolate Asian mountains, all bare stones, there is an old castle built on the mountain, where one or two bandit leaders once lived, but now it is deserted and lonely; there are no pastor churches, no lord manors, and no rural villages no house, nor oak, elm, violet, ivy, or briar.There were no hedges for the ferns to grow in, and no great pastures for the sheep to graze.The house was white and round and bald like an eggshell.What amazed him was that, as a native Englishman, he felt sincere joy at the vast and barren scenery in front of him. Where only goats and shepherds go; to be so fanatical about wild flowers of bright color and out of season, to prefer shaggy wild dogs to domestic hounds; Inhale the pungent smell in the air.He speculated that, during the Crusades, one of his ancestors had been friends with a certain Circassian woman; it was very likely; he thought that his complexion was indeed a bit dark; Go to the room, take a shower and change clothes.

An hour later, he was dressed, perfumed, his hair curled, anointed with ointment, and he began to meet Turkish ministers, from secretaries to dignitaries, one by one, all carrying red boxes , only the golden key of Orlando can open them.There were extremely important documents in the box, but now there are only fragments of these documents. On the fragments, there is an occasional cursive letter, or there are traces of seals on the burnt silk.So we have no way of knowing the contents of these documents, except that Orlando was very busy: stamping and stamping, tying colored ribbons of different colors to the documents, concentrating on the titles of those documents, and marking them in swashbuckling capital letters.He stays busy until lunchtime, and then enjoys a thirty-course meal.

After lunch his valet informed him that a carriage of six was waiting at the gate, and he set out to call on the foreign minister and other dignitaries, preceded by Turkish soldiers on foot, in purple uniforms , waving the huge camel hair fan above his head.The visiting ceremony was always the same: Once in the gardens of the mansions of the dignitaries, the Turkish soldiers would beat on the gates with their large camel-hair fans, and the gates would swing open, revealing a spacious and stately drawing room in which two persons, usually A man and a woman.The two sides exchanged bows and curtsies.In the first parlour, only the weather could be discussed; after talking about the weather, the ambassador was taken into the next parlour, where two people also rose to greet him.The topic of discussion in this drawing room can only be to compare Constantinople and London, and where is better to live. The ambassador always said that he prefers Constantinople, while the hosts always say that they prefer London. , even though they've never been there.Entering the next drawing room, we will talk in detail about the health of King Charles and the Sultan; and in another drawing room, we will talk about the health of the ambassador and the wife of the host, but much briefly; If you change to another living room, the ambassador will praise the host's furniture, and the host will compliment the ambassador's clothing.Then enter another hall, someone will offer delicious barbecue to the ambassador, the host will criticize the poor cooking, and the ambassador will give his best words of praise.It always ends with hookah and coffee, and that's the end of the ceremony.However, although the tricks of smoking and drinking coffee are decent, there is actually no tobacco in the chimney, and there is no coffee in the cup, because if there is tobacco and coffee, the human body will not be able to bear it—because it is over After this visit, the ambassador will go to another visit immediately.In the mansions of other dignitaries, the ambassador will repeat the same ceremony six or even seven times in the same order, so he often returns to the residence late at night.Although Orlando accomplished these missions brilliantly, and he never denied that they were perhaps the most important part of the diplomatic envoy's duties, the ceremonies of these visits undoubtedly exhausted him, and he was often depressed, preferring to be alone with his dog. for dinner.True, he has been heard talking to dogs in his own unique language.It is said that he sometimes slipped out of the gate in disguise in the dead of night, so that even his guards did not recognize him.He would mingle with the crowd on the Galata Bridge, or wander in the bazaar, or take off his shoes and join the pilgrims at the mosque.Once, after news of his fever had spread, several shepherds selling sheep in the market claimed that they had met an English nobleman on a hilltop, who was praying to God.It was thought to be Orlando himself; and what he called a prayer was doubtless a poem aloud, for he was said to still have a manuscript full of marks in the breast pocket of his cloak; I've also heard him chant something over and over in a strange, chant-like voice when he was alone.

It is with these fragments that we can barely piece together the life scenes and personalities of Orlando at this stage.There are still many suspenseful and unsubstantiated gossip and anecdotes (of which we relate only a few) about Orlando's life in Constantinople.It speaks to Orlando's ability to stir the imagination and command the attention of people in his prime. People often remember his charm, but forget that it is the more enduring quality that maintains this charm.It's a mystical power that mixes beauty, blood, and a rarer gift - what we might call charisma.As Sasha puts it, he doesn't have to bother to light a single candle; there are "thousands of candles" burning inside him.He walks like a stag, and you can imagine the beautiful legs.He spoke in a gentle tone, but the echo was as clear as a silver gong.So there are always rumors around him.He was admired by many women, and even certain men felt admiration for him.One does not have to talk to him, or even see him, to conjure up the image of a richly dressed gentleman, especially at times of romance or dusk.His charm was not limited to the rich, but to the poor and the uneducated as well.Shepherds, gypsies, and donkey drivers still sing of the English nobleman who "threw emeralds down the well"—no doubt Orlando.It is said that once in a fit of rage, or perhaps ecstasy, he tore off his jewels and threw them into the fountain, where they were later retrieved by a footman.However, it is well known that his romantic feelings are often associated with an extremely reserved temperament.Orlando seemed to have no friends, and, so far as he was known, no affections.A certain lady came all the way from England to get close to him, and pestered him, but he continued to perform his ambassadorial duties as tirelessly as ever, so that he was an ambassador in the Golden Horn for less than two and a half years, and King Charles He intends to promote him to the highest title of their family.Jealous say it's because Neil Gwynn still marvels at the memory of those beautiful legs.But she had only seen him once, and she was busy peeling hazelnuts for the king, so Orlando's promotion was probably due to his merits, not his beautiful legs.

We're going to pause here for a moment, because we've reached an important moment in Orlando's career.The ennobling of Orlando is well known and controversial.We are now going to try our best to describe the ins and outs of the incident from the burnt pieces of paper and strips of cloth.The Order of Bath and the Creation of the Dukedom arrived in Constantinople after the close of Ramadan, with the frigate commanded by Sir Adrian Scrope; One of the most brilliant evening parties ever seen in Constantinople.That night, the moon was bright and the stars were sparse, and there were huge crowds of people, and the windows of the embassy were brightly lit.Here, too, we lack detail, for the fire has destroyed the record, leaving only fragments that require speculation, while the most crucial points are obscured.However, from the diary of one of the guests present, the British naval officer John Fennell Bridge, we can guess that the courtyard was crowded with people from all over the world at that time, "like herring in a bucket." Rich was overwhelmed, and hastily climbed a redbud tree, from which he could better watch the whole process of the action.Locals are buzzing about miracles to come (again proof of Orlando's mystical power to capture the imagination). "So," writes Bridge (but his manuscript was so riddled with holes that some sentences were unintelligible), "we were all a little apprehensive, lest the natives should be alarmed as the fireworks went up into the air. … …with unpleasant consequences for …the English ladies present. I admit that I have my hand on the dagger. But thankfully,” he continued in a rambling manner, “for the time being, these The concerns seemed unfounded, and after observing the behavior of the locals... I concluded that this show, which showcased our skills in the art of pyrotechnics, was valuable, if only to give the locals a deeper understanding Conscious... of the greatness of... England. Indeed, the splendor of the sight is beyond words. I found myself now praising God for acquiescing... now blessing my poor dear mother... as the ambassador ordered, those who embody the Orient The long windows that are characteristic of the building are all open, otherwise we would not know many things that happened in the room; through the windows, we can see a living picture inside, or a theatrical performance. Face-to-face dance... Although I couldn't hear what they were talking about, I was very excited to see so many elegant and luxurious fellow countrymen. Shocking behavior—of the kind that amazes everyone and brings disgrace to all women and her country when—” Sadly, a branch of the redbud tree snapped off at this writing, and the cloth Lieutenant Rich fell from a tree, and the rest of the diary records only his gratitude to God (which is the main content of the diary), and his injuries after the fall.

Fortunately Miss Penelope Hartop, General Hartop's daughter, who was in the room and witnessed it all, continued the story in a letter.The letter, also destroyed beyond recognition, ended up in Tunbridge Wells, where it ended up in the hands of one of her girlfriends.Miss Penelope narrated with a passion no less than that of the gallant officer.On a single page, she used the word "charming" ten times in admiration, "beautiful...indescribable...a plate of solid gold...a candelabra...a black servant in fine breeches ... ice pyramids ... the Negus wine fountain ... jellies in the shape of the king's fleet ... swans in the shape of water lilies ... birds in golden cages ... gentlemen in velvet gowns with scarlet slits ... Lady with a headdress over six feet high...Music box...Mr. Peregrine says I look lovely, and I'm only telling you, my dear, because I know...Ah! How I miss you! ...better than anything we've seen at Pantiers...the wine is going on and on...a couple of gentlemen are irresistible...Mrs Betty's charming presence...poor Mrs Bonham is unlucky to think there's a chair behind her , I sat down for nothing...the gentlemen are all polite...bless you and dear Betsy over and over again...but everyone's eyes are focused on...the ambassador himself. This is It is admitted that no one is mean enough to deny even that. What beautiful legs! What a charming face! What grace!! Eyes follow him in and out, and see him There is an intriguing expression on his face, one does not know why he is suffering from pain! People say, it is because of a woman. The devil who has no heart!!! Among us women who are known as gentle and kind , how can there be such a shameless person!!! He is still alone, and half the ladies in the room are fascinated by him.. To Tom, Gary, Peter and dear Meow (probably her cat) a million kiss."

From the "Gazette" of that year, the information we gather is that "when the clock struck twelve, the ambassador appeared on the central terrace. The terrace was surrounded by priceless tapestries. To the left and right of the ambassador stood Six torch-carrying Turkish royal guards, each of them more than six feet tall. Fireworks rose into the sky as soon as the ambassador appeared, and the crowd erupted in cheers. The ambassador bowed deeply and gave a thank you speech in Turkish. Fluent His Turkish was only one of the many languages ​​he knew well. Next came Sir Adrian Scrope, in the uniform of Admiral of the British Navy; He put the snare around his neck and pinned the star on his chest. Then another diplomat stepped forward, solemnly draped the Duke's gown on his shoulders, and covered him with a The great red-padded tray, presents to him the duke's diadem."

In the end, Orlando bowed deeply in an extremely solemn and graceful posture, then straightened up proudly, picked up the golden strawberry leaf wreath, and put it on his head.It was also at this time that the riots began.Maybe the miracle that people expected didn't happen, because the prophecy said that the sky would rain gold, or wearing a crown was a signal to attack; The moment it was worn on the head, there was an uproar in the crowd, and the bell rang suddenly, and the stern voice of the prophet echoed above the noisy voices.Many Turks fell to the ground, kowtowing again and again.A door flung open, and the locals poured into the banquet hall.The women screamed.A lady, who was said to be madly in love with Orlando, grabbed a chandelier and threw it on the floor.No one knows how things would have progressed had it not been for the presence of Sir Adrian Scrope and a squad of British sailors.The marshal ordered the bugle to be sounded, and a hundred sailors were immediately on standby.The unrest was quelled, at least for the moment, and the scene was peaceful.

Our account thus far is well-founded, if limited, in fact.But what happened afterwards that night was never known.Still, testimonies from guards and others appear to indicate that after the crowd cleared the embassy that night, the gates were closed at 2 a.m. and business as usual.The ambassador was seen entering his bedroom and closing the door, still wearing the Duke's insignia.Others said he locked the door, but that was out of his habit.Others affirmed that, later that night, they heard country music, the kind played by shepherds, from the garden under the Orlando window.A washerwoman, unable to sleep that night with a toothache, said she saw the figure of a man in a cloak or nightgown standing on the balcony.After a while, she said, the man let down the rope from the balcony and dragged a woman up to the balcony. Although the woman was tightly wrapped, she still looked like a peasant woman.The washerwoman said that she saw them hugging passionately on the balcony, "like lovers in love." Then they walked into the room together, drew the curtains, and couldn't see anything. The next morning, the secretaries found the Duke (as we must now call Orlando) lying unconscious on the disheveled sheets.The room was in complete disarray, the duke's diadem rolled on the floor, the cloak and suspenders were crumpled and thrown on the chair, and papers were strewn across the table.At first, no one was suspicious because he was so tired that night.But until the afternoon, he was still sleeping soundly, so he summoned the doctor.The doctor's remedies were nothing more than the same as last time, plasters, nettles, emetics, etc., but they had no effect.Orlando was still lethargic.So, the secretaries thought that they should check the messy pile of papers on the table.Most of the scraps contain verse written in scrawled handwriting, with repeated references to a large oak tree.There are also scraps of various official papers, and some private papers concerning the administration of his estates in England.Finally, they found a crucial document.In fact, it was a marriage contract, drawn up and signed by Lord Orlando, knight of the Garter and various other titles, and Rosina Pepita, and notarized.Rosina Pepita is a dancing girl whose origin is unknown. It is said that her father is a gypsy and her mother is unknown. It is said that she is a peddler selling scrap iron in the market under the Galata Bridge.The secretaries looked at each other in blank amazement.Orlando, however, was still in a drowsy sleep.They guarded him day and night, but he was breathing normally and his cheeks were as dark as ever, with no signs of life.People tried all kinds of scientific methods and ingenious means to wake him up, but he still couldn't wake up. On the seventh day of his trance (Thursday, May 10), Lieutenant Bridge was the first to perceive the first shots of that terrible and bloody insurrection.The Turks rebelled against the sultan's rule. They set fire to the city, and when they saw foreigners, they either killed or beat them.A few Englishmen managed to escape, but the gentlemen of the British Legation, as one might expect, would rather die than protect their red boxes, or, as a last resort, swallow the bunches of keys rather than Let them not fall into the hands of infidels.The mob broke into Orlando's bedroom, only to find him lying upright, completely dead.So they didn't touch him, only snatched his crown and Garter robe. At this point, the narrative has fallen into a situation where the facts are blurred.We almost want to cry out in our hearts, just make it more blurred, so blurred that we can't discern the truth at all!Why don't we write the final epilogue for our work!We can dismiss the reader with a few words, and say that Orlando is dead and buried.But at this moment, alas, there are three gods guarding the biographer's inkwell, the gods of stern truth, frankness and honesty, who cry, "Never!" Lifted to their lips, they blew their plea: Truth!Then blow again: the truth!This resonant trumpet sounded three times in unison, the truth, only the truth! Praise God!Gave us a chance to breathe.Accompanied by the sound of the trumpet, a door was slightly opened, as if blown open by an extremely soft and holy breeze.Three figures walked in.The one walking in the front is Miss Purity, with a very white lambskin belt tied on her forehead, and her long hair is like falling snow; she holds a goose quill in her hand.Behind her is Miss Chastity, her gait is more dignified and graceful, her head is crowned with an icicle-shaped headdress, like a burning tower, her eyes are as pure as stars, and whoever is touched by her fingers will freeze to the bone .Immediately behind her is Miss Qian Gong, she is the weakest and most beautiful of the three sisters, but she is really humble and hidden in the figure of her two solemn sisters, her face is partly hidden, like a crescent moon, being captured Clouds are half hidden.The three walked into the middle of the room where Orlando was sleeping.Miss Purity was the first to speak, her gestures were charming and majestic: "I am the patron saint of the sleeping fawn; I love the snow, the rising moon, and the silver sea. My cloak is for speckled eggs and striped shells; I hide evil and poverty, my veil Hang down for all weakness, sorrow, and doubt. So say nothing, say nothing. Forgive, oh, forgive!" At this time, a loud horn sounded. "Pureness go away! Pureness go away!" Miss Chastity spoke up: "My touch turns men to ice, and my gaze turns them to stone. I can stop the flying stars and stop the raging waves. The towering Alps are my dwelling place, and I walk At that time, there was a flash of light above my head, and everything withered as far as I could see. Instead of waking Orlando, I would freeze him three feet. Forgive, oh, forgive!" At this time, a loud horn sounded. "Chastity go away! Chastity go away!" Miss Humble began to speak, in a voice that was almost inaudible: "People call me humble. I'm a virgin, and always will be. I don't like fruit-laden fields and rich vineyards, I hate to multiply. When the fruit trees sprout and the sheep breed, I run away, run away; Let my cloak fall to the floor, and my hair hide my eyes, and I cannot see. Forgive, oh, forgive!" The loud horn sounded again. "Go away humbly! Go away humbly!" The three sisters looked sad and mournful. They danced hand in hand, raised their veils, and sang as they walked: "Truth, do not escape from that dreadful lair, hide deep, fearful truth. You make plain to the sun what you feared or regretted, you unravel the shameful Veil, you see the moon through the mist. Hide! Hide! Hide!" They seemed to be covering Orlando with their dresses.And at this moment, the trumpet is still blowing loudly: the truth!Just the truth! When the three sisters heard the sound of the trumpets, they tried to cover the horns with veils and muffle the sound, but it was in vain, because all the horns were blasting in unison: "Three terrible sisters, go away!" The three sisters became distraught, and they wailed in unison, but still danced in circles, throwing the veil up and down. "It wasn't like that! But men don't want us anymore; women hate us. Let's go, let's go. I'll go to the chicken coop (says Miss Purity), I'll go to uncultivated Surrey Heights (says Miss Chastity), I'll To the ivy-covered, drapered nest (says Miss Humble)." "It's not like here (they said in chorus, hand in hand, and bid hopelessly good-bye to Orlando, who lay dormant in his bed), that we are still loved by men in dwellings and boudoirs, in offices and courts, Whether virgins or street men, lawyers or doctors, they still respect us; those who control others and reject others, those who blindly fear and praise for no reason, those who are countless worthy of respect (praise God), those who would rather be deceived Those who do not want to know the truth, still have reason to worship us, because we have given them wealth, success, comfort and ease. We go to those people and stay away from you. Come, sisters, come! This is not where we stay land." They hurried away, waving the scarves over their heads as if to wave away something they dared not look at, and they closed the door from the outside. At this moment, we and the trumpeter were the only ones left in the house with the sleepy Orlando.The trumpeters stood in line and blew a piercing voice: "the truth!" At the sound of the trumpet, Orlando woke up leisurely. He stretched and stood up.He is completely naked, standing straight in front of us, when the trumpet keeps blowing the truth!the truth!the truth!We have no choice but to admit: he is a woman. The sound of the horn faded away.Orlando stood there naked.Never since the beginning of the world has anyone been so ecstatic.His form combines masculine strength with feminine softness.When he stood there, the sound of the silver trumpet continued to circle, as if he was nostalgic for the enchanting scene awakened by the sound of the trumpet.The three sisters of Chastity, Purity, and Modesty, apparently motivated by curiosity, peered in through the crack of the door and threw a towel-like garment to the naked him, but alas, it landed only inches from Orlando.Orlando looked at himself up and down in front of a long mirror, but he didn't feel uneasy at all.He calmly entered the bathroom. We can use this interval to suspend the narrative and make some illustrations.Orlando has become a woman, there's no denying that.But otherwise, Orlando hasn't changed at all.Although the change of gender will change the future of a person, it will not change his character at all.His face remained the same, as those portraits attest.His memory—for the sake of convenience in the future, we will use "her" instead of "his" and "her" instead of "him" in expressions—then, it should be said that her memory, without hindrance, Thinking back on everything that happened in the past.Occasionally there is a slight blur, like a few drops of dark liquid falling into a clear pool of memory.I can't remember some things.But that's all.Orlando had completely completed the gender transition without pain, so she wasn't surprised at all.Because of this, many people who think gender transitions are counterintuitive have been at pains to prove that: (1) Orlando was originally a woman; (2) Orlando is still a man at this moment.Whether it is male or female is for biologists and psychologists to decide, and we need only state the simple facts: Orlando was a man until he was thirty, then he became a woman, and he has remained a woman ever since. Still, I'll leave the question of gender and sexuality to other authors, and we'll end this embarrassing subject as soon as possible.By this time Orlando had showered and put on his unisex turkish coat and trousers.She had to consider her situation.Those who read her story with sympathy will first think of her situation as extremely delicate and embarrassing.She is young, noble, and beautiful, but when she wakes up, she finds that she is a young aristocratic woman in an extremely delicate situation.We'd all be forgiven if she was ringing her bell, screaming, or passing out right now.But Orlando did not show the slightest panic. She behaved calmly and calmly, as if she planned all this in advance.First she carefully inspected the messy papers on the table, and put those papers that seemed to be filled with poems into her bosom; then she called for her Norwegian hound, which had been watching every step of the way these days. Beside her bed, she was dying of hunger.Orlando fed it and groomed it.Then she fastened the two pistols to her girdle, and strung about her body the most exquisite strings of oriental emeralds and pearls, which were part of her ambassadorial attire.When it was all done, she leaned out of the window, gave a soft whistle, and descended the battered, bloodstained staircase, which was now littered with wastebaskets, treaties, dispatches, seals, and seals. wax.She came to the garden.Under the shade of a huge fig tree, there was an old gypsy waiting.The old man was riding on a donkey and was holding a donkey by his hand.Orlando flew up and rode up.In this way the British Ambassador to the Sultanate, accompanied by a gypsy, rode a donkey, followed by a scrawny dog, from Constantinople. They traveled starry and night for several days, and experienced hardships, whether it was natural disasters or man-made disasters, Orlando was able to face them bravely.In less than a week they were on the heights outside Brusa, where the gypsy tribes were encamped, and it was to them that Orlando was to join.In the past, she often looked at this highland from the balcony of the embassy, ​​longing to be in it one day.For a person who is obsessed with thinking, when he is in the place he yearns for, he will have a lot of thoughts.But sometimes, she feels that the current changes are really joyful, and she can't bear to destroy it by thinking.She doesn't need to sign documents anymore, she doesn't need to make coquettish words, and she doesn't need to visit and meet again. This happiness is enough!Gypsies live in no fixed place, and camp wherever there is grass. When the grass is eaten up by cattle and sheep, they move to other grasslands.If Orlando wanted to bathe, he bathed in the stream.When washing, no one will present those red and green boxes to her.There was not a single key, let alone a golden key, in the whole camp; as for "visit," I had never heard even that word.Orlando milked the goats, gathered wood, and now and then stole an egg, but always left behind a coin or a pearl.She herds the cows, picks the grapes, and tramples the juice out of the grapes with her feet; she pours water into sheepskin pouches, and drinks from them.She would laugh out loud, cutting herself a slice of bread and begging old Rustum for a bite as she recalled pretending to be drinking coffee and smoking a hookah, with empty cups and pipes Smoked, even though the pipe was filled with cow dung. The gypsies treated Orlando like family, the highest form of hospitality, and it was evident that she had been intimately associated with them before the riot.Her dark hair and complexion also lead to the belief that she was born one of them, that an English duke took her from a nut tree as a child and carried her to that wild country (UK) , the people there are weak and sick, unable to live in the wild, so they can only hide in the house.So even though Orlando was inferior to the gypsies in many ways, they were willing to help her and make her like them.They taught her how to make cheese and basket weaving, taught her how to steal and catch birds, and even tried to marry her to a gypsy. But some of the habits or ailments (whatever you call them) that Orlando picked up in England seem hard to break.One evening, when everyone was sitting around the bonfire, the setting sun was like fire, reflecting on the mountains of Tessaloni. Orlando couldn't help admiring: "How delicious!" (The Gypsy language has no word for "beautiful," and "good" is the closest equivalent.) The gypsy boys and girls roared with laughter.The sky is delicious!However, the older gypsies, who had seen a lot of strangers, could not help feeling suspicious of Orlando.They noticed that Orlando would often sit for hours on end, just looking around.They would run into her on a hill, and see her staring straight ahead, not caring whether the sheep were grazing or strayed away.They began to suspect that Orlando had other spiritual sustenance besides them, and the old gypsies believed that she had fallen into the hands of the most evil and cruel gods, that is, nature.他们的猜测并非全无道理，她有一种与生俱来的英国病，那就是迷恋大自然。而眼前的大自然，比英国的更辽阔，更摄人心魄，她从未如此全身心地投入过。这种英国病的症状众所周知，而且，唉，无非是高山峡谷溪流，都是老生常谈，所以不必赘述，只寥寥数笔交代一下即可。她登上高山，漫步于峡谷间，在小溪边小憩。她把山丘比作城墙、鸽子的胸脯或母牛的胁腹。她把花儿比作珐琅，草地比作磨薄了的土耳其地毯。树儿就像是形衰色枯的女巫，羊儿就像是灰色的卵石。每样东西都仿佛是另一样东西。她在山顶发现了一个小湖，她差点跳进湖中，去探寻她想象中深藏在湖底的智慧。从山顶远眺，她的目光越过马尔马拉海，看见了希腊平原，她还认出了雅典卫城，而那一道或两道白色，她觉得应该就是帕特农神庙（她的视力令人佩服）。她的视域有多辽阔，她的心灵就有多宽广。她祈祷自己能分享山峦的雄伟，体验平原的静谧，等等，等等，所有信奉大自然的人都会如此期盼。她低头俯视，红色的风信子和紫色的鸢尾花，令她欣喜若狂地大声赞美大自然的壮丽。她抬头仰望，看见雄鹰展翅翱翔，想象着它飞翔的喜悦，自己也感同身受。在回去的路上，她向每一颗星星、每一座山峰、每一堆篝火致意，仿佛这些东西都只与她一人交流。终于，她回到了吉普赛营帐，扑倒在草甸上，禁不住再一次大声高呼：“多么好吃啊！多么好吃啊！”（人类的沟通手段如此不完美，只能用“好吃”来表达“美”，但奇怪的是，即便如此，人们仍然宁愿忍受嘲笑和误解，也要把心里的感受说出来。）年轻的吉普赛人哄堂大笑。但拉斯图姆·埃尔·萨迪，就是那位用毛驴把奥兰多带出君士坦丁堡的老人，却坐在那里一言不发。他长着弯刀似的鼻子，脸上的皱纹沟壑纵横，仿佛饱经风刀霜剑。他肤色黝黑，目光犀利，坐在那里一边拽着他的水烟袋，一边审视着奥兰多。他深信她的神是大自然。一天，他发现她泪流满面，他认为是她的神惩罚了她，便对她说，他一点都不见怪。他给她看他左手的手指，被冰霜冻得萎缩了；他又给她看他的右脚，被滚落的石块砸伤了；他说，这就是她的神对人类的所作所为。当她用英文对他说“可是大自然多美啊”，他却只一味地摇头。当她又说了一遍时，他不禁有些气恼。他看得出，她和他的信仰不同，他再宽宏大量，但仅凭这一点，就足以激怒他了。 奥兰多之前一直都很快乐，但此刻观念上的差异令她心烦意乱。她开始思索，大自然究竟是美妙的还是残酷的，她继而问自己，何谓美。美存在于事物本身，还是仅仅存在于她自己心中。那么，现实的本质是什么，她由此追问下去，真理，爱情，友谊和诗歌的本质又是什么。她像过去在家时那样，独自在山顶上苦思冥想，而由于她的这些想法难以言表，因此她从未像现在这般渴望书写。 “唉，倘若能用文字表达该多好！”她感叹道（她也有那些作家们都有的古怪念头，认为只要用文字书写出来，便可与人分享）。她没有墨水，纸也没几张，于是她就用浆果和葡萄酒自制墨水，利用“大橡树”手稿页边和行间的空白处，尝试用一种速记方法，写下了一首长长的描绘迤逦风光的素体诗，并借助诗篇与自己对话，尽可能凝练地探究美和真理的问题。她为此一连数小时沉浸在喜悦之中。但吉普赛人开始对她起了疑心。他们起先注意到，她挤奶和做奶酪时越来越不熟练；继而他们又发觉，她在回答别人问题时，常常支支吾吾。一次，一个吉普赛小伙子从睡梦中醒来，惊恐地发现她正目不转睛地盯着他。有一阵子，整个吉普赛部落数十位男男女女，都感觉到了这种令人局促不安的气氛。有一种感觉跃上他们的心头，那就是无论他们如何努力，他们都将前功尽弃（他们的感觉异常敏锐，远胜于他们的语言能力）。一次，一位老婆婆自得其乐地哼着小曲编柳条筐，一位小伙子心满意足地唱着歌儿剥羊皮，奥兰多走进了营帐，她一头扑倒在篝火边，兀自凝视着火苗发呆。不用看他们就能感觉到，这是一个充满疑惑的人，这个人做事心不在焉，这个人目光凝滞却不知所见为何，这个人的寄托既不在柳条筐上，也不在羊皮上，而是另有寄托（他们忧心忡忡地四下打量着营帐）。于是，那小伙子和老婆婆便会有一种莫名的不悦。他们会折断柳条，他们会割破手指。他们会怒火中烧。他们希望奥兰多离开营帐，永远别再回来。然而，他们也承认，她的性情还是讨人欢喜的，而且热情主动，她拥有的珍珠，只要一颗就足以买下布鲁沙最好的羊群。 奥兰多也越来越感觉到她与吉普赛人之间的差别，这种差异使她有时会犹豫不决，不知自己该不该与吉普赛人成婚，并永远成为他们中的一员。起初，她对这种差异的解释是，她出身于一个古老而文明的种族，而吉普赛人则是愚昧民族，比野蛮人好不了多少。有天夜里，当他们要她说一说英格兰时，她不无自豪地描述了她在英格兰的庄园，那是她出生的地方，有三百六十五间卧房，她的家族拥有这庄园已有四五百年之久。她还说，她的祖先不是伯爵就是公爵。说到这里，她发现吉普赛人又显出局促不安的样子，当然并非像她赞美大自然时那样忿懣不已。他们变得礼貌客气，而且很体谅的样子，仿佛出生高贵的人不经意间发现了别人的低微出身和贫穷。当她走出帐篷时，拉斯图姆独自跟在她的身后，安慰她说，即便她的父亲是位公爵，她拥有那些卧房和家具，她也不必为此介意，他们中无人会因此而瞧不起她。此刻，她真的感到有点羞愧难当，这是从未有过的。显然，在拉斯图姆和别的吉普赛人眼里，四五百年的家世可能是最微不足道的了。他们的家世至少可以回溯两三千年。在耶稣基督诞生数百年前，吉普赛人的祖先就建造了金字塔。因此，对于他们来说，霍华德家族和普兰塔奈特家族，与史密斯和琼斯家族，并无多大区别，全都不足挂齿。而且，在吉普赛人的地盘，出身古老家族显得稀松平常，因为就连牧童都有远古的家世，流浪汉和乞丐也都如此，没什么好羡慕的。再者，吉普赛人虽然没好意思说出来，但他们显然认为，拥有数百间卧房实在没什么好夸耀的，因为他们已经拥有了整个世界（此刻他们正在山顶，头上月夜星空，四周群山逶迤）。奥兰多明白，在吉普赛人看来，所谓公爵无非是巧取豪夺的奸商或强盗，他们掠夺土地和钱财，但除了建造三百六十五间卧房，他们就别无他求了。而那些被掠夺了土地和钱财的人，其实根本不在乎这些东西，他们觉得一间房就够了，甚至觉得餐风宿露更好。她无法否认，她的祖先们囤积了大片大片的土地，积攒了大量房产和一个又一个封号，但他们无人称得上是圣徒或英雄，或为人类谋福的恩人。尽管拉斯图姆不会强迫她接受他的观点，但她明白，而且也无法反驳的是，如今但凡有人像她的祖先三四百年前那般行事，将会被指责为粗俗的新贵，投机商，暴发户。而最严厉的指责恰恰来自她的家族。 为了回敬他们，她试图用她所熟悉的婉转方式，指出吉普赛生活的粗俗和野蛮。不久，他们之间的积怨加深。的确，这种观念上的争端足以引发流血和革命。一些小小的争端会令整个城镇遭到洗劫，成千上万的殉道者宁赴火刑，也不愿在不同观点的争辩中退让半步。人们心中最强烈的愿望就是说服别人信奉自己的理念。最令人伤心、令人义愤填膺的，莫过于感到自己所崇尚的信念被别人贬损。辉格党与保守党，自由党与工党，他们为何争论不休，还不是为了争权夺利？一个地区反对另一个地区，一个教区希望另一个教区倒台，不是出于对真理的热爱，而是为了压倒对方。每个人所追求的都无非是心灵的平静和他人的顺服，而不是真理的胜利和道德的升华——但这都属于道德范畴的问题，枯燥乏味，应该留给历史学家去解决。 “四百七十六间卧房在他们眼里竟然一钱不值，”奥兰多感叹道。 “她竟然喜爱日落胜过喜爱羊群，”吉普赛人说。 该如何是好，奥兰多一筹莫展。离开吉普赛人，再去当大使，这对她来说似乎难以忍受。但是，永远留在这里，同样也不可取，因为这里不仅没有笔墨纸张，而且这里的人对泰伯特家族也并不心存敬畏，对拥有数百间卧房的人也并不尊重。在一个晴朗的早晨，她在阿索斯山的一个山坡上，一边牧羊，一边如此思忖着。她所崇尚的大自然不是戏弄了她，就是在她身上创造了奇迹——在这一点上，人们也是各执己见，莫衷一是。奥兰多怅然凝视着面前陡峭的山崖。眼下正值仲夏时节，如果我们非要将周边的景色作一番比喻的话，那么它就像一堆干枯嶙峋的骨头，像山羊的骸骨，像一只被无数秃鹫啄尽了腐肉的骷髅。热气灼人，奥兰多躺在一棵小小的无花果树下，能够遮荫的也仅仅是树叶映在她薄薄长袍上的图案。 突然，对面光秃秃的山坡上莫名其妙地出现了一片阴影，并且迅速浓密起来，刚才还怪石嶙峋的地方转眼出现了一片绿茵茵的山谷。她眼看着这片绿茵越来越浓翠，蔓延开去，在山的一侧形成了一片宽敞的绿地浅洼。在那里，她看见绿茵起伏的草坪；她看见四处点缀着橡树；她看见画眉鸟在树枝间跳跃。她看见小鹿在树荫间优雅地踱步，她甚至还能听见昆虫的低鸣，以及英格兰夏日里那种轻柔的叹息和颤栗。就在她如痴如醉地看着这一切时，天空开始飘起了雪花，不一会儿，刚才那番阳光明媚的景致全都被蒙上了淡紫色的阴影。这时，她看到几辆沉甸甸的马车沿路驶来，车上装满了树桩，她知道，那是要被锯成木柴用来生火的。接着，她家乡那些错落有致的屋顶、钟楼、高塔和庭园都一一展现在她眼前。大雪纷飞，她能听见积雪从屋顶上滑落到地面时发出的声响。无数烟囱正炊烟袅袅。一切都如此清晰细致，以致她都能看到一只寒鸦在雪地里啄食蚯蚓。渐渐地，紫色阴影越来越浓，掩去了马车、草坪，那幢大房子也不见了。一切都被吞没了。此刻，绿茵山谷里什么都没有了，刚才的翠绿草坪，现在成了光秃秃的山坡，仿佛已被无数秃鹫啄食得寸草不留。目睹这一切，她伤心地泪流满面。她三步并作两步地走回了吉普赛营地，告诉他们说，自己第二天一定得乘船返回英国了。 幸好她这样做了，因为吉普赛年轻人已在谋划要处死她。他们说这是为了荣誉，因为她离经叛道。当然，他们也并不愿意割断她的喉管，所以听到她离去的消息，甚是欢喜。所幸港湾里正有一艘英国商船准备启航返回英国，于是，奥兰多又从她的项链上摘下一颗珍珠，支付了旅费后，还剩了些纸币在钱包里。她本想把这些纸币送给吉普赛人，但她知道他们鄙视财富，于是，她只好以拥抱吉普赛人聊以自慰了，至少她的拥抱是真诚的。