Chapter 2 Chapter One

The sun has not risen yet.The sea and the sky are integrated, only the waves ripple on the sea surface, as if a piece of cloth is swaying and wrinkled in layers.As the sky gradually whitened, a deep shadow appeared on the horizon, dividing the sea from the sky, and the gray cloth appeared in the bands of rich colors. They rolled back and forth, and under the water, you pushed I hug, chase each other, endlessly. When they reached the shore, each ripple rose high and burst, sending a veil of white spray across the beach.The waves calm down for a while, and then rise again, making a sound like a sigh, like a sleeping person breathing unconsciously.The dark shadow on the horizon gradually became brighter, like the green luster of a bottle of old wine after the sediment has settled.Beyond the horizon, the sky gradually became clearer, as if the white dross there had settled, and as if a woman hidden below the horizon held up a bright lamp with her arm, making the hazy light of white, blue, and yellow spread out. In the sky, it looks like the bones of a fan spreading out.Now the woman held the lamp a little higher, and the atmosphere seemed to become a fabric, breaking free from the green sea, flickering among strands of red and yellow fibers, burning like flames rising from a bonfire. fireworks.Then, the thousands of strands in the flaming fireworks gradually merged into a fiery, hazy one, lifting up the heavy blanket-like gray sky, turning the sky into a cloud of billions of light blue particles. light haze.Gradually the sea became clearer, rippling and shimmering, until the dark bands were almost gone.The arm holding the bright lamp was slowly raised higher and higher, and finally a vast flame could be seen; an arc of light burned on the horizon, shining golden on the nearby sea.

The light shone on the trees in the garden, reflecting the leaves one by one transparently and brightly.One bird chirped high up; there was a pause; then another bird chirped low down.The sunlight made the outlines of the walls of the house clear, and then lightly fell like a fan tip on a white curtain, revealing a blue shadow like the fingerprint of a leaf in front of the bedroom window.The curtains flicked slightly, but everything in the room was still shrouded in darkness, appearing illusory and ethereal.Outside, birds sing monotonous songs. "I see a ring," said Bernard, "over my head. It floats in a halo of light, quivering."

"I see a pale yellow," said Susan, "spreading, and ending in a band of purple." "I heard a sound," said Rhoda, "chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp up and down." "I saw a sphere," said Neville, "hanging like a drop against the wide range of hills." "I see a crimson ribbon," said Jenny, "with gold thread woven upon it." "I heard something kicking," Louis said. "A giant beast with a chain on its foot. It was kicking, kicking, kicking." "Look at that cobweb in the corner of the balcony," said Bernard. "There are drops of water stuck to it. It's a little white light."

"Those leaves that are swept together and piled up in front of the window are like a pile of awned ears of wheat," said Susan. "There's a shadow on the path," Louis said, "like a bent elbow." "There are flickering spots of light on the grass," said Rhoda, "they're coming through the leaves." "Those birds hiding in the foliage had their eyes shining," Neville said. "The stalk is covered with a coat of stubby down," said Jenny, "and there are drops of water hanging from it." "A caterpillar is curled up in a green ring," said Susan, "and it has rows of short legs."

"This gray-shelled snail dragged itself across the trail, flattening the grass beneath it," Rhoda said. "Bright lights coming through the panes flickered and flickered across the grass," Lewis said. "My feet feel the coolness of the stone," Neville said, "whether it's a round stone or a pointed stone, I can feel it." "The back of my hand has a fever," said Jenny, "but the palm is dewy and cold and wet." "Now the rooster crows, and it's like a sudden crimson torrent in a white tide," said Bernard. "The birds were flying up and down, appearing and disappearing, chirping all around us," Susan said.

"The beast kept kicking; the elephant with the shackled feet; the huge animal kept kicking on the beach," Lewis said. "Look at that house," said Jenny, "with white curtains on every window." "Cold water came out of the tap in the scullery," Rhoda said. "The water was on to the mackerel in the basin." "The walls are full of golden cracks," said Bernard, "and blue shadows like finger prints of leaves flicker in front of the windows." "Mrs. Constable has her thick black stockings on now," said Susan. "When the smoke rises, drowsiness rises like a wisp of smoke off the roof," Lewis said.

"The birds were singing together," said Rhoda, "and when the scullery door opened, they all flew away at once. They scattered like a handful of wheat. But there was still A little bird was singing all by itself at the bedroom window." "There's a layer of bubbles on the flat bottom of the pan," said Jenny. "Then these bubbles rose one after another, rising faster and faster, like a string of silvery-white beads floating to the surface of the water." "Right now Beddy is taking a serrated knife and scraping the scales onto a wooden plate," Neville said.

"The dining-room windows are a dark blue now," said Bernard, "and the air above the chimney is drifting." "A swallow perched on a lightning conductor," said Susan, "and Beddy thumped the bucket on the flagstones in the kitchen." "That was the first strike of the church clock," Louis said, "and then it went on and on; once, twice; once, twice; once, twice." "Look at that tablecloth hanging down white all along the edge of the table," said Rhoda, "and now there's a ring of white china plates on the table, each with a silver thread around the edge."

"Suddenly the buzzing of a bee reached my ears," Neville said. "Here it is; it flew away." "I'm feverish and I'm shaking," said Jenny, "and I'm going to hide from the sun and into the shadows." "They're all gone now," Louis said, "and I'm alone. They've gone into the house for breakfast and I'm left standing among the flowers by the wall. It's still early, not even class. The green grass is dotted with flowers. The petals are colorful. The flower stems grow from the dark ditch below. The flowers are like fishes made of light, floating on the dark green water. I hold a flower stem In the hand. I am the stalk. My roots go deep into the earth, through dry earth with bricks, wet earth, through veins of lead and silver. My whole body is made of fibers Yes. Any shock makes me tremble, and the heavy earth presses against my ribs. Up there, lo, my eyes are all green leaves, and I can't see. Here I am a gray flannel uniform Boy, around his waist is a leather belt buckled with a brass snakehead. Below, lo, my eyes are those wide-open eyes of a stone statue in the desert on the banks of the Nile. I see women with red jugs Walking towards the river; I saw the caravan of camels swaying, men with turbans on their heads. I heard walking, trembling, and commotion all around me.

"Up there, look, Bernard, Neville, Jenny, and Susan (but no Rhoda) keep waving their insect nets over the flower beds. They catch Butterflies. Their nets are covered with fluttering wings. 'Louis! Lois! Lois!' they shout. But they can't see me. I'm outside the hedge. There's only a tiny hole in the foliage. Oh , Lord! Let them go. Lord, let them put those butterflies in a little handkerchief spread out on the gravel. Let them count their tortoise shells, and their scarlet nymphs and cabbage butterflies Well. Only that I be not seen. I am green all over, like a yew in the shade of a hedge. My hair is of leaves. I am rooted in the center of the earth. My body is a stalk. I squeeze Press the stalk. A drop of sap seeps from the hole in the break, and it slowly, viscous, grows bigger. Now a pink shadow walks by the hole in the leaf. Now a look through the gap Sneaked in. The eyes met me. I was a boy in a gray flannel uniform. She found me. I was touched on the back of the neck. She kissed me. Everything was disrupted. "

"After breakfast," said Jenny, "I was running. I saw leaves shaking in a hole in the hedge. I thought 'That must be a little bird in its nest.' I pushed the leaves aside and lo and behold Looked; but there was no bird in the nest at all. The leaves were still moving. I was terrified. I ran past Susan, and Rhoda, and the one who was talking in the tool shed. Neville and Bernard. I ran and screamed, faster and faster. What made those leaves shake? What made my heart beat and move my legs? Oh, I rushed here and saw you , Louis, green as a sapling, motionless like a twig, staring at your eyes. 'Is he dead?' I thought, and kissed you, while my heart was in my Inside my pink blouse was throbbing, like these leaves, though nothing is moving them, are still shaking. Now I smell the geraniums; I smell the mounds of dirt. I dance. I whisper. I envelop you like a net of scattered rays of light. Trembling, I fall upon you." "Through a hole in the hedge," said Susan, "I saw her kiss him. I looked up from my vase, and looked through a hole in the hedge. I saw her kiss him. I saw them, Jenny And Louise, kissing. Now I'm going to wrap my great pain in my little handkerchief. I'm going to scrunch it up tight. I'm going to run over to the beech woods by myself before class. I don't want to sit in class at the table, doing arithmetic. I don't want to sit next to Jenny and Louis. I want to take my sorrow and spread it on a beech root. I want to examine it carefully and hold it between my fingers. They I'll be found. I'll eat nuts, I'll hunt for birds' eggs in the blackberry bushes, I'll get my hair shaggy, I'll sleep under the hedge, drink the ditch, and die there." "Susan passed by us," said Bernard, "passed by the tool shed door with her handkerchief crumpled into a round egg. She didn't cry, but her very beautiful pair of But the eyes were narrowed, like a cat's eyes are narrowed before leaping. I'll follow her, Neville. I'll follow her quietly, curiously ready, when she suddenly When anger breaks out and you feel 'I'm alone', go up to her and comfort her. "Now she was strutting across the field, as if nothing had happened, to hide from us. Then she came to the other side of the slope; she thought no one could see her; she started to run with her hands clasped to her breast. She Clutching the little crumpled handkerchief tightly between her fingernails, she rushed straight for the sunless beech woods, and when she got there she threw her arms outstretched like a swimmer into the shade. But As it was dark just coming from the sun, she stumbled and fell on the roots of a tree, where the light came and went like a pant, flickering. The branches were swinging up and down. Here there was Restlessness and distress. There is sorrow. The light flickers on and off. There is anguish here. The roots bow and bend the ground in the shape of a skeleton, and where the twists are piled up with dead leaves. Susan put her She spread her little handkerchief on the roots of the beech tree, and sat herself curled up where she had fallen, sobbing." "I saw her kiss him," said Susan, "and I looked through the pores of the leaves and saw her. She danced in all her diamond brilliance, and came in as light as a speck of dust. And I'm fat, Bernard, I'm short. My eyes look out, so close to the ground, I can see the little insects in the grass. When I saw Jenny kissing Louis, I was jealous The enthusiasm turned into a cold stone at once. I will gnaw on the grass and die in the dirty ditch full of rotten branches and leaves." "I saw you go by," said Bernard, "and when you passed the tool shed I heard you cry: 'What a pity I am.' I put down my pocket knife. I was with Neville at the wood Make boats. My hair is disheveled because a fly landed on a spider web when Mrs. Constable asked me to brush it, and I asked, 'Should I rescue the fly? Or let it be eaten? What?' As it turned out, I was always putting things off. My hair wasn't combed, and it was covered in sawdust. As soon as I heard you cry, I followed, and the next thing I saw you spread out your piece and scrunch it up, There's a handkerchief wrapped in anger and resentment. But it's all over soon. Our bodies are close together now. You hear me breathe. You see this little insect go away with a leaf on its back. It Now running this way, now that way, so that even your desire to possess something (which at this moment is Louis) must be wavering as you look at the insect, just as the A flicker of light in the beech-leaves; and some words that whisper in the depths of your heart, Will undo the knot of harsh resentment that's tightly wrapped in this little handkerchief of yours." "I love and hate," said Susan, "and I long for one thing. My eyes are fixed. Jenny's eyes are always bursting with a million lights. Rhoda's are like moth-attracting eyes at night." Pale white flowers. Your eyes are big and full, always so piercing. But I have already started my pursuit. I see small insects in the grass. Although my mother is still knitting white shorts for me socks, sewed apron ruffles; though I was a boy, I loved and hated it." “But when we sit next to each other,” says Bernard, “we melt into each other through rhetoric. Our borders are blurred. We form an ethereal kingdom.” "I saw the beetle," Susan said, "I saw it was black; I saw it was green; I could only speak simple words and sentences. But you were eloquent and eloquent; A string of rhetoric and a string of witticisms, the interest is getting higher and higher." "Now," said Bernard, "let's go exploring. There's a white house sitting in the woods. It's been sitting far below us. We're going to sink like swimmers just on their toes. As the tip touches the river bed. We're going to go through the green leafy atmosphere, down, Susan. We're going down as we go. The air closes above us, and the beech leaves meet above us. Here is the alarm clock in the stable, with its gilt hands shining gold. There are the flats and bumps of the roofs of great houses. Here is the groom, scurrying about the yard in rubber boots. There That's Elvedon. "Now we have dropped through the treetops to the earth. The air no longer rolls over us in its long, ominous purple waves. We touch the earth; we walk on it. There is the mistress's garden trimmed A neat fence. They used to walk in the garden at noon, with shears, and trim the roses. Now we came to a wood surrounded by walls. This is Elverton. I saw the sign at the crossroads, The arrow above points to 'to Elvedon'. No one has ever been there. The fern smells strong and the grass has red toadstools growing under it. Now we wake up sleeping and have never seen a human burrowing birds; and now we tread on rotting acorns, red and slippery with age. Around this wood there is a ring wall; no one has ever been here. Listen! It is a A gigantic toad was hopping about in the undergrowth; here were some primitive fir cones clattering down to rot in the ferns. "Put your feet on this brick. Look over the wall. There is Elvedon. The mistress is sitting between the two long windows, writing. It's the gardener sweeping with a big broom." grass. We are the first ones here. We are the discoverers of a place no one knows. Hold still! If those gardeners see us, they will shoot us. We will be crucified like weasels On the stable door. Watch! Hold still. Hold fast to the fern on the top of the wall." "I see the mistress writing. I see the gardeners sweeping," Susan said. "If we die here, no one will bury us." "Run!" said Bernard. "Run! The gardener with the black beard has seen us! We'll be shot! We'll be shot like a bird and nailed to the wall." Yes! We are in a hostile country. We must flee to the beech woods. We must hide under those trees. I once bent a branch when we came. There is a secret path .Bend as low as you can.Follow, don't look behind.They'll think we're foxes.Run! "Now we're all right. Now we can stand upright again. Now we can stretch our arms out, under this high sky, in this wide wood. I can't hear a thing. It's just It's the murmur of the air. It's a turtledove rushing out of the shelter of the beech-tops. The turtledove beats the air; the turtledove beats the air with clumsy wings." "You're talking more and more nonsense now," said Susan, "you're always making up fancy words. Now you're flying up like a streamer on a balloon, through layers of leaves, higher and higher, unattainable. Now you're behind me. Now you're tugging at my skirt, looking back, weaving beautiful words. You've left me and fled. Here's the fence. On the path here, Rhoda is Shaking those petals floating in that purple washbasin of hers." "All my ships are white," said Rhoda. "I don't want the red petals of the hollyhock or the geranium. I want the white petals that float when I tip the wash-basin. I have a fleet now that is floating Across the ocean. I'm going to throw a twig in and use it as a life raft for a drowning sailor. I'm going to throw a pebble in and watch the bubbles come up from the bottom of the sea. Neville's gone and Susan's gone Gone; Jenny was perhaps picking currants in the vegetable garden with Louis. I enjoyed a brief moment of solitude while Miss Hudson spread our workbooks out on the desk. I had a brief moment of freedom .I pick up all the petals that fall on the ground and let them float.I sprinkle raindrops on a few petals.I'm going to set up a lighthouse here and plant a 'Sweet Alice' head.Oh, now I'm going along Shake this brown washbasin by the side so my fleet can ride the waves. Some ships will sink. Some ships will crash on the cliffs. Only one ship will sail alone. That's my ship .It sails into an ice cave where sea bears roar and stalactites hang green chains.The waves rise;the crests bend;look at the lights on the mast.The ship breaks apart;the ship sinks and only my boat jumps on The crest of the wave, riding the hurricane, drifts to the island, where the parrots chatter endlessly, and the crawling animals..." "Where is Bernard?" said Neville, "he has my little knife. We were building a boat in the tool shed when Susan came through the door. So Bernard left his boat and took me He walked behind her with a small knife. He was like a dangling wire, a broken bell tongue, and he always spoke with a nasal voice. He was like seaweed climbing outside the window. Wet, dry in a minute. He left me bewildered; he followed Susan; and if Susan cried, he would take my little knife and make up stories for her. The big blade Is an emperor, and the broken blade is a black person. I abhor things that dangle; We must leave our toys behind. Now we must go in together. The work-books are already lying side by side on the green-covered desk." "I'm not going to list verb conjugations," Lewis said, "I'm going to wait for Bernard to answer first. My dad is a bank clerk in Brisbane so I speak with an Australian accent. I'm going to wait and copy it." Bernard's answer. He is British. They are both British. Susan's father was a clergyman. Rhoda had no father. Both Bernard and Neville were sons of men of distinction. Jenny and her Grandmother lived together in London. Now they blotter their pens. Now they roll up their workbooks and look sideways at Miss Hudson, counting the purple buttons on her bodice. Bernard's hair has A piece of sawdust. Susan's eyes were red and swollen. They were both ruddy. I was pale; I was neat and tidy, and my knickerbockers were fastened by a leather belt with a brass snake buckle. heart. I will always know more than they know. I am familiar with the changes of character and sex. I can know everything in the world if I want to. But I don't want to appear superior and answer my homework. My roots are connected In clusters, like roots in a flowerbed, round and round the world. I don't want to be superior, ruled by this big yellow clock that's always ticking. Jenny and Susan, Bernard and Neville, they twisted into a whip to whip me. They laughed at my neatness, laughed at my Australian accent. Now I'm going to try to imitate Bernard and bite lightly Speak Latin with your tongue." "Those are white words," said Susan, "like pebbles one picks up from the sea." "As soon as I say them, they wag their tails from side to side," Bernard said. "They wagged their tails; they wagged their tails; they floated in groups in the air, going this way and that way, wandering aimlessly, sometimes scattered, sometimes converging." "Those are yellow words, those are fiery red words," Jenny said. "I wish I had a red dress, a yellow dress, and a tawny dress to wear at night." "Every tense has a different meaning," said Neville. "In this world there is an order; in this world there are various qualities, various differences; The boundaries of this world. Because this is only the beginning." "Now," said Rhoda, "Miss Hudson has closed her book. Now the frightening thing is about to begin. Now she takes a piece of chalk and writes the numbers on the blackboard, six, seven, eight , then crossed again, then crossed again. What was the answer? The others looked; they looked with understanding. Louis wrote; Susan wrote; Neville wrote Yes; Jenny wrote; now even Bernard has begun. But I can't write. I only see a few numbers. Others are starting to hand in their answers, one after the other. Now it's my turn Yes. But I have no answer. Everyone else is allowed to go. They slam the door. Miss Hudson is gone. I am left alone to find the answer. Those numbers mean nothing now. The meaning has gone Leaving. The alarm clock is ticking. The two hands are like two convoys marching in the desert. The black lines on the clock face are oases. The long hands have trekked ahead to find water Another pointer, staggering on the hot desert stones. It's dying in the desert. The kitchen door slams shut. Wild dogs bark in the distance. Lo and behold. The A circle of numbers begins to be filled with time; it contains the world within itself. I begin to write a number, and the world is enclosed, and myself outside the circle; now I connect the circles —and that's it—sealed into a whole. The world is a whole, and I'm outside this whole, crying: 'Oh, save me, don't let me be kicked out of this circle of time forever outside.'” "In the classroom, Rhoda sat there," Louis said, "staring at the blackboard with dumbfounded eyes; while we wandered around picking a pinch of thyme here and there. pinch an annua leaf, while Bernard babbled his story. Rhoda's shoulder blades receded like the wings of a tiny butterfly. And as she stared at the When she saw a few numbers written in chalk, her heart also settled in those white circles; it walked step by step through those circular curves, into a void, alone. For her, the numbers were nothing. Meaning. She couldn’t find an answer to them. She wasn’t like other people, she didn’t have any body. And I, with an Australian accent and my father was in the banking business in Brisbane, I wasn’t afraid of her like I was afraid of other people.” "Let us now," said Bernard, "climb under the canopy of currant leaves and tell stories. Let us dwell beneath the earth. Let us occupy our secret country, the The country is lit with currants hanging like great candelabras, bright red on one side and dull on the other. Come here, Jenny, if we curl up tighter, We can sit under the canopy of currant leaves and look out at the smoke. This is our universe. Everyone else has passed along the drive. Miss Hudson and Miss Cooley's dresses pass by Swept, like a beater for putting out a candle. That was Susan's white sock. That was Louis's clean sand rubber shoe, firmly leaving footprints in the gravel. There was a blow of dead leaves. Hot wind. We are now in a swamp; we are in a miasma-infested jungle. Here is an elephant covered with white maggots, killed by an arrow shot deep in the eye. Those frisky birds —The goshawks, the vultures have their eyes shining, the meaning is obvious. They take us for fallen trees. They peck at a worm,—it is a cobra with a hood, which carries a Sooty rotting wounds, waiting to be torn apart by lions. This is our world, illuminated by crescent moon and starlight; huge translucent petals blocking the gaps, like purple-colored windows. Everything is magical Wonderful. Everything seems huge and very small. The stems are as thick as oaks. The leaves are as high as cathedral domes. Here we lie, two giants that could make the forest tremble." "Here it is," said Jenny, "at this moment. But soon we'll be leaving. Soon Miss Curry will be blowing her whistle. We'll be walking. We'll be parting ...you'd go to school. You'd have male teachers with white ties and crosses. I'd have a female teacher from an East Coast school who'd always sit under a portrait of Queen Alexandra. There That's where I'm going, and Susan and Rhoda. Only here; only now. Now we're lying under the gooseberry tree, and every time the breeze blows, we sprinkle Dappled with spots of light. My hands are like snakeskin. My knees are like pink floating islands. Your face is like an apple tree with a net underneath." "The jungle heat is dissipating," said Bernard, "and the leaves are vibrating black wings above us. Miss Currie has whistled on the balcony. We must climb out from under the canopy of gooseberry leaves and stand Straight body. You have some twigs in your hair, Jenny. You have a green caterpillar on your neck. We have to line up, two in a row. Register the report card at Miss Hudson sitting at her desk Miss Curry is going to take us for a light walk." "It's boring," said Jenny, "always walking along the road, and there's no window to look in at the side of the road, no blindfolded green glass to look through to the passage inside." "We've got to line up two by two," said Susan, "and march in neat lines, don't drag, don't lag behind, let Louis go ahead and lead, because Louis is a smart man and Not a distracted guy." "Since people think I'm too weak to walk with them," Neville said, "since I tire so easily and always look sick, I'll make good use of the silence, and make good use of it. During the time when you don’t have to talk to anyone, walk around this room slowly, and climb to the half-way step of the escalator again, if you can, go back to the time last night when the cook repeatedly adjusted the fire door , how I felt when I heard through the revolving door about the dead man whose throat had been slit when he was found. The leaves of the apple tree froze in the air; the moon shone blindingly; Impossible. He was found in a ditch. His blood flowed down the ditch. His jaw was as white as a dead cod. I will forever call this grim, heartless event As 'Death in the apple orchard'. There are gray clouds in the sky; below is this unforgiving tree; this unforgiving tree wrapped in silver-gray bark. The ripples of my life have no meaning. I cannot cross There is a barrier. 'I cannot get over this inexplicable barrier,' I said. Others have. But our destiny, the destiny of all of us, is bound by this apple grove, by this insurmountable, The Unforgiven Tree is doomed. "This grim, pitiless affair is now over; and I shall continue my inspections about the house at sunset, this afternoon, which is drawing to a close; Mottled oily light, a beam of light fell on the wall, and the chair legs seemed to be broken." "When we got back from our walk," said Susan, "I saw Florie out in the garden outside the kitchen, with the windblown clothes all around her hanging out to dry, nightgown, drawers, nightgown. , all blown taut by the wind. Ernst was kissing her. He was wearing his green tweed apron, polishing silver; The pajamas gripped her firmly. He was as reckless as a bull, but she fainted with annoyance, her face was pale, only a few thin blood vessels on her face showed a little red. Now even though they are Passing rounds of bread, saucers of butter, and cups of milk for tea, I saw a crack in the floor from which hot steam sizzled up; And I, even when my teeth were chewing on the soft bread and butter, and my mouth was sipping sweet milk, I was puffed up like those pajamas. I am not afraid of the heat, nor of the harsh winter. Rhoda was dreaming as he sucked a slice of bread soaked in milk; Louis kept gazing at the opposite wall with snail-like green eyes; Crumpled into little balls and called them 'the people'. Neville had eaten his pastry in his snappy way. He rolled up his napkin and slipped it into the silver ring. Jenny quickly转动着她的手指，好像它们正在阳光下面翩翩起舞，做着脚尖立地的旋转动作。可是我既不害怕热天，也不害怕寒冬。” “现在，”路易斯说，“我们都起身，站了起来。库丽小姐把那个过错记录簿摊开在管风琴上。每当我们唱起歌儿，每当我们称自己为孩子，祈求上帝保佑我们睡觉时平安的时候，要想抑制住眼泪是很难的。当我们忧心忡忡，因为恐惧而身上颤抖时，大家相互轻轻地依偎着，一起唱唱歌是甜美的；我靠着苏珊，苏珊靠着伯纳德，紧紧地握着手，各自心里担忧着很多事情：我为我的口音担忧，罗达为数字担忧；尽管这样，大家还是下定决心要克服这些难题。” “我们像一群小马驹列着队登上楼梯，”伯纳德说，“一个跟着一个，跺着脚，喧嚷着，争先恐后地依次走进浴室。我们你捅我一下、我拍你一下，我们扭在一起打闹，我们在洁白的硬床板上蹦蹦跳跳。轮到我了。我马上就洗。 “康斯坦布尔夫人腰间围着一条浴巾，拿起她那块柠檬色的海绵，把它在水里浸了浸；它变成了巧克力似的棕褐色；它滴着水；她把它高高地举到我的头顶上——我在她身边浑身打着战——挤了挤。水顺着我的脊梁沟淌了下来。脊沟的两边产生了利箭射上来的感觉。我浑身皮肤暖烘烘的。我身上那些干燥的角落也湿淋淋的，我凉爽的身体变得暖和起来；它被冲洗得干净闪亮。水冲下来，把我像一条鳗鱼一样裹了起来。现在一条热乎乎的浴巾把我包裹起来，当我擦我的脊背时，它的毛糙搔得我的血液汩汩地流淌。丰富的强烈的感觉在我心灵的屋顶上涌现；这一天树林中的经历就像一阵阵雨似的倾盆而下，还有埃弗顿；苏珊和鸽子。沿着我的心灵的墙壁淌流而下，汇集在一起，这一天显得那么丰富，那么多彩。现在我把我的睡衣睡裤随随便便地穿上，然后躺在这条漂浮于稀微光影里的薄薄的被单下面，这条被单像被一个浪头激起的薄薄水雾，笼罩在我的眼前。透过它，朦胧而遥远地，我听到从很远、很远的地方传来合唱开始的声音：车轮声；狗吠声；人的嘈杂声；教堂的敲钟声；合唱开始了的声音。” “当我折叠起我的罩衫和衬衣，”罗达说，“我也就放弃了使自己成为苏珊、成为珍妮的毫无希望的心愿。不过我要伸直我的脚趾，让脚趾尖碰到床头上的栏杆；我要通过脚趾尖抵住栏杆，让自己确信有种坚实可靠的东西。现在我不会沉没了；现在我也不会从薄薄的床单中陷下去了。现在我伸展身体躺在这张易损的床垫上，屏声静气。现在我是在大地上。我不再直立着身子；不再会被人打倒和毁灭了。一切都显得温和，顺从。墙壁和碗橱泛着白光，它们的黄色侧面弯曲扭转，顶上有一面泛白的镜子闪着亮光。现在我的心情可以尽情地倾诉出来了。我可以想一想我那正在乘风破浪前进的无敌舰队了。我避开了难以对付的接触和碰撞。我独自在白色山崖下面航行。哦，但是我沉下去了，我陷下去了！那是碗橱的角儿；那是儿童室的镜子。可是它们在展开，它们在伸长。我沉沦在一堆黑色羽毛似的睡梦里；它的厚重的翅膀压着我的眼睛。穿行于黑暗之中，我看见那些铺展开来的花床，而康斯坦布尔夫人从蒲苇地的那个角落跑了出来，宣布说我的姑妈已经来了，要坐马车把我领走。我爬上车；我逃走；我凭着有弹簧鞋底的靴子跳过树梢。然而现在我又掉进了停在大门口的马车里，她坐在里面点着头，晃着黄色的羽毛，眼神犹如光滑的大理石一样冷酷。哦，从梦中醒来吧！瞧，这里有衣柜。让我从这些波涛中间拉出我自己吧。然而它们向我压了过来；它们将我卷在它们巨大的浪峰之间；我被弄得头上脚下，我被翻转了；我四脚朝天，躺倒在这些长长的光影里，这些长长的浪波里，这些没有尽头的道路上，同时有人在后面追逐，追逐。”