Chapter 2 Chapter two

The train is almost at the station.The conductors were clearing the luggage and stacking it by the doors so that it would be easier to hand it to the porters when the train arrived.The women put on their lipstick and fur coats for the last time.The men struggled to put on their thick coats and hats.After a few hours in the warm and comfortable sleeper car, the passengers have become familiar with each other, and they have become a whole.But now they will soon go their separate ways, alone or in groups of two or three, all becoming separate entities again.The compartment was full of smoke, the air was mixed with the smell of tobacco and human body, and the lack of air circulation made people feel stuffy and unbearable.People suddenly felt a mysterious atmosphere.They were strangers again, eyeing each other thoughtfully and blankly.Each feels within himself a vague hostility towards those around him.Some people have started queuing up the aisle so they can get off quickly.The heat from the sleeper car fogged the windows, and Charlie wiped a small patch off the window with his hand so he could see out.But he saw nothing.

The train pulls into the station.Charley handed his luggage to the porter and strode to the platform.He was waiting for Simon Fenimore to pick him up.He was disappointed not to see his old friend right away, but there were a lot of people at the exit of the station, and he thought Simon must be waiting there.His eyes flicked over eager faces.People waiting outside the station squeezed up and grabbed the hands of those who had just left the station, and the women kissed each other, but he didn't see Simon's face.Convinced that Simon would be waiting for him at the station, he lingered for a while in front of the station, but feeling that the porter was visibly impatient, he followed him out of the station after only a short while.He was vaguely disappointed.The porter called him a taxi, and Charlie told the driver the hotel he was going to.Simon booked him a room at that hotel.The Masons always stayed at a hotel in the Rue Saint-Annoch when they went to Paris.The customers of this hotel are British and American.But twenty years later they still harbor the illusion that the hotel they have discovered is authentically French.There was always a little fuss when they saw an American piece of luggage on the floor, or an Englishman in the elevator.

"God knows how they will live here." They themselves have been careful not to mention it to their friends.When they stumble upon a little bit of old France, they don't risk it being ruined.Although the hotel manager and concierge spoke perfect English, the Masons always spoke to them in broken French, thinking it was the only language they understood.But the reason why the couple often visit this hotel with their whole family is also the reason why Charlie doesn't stay in this hotel when he goes to Paris alone.He loves adventure.According to his parents, a decent family hotel would not be used by anyone except a French country rich man.Nor does such a place deserve a gloriously wild and romantic experience.For the past month he has been preoccupied with imagining what the outing would be like.So he wrote to Simon asking him to book him a room in a hotel in the Latin Quarter.

As long as the surrounding atmosphere is suitable, he has no special requirements for sanitary facilities, even if they are dirty.Simon wrote back in due time to say that he had a room booked for him in a hotel near the Gare Montparnasse.The hotel is located on a quiet street, just off Wren Street, not far from the First Pastoral Avenue where he lives, and it is very convenient to come and go. Charlie quickly forgot about Simon's displeasure at not coming to meet him at the station. He must either be waiting at the hotel, or he would call soon to say he would be on his way.Emotions were running high as he drove across the congested roads of the Gare du Nord to the Seine in a taxi.Arriving in Paris at night is wonderful.A steady drizzle of rain fell from the sky, making the streets both mysterious and exciting.The shops are brightly lit.The sidewalks were full of people with umbrellas, and the rain flowed down the umbrellas into the street, shining brightly in the dim streetlights.The sight reminded Charlie of a Renoir painting.Sometimes when a gust of wind blows, the skirts of the women under the umbrellas get wrapped around their legs.For a prudent Brit, the way the taxi drives is a bit violent, sucking air every time the driver screeches and slams on the brakes to avoid a collision.The taxi was stopped at an intersection by a red light, and the flow of people in the other two directions poured out like a panicked bee swarm after being attacked by the police.Charlie looked excitedly at the scene in front of him. They seemed to be different from the British crowd, appearing more agile and passionate.His eyes chanced upon a lone girl, perhaps a seamstress or typist on her way home from a long day's work, and he imagined this girl in a hurry to meet her lover, and he couldn't help but be amused.He also saw a couple walking arm in arm under an umbrella, a young man with a beard and a wide-brimmed hat, and a girl in a fur boa, their bliss as if they Together, they didn't care about the rain above their heads at all, and they didn't realize the crowds around them.He was deeply moved by the couple, feeling envious and excited, and his heart was filled with joy.His taxi and a beautiful limousine were stuck side by side in a corner.Sitting in the car was a woman in a mink coat, her eyebrows and lips were painted, and her silhouette was astonishingly beautiful.She may have been the Duchess of Galmont, driving back to her house on the Rue Saint-Germain after the tea party.It is wonderful to be alone in Paris at the age of twenty-three.

"God, what a holiday this is." The hotel was higher class than he expected.Its façade and architectural decoration bear the pomp of Baron Haussmann's later designs.He learns that Simon has reserved a room for him, but he leaves neither letters nor messages.He was taken upstairs.But the man who led him was not, as he had expected, a scruffy shoe shiner with a dirty apron, an unshaven beard, and a fierce face; Can speak fluent English.The furniture in the room was simple and clean, and there were two beds, but the manager promised to charge him for his lodging only for the price of one bed.He proudly showed Charlie the bathroom that adjoined the bedroom.After the manager left, Charlie looked around the room.He had expected to book a small room with thick drapes on the windows, a huge duvet on the wooden bed, and an old mahogany wardrobe with a full-length mirror.He had expected to find used hair pins on the dresser, half-used lipstick and a comb with a broken tooth in the drawer, with a few strands of dyed hair tangled in it.This is what he imagined, full of romance, in a rented room for a student in the Latin Quarter.A bathroom, that was the last thing he expected.He had been to Switzerland with his parents, and this room might only be considered a cheap hotel in Switzerland.The bedding was clean, but dull in color and very worn.Not even Charlie's passionate imagination could endow them with a certain mystique.Glumly, he opened the duffel bag and took a shower.He thought Simon was a little cold to people.Even if he finds it troublesome and doesn't want to meet him, he should leave a note.If Simon didn't show up, he'd have to go to dinner alone.His parents and Patsy might be at Godalming by now, and Sir Wilfred's two sons and daughter-in-law and Mrs Terry Mason's two nieces were going to the party, and there was going to be a merry party.They would sing, play, play games and dance together.He even regretted it a little now, if he hadn't been eager to accept his father's reward of a vacation in Paris.It suddenly occurred to him that Simon might have suddenly received a notice from the newspaper asking him to go to a certain place on business, but because of an accident, he forgot to notify him in a hurry.His heart sank.

Simon Fenimore was Charlie's longest friend, and the reason he was eager to come to Paris was really to spend a few days with him.They were elementary school classmates at a private school, went to Rugby Secondary School together, and spent their university life at Cambridge together.But Simon left Cambridge at the end of his second year without waiting for his degree.Because he came to the conclusion that he was wasting his time.Charlie's father had secured Simon a job with a London newspaper, of which he had been a Paris correspondent for the last year.Simon was alone in the world, with no worries.His father, who worked for the Indian Ministry of Forestry, divorced his mother when Simon was a toddler because of her adultery.The mother left India with Simon, who, according to a court ruling, was placed in the custody of his father.He was sent to England, where he was fostered with a vicarage until school age.His mother was never heard from again, and he did not know if she was alive or dead.His father died of cirrhosis of the liver when Simon was twelve.He has only vague memories of his father.In my impression, he is tall and thin, with a sallow complexion, wrinkled face, and his lips are always tightly pressed.The money he left behind after his death was only enough for his son's tuition.The Masons were so touched by the poor boy's loneliness that they often took him into their home during various holidays.He was a thin boy with a pale face that made his dark eyes appear large, his thick black hair always tousled, and his mouth large and sensual.He was precocious and talkative, well-read and intelligent.He had none of Charlie's shyness, but it was charming in Charlie.Although Venetia tried her best to like him out of a sense of responsibility, she couldn't.She couldn't understand why Charlie fell in love with someone who was so different from him in every way.She thought Simon was reckless and pompous.He is ungrateful and thinks that everything others do for him is due.She suspects that Simon doesn't think too well of the couple, either.Sometimes when Lesley was speaking wisely about something interesting in his usual tone, Simon would cast a sarcastic glance with his big black eyes, and his sensual lips would pucker up mockingly.That look made you think Leslie was babbling, kind of stupid.As the family enjoyed quiet evenings together, talking this and that, Simon would occasionally lose himself in thought.He sat there, but his eyes were distracted, as if his thoughts flew thousands of miles away.After a while, he would pick up a book and start reading, as if no one else was in the room.It can't help but make you feel that their family conversation is not worth listening to at all.This attitude can even be said to be impolite.But Venetia blamed herself.

"Poor boy, he's never been taught manners. I'll be nice to him. I'll like him." Her eyes fell on Charlie.Her son was handsome and slender, with curly brown hair, blue eyes with long eyelashes and fair skin.He had grown so fast that the sleeves of his evening coat were already a little too short.Although he may not have Simon's outstanding talents, he has a kind heart and grace in every move.But if she left Leslie, and Leslie became a drunk again, God knew what would become of Charlie.What would Charlie have been like if he had not been cultured and educated from a young age, but had grown up on his own like Simon?Poor Simon!The next day she went out and bought Simon a half dozen ties.He looks happy.

"You've been so kind to me. I've never been so rich in my life. I've never had more than two ties at once." A small gesture of kindness elicited a generous thank you from the heart, and Venetia was so moved that a sudden pang of pity overwhelmed her. She cried: "Poor child, you are so lonely, it is unfortunate that you have no parents to take care of you." "Oh, my mother was a whore and my father was a drunk, and I dare say I don't miss them." He was just seventeen when he said this. But even so, Venetia couldn't like him.He is ruthless, cynical, and will do anything to achieve his goals.Charlie thinks he is very good, admires and respects him very much, which angers Venetia.And Leslie was also impressed by his well-read and eloquence.He was only a boy, but at school he was already a passionate socialist; at Cambridge he became a communist.Leslie listened with joy and indulgence to his wild theories.To Leslie, the theory was empty talk.Intuition told him that these empty words did not touch the basics of life.

"If he does become a famous journalist or MP, it doesn't hurt to have a friend in the opposing camp." Leslie is very open-minded, and he even admits that the socialists have several insights that no reasonable person would object to.In theory he is all for nationalizing the coal mining industry, and he doesn't see why the state shouldn't regulate the public service and private industry, but he also doesn't think drastic action should be taken.Land rent, for example, has virtually nothing to do with the government.There are slums in every big city, it is inevitable.Compared with standard apartment buildings, people at the bottom of society actually prefer to live in slums.Mason Real Estate is not useless in this regard, but you can't expect a landowner to let people live in his house for nothing.The only fair thing to do is to get a reasonable return on his investment.

Simon Fenimore decided to take a job as a reporter who would spend a few years abroad so he could learn about Continental politics.Once he's in the House of Commons, he'll be an expert on the subject, which most Labor MPs must know nothing about.Leslie learned that the owner of the newspaper was going to hire a talented young man, so he took him to an interview.Before leaving, Leslie warned him that the boss was very rich and he could not hope to make a good impression if he showed his revolutionary tendencies.But Simon's modesty, energy and easy-going manner made a very good impression on the newspaper giant.

Afterwards, Leslie told his wife: "He was flawless in the test. It was as if the young man had a different head than himself. I always told you before that a person's speech has nothing to do with this person. What a man thinks has nothing to do with it, and this time it has been confirmed. When it comes time to get a job, and this job is related to the wages on which he lives, he will, like all sensible people, put his I forgot that theory in my pocket." Venetia agrees with him.Such a thing is quite possible, as their own experience bears out.One can truly love beautiful things and love money at the same time.Lorenzo de Medici, for example, was as successful a banker as he was a true artist.Vinicia thought Leslie was a good person for going to so much trouble for someone who wasn't grateful.Moreover, the job recommended to Simon sent him away to Vienna, thereby shielding Charlie from his influence.She was always worried about the effect.It was Simon's wild ideas that had penetrated his son's mind that gave him the idea of ​​becoming a painter.It didn't matter what Simon did, he had no money and no worries, but Charlie had an easy job waiting for him.There are enough artists in this world.She was relieved that Charley had such an open heart and such perfect integrity that even exposure to crooked ways would not spoil his good manners. Charlie was dressing now, not knowing what to do with the lonely night.After he put on his pants, he called the newspaper office where Simon worked.It was Simon who answered the phone. "Simon!" "Hello, are you here? Where are you now?" Charlie was taken aback by how cold Simon's tone was. "I'm at the hotel." "Oh, is it? What are you going to do tonight?" "No plans." "We'd better have dinner together, okay? I'll pick you up right away." He hung up the phone.The phone in Charlie's hand beeped.He had thought that Simon wanted to see him as badly as he wanted to see Simon.But judging from Simon's tone and attitude, you would think that they were ordinary acquaintances, and it didn't matter to him whether they met or not.Of course, they hadn't seen each other for two years, and Simon might have become unrecognizable in that time.Charlie suddenly felt that his trip to Paris was going to be fruitless.He waited for Simon with a nervousness which he could never get over.But when Simon finally walked into the room, he found that Simon's appearance hadn't changed at all.He was twenty-three now, and although he was only of medium height, he still looked lanky.He looked shabby in a brown jacket and gray flannel trousers, and had neither hat nor coat.His face was thinner and paler than ever, and his dark eyes seemed larger.His eyes seemed to speak, always cold, curious, and suspicious, as if to indicate that there must be a good mind behind these eyes.His large mouth always had a sneer; his teeth were small but jagged, somewhat like those of a small carnivore.He had a pointed chin, prominent cheekbones, and his whole face was not handsome, but his expression was very expressive, as it always was, and it was almost impossible for passers-by on the street to pass him without noticing him.In some moments, there will be a painful beauty on his face.This is not a kind of beauty of character, but a kind of beauty that is restless and represents the spirit of struggle.Troublingly, there was no joy to be seen in his smile, which was almost an ironic twist; he laughed as if he were in great pain.His voice is high-pitched, but it doesn't seem to be under his control.When he gets excited, his voice tends to become shrill. Charley resisted the urge to indulge his warm, friendly, cheerful nature, and instead of running to the door to shake his hand, received him icily.When he heard a knock on the door, he called "Come in" and continued to trim his nails.Simon did not offer his hand to shake.He nodded, as if they had already met during the day. "Hello!" he asked. "Is the room all right?" "Oh, sure. Better than I expected." "It's very convenient here, you can bring anyone. I'm starving to death, shall we go eat together?" "OK." "Let's go to the Cooper's for dinner." They sat across from each other at a table upstairs and ordered their meals.Simon looked at Charlie carefully. "I don't see any change in your appearance, Charlie," he said with a mocking smile. "Luckily my career has changed." Charlie felt a little shy.The two-year separation is, at least for now, undermining their long-standing intimacy.Charlie was a good listener, something he had been taught from an early age.He was willing to sit still and listen to Simon's eloquence as he expounded his thoughts, admiring his eloquence.Charley had always admired Simon, never with jealousy.And Simon also considers himself a genius, so he naturally regards Charlie as a supporting role.Charlie thinks that Simon is a lonely person in this world, no one likes him very much; but he has a happy family and a rich life, so he gives his love to him.And it comforted him that Simon cared for him, though he cared little for others.Simon is often sarcastic and sarcastic to others, but he can rarely show a soft side when he is with him.During his spouty speeches, Simon occasionally tells Charlie that the only person in the world he cares about is Charlie.But now Charlie felt vaguely that there was a barrier between them, and it made him slightly uncomfortable.Simon looked him up and down restlessly, pausing at his new suit, then at his shirt collar and tie.He felt that Simon was not going back to the way they used to be alone together, but showing a critical and cold attitude.He was observing him as if he was looking at a stranger, as if he was asking himself what kind of person was sitting opposite him.That look made Charlie feel uncomfortable, and his heart ached. "What's it like to be a businessman?" Simon asked. Charlie blushed a little.They had known each other so well in the past, and he thought Simon would taunt him for it, since he had finally succumbed to his father's wishes.He was mentally prepared for this, but his character was too honest to hide the truth. "This job is much better than I expected. It's fun and not too tiring. I have a lot of time for myself." And Simon's answer surprised him. "I think your choice is very rational. What if you become a painter or a pianist? There are so many artists in this world. Art is a fucking hodgepodge." "Simon! What's the matter with you?" "Are you still being lied to by your exemplary parents? They're smug about art. You've got to know, Charlie. Art! Well, it's just a plaything for the well-fed rich. Our world, ours. We live in a world where there's no place for such nonsense." "I think……" "I know what you want to say. You think art produces beauty and makes existence meaningful; you think art is a kind of comfort to a tired and heavy heart; you think art can make life noble and fulfilling. Bullshit! We may in the future Art will be needed again, but it won't be the kind of art you imagine, it will be a people's art." "Oh God!" "The people need anesthesia, and art is probably the best form we can give them. But they're not ready for it. They need something else in another form at the moment." "Which form?" "language." He spits out the monosyllabic word in an uncharacteristically derisive tone, and laughs.Despite the bitterness at the corner of his mouth, at that moment Charlie saw the same joy in his eyes that he used to see. He went on to say, "Let's not talk about that. Man, you have a good life, go to the office every day and enjoy life. But this life can't last long, you better hurry up and enjoy it, it may be The best way." "What do you mean by that?" "Never mind. We'll talk about it later. Tell me, what are your plans for coming to Paris this time?" "Well, mainly to see you." Simon's face flushed red.Others say it as a gesture of kindness, but when Charlie utters such an embarrassing remark, you'll be sure he's out of his depth. "Other than that?" "I'd like to see a few more movies. If there's a good play going on, I'd like to see it too. Also, I might want to have some fun." "I think you mean to find a woman." "You know, I don't have many opportunities in London." "I will take you to the Sultan's Palace in the future." "What is that place?" "You'll see later. It's a great place to have fun." They started talking about Simon's experience in Vienna, but he was reserved about it. "It took me a while to get used to the new environment. You know, I've never left the UK before. I learned German. I think I read a lot. I met a lot of people that I was interested in." "And after that? Tell me about your life in Paris." "I'm more or less doing the same thing, I've been sorting out my thoughts. I'm young. I have plenty of time. When I'm done with Paris, I'll go to Rome, Berlin or Moscow. If I can't If I get a job at a newspaper, I will find another job. I can teach English anytime, just enough to make ends meet. I was not born into a rich family, so I can get by. In Vienna, in order to exercise my self-discipline, I Living on bread and milk for a whole month is not hard. I am now training myself to eat only one meal a day." "You mean this is your first meal of the day?" "I had a cup of coffee when I got up and a glass of milk at one o'clock." "But what's the purpose of doing this? You're well paid, aren't you?" "I get the minimum living wage. Of course, it's enough to pay for three meals a day. But if a person can't even conquer himself, how can he conquer others?" Charlie grinned.He is no longer restrained. "Why does this sound like it came from a dictionary of famous sayings?" Simon replied indifferently: "Maybe. I want to take my property away, or I will lose it. A proverb condenses the wisdom of this era, and only a fool can look down on such plain language. Don't think that I intend to spend my whole life Both worked as foreign correspondents or English teachers for a newspaper in London. These were just my wandering years. I used them to gain knowledge. Our primary and secondary education were both stupid, and that so-called Cambridge University was like The cemetery in the suburbs, from which such knowledge cannot be obtained. What I am after is not only book knowledge and being a learned man, which are only means; what I am after is more difficult to obtain and more The important thing - an unconquerable will. I'm going to mold myself like a novice forged under the iron discipline of the Jesuits. I've always thought I knew myself well. There's nothing like being alone in the world, where you go They are all strangers, and the experience of living with people you don't care about all your life can make you understand yourself better. But I know myself instinctively. During the two years abroad, I learned to know myself , the depth of understanding is the same as my understanding of Euclid's fifth axiom. I know my strengths and weaknesses, and I plan to cultivate my strengths and eliminate my weaknesses in the next five or six years. Weaknesses. I'm going to train myself as hard as a coach trains an athlete to be a champion. I have a good head. No one in the world can see things better than I do. Take my word for it, the life we ​​live in There is a great power in this world. I have great eloquence. You can't persuade people to act by reasoning. You have to be eloquent. Most people are idiots. They can be swayed by words. Admit it though It's humiliating, but now you have to accept this fact, just like you accept that in the cinema, a successful movie must have a happy ending. My mastery and use of language is close to perfect, and when I fully master this Technology, I will be invincible." Simon picked up the white wine glass, took a swig, and then sat back in the chair and laughed.His face was contorted and deformed, as if in unbearable pain. "I have to tell you something that happened here a few months ago. There was a meeting being held by the British Legion or something like that. I forget what the purpose of the meeting was. It was probably about military cemeteries. That sort of thing. My boss was invited to speak but he had a cold and a headache and sent me to replace him. You know our papers, they have a bloody patriotism to get circulation, papers can lie , but they are all dressed in a noble moral coat. My boss can really be said to be able to give the best of his talents. He has been in this business for twenty years, but he has never had his own point of view. There is nothing new in what he says, he just talks about a Dirty jokes have been heard eight hundred times by others, and people don’t even feel obscene. But he still has his shrewdness. He knows what the newspaper boss wants, and he will make the boss Satisfied. Well, I spoke in his stead. What came out of my mouth were clichés, too. I spoke loudly to flatter people. The jokes I told them were so old that even a gray-haired judge would automatically Shame about being so young. But they laughed. The pathos I spoke about sad things would make you sick. But their tears rolled down their cheeks. I was like a Salvation Army girl who sees her sexual repression as a It is a noble character to advocate patriotism. But they responded to my speech with prolonged and warm applause. My speech was the last one of the night. Self-restraint. I totally captured them. But you know what I said at the meeting was worthless bullshit from beginning to end. It's all a function of language. Language, language! Poor old Hamlet, he I suffered the loss of not mastering the art of language." "It's a very immoral thing to do," said Charlie. "I'd say they're just decent ordinary people who just want to do what they think is right, and they're probably ready to pay for the sincerity of what they believe." Out of my pocket." "You guessed it right. This conference raised more money for this god-knows-what cause than any conference in the past. The organizers of the conference told my superiors that it was all due to My wonderful speech." Frankly, Charlie was annoyed by this.This was not the Simon he knew.Formerly, however wild his thoughts were, and however provocative his words were, there was something noble in them.Charlie doesn't take sides, he just resents the oppression and cruelty.This injustice made him very angry.But Simon didn't notice Charlie's reaction to his words, or he did, but didn't care.He is completely immersed in himself. "But brains alone are not enough. Eloquence is necessary, but it is a trivial skill. Kerensky has both, but what is the use? A person is more important than character. It is my character that I want to temper I believe that a person is very malleable. As long as he dares to try, he can change himself. The rest is just a matter of will. I have to train myself to be able to face insults, scorn and ridicule indifferently. I must achieve a A complete spiritual detachment. Even when they put me in prison, I felt as free as a bird in the sky. I had to make myself as strong as steel. Even if I made a mistake, I I will not be swayed, but to pretend to be right and benefit from it. I must discipline myself not only to be able to resist the temptation to be pitied, but to know what pity is. I must draw from my heart the love of love. The ingredients are squeezed out, making it impossible for me to have any feeling of love." "why?" "I can't allow my judgment to be clouded by any emotion that, as a human being, I might have. Charlie, you're the only person in the world I care about. I'm not going to stop grinding myself until I'm from Knowing in my bones that if I had to, I would push you against a wall and shoot you with my own hands, without a moment's hesitation, without a moment's regret." Simon's eyes are dark and cloudy. It reminds you of an old mirror in an abandoned house. The mercury on the back of the mirror has fallen off. When you look at this mirror, you can't see yourself. Deep in the depths, somewhere lurks the shadows of long past events and long dead passions, and these ghosts possess a mysterious life that trembles in some frightening way. "Do you know why I didn't pick you up at the station?" "It would be great if you could pick me up, but I guess you have something to do." "I know you'll be disappointed. Usually that's the busiest time in our office and we have to be on the phone to report to London on the day's news, but it's Christmas Eve and there's no need for a report tomorrow, and I would have It's easy to get out of there. The reason I didn't go was because I wanted to go so badly. Ever since I got your letter saying you were coming, I've been dying to see you in my heart. At the time when the train was scheduled to arrive , I know you will wander the platform looking for me, you will feel a little lost in the bustling traffic, but I picked up a book and started to read. I sat there, forcing myself to read, not allowing myself to answer the phone, and my Inside, I waited every moment for the phone to ring. When it rang, I knew it must be you, and my joy was so intense that I couldn't help but get angry with myself. I almost没有接电话。两年多来，我一直在努力摆脱对你的感情。想知道我为什么要你过来吗？距离产生美，得不到的东西才更有魅力，这一点千真万确。当一个人见到了自己日夜思念的偶像，他常常会为偶像原来也不过如此而感到惊诧。我想，如果在我内心还留有一点儿过去对你的感情，那么你在这里待几天时间就足以将它们全都抹掉。” 查利带着迷人的微笑说道：“恐怕你会觉得我很愚蠢，但我无论如何也不明白你为什么要这样。” “我确实认为你很愚蠢。” “好吧，就算这个判断正确，理由是什么呢？” 西蒙皱起了眉头，他不安分的眼神一会儿跳到这里，一会儿又跃到那里，就像一只野兔试图逃避追捕一样。 “你是唯一在乎过我的人。” “不对。我父母就一直很喜欢你。” “不要胡说八道了。你父亲对我跟他对艺术一样，并非真心喜欢。但善待一个身无分文的孤儿，居高临下地予以施舍，对他产生影响，这给了他一种自己好善乐施的舒服感觉。你母亲认为我是一个不择手段追求私利的人。她认为我对你产生了她所厌恶的影响；我认为你父亲是个老骗子，而且是最坏的那类骗子，他甚至欺骗自己。你母亲看出了这点，因此感到受到了冒犯。我唯一让她满意的地方就是她一看到我就会想到，你各方面都与我截然不同，这真是太好了。” “你对我的父母可是有点儿不恭啊。”查利语气温和地说道。 西蒙完全没有理睬查利的插话。 “我们俩一见如故。那个讨厌的老歌德可能会把这种现象称做选择性亲和。你给予了我这辈子还从未体验到的东西。我从未成为一个男孩，但和你在一起，我感到自己是个男孩了。与你在一起我就会忘掉自我。我欺负过你，戏弄过你，嘲笑过你，也怠慢过你，但我总是很崇拜你。与你在一起的时候我有一种妙不可言的感觉，与你在一起的时候我才能还原自我。你非常谦逊，非常随和，非常快乐，而且脾气也非常好，只有与你在一起的时候，我才没有了紧张感，才能从那股驱使我不断前进的驱动力中解脱片刻。但我不想躺下，不想放松自己。看到你甜甜的、谦逊的笑容，我的意志力就会被削弱。我的意志不能软弱，我的心灵不允许温柔。你蓝蓝的眼睛里流露出的是友善，是对人性的深信不疑，当我看到你的眼睛我就会动摇，但我不敢动摇。你是我的敌人，我恨你。” 当听到西蒙前面对他的某些评价时，查利有些不自在地涨红了脸，但现在他心情愉快地笑了。 “哦，西蒙，你胡说些什么呀。” 西蒙没有理睬他的话。他用闪着亮光、充满激情的眼睛盯着查利，仿佛要钻进他灵魂的深处。 “他的身上有什么呢？”他仿佛在自言自语，“或许只是一个偶然的印象，让人产生了他的心灵具有某种优秀品质的错觉？”然后他才对查利说：“我常常问自己，我在你身上看到了什么？肯定不是你俊美的面庞，虽然我敢说这有些关系；也不是你的智慧，你虽然有智慧但并不出类拔萃；同样不会是你厚道的性格或你的好脾气。你身上到底有什么可以让人们一看到你就喜欢上你？你还没有上阵就赢了一半。是魅力？什么是魅力？我们都知道这个单词的意思，但我们都无法对它下一个精确的定义。但我知道如果我拥有你身上的优点，再加上我的头脑和意志，在这个世界上我就将无往而不胜。你有活力，这就是魅力的一部分。但我精力同样旺盛。我可以几天内只睡四个小时，我也可以一天内连续工作十六个小时而不感到疲倦。当人们首次结识我时，都会对我产生敌对情绪，我不得不完全靠自己的头脑去征服他们。我不得不利用他们的弱点；我不得不让自己对他们有用；我不得不去奉承他们。当我来到巴黎后，我的上司认为我是他所遇见过的年轻人中最招人讨厌、最骄傲自大的人。当然，他是一个傻瓜。一个人如果能像我一样洞悉自身的缺点，他怎么可能骄傲自大？现在他完全听凭我摆布。但我拼命工作所换来的东西，你只要眨一眨长长的睫毛就能得到。魅力真是绝对重要。在过去的两年里，出于需要，我认识了许多著名的政治家，他们全都拥有魅力。只不过有人多一些，有人少一些罢了。但这些人并非都是天生就有魅力的。这表明魅力可以获取。魅力本身毫无意义，但它使拥有魅力者产生了追随者，而且追随者们乐于为他做出奉献，会完全服从命令，盲目行事。奖励他们一句好听的话，他们就会感到心满意足。我在工作中对此进行过验证。他们一旦崇拜你，其奉献之心就如同打开了阀门的水流。一见到你，他们的脸上马上会浮现友好的微笑；他们的双手时刻准备着为你鼓掌。而这位领导者说话时温暖的语气似乎在说你会受到赏识；摆出一副感兴趣的样子能让你认为你所焦虑的事也是他的当务之急；亲密的态度并不代表什么，但可以诱使你产生错觉，以为自己是他的亲信。富有魅力者虽然说的也都是旁人说过八百遍的陈词滥调，但那些老伙计之类的话出自他们的口就让人感到那么舒坦。他们能够模仿自然，完美地表现出一种轻松而自然的态度；他们能够敏锐地洞察傻瓜们的虚荣心，小心翼翼地从不冒犯它。这些我全都可以学会，只要多一分努力，多一点儿自我控制能力就能办到。当然，他们有时也会做过头，他们的魅力表现得过于机械，以致不起作用了。人们看穿了这一点，就会感觉自己受到了欺骗，就会表示愤慨。 " 他又用锐利的目光扫视了查利一眼。“你的魅力是天然的，这就是为什么它更具杀伤力的原因。脸上的皮肤轻轻皱一皱就能让你的生活如此轻松自在，这难道不荒唐吗？” “你到底是什么意思？” “我想让你来巴黎的原因之一，是想清楚地看到你的魅力是怎么组成的。据我所知，魅力取决于构成你下眼眶的一些特殊的肌肉组织。我相信它应该存在于你微笑时眼睛下面皮肤的小褶皱中。” 被进行这样的解剖使查利感到非常尴尬，为把话题从自己身上引开，他问道： “但你费这么大劲的目的是什么？” “谁知道呢。走，咱们去多姆咖啡馆吃饭去。” “好吧，我要多点一些菜，咱俩好好吃一顿。” “今晚我请客。咱俩在一起吃饭，这是第一次由我买单。” 当他从口袋里掏出几张钞票预备结账用时，带出了两张卡片。 “看，我给你买了张在圣厄斯塔什教堂举行的午夜弥撒的票。它应该是巴黎最优秀的教堂音乐会了，我想你会喜欢的。” “噢，西蒙，你真好。我非常喜欢。你会跟我一起去的，是不是？” “我得看看到那时的感觉如何吧。总之你先拿着票。” 查利把票装入口袋，然后他们向多姆咖啡馆走去。雨已经停了，但人行道的路面还是湿的，当商店橱窗的灯光或路灯照到上面，路面就泛出苍白的亮光。很多人来来往往，徘徊在街道上。他们从光秃秃的树木的阴影中走出，就仿佛从舞台的边幕中走出一样。他们走过光线照亮的路段，然后又消失在另一片黑暗之中。阿尔及利亚小贩们肩上扛着一捆捆东方地毯和廉价的皮毛从身边走过，他们的眼睛警惕地注视着每一个可能的买主，谄媚但固执地招呼着顾客。面目粗俗的男孩们头戴土耳其毡帽，挎着装有落花生的篮子，用沙哑的嗓音反复而单调地喊着：“花生米！花生米！”在一个角落里站着两个黑人，黝黑的面孔由于寒冷而收缩着。他们就那样一动不动地等待着，仿佛时间已经停止。但除了等待，他们还能做些什么呢？这两位朋友到了多姆咖啡馆。夏季时顾客可以露天坐着的阳台现在都封上了玻璃。每张桌子都被占满了，但是当他们走进店里的时候，一对夫妇吃完饭站起来要走，他们马上占据了空出的地方。饭店内有点儿冷，而西蒙没有穿大衣。 “你不冷吗？”查利问他，“要不你坐里面？” “不冷，我锻炼过自己的耐寒能力。” “但你感冒了怎么办呢？” “我不管它。” 查利经常听人谈起多姆咖啡馆，但从来没有来过。他非常好奇地四下打量着周围座位上的人们。这些人中有身着套头毛衣的青年人，其中一些人蓄着短胡须；还有身着雨衣的女孩，她们都没有戴帽子或头巾。他估计这些人都是些画家和作家，看着他们，查利有点儿兴奋。 “他们是英国人或美国人，”西蒙轻蔑地耸耸肩说道，“他们大都是些废物和无赖，可怜巴巴地装扮成戏剧中的某个角色，而这个戏剧早就不再上演了。” 对面桌是一帮身材高挑的金发年轻人，像是斯堪的纳维亚人；另一桌是几个肤色黝黑、打着手势热烈交谈的黎凡特人。但大多数顾客还是衣着体面、寡言少语的法国人。他们是附近店铺的小老板，光顾多姆咖啡馆很方便。他们大都操着外省口音，仍然像查利一样认为这家咖啡馆是艺术家与学生们的度假胜地。 “可怜的小畜生们，他们没有钱接着去享受拉丁区的生活了。他们生活在饥饿的边缘，像划船的奴隶一样拼命干活。我想你已经读过《波希米亚生活》这本书了。书中是这样描述的：鲁道夫现在穿上整洁的蓝色西服了，但这套西服是他买来的二手货，每天晚上他都要把裤子压在床垫下以防走样。他一个铜板都掰成两半花，谨小慎微，生怕毁了自己的前程。米米和赛特是勤劳的女孩，工会成员，她们晚上只要有空余时间就去参加党的会议，即使她们失去了贞操也会保持头脑清醒。” “有姑娘跟你一起住吗？” "No." “为什么不找一个？我认为这样生活会非常快乐。你在巴黎的这一年多时间，一定有很多机会挑选一个女友。” “是的，我有那么一两次机会。想起这件事来就觉得有点儿奇怪。你难道不知道我住的地方是什么样子吗？一间工作室加一个厨房，没有浴室。按规定管理员要每天过来打扫房间，但她患有静脉曲张，讨厌爬楼梯。我只有这样的条件，但已经有三个女孩想要来和我一起分享这个肮脏的住所。一个是英国人，她在这里的共产国际局找到了一份工作；另一个是挪威人，她在索邦大学工作；还有一个是法国人——你一定认为她更理智些，她是一个裁缝，但失了业。一天晚上，当我正要出去吃晚饭时遇上了她，她告诉我她已经一整天没吃饭了，于是我给她买了一餐饭。那是一个星期六的晚上，她一直住到星期一。她想留下来，但我让她离开，她就走了。那个挪威人就相当讨厌了。她想给我织补袜子，给我做饭，给我擦洗地板。当我告诉她什么也不用她做时，她就总在街角等着我，在大街上跟着我。她告诉我如果我不松口她就会自杀。她给了我一个铭记于心的教训。最终我不得不相当强硬地对待她。” “你这句话是什么意思？” “有一天我告诉她我讨厌他的纠缠。我告诉她，如果下次在街上她再来跟我打招呼我就揍扁她。她很愚蠢，不知道我是认真的。第二天，当我走出家门的时候，大约是十二点左右，我正要走进办公室，而她站在马路的另一边。她向我走来，带着一副愁眉苦脸、畏畏缩缩的表情，并开始跟我说话。我没等她吐出两三个单词就朝她的下巴猛击了一拳，她就像个木桩一样倒了下去。” 西蒙的眼睛由于兴奋而闪闪发亮。 "and then?" “我不知道。我想，她又站了起来。我抬头就走了，没有回头去看她。不管怎么说，她明白了。这也是我最后一次见到她。” 这个故事使查利感到非常不舒服，但同时又让他想笑。但他对此感到羞愧，没有笑出来。 “最好笑的是那个英国共产党员。天啊，她竟然是一个主教的女儿。她牛津大学毕业，是经济学学士。她非常有教养，哦，一个绝对的淑女，但她将私通和乱交视为一种神圣的责任。每当她与同志上床的时候，她就觉得是在为事业作贡献。我们本来可以成为好朋友，可以并肩战斗，一起为理想而奋斗。主教给了她一笔钱，作为她的生活补贴，我们打算将两人的钱放在一起共用，将我的工作室改造成一个中心，使同志们可以下午在这里喝喝茶，讨论当天亟待解决的问题。我只是对她说了一些逆耳的忠言，但从此我们就一刀两断了。” 他再次点燃了烟斗，独自微笑着。这是一种他特有的带着痛楚的微笑，仿佛他正享受着一个笑话，而这个笑话伤害的对象正是他自己。查利几次想说话，但不知说些什么才能不显得做作，从而引起西蒙的讽刺。 “那么你打算在你的生活中完全切断人际关系？”他犹犹豫豫地问道。 “是的，完全切断。我要自由。我不能让其他人控制住我。这也正是我将那个小裁缝赶走的原因。她是所有人中最危险的一个。她有教养，对我温柔而亲切。她身上带有贫苦人的温顺，他们认为生活就是受苦受难，不敢有其他企盼。我不可能爱上她，但我知道她的感恩之情、她对我的崇拜、她取悦于我的愿望，还有她纯真快乐的性格都非常危险。我看得出，她很容易像吗啡一样让我上瘾，使我无法挣脱这种依赖。在这个世界上没有什么比一个女人的谄媚更阴毒了，而我们又从骨子里想要得到，结果我们就会成为她的奴隶。我对辱骂无动于衷，对谄媚也要毫不心动，我必须做到这一点。没有什么比一个女人天生具有的品格更能吸引人了。那个女孩会占有我的全部身心，我将永远无法逃脱她的控制。” “但是，西蒙，像其他人一样，你也有七情六欲啊。你已经二十三岁了。” “我的性欲很强吗？没有你想象的那么强。当你每天工作十二至十六个小时，每天平均只睡六个小时；当你一天只吃一顿饭就够了的时候，也许你就会惊奇地发现性欲大大减退了。巴黎在满足人的性本能方面非常不错，不用浪费多少时间，花费也不大。当我感到欲望干扰了我的工作时，就去找一个女人，就像患了便秘服泻药一样。” 查利乐了，清澈的蓝眼睛闪烁出光芒，张开嘴唇露出了迷人的微笑，也露出了一口结实而洁白的牙齿。 “你不感到失去了很多乐趣吗？你知道，一个人年轻的时光很短暂啊。” “可能是这样。但我知道一个人必须静下心来，否则在这个世界上他将一事无成。切斯特菲尔德勋爵对性交所下的结论是：欢愉短暂，姿势滑稽，费用巨大。性可能是一种无法抑制的本能，但如果一个男人让性牵着鼻子走，那他就是一个可怜的傻瓜。我不再惧怕性的诱惑了。再过几年我就能完全摆脱它。” “你能够确定自己不会在某一天爱上某个人？你知道，即便是最理智的人也发生过这样的事情。” 西蒙用一种奇怪的目光看了一眼查利，这个眼神甚至让人想到了敌意。 “我要从内心深处彻底摒弃这种情感，就像我会把一颗烂掉的牙齿从口中拔出一样。” “这说起来容易做起来难啊。” “我知道。容易办到的事都没有多大价值。但人有这样一个奇怪的特点，如果事关他的自我保护，如果到了生死存亡的关头，他就会爆发出力量。” 查利沉默了。如果其他任何一个人像西蒙这样跟他交谈，他都会认为对方只不过是为了显得自己与众不同而装模作样而已。查利在剑桥的三年已经听够了这类言过其实的夸夸之谈，但他以常识来判断，用些许幽默来应对，就能还原其本意。但他知道西蒙从来都是说到做到。他根本就瞧不上伙伴们的评价，也不屑于装腔作势好引起他们的钦佩。他无所畏惧，言出必行。他说他认为应该这样或那样，你可以肯定他就是这样想的；如果他说他做了某件事，你也不要有任何怀疑，他肯定是做了这件事。 正如西蒙所描述的生活方式在查利看来似乎属于一种病态和非自然状态一样，他流畅表达出来的思想虽然表明经过了他的深思熟虑，但在查利看来是残忍与可怕的。他注意到西蒙没有说出他如此严厉地约束自己的目的是什么，但在剑桥读书时他就是一个极端的共产主义者，自然可以假定他正在训练自己的目的是革命一旦爆发就能发挥自己的作用。这场革命预计不久就将爆发，他们所有人都将被裹挟其中。查利更关注艺术，但他也曾在西蒙的房间内饶有兴致地听他们进行激烈的辩论，但感觉这件事与他没有任何特别的关系。如果硬要他在这个从未认真考虑过的问题上表明自己的看法，查利可能会同意他父亲的观点：无论欧洲大陆发生什么变化，英国都不会有共产主义的危险。他们在俄国搞得一团糟，这表明共产主义行不通。这个世界上总是有穷人与富人之分，今后也将如此。英国的工人阶级太精明了，他们不会让自己被一些不负责任的鼓动者们牵着鼻子走。不管怎么说，英国工人阶级的生活还算过得去。 西蒙接着往下说。过去他已经习惯于将自己的想法告诉查利，因此现在他渴望将憋在脑袋里好几个月的思想全都倾泻出来。虽然他曾非常专注地反复思考过这些想法——能够专注于某件事是他的天赋——但他发现有查利这个理想的听众来验证，这些思想就能变得清晰而有力量。 “人们关于爱的论述浩如烟海，这你知道，但那不过都是些废话。认为爱非常重要的观点与事实完全不符。人们都说它是人的价值的最高体现，似乎不证自明。但世上的一切都需要得到证明。在柏拉图将他多愁善感的感官享受穿上了迷人的文学形式外衣之前，古人除了实用性外并没有太重视这个问题。伊斯兰教徒们在这一点上具有健康的现实主义态度，他们认为这只是一种生理需要，没有什么更高层次的东西在里面。是基督教用新柏拉图主义支撑起性的情感说，使它成为最终的目的，成为生命存在的理由。但基督教是奴隶们的宗教。基督教为那些疲惫不堪、心情忧郁的奴隶们创造了一个来世的天堂，作为他们今世遭受苦难的补偿。而爱成了一种精神鸦片，使他们能够承受目前的痛苦。但就像所有的毒品一样，它不会有多少效果，而是最终毁灭了那些上瘾者。两千年来它窒息了我们人类。它削弱了我们的意志，销蚀了我们的勇气。在我们生活的这个现代世界中，对我们而言，几乎所有的东西都比爱更加重要，只有愚蠢的软蛋们才会受其摆布。我们都明白这些，但我们仍然对它愚蠢地大唱颂歌。在书本中、在舞台上、在教堂的讲坛和教师的讲台上，还在灌输着这个陈腐而伤感的垃圾，这个过去用来蒙骗亚历山大大帝的奴隶们的谎言。” “但是，西蒙，古代世界的奴隶们正好相当于现今的无产阶级啊。” 西蒙的嘴唇颤抖着微微一笑，他凝视的目光使查利觉得自己似乎说了愚蠢的话。 “这我知道。”西蒙平静地说。 他不安分的眼睛停滞了一会儿。尽管他在看着查利，但他的目光似乎在凝视着远方的某件东西。查利不知道他在想些什么，但感到有点儿心神不宁。 “两千年所形成的习惯可能使爱成了一个人不可或缺之物。既然如此，那就必须认真对待这种情感。如果麻醉品是必不可少的东西，那么分发麻醉品的最佳人选绝对不能是一个瘾君子。如果爱可以有一些有用之处，那么利用它的人一定自身先要对它有免疫力。” “你似乎并不想告诉我，你排斥让生活感到愉快的一切所要达到的目的是什么。我不知道你牺牲这一切是否值得。” “查利，过去一年你都在做什么啊？” 这个突如其来的问题似乎答非所问，但他以一贯谦虚坦诚的态度回答了这个问题。 “我想我干的都是些平凡的事。我几乎每天都去办公室，我用了一定的时间去了解房地产工作的性质及诸如此类的事情。我一直在跟父亲一起打高尔夫球。他喜欢一个星期打两三场球。我还一直保留着弹钢琴的爱好。我听了很多场音乐会，观看了大多数展出的美术作品；偶尔还去听歌剧，看几部戏剧。” “你过得真的非常惬意吗？” “还不坏。我自己觉得很享受。” “那么明年你打算做些什么？” “大致差不多吧，我还没有细想。” “那么后年呢？后年的后年呢？” “我想几年后我会结婚成家，然后我父亲退休并将他的工作交给我。目前看来这份工作的待遇很不错，年收入有一千英镑。当然，最终我还会分到我父亲在梅森房地产公司一半的股份。” “然后你就会过上你父亲之前的那种生活？” “除非工党政府没收了梅森房地产公司，那样的话我当然会陷入困境了。但在此之前，我还是很愿意做我那份不起眼的工作，并根据我的收入尽可能地去寻找乐趣。” “当你离开这个世界的时候，你是否一点儿也不介意是否曾给这个世界留下了点儿什么印迹？” 这个意想不到的问题使查利惊慌失措，他的脸一下涨红了。 “我想我不会介意。” “那么你不感到遗憾吗？” “说实话，我从来没想过这个问题。但如果你要我实话实说，我想如果我不介意，那我就是一个傻瓜。我不会成为一个伟大的艺术家。在我毕业后的那年夏天，当我们一起到挪威钓鱼的时候，我同我父亲谈过这个问题。他非常含蓄地阐述了他的观点。可怜的老爸，为了顾及我的感受他是煞费苦心，但我不得不承认他说得对。我天生心灵手巧。我的绘画、写作和钢琴水平都不错，如果我能专心致志于某一件事，也许我有成功的可能，但我缺乏持之以恒的毅力。父亲说光有灵气还不够，他说得很对。他说做一个最好的商人比当一个二流的画家要强，我认为他这个观点也对。毕竟我是有点儿运气的。老赛伯特·梅森娶了一个厨娘，开始在一小片土地上种植蔬菜，而伦敦的扩张将这片土地变成宝贵的财产。如果我能恪尽职守地生活在这种上天赐予的，或者说是机遇给予的——随便你怎么认为——状态下，难道你不觉得我应该满足吗？” 西蒙冲他笑了笑，这次的笑容可称得上这个晚上最宽容的笑了。 “我想你是应该满足，查利。但这个结论不适合我。我宁愿在穿过街道时被公共汽车给碾成肉酱也不希冀过你那样的生活。” 查利平静地看着他。 “你看，西蒙，我生性快乐，但你不是这样。” 西蒙笑了。 “我们能够改变这点，让我们试试吧。走，散步去。我带你去苏丹宫。”