Chapter 3 third chapter

This is a majestic building, but the main entrance is very inconspicuous.The door was opened for them by a black man in Turkish attire.As they entered a dark and narrow corridor, a woman came out of the vestibule.She glanced at them and received them coldly.But she recognized Simon immediately, and immediately put on an air of amiability.They shook hands cordially. "This is Miss Ernestine." Simon introduced to Charlie, and then to her. "My friend just arrived in Paris tonight. He hopes to see the world." "Then it's right for you to bring him here." She took Charlie a look.Charlie felt that the woman was not more than forty years old, good-looking but somewhat cruel; straight nose, strong jaw, lips lightly painted with a little lipstick.She was dressed in a neat but somewhat masculine dark suit.Inside was a collared shirt and tie, and pinned with the coat of arms of a well-known English regiment of infantry.

"He's handsome," she said. "The ladies here will be delighted to see him." "Where is the lady on duty tonight?" "She went home for the holidays with her family. I was on duty for her." "We're going in, shall we?" "You know it." The two young men walked through the corridor, opened a door and entered a spacious room.The room was set up to look like a hammam, richly decorated but gaudy.Surrounded by a circle of sofas, there are small tables and chairs in front of the sofa.There were not many people in the room, and they sat sparsely.Most were in their usual clothes, a few in evening dress.The men were sitting in groups of threes, but at one table there were men and women, and the ladies in evening gowns, who had evidently come to see this view of Paris on purpose.Waiters in Turkish costumes stand around, always paying attention to the orders of the guests.On stage there is an orchestra consisting of a pianist, a violinist and a man playing the saxophone.Ten or twelve young women sat on two opposite benches jutting out onto the dance floor.They wore high-heeled Turkish slippers and baggy trousers.The trousers are made of some kind of glittery fabric and hang down to the ankles.They all wore a turban on their heads, and their upper body was completely naked.There were girls in the same attire sitting with some men who invited them over for a drink.Simon and Charlie sat down and ordered a bottle of champagne.The band starts playing.Three or four men stood up, went to the two benches, chose a partner, and began dancing.The other girls slumped to their feet and danced in pairs.While they chatted one after another, they cast curious glances at the men sitting at the various tables.Apparently the sightseers, whose members included smartly dressed foreign women, piqued their curiosity.On the surface, it looks like any other nightclub, except that the girls are half-naked, and it's a great place to dance.Charlie noticed two men with briefcases sitting at an adjacent table, taking documents from their briefcases as they talked, talking about business as casually as if they were in a coffee shop.A man from the sightseeing group got up and he went over and said something to two girls who were dancing together, so they stopped and went to the table where the man was, a girl in a beautiful black The woman in evening dress and with a string of emerald necklaces around her neck stood up and began dancing with one of the girls.The other girl went back to the bench and sat down.The bustard on duty, a woman in a coat and skirt, came up to Simon and Charlie.

"Isn't there any girl who would suit your friend?" "Come sit with us for a minute and have a drink. He's looking around. It's early tonight." She sat down and Simon called the waiter over and ordered an orange drink. "I'm sorry it was such a quiet night when he first came here. You know, many people have to stay at home on Christmas Eve. But it will be more lively here later, a large group of Brits are heading to Paris Came here for Christmas. I read in the papers that they're heading here on the Golden Arrow, about three stops from Paris. England is a great country, and the English have money."

Charlie felt a little shy and said nothing.So she asked Simon if he understood French. "Of course he does. He spent six months in Touraine learning French." "It's so beautiful there! When I was on vacation last summer, I drove all over the wine-rich manor castle area. Angele is from Tours, maybe your friends will be willing to dance with her." She turned to face Charlie said, "Did you dance?" "yes I like it very much." "She was born into a very good family, well educated. I visited her parents when I was in Tours and they thanked me for taking care of their daughter. They are people of high social status. You Don't think we want just anyone here, the ladies are very picky about who they choose. Sultan Palace is famous and we cherish our name very much. All the ladies here are from very respectable families in their homeland. That's why they Reasons why I like to come to work in Paris. Here they don't embarrass relatives and friends. Life is hard, one has to use all means to make a living. Of course, I am not pretending that they belong to the nobility, but the nobility is in France It’s a complete decline. In my opinion, the French bourgeoisie are blue-chip stocks, worth more. They are the backbone of this country.”

Miss Ernestine strikes you as a very principled but sensible woman.You feel her commentary on current social issues is worth listening to.She patted Simon's hand, and then said to Charlie: "I'm always glad to see Mr Simon. He's a great friend to all of us here. He doesn't come around very often, but he's always a gentleman. He never gets as drunk as some English people do, And also to have interesting conversations with him. We always welcome Mr. Journalists here. Sometimes I feel like we live in a bit of a narrow circle, and it's good to have a chat with someone who knows all kinds of things and can let us know A lot of things. He was very sympathetic to us."

Oddly enough, in this setting, Simon came across as if he were at home, acting easy and gracious.If his performance is acting, then he is indeed a good actor.You might think that there was a certain sympathy between him and the bustard who worked in this brothel, which was indeed odd. "Once, he took me to the Grand Hotel de France to watch a rehearsal. Almost all the celebrities in Paris were there. Academicians, ministers and generals gathered there. I was dazzled." "I'll add that there isn't a single woman out there who looks more dignified than you. It's a shame to be with you in public."

"If only you had seen the looks on the faces of the bigwigs who've been here when Mr. Simon walked into the hall on my arm." Charley knew that taking such a man on his arm to a big formal social gathering was a joke, a sarcasm that Simon could only come up with.They talked for a while, and then Simon said: "Listen, my dear, it's my young friend's first time here, and we ought to show it. How about introducing him to the princess? Don't you think he'll like her?" Miss Ernestine's angular face broke into a smile, and she gave Charlie a pleasant look.

"Good idea. At least he'll experience things he hasn't had before. She's beautiful." "Send her over for a drink." Miss Ernestine summoned a waiter. "Tell Princess Olga to come here." Then she turned to Charlie and said, "She's Russian. Of course we've been full of Russians since the revolution in Russia, and we're sick of them and their Slavs character; for a while the guests thought it was amusing to see so many Russians, but now they are bored. But the behavior of these Russians is not out of line. They are noisy and disturbing, because they have no such They don't know the etiquette in various occasions. But Princess Olga is a different person from them. She has her own principles. You can tell that she is well-bred. She has content, no One can deny that."

While Miss Ernestine was still talking, Charlie saw the waiter go up to a girl sitting on a bench and speak to her.His eyes had been looking around so he had noticed her before.She sat there quietly, a little strangely.You'd think she didn't even realize there were other people around.She stood up, glanced in their direction, and walked slowly.There was a characteristic indifference in her gait.She walked around the corner, smiled at Simon, and shook his hand. She sat down and said, "I just saw you." Simon asked her if she would have a glass of champagne. "OK."

"This is my friend, he wants to meet you." "I'm flattered." She gave Charlie a deadpan look.She looked at him silently, seemingly endlessly, to his embarrassment.But her gaze was neither passionate nor seductive.Her complete indifference was almost to annoy others. "He's handsome." Charlie smiled shyly, and then her lips moved as if to smile just a little. "He seems to have a good temper." Her turban and baggy trousers are made of baby blue tulle studded with tiny silver stars.She is not very tall and wears heavy makeup; her cheeks are covered with a thick layer of rouge, her lips are scarlet, and her eyelids are blue; her eyebrows and eyelashes are blackened with mascara.She is definitely not a beauty, but she is so beautiful.She had rather high cheekbones and a fleshy little nose; her eyes were neither set in nor protruding from their sockets, but were as high as the face, as the windows are at the level of the walls.Her blue eyes were large, like blue flames against the blue hood and black eyelashes.Her figure is slender and slender, and she looks very elegant; her skin is white and transparent, with a silky soft feeling.Her breasts were small and round like a virgin's; the protruding nipples were pink.

"Charlie, why don't you ask the princess to dance?" said Simon. "Dancing?" he asked. One shoulder shrugged slightly, and she stood up without a word.At this time Miss Ernestine also said that she had other things to attend to, and left them.Dancing with a naked girl was something Charlie had never experienced before, and it really made his blood boil.Putting his arms around her naked body, feeling her breasts pressed against his, took his breath away.Her hand was small and soft, just holding it in his.But he was a well-bred young man, and felt that he could avoid a gaffe only by speaking as politely as he would dance with any girl he didn't know in London.Her answer was considered courteous, but he felt that she was half-hearted and didn't care what he said.Her bleary eyes wandered around the room, but there was no sign that anything piqued her interest.He held her a little closer, but she accepted the more intimate gesture as if she didn't respond.She acquiesced.The band stopped playing and they returned to their original seats.Simon was sitting there by himself. "Well, how's her dancing?" he asked. "Not too good." She suddenly laughed.For the first time, she showed energy, and her laugh was frank and cheerful. She said in English: "I'm sorry for not paying attention. I will dance better next time." Charlie blushed. "I didn't know you knew English. I wouldn't have said it otherwise." "But you are telling the truth. Your dancing skills are so high, you should have a partner with good dancing skills." Before that, they all spoke French.Charlie's French wasn't perfect, but he was fluent enough and had a good pronunciation.She spoke French very well, but had a singing Russian voice that gave it an exotic flavor.Her English is not bad. "The princess was educated in England," said Simon. "I went to England when I was two and I stayed there until I was fourteen. I haven't spoken much English since then, I almost forgot how to speak it." "Where did you live then?" "I've lived in Ladbroke Grove Street, London, and I've lived in Charlotte Street. Wherever it's cheap." "I'm leaving you young men here now," said Simon. "Charlie, I'll see you tomorrow." "So you're not going to midnight mass?" "not going." He nodded at them and left. "Have you known Mr. Simon long?" asked the princess. "He's my longest-serving friend." "Then do you like him?" "certainly." "He's very different from you. I thought he'd be the person you hate the most." "He's brilliant and has been a very good friend of mine." She opened her mouth to say something, but after thinking about it, she didn't say it.The music sounded again. "Dance with me again?" she asked. "I want you to see that I can still dance if I want to." Perhaps it was because Simon was gone that she no longer felt cramped.Maybe it was Charlie's good demeanor, maybe it was Charlie's unease when he knew she knew English, but this time she began to concentrate on dancing, and her attitude changed.She was being gracious now, to the surprise of Charlie, who felt attractive to her.They danced and talked.Her manner could be described as a little cheerful.She tells about her childhood.With dark humor, she describes the dreary life she and her parents lived in a tenement house in London.Now on Charlie's footsteps, she danced well.They sit down again.Charlie looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight.He was caught between a rock and a hard place.When he was at home, he often heard people talking about the church music of St. Eustache, and listening to Mass there on Christmas Eve was an opportunity he could not miss.The excitement of arriving in Paris, his long conversation with Simon, the new experience of the Sultan's palace, and the champagne he drank made him extremely excited.He couldn't resist the urge to listen to the music, which was as strong as his sexual urge to the girl who had just danced.It seemed a little silly to walk away at such a special moment for such a purpose.But mass was about to begin, and he just wanted to go, after all, no one needed to know what he was thinking. He said with a charming smile, "Look, I have an appointment. I have to leave now, but I'll be back in an hour. I can still find you here, can't I?" "I've been here all night." "But won't you date someone else?" "Why do you have to go?" He smiled a little shyly. "I'm afraid it sounds absurd, but my friend gave me two tickets to attend Mass at St Eustache. If I miss it, I may never hear it again in my lifetime." "Who are you going with?" "Just me." "Can you take me there?" "You? But how do you get away?" "I have a solution. Give me a hundred francs and I'll take care of it." He gave her a suspicious look.With her naked body, blue turban and trousers shining with stars, and her heavily made-up face, she is not a person suitable for going to church.She saw his questioning eyes and laughed. "I'd give anything to let me go. That's it. I can change clothes in ten minutes. Going to Mass will make me so happy." "Ok." He gave her money.She told him to wait at the door and hurried off.He paid for the drink, waited by his watch for ten minutes, and then walked out. As he walked down the corridor, a girl came up to him. "You see, I didn't keep you waiting, did I? I've asked Miss Ernestine for leave. She thinks Russians are crazy." He didn't recognize her until she spoke.She is wearing a brown coat and skirt, and a felt hat.She took off her makeup and even wiped off the lipstick from her lips.The eyes under the thinly shaved eyebrows looked neither so large nor so blue.A plain brown outfit fits her well, and you can't guess what her profession is.She looks like a young working girl.At lunch time, these female workers would pour out from the back doors of department stores on both sides of the street.She wasn't pretty, but she looked young.There was a certain humility in her manner that made Charlie's heart ache. "You like music, don't you Princess?" he asked as they got into a taxi. He didn't know what to call her.Although she was a prostitute, he thought it would be rude to call her Olga when he first met her, given her well-born background, and he would have behaved if she hadn't been reduced to such a humiliating position by life. More respect. "I'm not a princess, and my name is not Olga. They call me that at the Sultan's Palace because customers think it's good to sleep with a princess; they call me Olga because other than Salsa It was the only Russian name they knew. My father was an economics professor at Leningrad University, and my mother was the daughter of a customs officer." "Then what's your name?" "Lydia." Mass had just begun when they arrived.There are so many people here that it is impossible to find a seat.It was freezing cold in the church, and Charlie asked her if she needed his overcoat.She shook her head and said nothing.Bare electric bulbs lit the corridors, casting blinding light on the domes, colonnades, and the dark mass of worshipers.The choir is shrouded in blinding lights.They found a place by a colonnade, and in the shadow of the colonnade they felt they had a little world of their own.On a raised platform there is an orchestra.In front of the altar is a priest in gorgeous cassock.The music seemed pompous to Charlie, and he was a little disappointed.The music didn't move him as he expected.The metallic, operatic voices of the soloists chilled him.He felt he was watching a performance, not a religious ceremony, and the music did not inspire a sense of awe in him.But nonetheless, he was glad to be here.The light from the light bulb cut through the darkness inside the church like a sharp sword, making the Gothic outline even more grim.There were many candles on the altar, which looked gentle and bright; what the priests' movements meant, Charlie had no idea; the silent audience seemed not to be participating in the mass, but like a restless crowd at the entrance of the station waiting for the gate to open ; the stench of wet clothes mixed with the fragrance of incense; the piercing cold seemed to seep into the bone marrow bit by bit like an invisible threat; what he felt from all this was not religious passion, but human beings from the day of birth. A sense of mystery rooted in the heart.His nerves tense.When the orchestra's accompaniment reached its climax, the choir suddenly broke out with the highest pitch of the Christmas music "Sincerely Coming", and he felt an inexplicable ecstasy.Then a boy sang a hymn.A thin, silvery voice floated through the silence, and the notes seemed to be flowing slowly; at first a strange tune with a little hesitation, as if the singer didn't quite believe in himself, like a clear little The brook ran over the white stones; then, as if with confidence, the singer's voice rose slowly, as if held by a great black hand, along the intricate contours of the church's arches to the dark dome.Suddenly, Charlie realized that the girl next to him was crying, and it was Lydia.He turned his head slightly, but the polite habits of the British made him not speak, but pretended not to see.He thought the dark church and the boy's pure voice had filled her with a sudden sense of shame.He was an imaginative young man who had read a lot of fiction.He felt that he could guess how she was feeling now, and he was full of sympathy for her.However, it seemed strange to him that she should be so moved by such second-rate music.But with a low whimper, her whole body began to tremble violently, and now he couldn't continue to pretend that he didn't know she was in trouble.He put out a hand to shake hers, trying to reassure her, but she pushed his hand away almost rudely.He felt a little embarrassed.Now she was crying so hard it was impossible for bystanders not to notice.She was making a fool of herself in public.Charlie flushed with shame. "Do you want to go out?" he asked quietly. She shook her head angrily.She sobbed more and more, almost convulsing.Suddenly, she fell to her knees, covered her face with her hands and began to cry bitterly.She was squatting on the ground in a strange way, like a bag of discarded clothes, and if it weren't for the shaking of her shoulders, you would think she had passed out.She crouched at the foot of the tall colonnade.Embarrassed as it was, Charlie stood in front of her, trying to hide the situation from others.He saw many people cast strange glances first at her and then at him.It annoyed him to think of the assumptions in their heads.The band stopped playing, the choir stopped singing, and the silence made one feel a kind of awe generated inside.Rows of communion-seekers pressed forward, all the way to the chancel steps, waiting for the priest to administer communion to them.Charley was a delicate man, and he kept his eyes on the bright candles on the altar, avoiding looking directly at Lydia.But when she raised herself slightly, he felt her body move.She turned and leaned her arms on the pillar, burying her face in the crook of her arms.The cry had exhausted her, but the helpless position in which she now leaned against the solid stone pillar with her arms outstretched and her knees kneeling on the stone slab expressed even more unbearable pain than before.Her motionless figure curled up on the floor just now is like a person who was hit by a strong external force instead of dying normally. Mass is almost over.The organ playing automatically joined the band's performance, and the exiting people flocked to the exit to form a growing crowd, all eager to find their cars or take a taxi.At this point the band stopped playing and the event was over.The huge crowd slowly moved towards the exit.Charlie waited until they were alone at the colonnade, the rear end of the crowd wedged against the gate.He put his hands on her shoulders. "Get up. We have to go." He put his arms around her and lifted her to her feet.She let him do what he wanted like a puppet.She kept looking the other way, avoiding his gaze.Charley took her arm and led her down the corridor, and waited a little longer until there were only a dozen people left inside the door. "Do you want to take a few steps?" "No, I'm too tired. Go find a taxi." But they couldn't find a taxi for a while, so they could only walk for a short while.When they came under a street lamp, she stopped and took a mirror from her bag to look at herself.Her eyes are swollen.She took out a powder puff and patted it on her face. He smiled kindly and said, "It doesn't matter much. We'd better have a drink somewhere. You can't just go back to the Sultan's Palace." "My eyes swell when I cry. It takes hours to recover." Just then a taxi drove by and Charlie stopped it. "Where are we going?" "Anywhere. To the Selec. Avenue Montparnasse." He told the driver where he was going, and the taxi headed across the Seine.He hesitated when they arrived, the place she had chosen seemed crowded.But she got out of the taxi, and he could only follow.Despite the cold weather, many people sat on the patio.They found an empty table on the terrace. "I'm going to the bathroom to wash my eyes." She returned a few minutes later and sat down beside him.She pulled her hat down as far as she could to hide her swollen eyelids, and she powdered her face, but without rouge, which made her face very pale.She was so calm that she didn't say a word about the uncontrollable crying, which you might expect her to think was a natural thing that needed no explanation. "I'm starving, and you must be too." Charlie was very hungry indeed.As she went to the bathroom he wondered if it would be vulgar for the occasion if he ordered himself bacon and eggs.Her words dispelled his worries.Looks like bacon and eggs is just what she's looking for.He wanted a bottle of champagne, thinking she needed a little thrill now, but she stopped him. "Why waste money? Have some beer." They devoured these simple meals with little talk.Charlie tried to say something out of politeness, but she didn't mean to talk, and they ate in silence.When they had finished eating and drinking coffee, he asked Lydia where she wanted to go. "I'm just going to sit here for a while. I like this place. It's comfortable and intimate. I like to sit here and watch the people who come here." "Okay, let's sit here then." It wasn't at all the first Paris night he planned to spend.He wished he hadn't been so foolish as to take her to midnight mass.He is a soft-hearted person, and it is impossible to leave her alone.But maybe something in the tone of his answer touched her, and she turned to look him directly.She smiled again that he had seen two or three times.This is a very strange smile.His lips hardly move when he smiles. Although there is no joy in the smile, it is not lacking in kindness; this kind of forced smile is rare, with more irony than joy, and it is the expression of a stoic attitude after the disillusionment of ideals. "You'll be bored sitting here. Why don't I go back to the Sultan's Palace and leave me here by myself?" "I won't do that." "You know, I like to sit here by myself. I sometimes come here by myself and sit for hours at a time. You came to Paris to have fun, didn't you? Fool." "If you don't find me annoying, I'd rather sit here with you." "Why?" She shot Charlie a contemptuous glance. "Do you think you're making a noble self-sacrifice? Are you feeling sorry for me or just curious?" Charlie couldn't understand why she was suddenly angry and said such hurtful things. "Why should I feel sorry for you? Why should I be curious about you?" He meant to make her understand that she wasn't the first whore he'd ever met in his life, and that he couldn't be impressed by a sordid, and possibly entirely made-up, story.Lydia stared at him with an expression on her face that she suddenly heard something she couldn't believe. "Has your friend Simon ever told you about me?" "Nothing." "Then why are you blushing?" "Am I blushing?" He smiled. Simon had actually told him she was good in bed and worth the money spent on her.But Charlie felt that these words should not be told her at this moment.Now she is pale, with puffy eyelids, wearing a cheap brown dress and a black felt hat. You can't compare this person with blue Turkish trousers, naked body, and exuding exoticism from top to bottom. That stunner connects.She is a completely different person now, demure and decent, with few words.To Charlie, sleeping with such a man was like sleeping with a young governess at Patsy's alma mater, totally inconceivable.Lydia fell silent again.She seemed to be in a meditative state.At last she spoke, but as if continuing her thoughts rather than addressing him. "I didn't cry in church just now for what you think. I've cried enough for that. I just cried for something else, and I can't tell what. God alone knows. I feel Very lonely. All the people there have their own country, their own home. Tomorrow their whole family, father, mother and children, will spend Christmas together; some of them, like you, are there just to hear Music; some people don't believe in God, but all there are connected by a common feeling. The ritual is familiar to them from birth, the meaning runs in their blood; every word the priests say , every movement they made was familiar; if their minds did not believe in God, their hearts did; awe and mystery crept into their bones. The country, the streets of the town, and the gardens in which they played constituted their childhood Part of the memories. These bind them together, make them one, some deep instinct tells them that they belong to each other. But I am a stranger there. I have no country, no home, nothing of myself language. I don’t belong, I’m an outcast.” She smiled sadly. "I'm Russian, but all I know about Russia is what I've read. I long to see the endless golden cornfields and silver beech forests that are described in the books I've read. Although I try to But I still can't see it with my own eyes. I know Moscow from movies. I sometimes struggle to picture a Russian village in my head - the one described in Chekhov's novel by the log Backwater village with thatched roof houses. But the pictures in my head are not satisfying, I know they are not what they actually are. I am Russian, but my Russian is worse than my English and French Much. Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, I read translations more easily than the original. To the Russians, I am a foreigner, just as the English and French see me as a foreigner. Like being a foreigner. You are a person with a country and a family, and someone loves you. You live the same way. You understand each other even if you don’t know each other. How can you know how a person who has no affiliation feels?" "Have you lost any relatives?" "Not a single one left. My father was a socialist, but he was a peaceful and docile man who devoted himself to academic research. He was not involved in any political activities. He welcomed the revolution and believed that Russia began with it A new era. He accepted the rule of the Bolsheviks. He just asked to be allowed to continue his university work. But they kicked him out. One day he got word that he was going to be arrested. My father, mother and I, we The three escaped through Finland. I was two years old. We lived in England for twelve years. Homesickness. He had never left Russia before, except for studying in Berlin. He couldn't adjust to life speaking English, and in the end he felt he had to go back. My mother begged him not to. He couldn't control himself, the desire was too strong , he had to go back. He made contact with the Russian embassy in London, who said he was ready to accept any job the Bolsheviks offered him. He had a good reputation in Russia, and his books were widely admired; he was He is an authority in his field of study. They granted him everything, and he sailed home. As soon as the boat docked, he was taken away by the Cheka. We heard that he was taken to a room on the fourth floor of the prison. a cell and was thrown out the window. They said he committed suicide." She sighed softly and lit another cigarette.She's been smoking since they finished dinner. "He was a gentle man. He never hurt anyone. My mother told me that in all the years after their marriage he never said a rude word to her. Because of his peace with the Bolshevik authorities, before People who helped us don't help us anymore. My mother thought we'd better come to Paris. She had some friends here. They sent her job references. I apprenticed with a dressmaker. Then my mother died .Because there was not enough food for the two of us, she often went without food herself so as not to starve me. I found a job with a tailor, and she paid me half the usual wages for the job, because I'm Russian. If it wasn't for my mother's friends Alexei and Evgenia who let me sleep in their house, I would have starved to death too. Alexei plays the violin in the orchestra of a Russian restaurant ，伊芙吉尼娅负责女士行李寄存处。他们有三个孩子，我们六个人挤在两个房间内。阿列克谢曾是一名职业律师，在大学时曾是我父亲的学生。” “你现在还与他们住在一起？” “是的，我还与他们住在一起。他们现在非常贫困。你知道，所有人都讨厌俄罗斯人，他们讨厌俄罗斯人开办的餐馆，讨厌俄罗斯人组成的乐队。阿列克谢四年来一直都没有找到工作。他的脾气愈来愈坏，为一点儿小事就争吵不休，还染上了酒瘾。他们的一个女儿被住在尼斯的姑姑收养了，另一个女儿做女佣；儿子则做了舞男，在蒙马特夜总会操业；他经常到这里来，不知道今晚为什么没来，也许碰上了一单生意。他父亲喝醉了酒就骂他、打他，但他找到一个相好的就能拿到几百法郎，全亏了这些钱这个家的日子才能对付过去。我现在还住在那里。” “真的？”查利惊讶地问道。 “我必须有个住的地方。我只有晚上才到苏丹宫去，生意清淡的时候我经常是四五点钟就回去了。但这段路途可真够远的。” 他们默默地坐了一会儿，没有说话。 “你刚才为什么说你哭泣的原因不是如我所想的那样？”查利打破了沉默，问道。 她又一次用好奇而又怀疑的目光看了他一眼。 “你真的不知道我是谁？我想你的朋友西蒙是为此而特意挑的我。” “他除了告诉我……告诉我你会让我很快活外就什么也没说。” “我是罗伯特·伯杰的妻子。这就是虽然我是俄罗斯人，但那些来苏丹宫的客人们也会来找我的原因。这使他们感到非常兴奋。” “你可能会认为我很笨，但我真的不知道你在说什么。” 她苦笑了一声。 “我也算是声名远扬啊。不出一天，这个名字就挂在每个人的嘴边了。罗伯特·伯杰谋杀了一位叫做特迪·约旦的英国书商。他被判处了十五年的苦役。他现在法属圭亚那的圣洛朗服刑。” 她就这样平淡地说起了这件事，查利简直不敢相信自己的耳朵。他大吃一惊，感到惊骇与毛骨悚然。 “你真的不知道吗？” “我发誓不知道。刚才你说的案件我记得曾在英国的报纸上看到过。这起案件当时有些轰动，因为受害人是个英国人，但我忘了……你丈夫的名字。” “这件事在法国也轰动一时。审判持续了三天。人们争相去参加旁听。各家报纸都在头版用整版的篇幅报道这起案件。当时人人都在谈论这件事。哦，这起案件应该引起轰动。正是在这起案件中我第一次见到了你的朋友西蒙，至少也是他第一次见到我。当时他负责为他工作的报纸报道这起案件，而我则出现在法庭上。这是一个令人兴奋的审判，给记者们带来了大显身手的良机。你一定要让他亲口告诉你这件事。他为他写的报道深感自豪。文章写得非常精彩，部分报道被翻译成法语在法国报纸上刊载了。这起案件为他带来了很多好处。” 查利不知道该说些什么。他对西蒙非常生气。西蒙是在恶作剧，让他身处现在才明白的尴尬处境中。 “这段经历对你来说一定像场噩梦。”他讪讪地说道。 她稍微转过身来，直视他的眼睛。他自己一直都生活在无忧无虑中，以前从未见过这样一张写满绝望的脸庞。它几乎不像是一张人的脸，而像是一个艺术家带着某种激情绘制出的日本面具。他打了个寒战。因为查利是英国人，所以之前莉迪娅主要是用英语与他交谈，只是在她感到用这种不熟悉的语言很难表达出自己想说的事情时才偶尔说法语。但她现在完全操起了法语。她声调平和的俄语式发音使她的话听起来有一种哀怨的奇异感觉，但同时又使人感到她说的话十分虚幻，仿佛你是在听一个人的梦呓。 “当时我结婚只有六个月。我怀孕了。也许正是这个原因救了他的命。可能与他很年轻也有关系。他才二十二岁。孩子在出生时就死了。这件事使我太痛苦了。我爱他。他是我第一个深爱的人，也将是最后一个。他被判刑后，他们就想让我跟他离婚。在法国法律中，一方被判处流放就有足够的理由提出离婚。他们告诉我，罪犯的妻子们一般都会选择离婚的。当我不这样做时他们对我很是恼怒。他的辩护律师对我很友善。他说我已经为丈夫做了力所能及的一切，我这段时间非常不容易。但如果我想要给予丈夫长期的支持，我眼下就应该想想自己该怎么办。我还年轻，必须开始新的生活。如果我继续与一名罪犯保持夫妻关系，我今后的生活将更加艰难。我说我爱罗伯特，罗伯特就是我的一切。无论他做了什么事我都爱他。如果我能随他一起去流放，而他也需要我的话，我会高高兴兴地随他而去。律师对我的话颇不耐烦。他耸耸肩膀，说你们俄罗斯人真是没有办法。但我要是改变了主意，想离婚的话可以去找他，他会帮我办理这件事的。伊芙吉尼娅和阿列克谢这个可怜的醉鬼，没用的人，他们也不让我得到安宁。他们说罗伯特是个坏蛋，是个邪恶之人，他们说我继续爱他是可耻的行为。就好像一个人若因爱而丢脸就可以不爱一样！把一个人称为坏蛋非常容易。但坏蛋是什么意思？他杀了人，他也为此受到了惩罚。他们谁也没有我更了解他。他爱我。他们不知道他是多么温柔，多么迷人，多么快乐，多么孩子气。他们说，他差点儿要像杀害特迪·约旦一样杀了我。他们不知道，这只能让我更爱他。” 对查利而言这几乎是不可能的。他一点儿也不了解事情的前后经过，更无法理解她这些前后毫无关联的话。 “他为什么要杀死你？”他问道。 “他杀死约旦回家后已经很晚了，当时我已经上床睡觉了。但他母亲还在等着他。我们与她住在一起。他非常兴奋，但她妈妈看到他后就知道他做了什么可怕的事情。你不知道，几个星期来她一直心神不宁，猜想会有这一刻。她这段时间焦虑得要发狂。 “'这么长的时间你去哪儿了？'她盯着他问道。 “'我？哪儿也没去，'他说，'与小伙子们一起瞎逛了逛。'他咯咯地笑了，轻轻地拍了拍她妈妈的脸颊，'杀一个人很容易啊，妈妈。太简单了，真可笑。' “这时她才知道他做了什么。她突然大哭起来。 “她说：'哦，我可怜的儿媳啊，她会多么不幸，多么绝望啊。'他低下头，叹了口气。 “他说：'也许我把她也杀了会更好些。' “'罗伯特！你疯了？'她喊起来。他摇了摇头。 “'不要害怕，我不会有这个勇气的，'他说，'可是，如果我在她熟睡的时候杀死她，她什么都不知道。' “'我的上帝，你为什么这样做？'她叫道。 “突然，他笑了起来。他的笑声很美妙，很有感染力。听到他的笑声你肯定会感到快活。 “'别犯傻了，妈妈，我只是开个玩笑，'他说，'我什么都没做。上床睡觉去吧。' “她知道他在撒谎。但他没有再说什么了。最后她回到了自己的房间。我们住的是一所不起眼的小房子，但有一个小花园，花园的那头还有一个小亭子。我们结婚时她把房子让给了我们，自己搬到小亭子去住。这样她就可以和儿子生活在一起，而又不必睡在我们的头顶上。罗伯特走进我们的房间，他在我的唇上吻了一下。我醒了。他的眼睛闪闪发亮。他有一双蓝眼睛。尽管不如你那么蓝，有点儿灰色，但他的眼睛很大很有神。他的眼睛几乎总是带着笑意，而且非常机敏。” 讲这些话的时候，莉迪娅逐渐放慢了语速。就好像她突然有了某种想法，她一面说话一面在心里反复掂量一样。她用一种奇妙的表情看着查利。 “你眼睛中某种东西很像他，你的脸型也跟他一样。但他比你矮一点儿，肤色也跟你们英国人不一样。他长得非常英俊。”她沉默了片刻，“你那个西蒙真是一个恶毒的笨蛋。” "What do you mean by that?" “没有什么意思。” 她将胳膊肘支在桌子上，用双手托着下巴，身子向前倾着，然后接着说了下去。她瞪着茫然的眼睛，声音相当单调，仿佛她是在催眠状态下回忆起过去发生的事情。 “我醒来后笑了。 “我说：'你这么晚才回来。快点儿上床睡觉吧。' “'现在我无法入睡。我太激动了。我饿了。厨房里有没有鸡蛋？' “这时我彻底清醒了。你不知道他穿着新做的灰色西装坐在床边的样子多么迷人。他很注重穿着，而且衣服穿在他身上总是那么得体。他深褐色的卷发长长地披在脑后，非常漂亮。 “我说：'我穿上睡衣，咱们去看看。' “我们走进厨房，我找到了鸡蛋和洋葱。我做了洋葱炒鸡蛋，还烤了一些面包。有时候我们去剧院或音乐会，回来会很晚，回家后就自己动手做点儿吃的。他爱吃洋葱炒鸡蛋，我就按他喜欢的方式炒这道菜。我们非常享受自己动手做的简单晚饭。他走进地窖拿出一瓶香槟。我知道他母亲会生气的。罗伯特一起看赛马的一个朋友送给他六瓶香槟，这是最后一瓶，但他说现在想喝香槟。他打开了酒瓶塞。他狼吞虎咽地吃着洋葱炒鸡蛋，一口气喝干了一杯香槟。他极度亢奋。我们刚进厨房的时候我就注意到，虽然他两眼炯炯，但脸色苍白。即使我不知道发生了某件不同寻常的事，我也应该想到他喝过酒了。但现在他脸上有了红润气色。我还以为他是又累又饿才这样。我确信他在外奔波了一整天，忙得没有吃上一口饭。虽然我们只分开了几个小时，但他回到我身边后高兴得几乎要发疯了。 “他不停地吻我，我在炒菜的时候他也想搂住我，我怕炒煳了鸡蛋就只能把他推开。但我还是忍不住笑了起来。我们紧紧地靠着坐在厨房的桌子旁。他不断用各种他能想出来的亲切称呼叫着我，他几乎时刻都要用手拉着我。你会以为我们刚结婚一个星期，但实际上我们已经结婚半年了。我们吃完饭后，我想将锅碗瓢盆都洗干净，这样他妈妈明早做早饭时厨房就不会一团糟，但他不让我干活。他想马上就上床。 “他就像有鬼神附体一样。任何一个男人对一个女人的爱都不可能如那个晚上他对我的爱。任何一个女人都无法如我在那个晚上对自己男人那样崇拜。他的欲望之火无法熄灭，我似乎无法满足他的激情了。没有任何一个女人会有这样一个美妙的情人，而且他还是我的丈夫。我的！我的！我崇拜他。如果他同意，我会吻他的脚。当他最后精疲力竭地睡着时，黎明已经透过窗帘的缝隙往屋里偷看了。但我无法入睡。我借着愈来愈强的光线看着他的脸。这是一个男孩没有皱纹的脸。他搂着我睡着，嘴唇上还带着一丝幸福的笑意。最后我也睡着了。 “我醒来的时候他还在睡。我悄悄地起了床，以免惊醒他。我走进厨房为他煮咖啡。我们很穷。罗伯特曾在一家经纪公司就职，但他同雇主吵了一架后就离开了那里。自那以后，他就没有找到任何固定的工作。他迷上了赛马，有时靠赌马赚点儿钱。他母亲反对他这样做。他偶尔还参与二手汽车的买卖，靠佣金挣点儿小钱。但我们的生活主要是靠他母亲的养老金和她的一点儿积蓄。她是一名陆军医生的遗孀。我们没有雇用人，我婆婆和我自己做家务。我走进厨房时她已经在那里了。她正在刮土豆皮，做午饭。 “'罗伯特呢？'她问我。 “'他还在睡觉。你要是看看他睡觉的样子就好了。他头发蓬乱，看起来就像十六岁似的。' “咖啡放在炉盘上，牛奶还是热的。我把咖啡放到炉上煮沸，然后喝了一杯。我悄悄爬上楼去取罗伯特的衣服。他是一个衣着考究的家伙，我已经学会了如何为他熨烫衣服。我准备将他的衣服熨烫好后整洁地挂在椅子上，他醒来就可以穿了。我又爬下楼，把衣服拿到厨房先刷一刷，然后用熨斗熨烫。当我把裤子放到厨房的桌子上时，我注意到一条裤腿上有许多污渍。 “'这是什么呀？'我喊道，'罗伯特把裤子搞得这么脏。' “伯杰夫人刷的一下从椅子上站了起来，土豆滚了一地。她抓起裤子，仔细打量起来。她的身子开始颤抖。 “'我不知道是什么，'我说，'罗伯特会大发雷霆的。这是他的新西装。' “我看到她心神不宁。但你知道，法国人在某些方面很有趣，他们对待事情不像我们俄罗斯人那样漫不经心。我不知道罗伯特为这套西服花了几百法郎，但我知道如果这套西服毁了，她会心痛得一个星期睡不着觉。 “'我会把它弄干净的。'我说。 “'把罗伯特的咖啡给他拿上去，'她厉声说道，'已经十一点多了，他该起床了。裤子交给我。我知道怎么处理。' “我给他倒了一杯咖啡，刚要端上楼去，就听到罗伯特趿拉着拖鞋走下楼梯。他冲他母亲点点头，然后就要报纸看。 “'咖啡还是热的，抓紧喝了吧。'我对他说。 “他没有理我，而是打开报纸，翻到了报道最新消息的版面。 “'没有什么新闻。'他母亲说。 “我不知道她说的是什么意思。他看完了这版的文章，然后喝了一大口咖啡。他异乎寻常地没有说话。我拿起他的外衣，开始用刷子刷。 “'你昨晚把裤子弄得脏透了，'我说，'你今天只能穿蓝色西装了。' “伯杰夫人已经把弄脏的衣服放在了椅子背上。她把衣服拎起来，让他看污渍。他看着衣服发了一分钟呆，他妈妈也一言不发地看着他。他几乎无法挪开自己的眼睛。我无法理解他们的这种沉默。太奇怪了。我以为他们正在为一件微不足道的小事而悲伤，这可有点儿太荒谬了。当然，法国人是节俭到骨子里啦。 “'咱们家里有一些汽油，'我说，'可以用汽油把污渍擦掉。或者可以将衣服拿到洗衣店去洗。' “他们没有回答。罗伯特皱着眉头，眼睛瞅着地面。他母亲将裤子转过来，我猜她是想看看裤子后面是否也有污渍；然后，她发现裤子的口袋里有东西。 “'你在口袋里装了什么？' “他跳了起来。 “'别去碰它！别看我的口袋。' “他试图将裤子从她手中夺走，但他还没来得及，她就已经将手伸进了裤子的后口袋，掏出了一捆钞票。当他看到她拿在手上的钞票后，就一动不动地呆在了那里。她手中的裤子滑落到地上。她呻吟了一声，用手捂住胸口，仿佛被刺了一刀。当时我看到他们两人的脸色都像死人一样惨白。我突然想到，罗伯特经常对我说，他确信他母亲在这栋房子的某个地方藏着一小笔钱。我们最近非常缺钱。罗伯特非常渴望到里维埃拉去一次。我从来没有去过那里，他几个星期来一直念叨，如果他能得到哪怕只有一小笔钱，我们就到那里去，补上一个蜜月。你不知道，我们结婚时他正在那家经纪公司工作，脱不开身。我脑海中闪过的想法是他发现了他母亲的积蓄。想到他竟然偷拿了她母亲的钱，我的脸红到了脖子根，但我并不感到突然。我同他一起生活了六个月，知道他认为这只是闹着玩而已。我看到她手里拿着的都是千元法郎的大钞。最后我看清了，一共有七张。她盯着他，好像眼珠要冒出来一样。 “'罗伯特，你什么时候拿到这些钱的？'她问道。 “他笑了笑，但我看得出他很紧张。 “'我昨天投的注很幸运。'他回答道。 “'哦，罗伯特，'我叫道，'你不是答应过你母亲，你永远不去赛马了吗？' “'这次是个例外，'他说，'我无法抗拒。亲爱的，我们可以到里维埃拉去了。你拿着这些钱，要不它们就会一点儿一点儿从我的手指缝中溜掉。' “'不，不，她不能拿这些钱。'伯杰夫人喊了起来。她浑身颤抖地看了罗伯特一眼，让我大吃一惊。然后她转向我。'去收拾你的房间吧。房间不能一整天都不整理。' “我明白她是找个借口让我离开。我想如果他们要吵架我还是躲开为妙。儿媳的位置很微妙。他母亲崇拜罗伯特，但他生活奢侈，这使她愁得要命。她不时会大吵大闹一场。有时他们俩会在花园那头她住的亭子内关上门争吵，我能听到他们逐渐升高的声音。他会绷着脸带着怒气而走；当我看到她时，我知道她一直在哭。我上楼去了。当我再次走下楼梯的时候，他们立即不说话了。伯杰夫人让我出去买些鸡蛋好做午饭。通常罗伯特大约在中午出门，直到晚上才回家，而且常常很晚才回来。但那天他没有出门，他在家看看书，弹弹钢琴。我问他和母亲都谈了些什么，他没有告诉我，只是说别多管闲事。我觉得他们两人一整天也没说十几句话。我想会永远都这样吗？我们晚上上床后，我偎依着罗伯特，用胳膊搂着他的脖子。当然，我当然知道他很烦，我想安慰他，但他把我推开了。 “'看在上帝的分上让我静一会儿，'他说，'我今天晚上没有情绪，不想做爱。我还有其他事情要考虑。' “我感到很受伤，但没有说话。我转身离他远点儿。他知道伤了我，过了一小会儿他伸出手轻轻地摸了摸我的脸。 “'睡吧，亲爱的，'他说，'别难过了，今天我的心情实在糟糕。昨天我喝太多了。明天我就能调整过来了。' “'那些钱是你母亲的吗？'我低声问道。 “他没有马上回答，最后才说道：'是的。' “'哦，罗伯特，你怎么能这样？'我喊道。 “他想说点儿什么，但张了张嘴没有说出来。我心里非常不快。我想我开始哭了起来。 “'如果有人要问你什么，你就说从来没有看到过我拿这笔钱。你要说从来都不知道我有过很多钱。' “'你怎么能想象得出我会背叛你？'我哭道。 “'至于裤子嘛，妈妈说污渍洗不掉了。她把那条裤子扔掉了。' “我突然想起，当天下午我闻到什么东西烧着了的味道，当时罗伯特在弹琴，我跟他坐在一起。我站起来想看看是怎么回事。 “'坐着别动。'他说。 “'可是厨房里好像有东西烧着了。' “'可能是妈妈在烧旧抹布。她今天脾气不好，如果你这时候去惹她，她会大发雷霆的。' “我现在知道了她烧的不是旧抹布，她并没有将裤子扔掉，她是将裤子烧掉的。我开始感到极度的恐怖，但我什么也没说。他握住我的手。 “'如果有人问起这件事，'他说，'你一定要说我洗车时把裤子弄得太脏了，只能扔掉。我母亲在前天把裤子给了一个流浪汉。你会发誓这样说吗？' “'是的。'我说。但我几乎说不出话来了。 “然后他说了句更可怕的话。 “'我的脑袋可能就靠你这句话才能保住了。' “我太震惊，太恐惧了，一句话也说不出来。我的头开始疼，几乎要裂开了。整整一个晚上我没有合一下眼。罗伯特断断续续地睡着了。他甚至在睡眠中也露出了不安，来回翻身。第二天我们早早地下了楼，但我婆婆已经在厨房里了。按照惯例，她平时都穿戴齐整，她出门时看上去很时髦。她是一名参谋军官的女儿和一个军医的遗孀，她感到自己是有一定社会地位的人。她不让任何人知道她目前窘困的经济处境，在去探访以往曾跟她父亲或丈夫一起服役的老朋友时，她都要刻意打扮一番。那时她留着卷发，双手的指甲修剪得很考究，脸上搽着胭脂，看上去不到四十岁的样子。但眼下她头发蓬乱，没有化妆，穿着一件睡衣，看上去就像一个已经退休、靠有限的积蓄生活的老鸨。她没有向罗伯特打招呼，而是默默地递给他报纸。他读报时我观察着他，看到他的神情变了。他注意到我在打量他，于是抬起头来。他笑了。 “'哦，小美人，'他快活地说，'咖啡好了吗？你是要整个上午都站在那里看着你的夫君，还是打算服侍他吃早饭呢？' “我知道报纸上肯定登了些什么，肯定有我必须知道的事情。罗伯特吃完了早餐，然后上楼去穿衣服。当他再下来准备出门时，我吃了一惊。因为他现在身穿两天前穿的那件浅灰色西装和与它相配的裤子。当然，我马上想起他定做这套西服时做了两条裤子。关于这件事还曾有过争论。伯杰夫人曾抱怨他要的西服太贵，但他坚持说除非他穿着体面，否则无法指望能找到一份工作。最后她一如既往地让步了，但坚持应该定做两条裤子。她说裤子总是先磨坏，如果一起做两条裤子，价格会更划算一些。罗伯特走出屋门，说他不回家吃午饭了。我婆婆之后不久也出去买菜了。当屋里就只剩下我自己的时候，我马上拿起报纸读起来。我看到报纸上说一个英国书商，叫特迪·约旦，被人发现死在他的公寓里。他被刺中背部。我经常听罗伯特提起这个人。我知道是罗伯特杀死了他。我突然感到胸口一阵剧痛，我想我快要死了。我被吓坏了。我不知道就这样呆呆地坐了多久。我动弹不得。最后，我听见钥匙开锁的动静，我知道是伯杰夫人回来了。我把报纸放回原处，接着干我的活儿。” 莉迪娅深深地叹了口气。他们大约是在夜里一点或一点后才到达这家餐厅的，吃完饭后已经是两点了。他们刚来的时候餐厅爆满，几乎没有空着的座位。吧台前也是人头攒动。莉迪娅已经讲了很长时间，餐厅内的人群渐渐消失了。吧台四周的人也渐渐少了，现在只有两个人还坐在那里。除了他们这张桌外，就只剩下一张桌子还有客人了。餐厅的服务员越来越不耐烦了。 “我想我们该走了，”查利说，“我敢肯定他们希望我们赶快离开。” 就在此时，另一张桌旁的客人站起来准备走了。将他们的外套从衣帽间拿出来的那个女人也把查利的大衣拿出来，将大衣放在他身旁的桌上。他叫服务员过来买单。 “我们现在上哪里去呢？应该有地方吧？” “我们可以到蒙马特区去。格拉夫饭店通宵营业。我太累了。” “好吧，如果你想回家我找车送你。” “回阿列克谢跟伊芙吉尼娅的家？今晚我不能去。他会喝得烂醉。他会一个晚上都辱骂伊芙吉尼娅，骂她养出了这样一些孩子，然后为自己的命运伤心痛哭。我也不会去苏丹宫了。我们最好去格拉夫饭店。那里至少还算暖和。” 她愁眉苦脸，也真的是精疲力竭了。查利踌躇了一会儿，不知如何是好。他想起西蒙曾告诉他，他可以将任何人带到他住的旅馆来。 “哦，对了，我住的房间有两张床。跟我一起到那里去住怎么样？” 她有些怀疑地看了他一眼，但他笑着摇摇头。 “我的意思是说，就是去睡觉。”他补充说，“你不知道，我今天经过了长途跋涉的旅程，始终很兴奋，又经过一件又一件的事情，我差不多是疲惫至极了。” "okay then." 他们走出餐厅后，在街上没有找到出租车，但宾馆距这里不远，他们就走着去了。一个昏昏欲睡的守夜人为他们打开了宾馆的大门，开电梯将他们送上了楼。莉迪娅脱下帽子。她额头很宽，很白净。他之前没有看到她的头发。她留着短发，浅棕色的头发蜷曲在脖子周围。她踢掉了鞋，脱下外衣。当查利穿着睡衣从浴室出来的时候，她不仅已经躺在了床上，而且睡着了。他也在自己的床上躺下，关上了电灯。自打他们离开餐厅后，两人没有说过一句话。 就这样，查利度过了他在巴黎的第一个夜晚。