Chapter 4 Chapter Four

It was late when Charlie woke up.For a moment he didn't know where he was.Then he saw Lydia.They left the curtains open, and the sun streamed in through the gray shutters.The furniture in the house is made of oil pine, which makes the room look not high-grade.She lay on the bed, staring at the dim ceiling.Charlie glanced at his watch.A strange woman was lying on the next bed, and he felt a little restrained. "It's almost twelve o'clock," he said. "We'd better just have a cup of coffee. Then if you agree, I'll take you somewhere for lunch." She looked at him gravely, but kindly.

"I've been watching you sleep. You sleep so quietly and deeply, just like a child. Your face is so innocent, but you are a little unshaven." "My face really needs a shave." He called the front desk and asked for coffee.A stout middle-aged waitress brought the coffee. She glanced at Lydia, but her gloomy face showed nothing.Charlie lit his pipe while Lydia smoked cigarette after cigarette.They barely spoke.Charlie didn't know how to respond to such a peculiar situation.He found that he and Lydia seemed to be immersed in their own thoughts, and the things he was thinking about had nothing to do with him.After a while, he went into the bathroom to shave and take a shower.When he came out of the bathroom, he found Lydia sitting in an armchair by the window, in his dressing gown.The window is facing the yard, and all you can see are the windows of the opposite building.This gloomy Christmas morning looked utterly bleak.She turned to him.

"Why don't we just have lunch here if we don't go out?" "You mean to eat in the downstairs restaurant? Of course you can if you like. I just don't know how the food is here." "It doesn't matter what the food is. I mean just eat it in your room. It's nice to be cut off from the world for a few hours. Rest, quiet, peace and solitude, it seems like only the rich can afford it Affordable luxury that doesn’t really cost a fortune. It’s amazing how hard it is to get it.” "If you like to eat by yourself, I'll ask them to bring your lunch here and I'll eat it out."

She looked him up and down, a sardonic smile in her eyes. "I don't mean you. I think you're probably a very nice, nice fellow. I wish you'd stay. There's something about you that makes me feel good." Charlie was not a young man who only thought of himself, but he was a little annoyed at the moment.She didn't seem to consider his feelings, and called him back and forth, which was a bit too much.But he is naturally good-tempered and can restrain himself from getting angry.Moreover, this situation is also very peculiar.Although he didn't expect to encounter such a thing before coming to Paris, it cannot be denied that the experience was very interesting.He looked around the room.The beds were not made; Lydia's hat, coat, skirt, shoes, and socks were strewn about, chiefly on the floor;

"This place looks so messy," he said, "do you think it would be nice to have lunch in this messy place?" "What does it matter?" she replied, laughing.It was the first time he heard her laugh. "If you British tidiness feels so inappropriate, I'll make the bed; or let the attendant do it when I go to the bath." She went into the bathroom to take a shower.Charlie called the waiter to bring up the menu.He asked for some eggs and some meat, as well as cheese, fruit and a bottle of wine.Then he called the waiter again.Although there was heating in the room, there was a fireplace that was vacant.He asked the waiter to light the fireplace, thinking that the light of the fire would bring a cheerful atmosphere.He was dressed when the waiter went to fetch wood for the fire.Then he sat down and looked out at the bare yard while the attendant was busy tidying the room and lighting the fire.He thought sullenly of the joyful party the Terry Masons were throwing.They might be drinking sherry now, which was the order of the day around their Christmas dinner table of turkey and raisin pudding;After a while, Lydia returned to the room.There was no make-up on her face, but her hair was neatly combed; the puffiness of her eyelids had subsided, and she looked young and beautiful, but her beauty did not arouse the desire of the opposite sex; When he saw her coming out of the bathroom, his pulse didn't speed up at all.

"Oh, you're all dressed," she said, "so I can get on with your dressing gown, okay? I'll have your slippers too. They're a bit big, but that's all right." The dressing gown, a birthday present from his mother, was made of blue calico silk and was too long for her, but it fit well.She was very happy to see a fire lit in the fireplace, and sat down on the chair he had specially vacated.She smoked a cigarette.What surprised him was how calm she was about the situation.She was as casual with him as she was with an old acquaintance.It was clear to him from her words and actions that in her subconscious she had put the possibility of him wanting to sleep with her behind her.If there was anything to drive him away from the idea that he might feel sorry for her, nothing was more effective than that.He was surprised how good her appetite was.Charlie had expected her to be restless and to lose her appetite after she'd told her all about her past last night.Not only did she eat as much as he did, but she ate to her heart's content, which shocked his romantic sensibilities.

The phone rang while they were having coffee.It's Simon's call. "Charlie? Can you come over now and let's chat?" "I'm afraid I can't go now." "Why can't you come?" Simon asked sharply. This is his character trait, as if everyone should wait for his orders all the time.Even if it's a small thing sometimes, if he gets obsessed with it on a whim, he'll get very angry about it. "Lydia is here with me." "Damn it. Who's Lydia?" Charlie hesitated for a moment. "Oh, it's Princess Olga."

There was a moment of silence on the phone, and then Simon broke out into a piercing laugh. "Congratulations, old man. I knew you'd love at first sight. Well, call and let me know when you can find some time for an old friend." He hung up the phone.Charlie turned and saw Lydia staring dreamily at the fire in the fireplace.It was impossible to tell from her expressionless face whether she had heard the conversation just now.Charley pushed aside the small table where they had lunched and settled himself as comfortably as possible in a shallow armchair.Lydia leaned forward and added another log to the fire.There was an intimacy to the gesture, but it didn't offend Charlie.Her buttocks turned two or three times on the cushion, making a snug depression in the cushion like a puppy.They stayed in the hotel all afternoon.As the listless winter sun faded, they sat there in the light of the fire.The lights in the room across the yard came on one by one, and the pale windows with no curtains gave off a strange, unreal feeling, like a lighted shop window on the side of the street.But to Charlie, the same woman he didn't know very well, but who told him the terrible story of her life, sat in this dingy bedroom with a crackling fire beside him, and he felt the same. illusory.It never seemed to her that he might not want to hear her stories.So far, she didn't seem to feel at all that he might have other things to do; nor did she feel that she was adding to his psychological burden by telling him the extreme pain in her heart so openly.And a stranger has no such rights.Was she trying to win his sympathy?He didn't even believe that at all.She didn't know him at all, and didn't want to.He was just an object for her to vent her feelings.If he hadn't been in a good mood, he would have been annoyed by her indifference.She lay still in the evening, and now hearing her calm breathing Charley knew she had fallen asleep.After sitting in the chair for so long, his limbs were a little sore.He stood up and tiptoed to the window so as not to wake her.He sat down on a stool and looked out at the hotel yard.He saw people passing by behind the lighted windows from time to time; he saw an old woman watering the flowers; he saw a man in a shirt-sleeve lying on the bed reading; he wondered what kind of people these people were.They seemed to be ordinary middle-class people with average economic conditions.After all, this is a cheap hotel, and this is not an area where the upper class live.But seeing them through the window is like watching a Western landscape, it all looks so unreal.Who can know who they are under their ordinary appearance?What pain and passion did they experience in their hearts?What kind of crime story is hidden?The curtains in some rooms had been drawn, and only a glimmer of light leaking through the cracks of the curtains indicated that there were people in the rooms.Some windows are completely dark, but these rooms are not empty.The hotel is full of guests, and the guests in these rooms may have gone out.Are they out on some mysterious errand?Charley felt a little bit out of his wits with a sudden fear of all these people he didn't know.He knew nothing about the lives of these people, and it seemed to him that there was something confusing, dark, weird, and scary under the glamorous exterior.

He frowned, thinking about the long and unfortunate stories he had heard all afternoon.Lydia talked about what came to her mind.She recounts how she struggled to get by on the meager wages she received from a tailor; then she turns back to events from her childhood in utter poverty in London; , recounting the horror of seeing her husband arrested and her psychological torment during the trial.He had read detective stories, he had read newspaper reports of crime, and he knew that crimes were often committed; he also knew that many lived in abject poverty.But he learned this with the eyes of an outsider.He was struck with a strange feeling when he found himself confronting a man who had personally experienced such a terrible thing.He didn't know why he suddenly remembered a painting. He couldn't remember whether the author was Manet or Maximilian. In the picture, a group of soldiers with guns was about to execute a death row prisoner.He always thought it was an excellent painting.Now he understands that the painting depicts a true story, which shocks him.The emperor of Russia had actually stood in the position of execution, and it must have been unbelievable to him when the soldiers raised their muskets to shoot, and he could not imagine that he would be dead for a moment.

Now he understood Lydia.He had been listening to her tell her story last night and today; they had eaten and danced together; Understood Lydia.It's unbelievable that something like this should have happened to her. If anything could be called pure coincidence, it was Lydia's encounter with Robert Berger.Lydia was sometimes able to get a ticket to a concert through her friends who lived with her and worked in Russian restaurants.Sometimes she couldn't get the free tickets, but she wanted to hear the concert very much, so she could only squeeze out a little from her meager salary to buy a standing ticket.Going to a concert was her only pastime, her only luxury.She mainly likes Russian music.Listening to Russian music, she would feel that she had come to a country she had never seen; but this gave her a nostalgic longing that was sure to be insatiable.Except for what she knew about Russia from her parents, from Evgenia's conversations with Alexei about her past life, and from the novels she read, the country was basically completely foreign to her. of.Only when she listened to the music of Rimsky-Korsakov and Glazonov, and the lively and poignant works of Stravinsky, could her ethereal impression of Russia come to life.These rough melodies, rhythmic tunes have a certain quality different from European music, making her forget herself and her miserable life, making her completely immersed in love and joy, and her tears are involuntary. down the cheek.What she couldn't imagine with her mind, she felt with her body now.In the past, Russia in her mind was just a product of hearsay and fanatical imagination, weird and distorted.The Kremlin in her mind was of gilded domes and buildings studded with red stars, of Red Square and Chinatown, as if set out of a fairy tale; Prince Andrew and the charming Natasha are still on the streets of Moscow Dmitry Karamazov meets sweet Alyosha on the Munsterbrysk Bridge after a night of carousing with the gypsies; the merchant Rogo gallops across the snowfields in a sleigh while Nastasya Filippovna was sitting beside him; Chekhov's stories drifted about like dead leaves blown up by the autumn wind.Summer Garden and Nevsky Prospekt are just two fantastic names, Anna Karenina is still sitting in her carriage, Vronsky is gracefully climbing up to the big house by the Fountain Canal in his crisp new military uniform, and the despicable Raskolnikov is walking on the open bridge in St. Petersburg.In the passion and nostalgia contained in Russian music, the scenes described in Turgenev's novels linger in her mind. She seems to have come to Russia and talked with them all night in a spacious, simple farmhouse exuding the fragrance of logs; At dawn, in the swamp where there was no wind, she shot and killed wild ducks with them; she drank with Gorky in the dilapidated small village, loved madly and sacrificed heroically; she seemed to see the muddy The Volga River is flowing, as if seeing the boundless Caucasus prairie, as if seeing the charming Crimea Peninsula.She was full of longing, full of melancholy for a life lost forever and longing for a home she had never known.She was a stranger in this hostile world, but at that moment she felt that she belonged to this great and mysterious country.Although she stumbled in Russian, she was Russian and she loved her country; in that moment she felt that she had finally belonged; in that moment she felt that she understood her father - despite being warned Even at the risk of death, he returned to his motherland without hesitation.

Once, she went to another concert, a Russian music performance.She found herself standing beside a young man.She noticed that he frequently looked at herself curiously.Once, she looked back at him by chance, and was immediately shocked by his enthusiasm and concentration immersed in the music.His hands were clenched, and his lips were slightly parted, as if he were about to lose his breath.He is completely immersed in the music.He was good-looking and seemed well-bred.Lydia just glanced at him before returning to the music and continuing her Russian dream to the music.Her thoughts drifted away to the music again, and she was hardly aware of a low whimper coming from her lips.She suddenly felt a soft hand take hers, and shook it gently.Startled, she immediately withdrew her hand.This is the last piece before the intermission.When the performance was over, the young man turned to her.He has a pair of lovely eyes, with a gray light shining from under the bushy eyebrows, which is unique and gentle. "You are crying, miss." She had thought he might be as Russian as she was, but his accent was pure French.She understood that he held her hand just now was just an instinctive sympathy for her. She smiled lightly: "It's not that I have any sad things." He smiled at her too, and his smile was charming. "I know. It's the Russian piece. It's involuntarily exciting and heartbreaking." "But you are French. Does this piece mean anything to you?" "Yes, I'm French. I really don't know what this music means to me. It's just the only music I want to hear. It's full of power and passion, blood and destruction. It hurts my body Every nerve in my heart." He smiled self-deprecatingly, "Sometimes when I hear this piece of music, I feel that there is nothing that other people can do that I can't do." She didn't answer.It is incredible that different people can have such completely different understandings of the same piece of music.To her, the music they had just heard spoke of the tragedy of human fate, of the futility of rebellion against fate, of the joy and peace of humility and resignation. "Are you coming to the concert next week?" Then he asked, "It's also a special performance of Russian music." "I'm afraid I can't come." "why?" This question is a bit abrupt for a stranger.But he was very young, maybe not as old as himself, and seemed innocent, which prevented her from answering the question too bluntly.His every action convinced her that he had no intention of stalking her.she laughed. "I'm not a millionaire. You know where the Russians are now, there are very few rich people." "I know a couple of people who put on these concerts. They gave me a free pass for two. If you'll be with me at the gate next Sunday, you'll get in for free." "I think it's Not quite right." "Can you settle down?" He laughed, "With so many listeners, it's definitely not dangerous to be a flower protector." "I work in a tailor shop, so I don't necessarily get time off. And I don't think a complete stranger has that kind of obligation to me." "I'm sure you're a very well-bred young lady, but you shouldn't be prejudiced like that." She didn't want to argue about that. "Okay, let's talk. But thank you for the invitation anyway." They chatted about other things until the conductor raised his baton again.After the concert, he turned to say goodbye to her. "Then I'll wait for you next Sunday?" he asked. "Let's talk about it then. Don't wait for me." The crowd rushed towards the exit, and they were scattered by the crowd.During the week she thought of this handsome young man with the big gray eyes.It pleased her to think of him.It is inevitable at her age to refuse the advances of some men from time to time.Alexei and his gigolo son had both teased her, but she didn't find them difficult.A hard slap on the face had convinced the weeping alcoholic not to think too much, and the boy, her judicious use of serious language and taunts had silenced him.Men often express their affection to her on the street, but she is too tired and hungry to be indifferent to their love.She could not help smiling wistfully at the thought that the temptation of a full meal outweighed even that of a courtship.The woman's intuition told her that the young people she met at that concert were not such people.Doubtless, like any other young man his age, he would not miss a chance to be flirtatious if possible.But it was not for that purpose that he offered to accompany her to the concert on Sunday.She hadn't planned to go, but was moved by his invitation.He is pleasant, innocent and candid in speaking.She felt she could trust him.She glanced at the concert program.Sunday's performance is Tchaikovsky's "Pathetic Symphony."She has a general feeling about this symphony and thinks that Tchaikovsky's works are too European.But the concert will also perform Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring" and Borodin's String Quartet.She wondered if what the young man said was true.It is quite possible that he sent the invitation on a whim, but completely forgot about it half an hour later.It was Sunday, but she hadn't made up her mind whether to go or not.She really wanted to go to the concert, but she didn't have a single penny in her pocket except for lunch and subway tickets, and she had given Evgenia all the rest of the money as her own. food and lodging costs.It didn't matter if he wasn't there; if he was there, and he really had a free ticket for two, he wouldn't have to pay extra if she followed her in, and she wouldn't owe him anything. Finally, a spur of the moment brought her to Pleyel Hall.He was there waiting for her.Seeing her, his eyes lit up.He shook her hand warmly, as if they had been old friends. "I'm so glad you're here," he said. "I've been waiting twenty minutes. I'm really afraid you won't come." She blushed and smiled.They walked into the concert hall and found their seats in the fifth row. "They left you a seat like this for free?" she asked in surprise. "No, I bought it. I want to sit here and listen to music comfortably." "Stupid! I'm used to standing up and listening to music." Although she said so on her lips, she was very happy in her heart.When he held her hand this time, she didn't pull it back.She felt that it would be nothing to let him hold her hand, and she owed him a favor.During an intermission, he told her his name was Robert Berger; she gave him her own.He also told her that he lived with his mother in Nay and that he worked for a brokerage firm.He spoke softly and behaved like a boy, and she couldn't help laughing.He radiated energy, and Lydia couldn't help being attracted to him.His sparkling eyes, his expressive countenance all speak of a fiery personality.Sitting next to him was like sitting in front of a fire, and his every move blazed with the flames of youth.After the concert, they walked together down the Champs-Elysées, and he asked her if they could have some tea together.He never gave her the chance to say no.Sitting in a luxurious teahouse with well-dressed people was a luxury life Lydia had never experienced.The appetizing smell of cakes, the strong smell of women's perfume, the warm air, comfortable chairs, and loud conversations flooded into her mind.They sat there for an hour.Lydia told him about her own experiences, about her father's past and tragic end, about her difficult life now.He listened attentively to her narrative.His gray eyes were soft with sympathy.When it came time to break up, he asked her if she could watch a movie with him one evening.She shook her head. "Why not?" "You're a rich young man, and..." "Oh, I'm not a rich man. Quite the opposite actually. My mother has nothing but a pension and that's all I earn." "Then you shouldn't be drinking tea in such an expensive teahouse. I'm just a poor working girl anyway. Thank you for your kindness, but I'm not stupid. You've always been nice to me, but I think continuing to accept your It’s not right to have a good intention that I can’t reciprocate.” "But I don't want anything in return. I like you and I want to be with you. You looked so sweet when you cried last Sunday. Your tears broke my heart. You are alone in this world Alone and I feel lonely. I hope we can be friends." She looked at him and thought for a moment calmly.They were the same age, of course she was actually a few years older than him; his demeanor was so frank, she had no doubt that he was telling the truth, but she also knew wisely that he was talking nonsense. "Frankly, I know I'm not beautiful, but I'm young and some people think I'm pretty, and some people like Russian types. I can't believe you want to date me just because you like hearing me talk. I Never slept with a man. If I let you waste your time and money on me when I had no intention of sleeping with you, I would consider myself dishonest." "That's honest enough." He smiled.His smile is so charming! "But you see, I know this. I've learned a lot in Paris in my life. I know instinctively if a girl is going to flirt. I can tell you're a decent guy. I was at that concert Holding your hand just because you feel music as deeply as I do. Touching your hand - I don't know how to explain it - I can feel your passion flowing into me My feeling for music has grown stronger. In short, I don't feel any desire for anything else." "However, we have completely different feelings about music." She said thoughtfully, "I glanced at your face at the time, and I was taken aback by your expression. Your expression was cruel and cold. It was hardly It looked like a human face, like a hideous mask, it scared me." He laughed out loud.His laugh is so young, so beautiful, so carefree.His eyes are so gentle, so frank, people can't believe that under the influence of infectious music, his expression will be so cold and cruel at that moment. "You can really imagine! Don't you imagine that I am the trafficker who abducted women in the movie, trying to control you and traffic you to Buenos Aires?" She smiled: "I never thought about it that way." "You have nothing to lose by watching a movie with me, right? You've made it very clear, and I accept it." She laughed too.Such a fuss is ridiculous enough.She didn't have many happy things in life. If he was willing to invite her to watch a movie and just sit next to her and talk, wouldn't she be a fool if she refused?She has nothing and doesn't worry about losing anything.She has no obligation to do so.She had given him sufficient warning in advance, and she was able to protect herself. "Oh, all right," she said. They watched several movies together.After each movie, Robert had to drop Lydia to the nearest subway station so she could take the subway home.He'd hold her arm during their short walks; occasionally he'd hold her hand while watching a movie; and once or twice when they parted, he'd kiss her lightly. cheeks.That was all his gestures of affection.He is good company.He talked wittily, always with a sneer that made her sound amused.He doesn't read a lot, but doesn't hide it, saying he doesn't have time for it, and that life is more interesting than books.But he was not stupid, and he could talk about certain books as if he had read them.Lydia was amused to discover that he had a special admiration for André Gide.He also loves to play tennis.He told her that there was a time when he made tennis his career.Celebrities in the tennis circle once thought that he was good enough to play tennis, and might even win the championship, and had great expectations for him.But in the end it fell through. He said: "It takes a lot of money and time to become a first-class tennis player, but I can't do it." Lydia thought he might be in love with her, but she couldn't be sure.She couldn't help worrying that her feelings would cloud her right judgment on this point.His place in her mind was getting heavier and heavier.He was her first friend of the same age that she had never had before.He took her to concerts on Sunday afternoons and movies in the evenings, and she was very happy during those times, but felt unrequited for him.She developed an interest and sometimes excitement in life that she had never experienced before.Before meeting him, she would take pains to look a little prettier.She had never used make-up before, but before she saw him for the fourth or fifth time, she daubed a little rouge on her cheeks and drew in her eyebrows. "What's the matter with you?" he asked when they were in a well-lit area. "Why are you putting this stuff on your face?" She smiled, and the rouge concealed her flushed face. "I wanted to do you a favor. It would be very hard on me if people thought you were with a little kitchen maid who had just come to Paris from the country." "But what I love the most is your natural beauty. Those heavy make-up faces turn off. I don't know why, but I feel your pale and untouched cheeks, your natural lips and eyebrows are more attractive. It's like a person Walking on the brightly lit street, suddenly turning into a small forest, you will have a refreshing feeling. You look more frank without makeup, which just shows the integrity of your soul." Her heart was beating so violently that it almost popped out.But the strange thing is that the pain of the beating heart brought about an extremely happy mood. "Well, if you don't like it, I won't do it again. But I'm doing it for you." She sat beside him, watching the movie absently.She hadn't quite believed in the tenderness expressed by his sweet voice and smiling eyes, but now she could be sure that he loved her.She has been exercising self-restraint to prevent herself from falling in love with him.She kept telling herself that it was just a whim of his and that she would be foolish to let her feelings go.She made up her mind not to be his mistress.She had seen too many of these things firsthand among the Russians.The daughters of Russian refugees without any source of livelihood were forced by their melancholy to live in concubine with a man, but the relationship never lasted long.They seemed unable to keep a man, at least not a French man whom they had a crush on.Their lovers grow impatient over time and abandon them.At this time, their situation is even worse than before, and often the only way is to become a prostitute.But what was she hoping for?She knew very well that he had no intention of getting married.He might never have even thought of such a thing.She knows what the average French thinks.His mother would not allow him to marry a Russian woman, a penniless seamstress.In France, marriage is a serious business.The French pay attention to the right family, and the bride must have a dowry that matches the status of the groom's family.Her father had indeed been a famous professor at a university, but that was in pre-revolutionary Russia.After that, Paris was full of Russian princes, aristocrats and ex-tsar's guards driving taxis and doing manual labor.Everyone thinks Russians are lazy and unreliable.People hate Russians.Lydia's great-grandfather had been a serf, and her mother was no more than a farmer.When the professor's father is open-minded, the combination with her mother is the embodiment of this thought.But her mother was a devout Christian, and Lydia was brought up under strict teachings.She tried to restrain herself intellectually, but to no avail; it was true that the world was different now, and one had to keep up with it.But she has an instinctive fear of being a man's mistress.However, is there anything else to look forward to?Wouldn't it be foolish to miss out on this great opportunity?She knew that her beauty was only due to her youth, and that in a few short years she would become ordinary.She probably won't get a second chance.Why not pamper yourself?Just loosen the reins of self-control just a little and she'll fall madly in love with him.It is also a relief to loosen the control of our emotions.He loves himself too, there's no question about that.His fiery passion made her breathless.Longing was written on his expressive face, and she could see his burning desire to have her.Being loved by someone you love deeply is a very happy thing.Even if this love can't last long-of course it can't last long-I can taste the taste of love that makes me want to die; I can also have the memory of this love to the extreme.With all of this, isn't it worth the pain she suffered after breaking up with him, the unspeakable pain she must have endured?If the pain is unbearable, isn't there a Seine or a gas stove? But strangely and inexplicably, he doesn't seem to want her as his mistress.He cares about her in a way that respects her very much.If she was a girl in his family's circle of acquaintances, whose social status and wealth matched his own, their friendship would naturally develop into a mutually satisfactory marriage.而现在他也要如此待她，她无法理解。她知道这个想法很荒谬，但在骨子里她有这样一种奇怪的感觉——他希望明媒正娶她。她十分感动，受宠若惊。如果这是真的，他可是一个十分少见的人。但她几乎希望事情不是这样，因为她无法忍受的是他将要遭受的痛苦。想娶她的愿望必定给他带来痛苦。不管他如何疯狂，还有他母亲在后面呢。他母亲是一个明智的中产阶级法国妇女，讲究实际，绝不会让他乱来而危及前程。而他对母亲，也付出了一个法国人所能付出的全部。 但有一天晚上看完电影后，在他们步行到地铁站的路上，他对她说： “下个星期天没有音乐会了。你能来我家里喝茶吗？我无数次跟我母亲谈起过你，因此她想见见你。” 莉迪娅的心几乎停止了跳动。她马上意识到这意味着什么。伯杰夫人对儿子与她的友谊越来越不安了，她想要见到自己，想要制止他们的交往。 “罗伯特，我想你母亲根本就不可能喜欢我，我们不要见面更明智一些。” “你错了。她对你非常同情。这个可怜的女人爱我，这你知道，我就是她在这个世界上的一切。想到我结交了一个可敬又有教养的姑娘做朋友，她肯定会很高兴。” 莉迪娅笑了。如果他认为一个慈爱的母亲能够接受儿子偶尔在音乐会上遇到的一个姑娘，他对女人的了解也就太少了！但他强迫她接受邀请，他说这是代表他母亲发出的邀请，不能拒绝。她想，如果自己拒绝了邀请，事实上只会使伯杰夫人对她更加怀疑。他们约定下个星期天的下午四点，他到圣旦尼门来接她到他家去。他开来了一辆小轿车。 “这也太奢侈了！”莉迪娅上车时说。 “车不是我的，这你知道。是我从一个朋友那里借来的。” 莉迪娅面对即将到来的严峻考验浑身紧张，即使罗伯特亲切而温柔的话语也无法给她信心。 他们驱车前往纳伊。 罗伯特将车停在一条安静的街道边，说：“我们把车停在这里。我不想将车停在我家房子的外面。要不邻居们会认为我买了一辆车，而我又无法解释车只是借的。” 他们走了一会儿：“到了，就是这里。” 这是一栋小小的独立式别墅，很久没有油漆了，因而显得破旧，而且房子比她通过罗伯特的描述所预期的要小。他将她引进客厅。这是一间面积不大的房间，堆满了家具和摆设。墙上挂着镶了金色边框的油画，客厅与餐厅隔着一个拱门相连，餐厅内有一张餐桌。伯杰夫人放下了正在阅读的小说，走上前来迎接客人。莉迪娅曾在脑海中想象她可能是个粗矮的女人，穿着寡妇的丧服，脸色温和而亲切，有一种放弃了一切世俗虚荣的朴素而高贵的神态。但她完全不是这样。她很瘦，穿着高跟鞋后身高与罗伯特差不多；她身穿黑色的印花丝绸衣服，显得很潇洒。她脖子上挂着一串假珍珠项链，蓄着自来卷的深褐色头发。虽然她肯定有五十多岁了，但没有一丝白发。她蜡黄的脸上扑了过多的粉，眼睛很漂亮。长着跟罗伯特一样优雅而笔挺的鼻子，薄薄的嘴唇也跟罗伯特一样。但在她那个年龄，薄嘴唇显得有几分严厉。她显得比实际年龄要年轻，以她的岁数来看长得也还算漂亮。显然她在自己的外表上刻意下了一番工夫，但她缺乏罗伯特那种吸引人的魅力。她的眼睛又黑又亮，但透出的是冷静与警惕。莉迪娅走进客厅的时候，感觉伯杰夫人将她从头到脚打量了一番。但这道严厉而审视的目光立刻被亲切和温馨的微笑所取代。她热情洋溢地感谢莉迪娅这么老远地来看她。 “你必须理解我多么希望看到我儿子跟我反复提到的年轻女孩儿。我已经做好了见到一个不合我意的姑娘的准备。实话对你说吧，我对儿子的判断力不大放心。看到你果真如他告诉我的一样好，我真高兴。” 她面部表情很夸张地说着话，又是点头又是微笑，用一个惯于社交的女主人试图使一个到家中来的陌生人不要感到拘束的方式奉承着她。莉迪娅也很警觉，她也用同样谦虚的语言答着话。伯杰夫人毫无疑问是在强做笑脸，故意摆出了一副热情的姿态。 “你很迷人。我这个儿子为了你的缘故而疏远了他的老妈，我一点儿都不感到惊讶。” 茶点是由一个面无表情的年轻女佣端上来的。伯杰夫人一面继续着她表情夸张的恭维话，一面用严厉而焦急的眼光注视着女佣。莉迪娅猜测这个家里不常有茶会，女主人不太清楚仆人是否知道如何布置和打点。他们走进餐厅坐了下来。餐厅里有一架小三角钢琴。 “它很占地方。”伯杰夫人说，“但我儿子非常喜欢音乐。他一次就能弹几个小时。他告诉我说，你是个一流的音乐家。” “他太夸张了。我非常喜欢音乐，但知之甚少。” “小姐，你太谦虚了。” 桌上有一小碟从糕点店买来的小蛋糕和一碟三明治。每人的盘子下面压着一块桌巾和一方小餐巾。为了能以时髦的方式招待客人，伯杰夫人显然煞费苦心。她冷冰冰的眼睛中露出了一丝微笑，问莉迪娅茶中要不要放点儿什么。 “你们俄罗斯人总是在茶中放点儿柠檬，这我知道，所以我特意为你买了一个柠檬。先吃个三明治怎么样？” 茶味如同嚼蜡。 “我知道你们俄罗斯人在吃饭时总是要吸烟的。请不要跟我客气。罗伯特，香烟在哪里？” 伯杰夫人让莉迪娅吃了一个又一个三明治，一块又一块蛋糕。她属于不管客人愿不愿意都非要他们吃不可的那一类家庭主妇，她们将这个举动当做热情好客的一种标志。她用金属一样的高分贝嗓音不停地说着话，始终微笑着，她的礼貌溢于言表。她漫不经心地问了莉迪娅一大堆问题。从表面上看，这些问题像是一个普通女人聊家常的问话，显得对这个无依无靠的女孩充满了同情。但莉迪娅知道这些问题是巧妙地想要盘问出她的底细。莉迪娅的心沉了下去，她不是那种爱儿子就会允许他鲁莽行事的女人。确定这一事实却让她坚定了自己的信心。自己既没有什么可失去的，也没有什么可隐瞒的。她坦率地回答了所有提问。就如她曾经告诉罗伯特的一样，她也向伯杰夫人讲述了自己的父亲和母亲，讲述了她过去在伦敦的生活和母亲去世后她是怎么生活的。透过伯杰夫人受到震动后充满怜悯的回答，莉迪娅看得出在她温暖的抚慰背后，她在精明地仔细聆听她的每一个字，并不断地盘算着。这让莉迪娅甚至感到有点儿好笑。莉迪娅有两三次提出要走，但伯杰夫人不答应。莉迪娅急于要摆脱这种过于友善的氛围。罗伯特要送她回家。莉迪娅与她说再见的时候，伯杰夫人握住她的双手，一双黑眼睛闪着诚挚的光芒。 “你真是个可人儿，”她说，“现在你也认识路了，你一定要常来看看我，常来。我们随时热烈欢迎你。” 在他们走向停车位置的路上，罗伯特用充满深情的姿势挽着她的胳膊，似乎怕她跑掉一样。这使她很开心。 “好吧，亲爱的，一切都很顺利。我妈妈喜欢你。你瞬间就征服了她。她会非常喜欢你的。” 莉迪娅笑了起来。 “别傻了。她并不喜欢我。” “不，不，你错了。这一点我敢保证。我了解她，我立刻就看出来她喜欢你。” 莉迪娅耸了耸肩膀，但没有回答。他们告别的时候安排下周二一起看电影。她同意他的计划，但她确信他母亲会制止他们进一步接触的。现在他知道她的住址了。 “如果你遇到了阻力，咱们不能进一步来往了，你能送我一只小狗吗？” “没有什么能阻止我。”他深情地说。 那个晚上她很伤心。如果她有独处的机会，她一定会大哭一场。但也许有这样的机会她也不能哭，哭泣只会让她自我嫌憎而毫无益处。她想，自己只不过是做了一个愚蠢的梦罢了。她会忘掉自己的不快。毕竟，这么些年来她已经习惯了这类不快的事情。如果做了他的情妇又被他抛弃那就更糟了。 周一过去了，周二到了，但没有小狗被送来。她相信她上班回来后肯定会有一只小狗在等着她。但回来后什么也没看见。离预定出门的时间还有一个小时，她有足够的时间做准备。她心惊肉跳地等待着门铃声响起。她一面梳洗打扮一面想，她真是愚蠢地多此一举，没等她打扮完，分手的消息也就该到了。她在想是否有可能她如约去了电影院，而他却不来了。这样做可是有些无情和残忍，但她知道他一切都听他母亲的。她想他可能不愿当面向她言明，所以让她去赴约而他自己不来，这样虽然残酷，但他可能认为这是最好的办法，可以让她明白他们的关系已经彻底结束了。这个想法在脑中一闪现，她马上就认定了是这么回事。她几乎不打算去了，然而还是去了。毕竟，如果他能做出如此残忍的事来，这也证明跟他分手是正确的选择。 但他就在那里。当他看到她，马上迈着轻快的脚步向她走来，步态反映了他的渴望与活力。他的脸上露出了甜美的微笑。他的情绪似乎比平常要高。 “我今天晚上没有心情看电影了。”他说，“我们到富凯酒店去喝一杯，然后去兜风。我把车就停在街道的拐角处。” “随你的便好了。” 这一天虽然气温有点儿低，但天气既晴朗又干燥。冬日夜晚的星星好像在善意地嘲笑着香榭丽舍大街上浮华的灯光。他们喝了一杯啤酒。罗伯特一直说个不停。然后他们遛达着向乔治五世大道走去。他把车停在了那里，这让莉迪娅感到迷惑不解。他的谈吐很自然，莉迪娅不知道他怎么能把自己的感情掩饰得这么好。她不禁问自己，他提议出来兜风是否是想伺机将这个不幸的消息透露给她。他是一个感情外向的人，她发现他有时候甚至有点儿做作，但他这些夸张的举止并没有惹她反感，而是让她感到很有趣。她不知道他眼下的这些表现是否是在为宣布分手那伤感的一刻做铺垫。 “这辆车跟你星期天开的不是一辆车啊。”当他们走到车跟前时，她说道。 “对，这是一个朋友打算卖掉的车。我说我得把车开到一个可能的主顾那里让他看看。” 他们开车到达凯旋门后就沿福煦大街前行，一直开到布洛涅森林。这里一片黑暗，只是偶尔有辆汽车的大灯照亮他们；除了稀稀落落地停靠着几台汽车外，这里人烟稀少。可以猜想这些汽车里坐着的都是些说着情话的男女。罗伯特将车停在了路边。 “我们在这里停一会儿，抽支烟好吗？”他问道，“你冷不冷？” "not cold." 这个地方人迹罕至，在其他情况下莉迪娅可能会感到有点儿害怕。但她非常了解罗伯特，知道他不会利用这样的地点来占她的便宜。他天性纯良。此外她有一种直觉，感到他有什么话憋在肚子里。她很好奇，想知道是什么。他给她点燃一支烟，也给自己点燃一支，然后他们就默默地坐了一会儿。她知道他很尴尬，不知道该如何开口。她的心焦虑地跳了起来。 “亲爱的，我有事要告诉你。”最后，他开口说话了。 "Oh?" “上帝，我不知道怎么说才好。我通常不会紧张，但现在紧张得不行，这对我来说是个新奇的体验。” 莉迪娅的心一沉，但她外表平静，并没有表现出正在忍受着痛苦煎熬。 “如果一个人有某句话难以开口，”她轻轻地回答，“坦率地说出来可能更好一些。你知道，拐弯抹角地说话没有什么益处。” “我就照你的话办。你愿意嫁给我吗？” "I?" 她唯一没有料到的就是这句话。 “我热烈地爱着你。我想我第一眼看到你的时候就爱上了你，就是我们并排站着听音乐会那次，当时眼泪落在你苍白的脸颊滚下了。” “但你妈妈的态度呢？” “我妈妈很高兴。她现在正等着呢。我对她说，如果你同意了，我就带你去见她。她想拥抱你。她为我能够与某个她完全赞同的人结为连理，生活安定下来而高兴。我跟妈妈已经商量好了，等一会儿我们一起大哭一场后，要开瓶香槟庆祝一番。” “上个周日你带我去看你妈妈时，你告诉她你想娶我了吗？” “当然。她想亲眼见见你也是符合情理的。我母亲可不迟钝，她立刻就打定了主意。” “我怎么感觉她不喜欢我呢。” “这你可错了。” 他们互相凝视着笑了，她向他抬起了脸。他第一次吻了她的嘴唇。 他说：“右侧开车就是比左侧好，吻一个姑娘更方便。” “你这个傻瓜。”她笑了起来。 “那么你也真的有点儿喜欢我喽？” “我从第一次见到你后就崇拜你。” “但一个保守的教养良好的女孩儿不会放纵自己的感情，直到她审慎地确定之后才会这样。对吗？”他温柔地嘲笑着她。 但她的回答非常严肃： “我短暂的生命中遭受的痛苦太多了，我不想再遭受一个也许是我无法承受的痛苦打击。” “我爱慕你。” 她从来没有经历过这样的幸福，她几乎无法相信自己。那一刻，她的心中充满了对生命的感激。她真想能够永远就这样坐在那里，偎依在他怀中；那一刻，她真想能够就这样死去。但她设法使自己振作起来。 “我们去见你母亲。” 莉迪娅突然感到心中对那个女人充满了爱的暖意。她与自己只见过一面，然而只是因为儿子爱自己，只是因为她敏锐的眼光看出了这个女孩儿深爱着她的儿子，她就放弃了原来所有的期望，欣然同意了他们的婚事。莉迪娅想，在整个法国再也找不出第二个女人能做出如此的牺牲了。 他们开车走了。罗伯特将车停在与他家所在的街道平行的一条街上。他们走到那栋小房子前，他掏出钥匙打开前门，兴奋地先于莉迪娅走进了客厅。 “妈妈，一切都妥了。” 莉迪娅紧跟着他走进房间，伯杰夫人还穿着与上周日同样的黑色印花丝绸衣服，她走上前来将莉迪娅搂在怀里。 “我的孩子！”她哭了，“我太高兴了。”莉迪娅突然大哭起来。伯杰夫人温柔地吻了吻她。 “好了，好了，好了！你不应该哭啊。我实心实意地把儿子给了你。我知道你会成为他的好妻子的。来，坐下。罗伯特要开香槟了。” 莉迪娅整理了一下情绪，擦干了眼睛。 “您对我太好了，夫人。我真不知道该如何报答您。” 伯杰夫人拉起她的手，轻轻地拍了拍。 “你爱上了我的儿子，而他也爱上了你。” 罗伯特走出了房间。莉迪娅觉得有必要立刻把情况摆明。 “可是，夫人，我没有把握您是否清楚现实的情况。我父亲带出俄罗斯的那一点儿钱几年前就花光了。我除了挣得一点儿工资外什么都没有。真的是一无所有。除了现在身上穿的，我就只有两套衣服了。” “可是，孩子，这些又有什么关系呢？噢，我不否认，如果你能给罗伯特带来一点儿财产我会很高兴，但钱并不代表一切。爱更重要。如今金钱能衡量出什么？我自信对人的观察还是很准确的，我一看到你就知道你是一个诚实而温柔的人。我看得出来你有良好的教养，我断定你也是有原则的人。毕竟那才是选择一个妻子最重要的考量。我了解我的儿子，他如果娶了一个不喜欢的中产阶级法国女人，他绝对不会感到幸福的。你是俄罗斯人这一点也正好契合了他的浪漫天性。并且你也并非出身低贱，作为一个大学教授的女儿可不是件让人羞耻的事。” 罗伯特拿着酒杯和一瓶香槟走进屋来。他们坐在屋里一直交谈到深夜。伯杰夫人主意已定，他俩只能接受她的安排。莉迪娅和罗伯特住在房子里，而她会给自己在花园后面的小亭子内搭建一个舒适的小窝。除了跟他们一道就餐外，她就待在自己的住处。她决定不对他们的生活进行任何打扰，让这对年轻的夫妇自由自在。 她对莉迪娅说：“我不希望你把我当成婆婆来看待。我想成为你的母亲，我也想成为你的朋友。” 她希望婚礼早日举行，甚至有些急不可耐了。莉迪娅持有一份国联的护照和一张法国政府颁发的居留许可证，她的证件符合法律规定，所以他们只需到市政机关登记即可。由于罗伯特是天主教徒而莉迪娅信仰东正教，他们决定放弃两人都不看重的宗教结婚仪式。尽管伯杰夫人不愿意，他们还是固执己见。莉迪娅太激动了，脑子中一片混乱，那天晚上几乎没有入眠。 他们的婚礼非常简单。出席婚礼的来宾有伯杰夫人和这个家庭的老朋友罗格朗上校，他是一名陆军军医，跟罗伯特的父亲是老搭档；还有伊芙吉尼娅、阿列克谢和他们的孩子。婚礼是在一个周五举行的，因为罗伯特周一早上还要上班。他们的蜜月非常短暂。罗伯特借了一辆轿车，与莉迪娅一道开车前往位于海滨的迪耶普，周日晚上就开车返回了巴黎。 但莉迪娅不知道，就像以前他接她时所开的车一样，这辆车也不是借的，而是偷来的。这就是为什么他总是将车停在距他家所在的街道一到两个街区的原因。她不知道，罗伯特几个月前刚被判处监禁两年的徒刑，但缓期执行。缓刑的原因是考虑到他是初次犯罪。她不知道在那之后他还受到了走私毒品的指控，只是侥幸逃脱了牢狱之灾。她不知道，伯杰夫人之所以赞同这桩婚姻，是因为她觉得这可以使罗伯特回心转意，不再犯罪。而这也的确是罗伯特过上诚实生活的唯一机会。