Chapter 8 chapter eight

The next day, they woke up early.Each of them held a cardboard box he used to hold books in their hands, and they ate breakfast in bed.After breakfast, Charlie smoked a pipe and read the mail, while Lydia did her nails with a cigarette.Watching them both go about their own business, you almost take them for a young newlywed couple, the passion of their first marriage has faded, and the relationship between the two is sweet and quiet.Lydia finished painting her nails and put her hands on the sheets to let the polish dry.She cast a playful glance at Charlie. "Would you like to go to the Louvre this morning? One of the purposes of your visit to Paris is to see the paintings, isn't it?"

"I think so." "Okay then, let's set off now." When the maid brought them coffee and drew the curtains, the light that shone through the yard into the room was as gloomy as it had been the morning before.But now that they were out of the yard, they were greatly surprised by the sudden change of weather over the street.The air was still cold, but the sky was high and the sun was shining.The icy air soaked through the bone marrow. Lydia said, "Let's walk." The Avenue Wren is flooded with sunshine, sweeping away the gloomy scene of the past.The old gray houses were not looking dilapidated and depressing as usual.The houses looked like kind but poor old women.The sunshine that fell on the grand new buildings across the river fell as lovingly on the old ones, and made them less forlorn.Buses, trams, rampaging taxis, trucks and private cars shuddered as they crossed the Place Saint-Germain-des-Prés.Lydia took Charlie's arm and walked down the narrow rue de Seine.They were like a couple of lovers or a grocer and wife out shopping on a Sunday afternoon.They strolled arm in arm, stopping to look at the windows of painting and calligraphy shops from time to time.Then, they came to the pier.In this position, the beautiful scenery of Paris in winter was all displayed in front of their eyes at once. Excited, Charlie shouted in a low voice.

"It seems that you like this scenery very much?" Lydia smiled. "This is simply a landscape painting of Rafaeli." He remembered a poem he read in Tours: "She is pure, beautiful and lively today." Points of light flickered in the air, and it seemed as though one could grasp them and let them run like springs over the fingertips.Charlie's eyes had adjusted to the soft haze and hazy landscape of London, and the air in Paris felt clear and transparent.The outlines of tall buildings, bridges and parapets along the Seine River are outlined with clear and graceful lines, as if they were drawn by a delicate painter, appearing soft and friendly.The colors of the sky, clouds and stones are also soft, as if they were chalk paintings from the eighteenth century.The leaves of the great trees, with their slender branches showing lavender against the blue sky; the delicate and varied colors of the sky form an elegant and complex picture.Charlie had seen the same scene painted before, so he could take it easy to appreciate the beauty without being surprised.He can understand such a picture and loves such a scene.Seeing it for the first time he could grasp the beauty of the picture, and though it was unexpected, he was not confused.He was like a person who returned to the small village where he once lived after leaving his hometown for a few years, and was filled with joy when he saw the familiar and friendly street again.

"Isn't it nice to be alive?" he cried. "It's good to be young and full of passion for life like you." Lydia said, holding his arm tightly.Her voice choked, but he didn't notice. Charlie was very familiar with the Louvre.The whole family often came to Paris because Venetia came to Paris regularly to find a small tailor to order clothes.The clothes made by this tailor were of the same quality as those in the expensive dressers of the Royal Mile and the Rue Cambon.Every time he comes to Paris, his parents have to find time to take the children to visit the Louvre.Leslie Mason freely admits that he prefers the newer schools of painting to the older ones out there.

"But whether you like it or not, visiting the great European gallery of the Louvre is a gentleman's course. When people talk about the works of painters such as Rembrandt and Titian, it would be a bit stupid for you not to express your opinions .and I don't shy away from boasting that no one can guide you in this area better than your mother. She has an artistic mind that ordinary people don't, and she knows what to do. She won't waste your precious time." "I didn't say your grandfather was a great artist," Mrs. Mason commented modestly and confidently, "but he could tell the good from the bad. He taught me everything I know about art. "

"Of course you have an artistic talent," interposed her husband. Mrs. Mason thought for a moment. "Yes, Leslie, you're right, I have a bit of an artistic talent." Since visiting the Louvre can bring direct spiritual benefits, they have never changed their habit of visiting the Louvre whenever they come to Paris.Mrs. Mason thought most of the art on display at the Carre Gallery was worth seeing for her children.Whenever the family walks into that room, they head straight for Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa. She said: "I always think that when you come to the Louvre, you should look at this painting first. Only in this way can you have the right mood to appreciate other works."

The family of four stood in front of the portrait of "Mona Lisa", gazing with admiration at the young woman with a dull smile in the picture.Her face is somewhat prim and sexually horny.Mrs. Mason stared at the painting for a long time in silence, then turned to her husband and two children.There were tears in her eyes. "Words can't express how I feel every time I see this painting," she said with a sigh. "Da Vinci was such a great painter. I think everyone will admit that." Leslie replied: "As for the works of the early masters, I have to admit that my understanding is still a bit unavoidable. Admittedly, I don't know how you understand it. Venetia, do you remember Pater's comment Is it? His comment is really sharp and insightful."

A mysterious smile played on Mrs. Mason's lips.Her voice was low, but she recited the famous remark again with passion.This comment was popular in the art world two generations ago, and it greatly shocked the aesthetics of young people at that time. "The best that the world can achieve is in her head, and the eyelids are a little sleepy. This is a beauty full of flesh and blood within, and every tiny part of her body is condensed. passion." They listened to her recitation in silence, their expressions full of awe.She stopped suddenly, resumed her natural tone, and said briskly: "Now let's go to see Raphael's paintings."

But it was impossible to avoid seeing the two huge canvases of Paolo Veronese, which hung on opposite walls. "The two paintings are worth seeing," she said. "Your grandfather thought highly of them. Of course, Veronese's work is not delicate enough, and his thought is not deep enough. His work is lifeless. But There is no doubt that his conception was genius. You must remember that no painter today can arrange so many figures in one painting in such a harmonious and natural way. Veronese was to paint such a huge scroll , The physical exertion alone is very huge. Even if his paintings lack vitality, you must admire him for this. But I think there is more to appreciate in these two paintings. These two paintings make the audience appreciate that The colorful life scenes of the era and the lifestyle of the pagans in pursuit of happiness. This is the characteristic of the aristocratic life in the heyday of Venice."

"The Canaanite Wedding has so many characters that I try to count them every time," says Leslie Mason, "but the numbers are different every time." The four of them began to count, but the numbers of the four were different.Now the family wandered into the Grand Cloister. "This painting is Titian's Man in Gloves," said Mrs. Mason. "I am not sorry that you have seen Veronese's works first, because they reflect the Titian school very clearly. characteristics. Do you remember when I said that Veronese's works are lifeless? Well, now you look at this "Man in Gloves" and see how Titian's paintings bring life."

"Titian was a wonderful old fellow," Leslie remarked. "He lived to be ninety-nine. He would have lived much longer if it hadn't been for a plague." Mrs. Mason smiled. She continued: "I can say with certainty that this painting is one of the finest portraits ever made. Of course, you can't compare it to Cézanne or Manet." "Venicia, we must not forget to take the children to see Manet's works." "Of course, we're definitely going to see Manet. We're going now. But what I'm trying to say is that you have to accept the style of the period in which it was painted. Remember, no one can deny that it's a master It is, of course, a painting that cannot be overemphasized. But what sets it apart is its unique imagination. Don't you think so, Leslie?" "certainly." "I used to look at this painting for hours before I got married. It's a painting that makes you think. I personally think it's a better portrait than Velasquez's Pope in Rome, Because it is more reminiscent of the viewer. Velázquez is also a very great painter, I admit this, he had a great influence on Manet. But I feel that his paintings lack the vitality of life, while Titian's paintings are the exact opposite." Leslie looked at his watch and said, "Venicia, let's not waste all our time here. Otherwise, we'll be too late for lunch." "Okay. We'll just look at Ingres and Manet." They walked on, looking left and right at the paintings on the walls of the gallery, but Mrs. Mason thought none of them were worth lingering at. "It's no good to recommend all these paintings to children, it just confuses them," she told her husband. "It's far better to let them concentrate on the really important works." "Of course," he replied. They entered the Hall of Nations, but Mrs. Mason stopped on the threshold. She said: "We don't look at Poussin's paintings today. He is undoubtedly a great painter, and his works can only be seen in the Louvre. But his paintings can only be appreciated by painters, and ordinary people are ugly. Got it. You're too young to appreciate his paintings. We'll come back when you're both older and appreciate his paintings. I mean, you'll have to grow up a bit to really Understand his work. The hall we are entering now is where the works of the nineteenth century are exhibited. But I don't think we need to appreciate the works of Delacroix. His paintings can only be appreciated by painters. I don't expect you to treat him The understanding of the work can be the same as mine, but you must believe my words, he is a very good painter. He is not good at using color, but his works are full of romantic sentiment. Of course you don’t have to bother to think about Babisang paintings Pai. When I was young, I admired the painters of this school very much, but we didn’t understand the Impressionists at that time, and of course we didn’t hear of Cézanne or Matisse. In fact, they had made some achievements at that time, but they just didn’t Attract people's attention. I want you to appreciate Ingres's "Grand Ladies" first, and then go to Manet's "Olympia". The placement of these two paintings is also quite strange, and they are hung opposite to each other on two walls , so that you can enjoy both paintings at the same time, compare the two paintings, and draw your own conclusions." As Mrs. Mason spoke, she walked into the hall with her husband, with Charlie and Patsy following closely behind them.But her eyes fell on Miller's "The Gleaner," and she stopped. "I just want you to take a minute to look at this painting. I don't want you to take a close look at it, but I want you to take a look anyway. Because there was a time when the painting was very highly regarded. When I was As a girl, this painting used to bring tears to my eyes, and I feel a little ashamed thinking about it now. I think this painting is very beautiful. But when I look at it now, I have no idea that I was so affected by it. What is the reason for being moved. This incident shows that a person's opinion will change as he grows older." "It also shows that we make mistakes when we're young." Leslie smiled slyly, as if he had just invented the phrase. They turned a corner along the gallery and now came to the place where the two paintings Venetia mentioned earlier were on display.She especially wanted her children to appreciate the two paintings the most.She stopped, as if a conjurer had successfully conjured a live rabbit out of a hat, and exclaimed brightly: "right here!" They stood in a row and looked at the two nudes for several minutes.Mrs. Mason watched with fascination.Then she turned to the children. "Now let's go to the front to taste these two paintings carefully." They first walked up to "Grand Lady of the Palace". Leslie opened the mouth first: "Venicia, this painting is not very good. You may say that I am vulgar, but I still don't like the color of this painting. The pink body of this maid is the same as your previous night Used the exact same pink cream. Then you took my advice and stopped using it." "You shouldn't reveal the secrets of our boudoir in front of these innocent children." Venetia said solemnly, and at the same time smiled mischievously, "But I never said that Angel is a master of color, the same, I’ve always thought blue was a very lovely color. I’ve often thought, someday I’ll make an evening gown in that color too. Am I looking too young like this, Patsy?” "No, dear. Not at all." "But this is irrelevant to our subject. Ingres is probably the greatest master of composition who ever lived. Anyone who looks at the structure and beautiful lines of Ingres' paintings immediately feels that this is a painting that expresses the human spirit. Great work. I remember my dad once telling me that once he took a classmate from Julian to visit the Louvre, this classmate had never seen this painting. When his eyes fell on this painting When he was painting, the beauty of the lines of the painting gave him such a strong shock that he fainted." "I think it may be that the sightseeing time is too long, and it has already passed the time when ordinary people should have lunch, so he passed out from hunger." "You're not going to say your father-in-law is abusing the guests, are you?" Mrs. Mason laughed. "Well, we'll only be in front of "Olympia" for five minutes, and then we'll go eat." The group of them walked to Manet's great works again. "When you come up to such a masterwork," said Mrs. Mason, "the only thing to do is to shut up and enjoy it slowly. As Hamlet said, there is nothing left but silence. No one, not even Renoir Neither El Greco nor El Greco can paint such skin. Look at the right breast of the figure in the painting. It is so pleasing to the eye, it is a miracle. Looking at this painting, the viewer can only be dumbfounded. My poor father The most modern school. But even he has to admit that the right breast of the figure in this painting is too beautiful. What do you think? I ask you. Now, I think you see in the painting Is there a black outline of the figure? Charlie, do you see that?" Charlie admitted that he saw it. "Petsy, do you see that?" "I see." "Well, I didn't see it," she exclaimed, in a triumphant tone. "I used to see it all the time, and I knew it was there, but I tell you, I don't see it now." After visiting the Louvre, the family went to a small, unassuming restaurant for lunch.The Masons had discovered the place before, and there were no Brits here.The environment and food here are not inferior to those restaurants frequented by foreigners, but the price is only half of those places.This place is already full of customers.But the strange thing is that the table on their left is British, and the right is American; at the opposite table are two blond Swedes, tall and big; Japanese.There is a mix of almost every language in the restaurant, but no one speaks French.Leslie glanced disapprovingly at the surrounding customers. "Venicia, I think this place has changed." The four of them each have a big recipe.The recipe was written in purple ink, and they were a little confused looking at it.Leslie rubbed her hands happily. "Which dish should I order first? I think we'd better be like the French when we're in France. So escargots for first course, and then bullfrogs. What do you think?" "These two dishes are disgusting, Dad," said Patsy. "Son, that's showing your ignorance. These two dishes are delicious. I didn't see them in the recipe." He couldn't tell the difference. In French, grenouille means frog, Is crapaud a toad, or vice versa.He looked up at the head waiter beside him, and said in his thick British accent, "Boy, do you have any toads?" The foreman didn't like being called a lad, but he replied gravely that it was the wrong season. "It's so off-putting," Leslie cried. "Well, what about the snails?" "Dad, if you eat snails, I'll throw up." "He's teasing you, boy. Don't take it seriously," said Mrs. Mason. "I think you'd better have an omelette. The French eat omelets." "That's right," said Leslie. "Anywhere you go in France, there's an omelette on the menu. Well, boy, four omelets." Then, for the sake of their two children, they ordered an English roast beef.After the main course, the children ordered vanilla ice cream, while the two adults ate soft cheese from Camembert.They eat them a lot in England too, but the consensus is that they taste very different in France.Finally, they ordered tea with chicory.Mrs. Mason sipped her tea with relish, and said: "Only in France do you know what coffee is like." Due to his frequent visits to the Carré Gallery in the Louvre since he was a child, coupled with his mother's persuasive guidance, Charlie now walked into the Carré Gallery with Lydia, as confident as an excellent tennis player walking into a match.He was eager to show Lydia those paintings he loved, and was ready to explain to her what to admire in them.However, he was surprised to find that the exhibits in the gallery had been rearranged.Naturally, he wanted to take her to appreciate the "Mona Lisa" first, but this painting is now hanging somewhere.They were only in this gallery for ten minutes.When Charlie and his parents visit here, it often takes more than an hour.But even then, his mother said, they didn't enjoy the treasure to its fullest.But the painting "Man Wearing Gloves" was still in its original position, and he led her gently to the painting.They looked at the painting and admired it for a while. "It's pretty, isn't it?" he said, taking her arm affectionately. "Yes, not bad. But what does it matter to you?" Charlie turned his head abruptly.No one had ever asked him such a question about a painting before. "What the hell do you mean? It's the greatest portrait in the world. Do you know Titian?" "I thought I might have heard of this man. But does it matter to you?" Charlie really didn't know what to say. "Well, it's a very beautiful painting, painted with great skill. Of course it's not a lie, if that's what you mean." "No, that's not what I meant." She smiled. "Then I really don't know what this painting has to do with me." "Then why do you miss this painting so much?" Lydia walked forward slowly, and Charlie followed her.She glanced indifferently at the other works in the gallery.Charlie was disturbed by what she had just said and puzzled by what was going on in her head.She smiled mischievously at him, and said: "Come on, I'll show you some paintings." She took his arm and they walked on.Suddenly, he saw the "Mona Lisa". "There," he cried, "I must stop and take a good look at this painting. It is the one I must see when I come to the Louvre." "why?" "Damn it! It's Leonardo da Vinci's most famous painting. And the most important painting in the world." "Is it important to you?" Charlie was beginning to feel that she was getting a little irritating.He didn't understand what she meant.But he is a young man with a very good character, he will not lose his temper easily. "A painting can be important even if it's not very important to me." "But it is only meaningful if it is important to you. A painting is only meaningful to you personally, and it is really meaningful to you as the viewer." "It seems like a completely egotistical way of judging a painting, and it's horrible." "So, can you really understand anything from that painting?" "Of course. Sentiments vary. But I think Pater's comment on the painting was better than mine. Too bad I didn't remember his comment the way my mother did. She could recite that passage .” But even when he said that, he realized that his answer was not convincing.He was beginning to realize, a little vaguely, what Lydia was trying to say.There might be things about art that no one had ever told him before, and it made him uneasy.But fortunately, he remembered his mother's evaluation of Manet's "Olympia". "Whether you like a painting or not, judgment should not be taken lightly." "You really like that painting?" she asked gently.But that sentence smacked of an interrogation. "I like it very much." "why do you like it?" He thought for a while before answering: "I have been familiar with this painting almost since I was a child." "That's why you like Simon, isn't it?" she said, smiling. He felt the objection was a little unfair. "Okay, take me to see the painting you like." Now the positions of the two have been reversed.According to his original idea, he would lead Lydia to watch the masterpieces of art by the masters.He would explain to her, to increase her interest in the work, to draw her attention with compassion to these great works which he had always loved.But now she is leading her on a tour.This is also good.He is also willing to let her go and see what she thinks. He said to himself: "Of course, she is a Russian. I must make allowances for that." They walked through one gallery after another, passing by countless works of art.Because Lydia couldn't remember where the painting she was looking for hung.Finally she stopped in front of a small painting.If you are not looking for this painting deliberately, it is easy to miss it. He said: "This is Chardin's work, yes, I have seen it before." "But have you tasted it carefully?" "Oh, of course. Chardin's paintings are very characteristic, he is a good painter. My mother is very fond of his works. I have always preferred his still lifes myself." "Is that all you get? But his paintings break my heart." "Really?" exclaimed Charlie, surprised. "A loaf of bread and a bottle of wine would break your heart? Sure, it's a very well-painted picture." "You are quite right, this picture is excellent. The painter made this picture with compassion and love. It is not just a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. It represents a spiritual food and the blood of Christ. This piece of bread does not represent the rations snatched from the mouths of the starving and regularly distributed by the church, it represents the daily bread of men and women who are suffering in pain. The picture is so humble, so Naturally, so friendly, it represents the bread and wine of the poor. The poor people have no extravagant thoughts, their request is only a peaceful life, not to be unemployed, and to be able to enjoy their simple food freely is enough. This painting It is the cry of the lowly and hopeless. This painting declares that no matter how sinful a person is, his heart is good. This bread and this bottle of wine represent the joy and sorrow of the lowly and meek. This painting is calling for your pity and your love; this painting is telling you that they have flesh and blood just like you; this painting is telling you that life is short and hard, while the grave is cold and Lonely. There is more than a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine in this painting, they symbolize the mysterious destiny of human beings living on this planet, the human desire for friendship and love, and the symbol of when human beings cannot get a trace of friendship Their attitude of humility and submission when they are loving and loving." Lydia's voice was trembling, and tears were streaming from her eyes now.She hastily wiped away the tears. "Although the objects depicted in this painting are simple, the artist has delicate feelings, exquisite painting skills and compassion. It is heartbreaking that this eccentric and amiable old man can create such beautiful works. Is this painting Wonderful? The author seems to let you know unconsciously that as long as you have enough love, as long as you show enough compassion, you can get out of the vortex of pain, sadness and heartlessness, and get rid of all the evils in the world. You can create beauty." She looked at the small painting and stood silently for a long time.Charlie was also looking at the painting, but his heart was full of confusion.It was a very fine painting, which he had never really appreciated before.He was glad Lydia had called his attention to the work.The way she introduces it is quite touching and a little bit weird.Of course, if he hadn't heard her comment on the painting, he would never have such a feeling.She is really a temperamental, elusive woman!It was somewhat embarrassing that she could cry in a gallery where everyone was watching.These Russians, they embarrass you and they don't take it seriously.But who would have thought that a painting could move people so much?He remembered the story his mother told about a classmate who was close to his grandfather and passed out after seeing Ingres's "The Grand Lady" for the first time.But this was back in the nineteenth century, when people were very romantic and very emotional.Lydia turned to him, a happy smile on her lips.Seeing her burst into laughter suddenly, Charlie was a little flustered. "Can we go now?" she asked. "Don't you want to see any other pictures?" "Why look? I've already seen one. I'm happy and at peace now. What else do I get by looking at another picture?" "Oh, all right then." It seems odd to treat art museums this way.After all, they didn't even appreciate the works of Watteau or Fragonard.If he'd seen "Sailing the Island," his mother was bound to ask him some questions.She was told that the Louvre had cleaned the painting, and she wondered what the color of the painting had become now. They did some shopping and then had lunch at a restaurant on the quay across the Seine.Lydia, as usual, had a very good appetite.She likes to sit among the hustle and bustle and watch the busy street outside the restaurant.She is in a very good mood right now.As if the strong emotion just now had washed her spiritual world clean, she talked about some trivial things happily.But Charlie said little, and was still in deep thought.He couldn't easily put the uneasiness behind him.She rarely paid attention to his emotional changes, but now the sadness in his heart was clearly reflected on his face, and finally she found it too. "Why are you silent?" she asked, smiling kindly and sympathetically. "I was thinking about it. You see, I was interested in art from a young age. My parents were both very into art, I mean, some even said they were quite artistic. They always wanted me and my sister to be able to Really appreciating art, and I think we did. I don't really seem to understand art as well as you do, even though I've put so much effort into it and have so many advantages. I'm baffled thinking about it. " "I don't know anything about art." She smiled. "But you seem to have very strong feelings, and I think art is actually a feeling. It's not that I don't like paintings. I get great physical and mental pleasure from looking at paintings." "Don't you worry. It's only natural for us to have different opinions on paintings. You have youth and health, happiness and wealth. You have brains too. Art is only one of your many pleasures. Looking at paintings can make you Feeling warm and content. Walking through the galleries is of course a very pleasant way to pass the time. You have everything you need, what more can you ask for? But you see, I have always been very poor and often hungry, Sometimes it's terribly lonely. Eating, drinking and company are a rare treat for me. When I go to work, my boss's endless scolding makes me upset. I often sneak into the Louvre at lunch time. Admiring the artwork here, her scolding was forgotten by me. When my mother died, I had no relatives. This became my place of solace again. Locked up before Robert's trial Those long months in prison, when I was pregnant, and if I hadn't had the Louvre to go to, I thought I would either have killed myself or gone crazy. No one knew me there, no one was staring at me. I I can enjoy the paintings quietly by myself. These works of art have become my friends. Here I can obtain spiritual rest and peace. These paintings have given me the courage to live. It is not those great famous people who have helped me the most. works, but those little paintings that are unobtrusive and silently perched in a corner. I feel that when I look at them, they are all beaming. I feel that nothing is really inseparable from it, because everything All must pass away. Endure! Endure! This is what I have gained in the Louvre. Despite the endless horror, suffering, and cruelty in this world, I feel a thing that can endure it all, which is stronger and more powerful. Important. This is the spirit of man and the beauty of man's creation. Isn't it strange that that little painting I showed you this morning means so much to me?" To make the most of the beautiful weather, they strolled along the busy Boulevard Saint-Michel.At the top of the ramp they turned into the Luxembourg Gardens.They sat down without saying a word, but just looked around idly.There are a few nannies with strollers nearby.Alas, they don't all wear satin gowns like previous generations.There are also a few old ladies in black clothes, and they lead the children for a walk with serious faces.A few old gentlemen covered their thick scarves up to their noses, and they paced back and forth, lost in thought.They looked happily at the long-armed and long-legged boys and girls running around playing games; a pair of young students passed by them, and they began to wonder how seriously they were working. discuss something.It seems that this is not an open park, but a private garden of people living on the left bank of the Seine. Everything in the park is very intimate and exciting.But the light from the gradually westward sun is also icy, making the park still shrouded in a melancholy atmosphere.Iron fences with grates separate the park from the bustle of the big city, giving the park an eerie sense of unreality.It seemed that the old men who walked on the cobbled paths, the children who yelled joyously, were wandering ghosts and game ghosts, and at dusk they disappeared without a trace, like a man vomited The smoke ring faded into the surrounding darkness.It was very cold for them now, so Charlie and Lydia got up and walked to their hotel.Although they did not speak on the road, they seemed like a harmonious couple. Back in her room, Lydia took out a small stack of piano music from her suitcase. "I've brought some sheet music that Robert used to play. I'm not very good at the piano, and there's no piano at Alexei's house. Can you play these pieces?" Charlie flipped through the sheet music.They are all Russian pieces.Some tunes are familiar to him. "I think it's all right," he replied. “楼下就有一架钢琴，现在大厅里也没有人演奏。咱们这就去弹。” 这架钢琴的音很不准，需要调音了。这是一架立式钢琴。由于年代久远，钢琴的键盘都发黄了，而且因为很少有人使用，琴键有些僵硬。钢琴前有一条很长的琴凳，莉迪娅挨着查利坐了下来。他将一份斯克里亚宾的乐谱放到谱架上，这首曲子他很熟悉。试着弹了几个和弦后他就开始弹奏。莉迪娅一面听着曲子一面为他翻乐谱。查利曾经刻苦练习过钢琴演奏，他的水平可与伦敦最优秀的钢琴大师相媲美。他在上中学的时候就在音乐会演奏过钢琴，后来在剑桥也参加过演出。这些经历使他对钢琴演奏非常自信。他愉快地轻轻触击着琴键。他感到弹琴是一种享受。 当这一曲演奏结束后，他说：“就到这里吧。” 他并非对自己的演奏不满意。他知道他是按照作曲家的意图，以他一贯的清晰而直率的风格进行了演奏。 “再弹点儿别的吧。”莉迪娅恳求说。 她又挑选了一份乐谱。这首曲子是一位查利从来没有听说过的作曲家以民间歌舞为题材改编的钢琴曲。曲谱的封面上有罗伯特·伯杰的签名，字体透着自信和粗犷，查利看到后十分震惊。莉迪娅盯着这个签名默默地看了一会儿，然后翻到下一页。他看着这份乐谱的内容，心里琢磨现在莉迪娅在想些什么呢？她一定曾在罗伯特的身边坐过，就像她现在坐在自己身边一样。她为什么要这样折磨自己呢？他弹的这些曲子必然会勾起她痛苦的回忆，使她想起那短暂的幸福时光和随后而来的痛苦。 “好吧，可以开始了。” 这份曲谱子，他看一眼就会。他弹得十分得心应手。他自认为演奏得还不错，没给自己丢脸。弹完最后一组合弦后，他等着莉迪娅的夸赞。 “你弹得非常不错，”莉迪娅说道，“但怎么感觉没有俄罗斯的味道了？” “你这话究竟是什么意思啊？”他感到有些受到冒犯，质问道。 “你的演奏听起来就好像是在伦敦的一个星期日下午，人们衣着鲜亮，在那些宽阔的大广场上漫步，盼望着喝茶的时间快点儿到来。但这根本就不是这首曲子要表达的本意。这首曲子是一首古老的歌谣，它表达的是农夫们为生活的煎熬与生命的短暂而感到的悲哀，它表达的是一望无际的金色麦浪和劳动的人们喜迎丰收的景象，它表达的是无边无际的山毛榉树的林海，它表达的是劳动的人们对过去大地五谷丰登与一派和平景象的怀念情绪，它表达的是人们为短暂地忘却种种不幸而狂放舞蹈的场景。” “那好吧，可能你弹会更好些。” “我也弹不好。”她一边回答，一边将他挤到了长凳的一边，坐到了他刚才的位置上。 他现在倒要听听她的演奏。她弹奏钢琴的水平很糟糕，但即使如此，她的演奏还是表达出了某种他没有悟出的东西。她努力想要表达出这首曲子内在的激情、痛苦和忧郁；她为这首曲子注入了舞曲的节律，产生了一种原始而野蛮的活力，使人听了血脉贲张。但查利却感到困惑。 当莉迪娅演奏完后，他不悦地说道：“我不明白为什么你认为这样踩着增音踏板不放，乱弹一气，却更能表现俄罗斯风格呢？” 莉迪娅爆发出一阵大笑，用双手搂住他的脖子，在他的面颊上吻了一下。 “你真可爱。”她喊道。 “多谢。”他冷冰冰地回答，同时挣脱了她的双手。 “你生气了？” "That's not the case." 她摇摇头，冲他微微一笑，亲切而温柔。 “你刚才演奏得非常好，你弹钢琴的水平也很高。但你不适合演奏俄罗斯音乐。给我弹点儿舒曼的曲子吧。你肯定演奏得非常漂亮。” “不，我什么都不会再弹了。” “如果你对我生气了，为什么不打我两下？” 查利忍不住笑了。 “你这个傻瓜。我还从来没有这样想过。再说，我也没有生气。” “你长得这么高大、强壮和英俊，我忘了你只是一个大孩子。”她叹了口气，“你这么单纯，对生活的残酷还是一无所知。有时候，我看着你，心里就感到痛苦。” “现在，别再表现得那么像俄罗斯人，别再这么情绪化了。” “对我好些，弹首舒曼的曲子吧。” 只要莉迪娅愿意，她其实很会劝动他人。查利勉强一笑，又坐到了弹琴的位置上。舒曼实际上是他最喜欢的作曲家，他脑子里就装着他的许多作品。他为她弹了整整一个小时。每当他想不弹了，她就劝他接着弹。收款台的年轻女子好奇地想看看是谁在弹钢琴。她回到收款台后，冲客厅服务员调皮地一笑，意味深长地嘀咕道： “两只斑鸠正快活呢。” 当查利最终演奏完了，莉迪娅心满意足地叹了一口气。 “我知道舒曼的音乐最适合你弹了。他的曲子就像你一样阳光，让人听了感到舒适和敞亮。从他的曲子中能嗅到空气的清冽新鲜和松树的宜人清香，感受到阳光的温暖。听着他的音乐，与你在一起，对我来说真是莫大的享受啊。你母亲一定非常爱你。” “噢，别胡扯了。” “你为什么对我这么好？我枯燥无味，令人生厌，还经常惹你生气。你甚至都不很喜欢我，对不对？” 查利思考了一下。 “好吧，实话实说，我确实不是非常喜欢你。” she laughed. “那你为什么还要在我身上费心呢？你为什么不干脆将我赶到街上去？” "I do not know either." “要我告诉你吗？这就是善良。这是一种单纯、自然和愚蠢的善良。” “见你的鬼去。” 他们在附近找了一家餐馆吃了晚饭。查利注意到，莉迪娅对他个人毫无兴趣。就好比在一艘客轮上碰到一个需一起度过几天旅程的乘客，你会同他有一定的亲近感，但至于他来自哪里，他是一个什么样的人，这些都无关紧要。他走进船舱时就如同从天而降，到达码头他离去时，也同样像是消逝在空气中。你要做的只是挥挥手同他告别而已。查利是个很有涵养的人，不会对此感到愠怒。他知道她深陷困境与烦恼之中，必然是无心它念。现在她居然要他谈谈自己，他自然会有些惊讶了。他告诉她，自己非常喜爱艺术，曾希望能成为一名专业画家。但她赞同他后来在父亲劝说下作出的从商选择，认为这样生活才能够有保障。他以前还从未发现她能够如此令人感到愉快，如此具有人情味。莉迪娅只是通过狄更斯、萨克雷和赫伯特·乔治·威尔斯的小说对英国人的家庭生活有所了解。她对那些居住在贝斯沃特区豪宅大院内的人们十分好奇。她对他们只有一些表面的认识。她详细地打听他家里的人和物。而他总是为家里的一切感到自豪，很高兴谈论这些话题。他用略有些讽刺意味的反语谈到他的父母，但莉迪娅从他的话音中听出了他对父母的钦佩和挚爱。不知不觉间，他描绘出一个亲密无间、祥和幸福的家庭生活情景。他们属于中等富裕的家庭，生活低调，不事声张。他们沉浸在自己平和的生活之中，认为外界发生的任何变化都不会影响到他们安定的生活。他描述的这种生活并没有显出尊贵与高雅之态，而是透着一种正常和健康。他们追求的并非物质享受，而是丰富的精神生活。他们单纯而诚实，既无勃勃雄心，也不嫉妒他人。他们按照自己的能力为国家尽义务，为社会尽责任。他们是些善良之人。英国长期而稳定的经济繁荣造就了他们温厚、慈善的性格和自鸣得意的心态。这种心态的表现并不招人讨厌。就算莉迪娅模糊地洞悉到，这些就像小孩子在海滩上垒出来的城堡，随时都可能有一个大浪打来，将这一切扫荡得干干净净，她也一定不会在面上显露出什么： “你们英国人真是幸运。”她说。 但查利被自己的话所触动，他对此感到惊讶。在他述说的过程中，他第一次以外人的眼光来审视自己。之前，他像一个在台上进行演出的演员，从来没有以观众的视角来看待这部戏。他对这部戏的效果如何只有一个模糊的概念；他在戏里卖力地演出，但从未想过自己的角色到底有什么意义。说他现在感到不安可能有些言过其实，他只是稍感困惑。他认识到，他们一家人，他父亲、母亲、妹妹和自己从早忙到晚，挤出时间来做他们想做的事，然而回过头来审视他们年复一年的生活，他们每个人实际上都一事无成。想到这里确实很不舒服。就像是在看一幕喜剧，该剧的舞台布景精致，演员的服装鲜亮，对白机巧，演技高超。观看这幕剧时你会感到心情愉快，但一个星期后你就会将它全然忘却。 吃完晚饭后，他们打了一辆出租车到塞纳河对岸的一家电影院去看电影。这部影片由马克思兄弟主演。这些演技高超的喜剧演员夸张而幽默的表演让他俩笑得前仰后合。他们不仅被格劳乔的俏皮话和哈珀手足无措的滑稽举止逗得哈哈大笑，也为对方笑起来的样子而大笑不止。电影在午夜结束，但查利太兴奋了，他现在睡觉将无法入眠。他问莉迪娅是否愿意跟他一道找个地方去跳舞。 “你想去哪里？”莉迪娅问道，“蒙马特可以吗？” “只要那里气氛欢快，你喜欢，就行。”然后，他想起他和父母来到巴黎后常有的，但很少实现的愿望。就补充道：“还有，那里的英国人要少一些。” 莉迪娅冲他略带顽皮地一笑。之前他曾看到她脸上出现过一两次这样的笑容。他感到很惊讶，但同时也有些怜爱之情。他感到惊讶，是因为这样的笑容与他知道的她的性格不符；他感到怜爱是因为尽管她身世凄惨，但也有情绪高昂的时候，也能对他人进行戏谑。 “我带你去的地方气氛不会太欢快，但可能会很有趣。有一个俄罗斯妇女在那里唱歌。” 他们坐车走了很远的路。车停下时查利发现他们到了码头上。巴黎圣母院的双塔在布满星星的寒冷夜空中清晰可见。他们在漆黑的街道上没走几步就到了一扇狭窄的门前。进门后，他们又走下一段楼梯。查利惊讶地发现，自己眼前是一个宽敞的地下室。这个地下室四面都是石头的墙壁，中间摆放着凸凹不平的木桌，每张桌子足够十到十二个人用。桌子的每一边都放着长木凳。室内的空气十分闷热，烟雾缭绕。桌子中间空出来的地方是密密麻麻的人群，他们正随着一首忧郁的曲子在跳舞。一个穿着随意而邋遢的服务员给他俩找了个座位，让他俩点了饮料。坐在周围的人们好奇地打量着他俩，彼此低声议论着什么。确实，查利穿着笔挺的英国蓝哔叽西服，而莉迪娅穿着黑色丝绸服装，戴着插有羽毛的时髦帽子，他俩的穿戴与周围人反差太大。这里的男人既不穿衬衣，也不扎领带，他们跳舞时戴着帽子，嘴上叼着烟卷。而女人们头上什么也没戴，脸上浓妆艳抹。 “他们看起来非常粗野。”查利说。 “是的。这里的大多数人都坐过牢，剩下的人也会去蹲班房。如果出现打斗，他们就会相互扔酒杯或拔刀子。这时你就要站在墙边，不要乱动。” “我觉得他们不太喜欢看到咱俩，”查利说，“他们可能都在注意咱俩。” “他们认为咱俩是观光者，他们对有人竟然上这里看热闹感到很生气。但没事的。我认识这里的老板。” 服务员拿来他们点的啤酒时，莉迪娅让他叫老板过来。不多会儿老板就来了。他是一个大块头，看起来就像是一个胖牧师。他立刻认出了莉迪娅。他用怀疑的眼神狠狠地瞪了查利一眼。但当莉迪娅告诉他，查利是她的一个朋友时，他与查利热情地握手，并说他很高兴看到查利。他坐下来，与莉迪娅低声交谈了几分钟。查利注意到邻座的人都在看着这一幕，他看到其中一个男子冲另外一个人使了个眼色。他们显然对一切正常感到满意。这一轮跳舞结束了，他们这个桌上的其他人又坐了回来。他们向两个陌生人投来了敌视的目光。但老板解释说他们是朋友。于是同桌的一个脸上有一道伤疤、面带凶相的家伙坚持要请他俩喝一杯酒。很快，他们就加入了愉快的交谈之中。他们显然急于使这两个年轻的英国人有一种宾至如归的感觉。坐在查利身旁的一个男人向他解释说，虽然这里的人看起来有点儿粗野，但他们都是些行得正、坐得端的好人。他有点儿喝醉了。查利已经克服了最初的不安，放松了下来。 现在，萨克斯演奏手站了起来，走到他的椅子前面。莉迪娅曾提到过的俄罗斯女歌手拎着一把吉他走上前来，在椅子上坐了下来。人群爆发出一阵掌声。 “这位是拉·马里莎小姐，”查利这位喝醉酒的朋友向他介绍道，“没有人喜欢她。她曾是苏维埃政权一个人民委员的情妇，但斯大林把这个人民委员枪毙了。如果不是设法逃出了俄罗斯，她恐怕也难逃挨枪子的命运。” 同桌另一端的一个女人听到了他们的对话。 “你对他胡说些什么呀，卢卢，”她喊道，“谁都知道，拉·马里莎革命前是一个大公的情妇。她拥有价值数百万美元的珠宝，但布尔什维克将这一切都抢走了。她伪装成一个农妇才逃了出来。” 拉·马里莎是一个四十出头的女人，她面容憔悴而忧郁，骨瘦如柴，身材像个男人。她的皮肤呈褐色，一副浓黑、弯弯的眉毛下是一对炽热如火的大眼睛。她带着沙哑的嗓音，高声唱起了一首充满野性、毫无欢乐感觉的歌曲。虽然查利不懂俄语，但听了她唱的歌曲，一股寒意还是划过了他的脊梁。听众为她大声鼓掌。然后她唱了一首伤感的法语民歌。歌词大意是，一个女孩为她第二天早晨要被处死的情人而哀伤。这首歌使听众极为激动。她唱完这首歌后，又唱起了另一首欢快的俄罗斯歌曲。这时她的脸上已经没有了凄惨的表情，取而代之的是粗野和快活。她的声音低沉又刺耳，透出一种欢快的情绪。查利周身的血液在沸腾，不由自主地激动起来。同时查利也被她的歌声所打动，理解了在表面欢快的曲调下面是凄凉与徒劳的眼泪。查利看看莉迪娅，发现她的眼睛中又出现了那种嘲讽的目光。他和善地笑了。这个可怕的女人又从这首歌曲中悟出了些什么，而他现在还无法知道。这首歌唱完后，室内又爆发出一阵热烈的掌声。但拉·马里莎好像没有听到，对掌声也没有任何答谢的表示，就从椅子上站了起来，径直走向莉迪娅。两个女人开始用俄语交谈起来。莉迪娅转向查利。 “如果你愿意的话，可以给她要一杯香槟。” “当然愿意。” 他示意一个服务员过来，让他上一瓶香槟。然后，他扫视了围坐在这张桌子旁的六七个人，改变了主意。 “要两瓶香槟，再拿一些杯子来。也许这些先生和女士们也能赏光让我给他们倒杯酒。” 这几个人作出了礼貌的回应，表示接受。香槟上来了，查利将几个杯子都倒满，然后向桌子那头递过去，直到每人面前都有一杯。大家碰了杯，说了许多祝福健康之类的词令。 “英法友好万岁。” “为了协约国，干杯。” 他们都变得非常友好和快活，查利也感到轻松愉快。但他是来这里跳舞的。因此当乐队又开始演奏的时候，他把莉迪娅拉了起来。很快就有许多人站起来跳舞，人群拥挤。他发现有很多人好奇地盯着她。他猜测这里的消息传播得非常快，人们现在都知道她是谁了，也使得这些男男女女对她很感兴趣。这使查利有点儿尴尬，但莉迪娅似乎根本就没有意识到有人在盯着她。 这里的老板碰了碰她的肩膀。 “我要对你说句话。”他低声说道。 莉迪娅放下查利，随这个胖胖的老板一同走到房间的一边，好听他说些什么。查利看得出来，她吃了一惊。他显然是想把某个人指给她看，因为查利看到她伸长脖子张望，但跳舞的人太多，她显然是什么也看不见。她马上又随着那个老板走到房间的另一端。她似乎已经忘了查利。查利有点儿不悦，转身回到原来的桌旁。有两对夫妇正坐在那儿怡然自得地享用着他的香槟。他们热情地跟他打着招呼。现在他们已经相互熟悉了，便询问他为什么不跟莉迪娅跳舞了。查利告诉他们出现的变故。其中一个矮壮的男人有着红色的脸膛和一脸的大胡子。他的衬衫大敞着，露出了胸膛上浓密的胸毛。由于室内闷热，他脱掉了外套，挽起了衬衫袖子，露出了胳膊上大片的文身。他和一个女孩坐在一起，这个女孩可能要比他年轻二十岁。女孩有一头非常光亮的黑发，头发在中间分开，在后脖子上盘着一个发髻；脸上扑着厚厚一层粉，像死人一样惨白；嘴唇涂得猩红，眼圈描得黑黑的。那名男子用胳膊肘碰碰她。 “你为什么不与这个英国人跳个舞？不能光喝人家的香槟呀，对吗？” “我可以跟他跳啊。” 她跳舞时身子紧贴着查利。她身上散发着一股强烈的香水味，但还不足以掩盖她在晚餐时吃的大蒜的气味。她冲着查利妩媚地笑了笑。 “你这个漂亮的小英国佬一定是好色到极点了。”她咯咯地笑着，扭动着柔软的身体。她穿着黑色的天鹅绒礼服，但衣服上落满了灰尘。 “你为什么这么说呢？”他笑道。 “与伯杰的老婆混在一起，如果不是好色还怎么解释呢？” “她是我的姐姐。”查利快活地说道。 她认为这个笑话太有意思了。当乐队停止演奏，他们回到原来的桌前，她又把查利的这句话学给了同桌的其他人。他们都认为这很可笑。那个露着浓密胸毛的男人拍了拍查利的后背，说：“你太滑稽了！” 查利觉得被视为有幽默感的人感觉还不坏。取得成功总是让人感到高兴的事。他意识到，他被当成了一个臭名昭著的杀人犯的妻子的情人，他在这里成了名人。他们请他下次再来。 “下次自己一个人来啊。”跟他刚才跳舞的那个女孩说。 “我们会找个女孩陪你的。干吗非要同一个俄国女人混在一起？法国的酒多好，有法国的香槟就足够了。” 查利又要了一瓶香槟。他这样做并非是紧张，而是出于快乐。他正在极大地增长着生活的阅历。莉迪娅回来的时候，他正在同新结交的朋友们谈笑风生，仿佛他们是多年的老朋友一样。他同莉迪娅又跳了一支舞。他注意到莉迪娅的脚步跟他有点儿不合拍，他轻轻地晃了晃她。 “你有点儿心不在焉啊。” she laughed. “对不起。我累了。咱们走吧。” “什么事让你心烦意乱了？” “没什么。就是天太晚了，而且室内闷热得可怕。” 同他们的新朋友们热烈握手告别后，他们就离开这里，钻进了一辆出租车。莉迪娅精疲力竭地靠到椅背上。他感到很高兴，心中充满了温情。他拉过她的手，握在自己的手中。他们就这样沉默地坐着。 他们回到房间，马上就倒在了床上，几分钟后莉迪娅就发出了均匀的呼吸声。查利知道她睡着了，但他却很兴奋，无法入睡。这个晚上他非常开心，现在全无睡意。他把前后经过又回味了一遍，想到回到家里时他能绘声绘色地讲述这段故事的情景，不禁笑出声来。他打开灯，拿起一本书读了起来。但现在他无法将注意力集中于布莱克的诗上。各种杂念掠过他的脑海。他关掉灯，打了一小会儿瞌睡，但很快就醒了。性的渴望折磨着他。听着旁边床上的女人传来的平静呼吸声，他的内心更是激动难抑。除了在苏丹宫见到莉迪娅的第一天晚上之外，他对她只有怜悯和同情的感觉，完全没有感觉到她在性方面对自己有什么吸引力。这几天来从早到晚地看着她，他甚至没觉得她长得漂亮。他不喜欢她的方脸盘和高颧骨，不喜欢她灰色的眼睛在眼窝中转动的样子。有时候，他觉得她的长相确实太一般了。尽管她出于奇怪和不可理喻的原因选择了这样的生活方式，查利还是感到她极端的高尚，因而打消了同她寻欢作乐的想法。再有就是她对性的冷淡令他的热情一下就降到了冰点。她蔑视和憎恶那些花了钱就要在她身上找乐子的男人。她强烈地爱着罗伯特，因而无法再对其他人产生爱恋，同时也压抑着她的性欲。除此之外，查利觉得自己也不太喜欢她的性格。她有时很沉闷，对什么事情都很冷淡。她将他为她所做的一切都视为理所当然。她确实并没有主动提出过什么要求，她虽然并没有感激的表示，但礼貌而得体地认可了他真心实意待她的事实。查利有一些不安，担心她把自己当成了傻瓜。如果西蒙说的真是如此，如果她当妓女是为了多挣钱，好帮助罗伯特逃跑，那么她就只不过是个冷酷的骗子。他想到她在背后笑话自己单纯幼稚的样子，脸一下就涨得通红。不，他并不想要她。他越想越感到自己不喜欢她。然而在那一刻，他的性冲动是如此的强烈，几乎要让他喘不过气来了。他现在想到的莉迪娅不是平时看到的，有些乏味的，像一个主日学校老师的她，而是他第一次看到她时穿着松松垮垮的土耳其长裤，头戴闪闪发亮的星星图案蓝色头巾，双颊涂着胭脂，睫毛用睫毛膏描得黑黑的她。他想起她纤细的腰，细腻、柔软、蜂蜜颜色的皮肤，想起她小巧结实的乳房和红润的乳头。他在床上翻来滚去。现在他的欲望几乎无法抑制。这真是一种极大的痛苦。不管怎样，这不公平。他是个年轻而强壮的正常男人，有机会时不为什么他能找一点儿乐子呢？她就躺在那里，她就是干这个的。这是她自己说的。即使她认为自己是头肮脏的猪，又有什么关系？自己为她付出得够多了，他理应得到一些回报。莉迪娅安静的呼吸声令他出奇的兴奋，使他的呼吸节奏也加快了。他想象着他的嘴唇压向她柔软的嘴唇，他的手握住她娇小乳房时的感觉；他想象着她轻盈的身体被他搂在怀里，他长长的腿紧压着她的腿的感觉。他打开灯，认为这样可能会唤醒她。然后他翻身下床，向她俯过身去。她平躺着，双手十字交叉放在胸口上，就像是墓地的一尊石雕像。眼泪正从她紧闭的双眼淌出，她的嘴由于悲伤而扭曲着。她正在睡梦中哭泣着。她看上去就像一个躺在那里的孩子，她的脸上有着孩子般无助而痛苦的表情，而孩子不知道痛苦如同所有其他事情一样，都会过去的。查利深深地吸了一口气。这个熟睡中的女人悲哀的表情真是让他不忍目睹。他的激情，他的欲望，都被他发自内心的怜悯所熄灭。她今天白天很快活，对他很友善，也很容易沟通。在他看来，她至少一度从内心深处的痛苦中得到了解脱。但在睡梦中这种痛苦又回来了，他非常清楚何种梦魇能让她如此痛苦不堪。他深深地叹了一口气。 但他觉得这下更睡不着了，甚至都不想再躺上床了。他把灯罩往下按了按，免得灯光影响了莉迪娅的睡眠。然后他走到桌旁往烟斗里装满烟丝，将烟斗点燃。他将厚重的窗帘拉开，然后坐下来向外看着庭院。除了一扇窗户还亮着灯外，外面是一片漆黑，显出了某种不祥之兆。他想，那间亮着灯光的房间内是否有人生病了，或者只是有人像他一样无法入眠，困惑于生活的不解之谜。或许是某个男人带回了一个女人，他们在激情过后，正满足地倒卧在彼此的怀抱中。查利抽了一口烟，他感到有些无聊和乏味。他就这样胡乱地猜想着。最后，他回到床上睡着了。