Chapter 9 chapter eight

Susie doesn't believe Hadow's apology is sincere.That humility always felt unreal to her.Her mind always recalled that ugly, sly smile on Haddo's face after the hatred.She conceived of all the despicable means Hador might use for revenge, and told Arthur.But he laughed it off. "That man's a coward," he said, "if he's any good, why would he let me kick him instead of fighting back?" Haddo's cowardice made Arthur resent him all the more, so Susie's worries amused him. "What can he do? He can't insult me ​​in public, and he can't shoot me dead. In that case, he will also beheaded. A bastard like him won't take such a risk!"

Margaret was glad that this had saved them from Haddo.She had met him on the street a few days ago.He passed her by, took off his hat in the French way, and left without waiting for her to greet him, so she had all the more reason to ignore him. She began to discuss the wedding day with Arthur.It seemed she had everything Paris could offer her and couldn't wait to start a new life.Therefore, her love for Arthur suddenly became urgent.She was filled with joy at the thought that she would bring him happiness. A day or two later Susie got a telegram.The content is as follows: Nancy is an old friend of Susie's.It was evident that she would be in Paris that afternoon.There was a picture of her on the mantelpiece of the studio, signed very prominently.Susie took a curious look.It had been a long time since she had seen Nancy, and it was a great surprise to receive such an urgent message.

"It's annoying!" she said. "I have to go." She and Marguerite were going to have tea across the Seine, but the train station was too far away to be worth a trip back in the middle of Susie, so they made an appointment to meet at the house of a friend who had invited them.It was just before two o'clock when Susie went out. Margaret had a class that afternoon, and she was out the door not long after Susie left.As she walked across the yard, she couldn't help being stunned, because Oliver Hadow was walking slowly through the yard.He didn't seem to see her.Suddenly, he stopped, clutched his chest, and fell heavily to the ground.The woman at the door saw this and ran towards him screaming.She knelt beside him, looked around in horror, and saw Margaret not far away.

"Miss! Come here quickly, please!" she shouted loudly. So Margaret had to go to Haddo.Her heart was beating very hard.She looked at Haddo lying on the ground, looking as if he was dying.Suddenly, she forgot her dislike for him.She knelt beside him and helped him loosen his neckline.He opened his eyes, and a look of anguish appeared on his face. "For God's sake, let me go inside for a while," he said, "I don't want to die in the street." She sympathized with him very much.The concierge was cramped, smelly, and poorly ventilated—he certainly couldn't go there.So with the help of the porter, Marguerite carried Haddo by his feet and carried him into the studio.He sat down in pain on a chair.

"Shall I get you some water?" Margaret asked. "Can you help me get some pills out of my pocket?" She produced a white tablet from a small box attached to her fob, and made Haddo swallow it. "I'm sorry to confuse you," he gasped, "I have a heart attack, so I'm pretty close to death sometimes." "I'm glad I could help you," she said. His breathing seemed a little easier.She picked up a book and read it, and stopped talking to him to restore his strength.After a while, sitting still in his chair, he said: "You must hate me for interrupting you."

His voice was a little stronger.As he slowly regained his strength, her sympathy for him dwindled. "It's nothing. It's what I should do. Even if a dog is injured, I will bring it in." Her voice was as cold as ice. "I see, you want me to leave." He stood up and walked towards the door.He was walking staggeringly, and suddenly his knees gave way, and he fell to the ground again with a groan.Margaret strode forward and supported Hado.She regretted those sarcastic remarks just now.He just came back from the gate of hell, and he was so cruel and ruthless. "Oh, stay as long as you want," she said urgently, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

He struggled to drag himself back into the chair, and Margaret stood beside him helplessly, feeling very guilty.She poured him a glass of water, but he shook his hand, as if he didn't want to be taken care of by her at all, even if it was just a glass of water. "Is there nothing I can do for you?" she said bitterly. "Nothing, just let me sit a little longer," he gasped. "You can stay as long as you want." He didn't answer.She sat down again, picked up the book and pretended to read.After a short while, he broke the silence, but his voice seemed to come from far away.

"Will you never forgive me for what I did that day?" "Didn't I forgive you for being different to you?" She turned her back to him without even looking back at him. "You have no sympathy at all. I apologized at the time, and I said that it was because of the sudden, uncontrollable pain that I did something that I regret very much. Don't you think it's wrong for me? Is it not easy for me to admit my fault in that situation?" "Please don't say any more. I don't want to recall that horrible scene." "If you knew how lonely and unhappy I am, you would be kinder."

His voice was strangely moving.Margaret could not help believing that he was sincere. "You think I'm a liar only because I'm good at something you don't know. Not only don't you try to understand, but you don't appreciate that I've dedicated my whole soul to a noble cause." She didn't answer, and the two of them fell into silence for a while.His voice became very charming, very different from before. "You despise me and loathe me. You almost talked yourself into throwing me in the street instead of lending a helping hand. If you hadn't been soft-hearted just now, almost against your will, I would be dead by now."

"It doesn't matter to you how I treat you," she whispered. For some reason, his soft, low voice tugged strangely at her heartstrings.Her heart beat faster. "The effect is huge. I feel terrible just thinking about your contempt for me. You're kind and pure, so I can't bear to be worthless. You look away from me like I'm terribly wrong." Clean as well." She moved her chair slightly and looked at him.For a moment, she was stunned, his appearance seemed to be different in her eyes.There was a different expression in his eyes, which made his ugly fat less obnoxious.His eyes were soft, with tears in his eyes.His lips twisted with intense pain.Margaret had never seen such a sad face, and suddenly, her heart was filled with uncontrollable self-blame and regret.

"I don't want to be cruel to you," she said. "I'm leaving now. This is the best reward for your life-saving grace just now." The bitterness and humiliation in the words made Margaret blush. "Please don't go. But let's talk about something else." He was silent for a while.He seemed to stop looking at Margaret, while she stared at him thoughtfully.He stared at the replica of the Mona Lisa on the wall, and suddenly spoke.He recited a passage of Walter Pater's admiration for this perfect painting. "Her face fascinates all beings, but her eyelids are tired. This is a beauty born from the inside of the flesh, a beauty that is accumulated bit by bit with whimsy and wonderful passion. If she How restless it must have been for a moment with those pale Greek goddesses and beauties of antiquity, for in this beauty was contained all the suffering the soul could go through. In this face was engraved and cast all that the world could extract in external form. and expressed thoughts and experiences such as Greek carnality, Roman sensuality, medieval mysticism full of spiritual ambition and erotic fantasies, the revival of the pagan world, and the sins of the Borgias." His voice is accompanied by the beautiful rhythm of the words, which is sad and full of music.Margaret had never felt the importance of this passage so strongly.She was deeply intoxicated by it.She wanted him to continue, but she didn't have the strength to speak.As if he had read her mind, he continued to speak.This time his voice was more mellow, like the sound of an organ from afar.It was such an overwhelming fragrance that Marguerite could hardly bear it. "She was older than the rocks she set herself in; like a vampire, she had died many times and knew the secrets of the tomb; she dived into the depths, and was accustomed to the ebb and flow of the tide; she bought strange and wicked things from Eastern merchants ; as Leda, mother of Helen of Troy; as Santa Ana, mother of Maria; The unfathomable face was so natural, and her eyes and hands were exquisitely beautiful." Then, Oliver Hadow talked about Leonardo da Vinci.He added his own imagination to the beautiful sentences about Da Vinci, and his memory is so good that those sentences seem to be engraved in his heart. "St. John the Baptist" and "Bacchus" have similar soft skin, curly hair and unpredictable smiles. This similarity gave him endless strange imagination.In his eyes, the beach in "Madonna and Child with St. Anne" has the impenetrable lifelessness of the pinkish church standing in the Spanish convent, while the landscape is covered with a pale. , disturbing evil spirits.He likes mysterious paintings.In this kind of painting, the painter always tries to express something beyond the limitation of the picture, such as unsatisfied desire and endless yearning for the mysterious world.Oliver Hadow found this mystery in many of his seemingly impossible paintings.His comments gave new meaning to paintings that Marguerite had so flippantly glanced at.A painting by Bronzino for a statue is displayed in the gallery of the Louvre.The characters in the painting have large facial features and wide faces.His expression is sad, almost grumpy against the canvas of the painting.His eyes were brown and apricot-shaped, just like the Orientals.His lips were rosy and beautifully shaped.There was a disturbing sensuality about him.His dark chestnut hair was cut short and fell over his head with infinite elegance.His skin was like a soft magenta ivory.On that handsome face, what touched people's hearts was not only the beauty, but also a kind of superior and arrogant indifference.It would be a very depraved face were it not for the fact that beauty cannot be truly depraved; it would be a very cruel face if it were not for laziness which cannot be truly cruel.It's a face that haunts people's hearts, but it doesn't command genuine admiration from viewers because it always evokes an irrational terror.His hands are strong and dexterous, with long and delicate fingers.Such a hand makes one feel that even clay can be automatically molded into beautiful shapes under his touch.Through Hadon's gentle and detailed description, Marguerite saw the appearance of the man in the painting.He is cruel and indifferent, lazy and enthusiastic, indifferent and full of desire, and there are all kinds of strange secrets, bizarre crimes and strong desires for various mysteries in his mind.Oliver Hadow loved everything that was unusual, ugly, monstrous, and anything that represented the horrors of man or reminded him of his mortality.He showed Marguerite the creepy, magical dwarfs in Ribera's paintings: their sly smiles, their crazy eyes, full of malice.They were hunched over, with hideously misshapen feet, and heads as monstrous as hydrocephalus.Horrific as he is, his descriptions have a charm.He also talked about a painting by Valdés Leal that was kept somewhere in Seville.This painting shows a priest standing by the altar.The gilded altar is engraved with gorgeous carvings, which is very luxurious.The priest wore a rich robe and a white cassock trimmed with delicate lace.He was hunched over, seemingly unable to bear the weight of his robes.His skinny hands trembled, his face was pale, his eye sockets were sunken and blue, and he exuded a frightening smell of flesh decay.He seemed powerless to maintain his fragile body of flesh and blood, yet his soul showed no desire to break out of the prison, but expressed a deep despair, as if he had been abandoned by the Almighty, and heaven would not I would like to give him any more comfort.The beauty of life is completely forgotten at this time, and only decay remains in this world.His living body had been corrupted with terrible corruption.The worms in the grave, the horror of death's mourning, and the coming darkness had taught him only one thing - fear.He can already see not far away the dark night of the soul described by the mystics, and the violent sea that cannot contain the troubled and depressed heart. Then, as if following a definite plan, Hadow passionately and thoroughly analyzes the queer French modern painter Gustave Moreau.Margaret had only visited Luxembourg not long ago, and she still had a fresh memory of Molo's paintings. Except for the decorative composition with flaws left by poor painting techniques, she didn't find anything surprising in them.Yet Oliver Hadow's descriptions immediately gave the paintings a new and mysterious meaning.The grotesque collection of Florentine jewels of emeralds, ruby ​​reds, and sapphire blues, together with the aromatic atmosphere, mysterious figures, and religious ceremonies, are all conveyed by Hadow's masterly diction. To paint a complete picture, left a morbid, mysterious and intricate impression on Marguerite's soul.Those paintings are filled with a strange sense of guilt, and the mind that looks at them will feel spiritually affected by the corruption of Rome and the sins that prevailed in the Renaissance, and even today, it will still be questioned from the heart. Margaret listened intently, as excited as an explorer who has discovered a new world.The painters she knew only talked about painting techniques, and this kind of imaginative appreciation was very new to her.The personality revealed in those delicate and beautiful words attracted her deeply.Haddo looked her straight in the eyes, and she echoed him violently like a heartbeating device.She felt a deep tiredness.Finally, he stopped talking.Marguerite neither moved nor spoke.She seemed to have no strength at all as if under a spell. "Now please let me do something for you in return for saving your life," he said. He stood up and walked to the piano. "Sit still," he said. She sat very obediently.The sound of the piano is raised, beautiful and moving.This is really unbelievable, those big hands full of fat can be so gentle!But Marguerite was not at all surprised.His fingers caressed the keys softly, and she played a beautiful sound that she had never imagined that a piano could produce.He seems to have injected an inexplicable and stirring passion into the keys, making the instrument have a vibrating emotion like a human being.It's very strange and very scary.She vaguely recognized the tune coming from her ears, but his performance added a blur to the tune that echoed what he had just said.His memory is indeed excellent.He had a knack for always being aware of the emotions that were hanging over Margaret, and the pieces he chose seemed to be exactly what Margaret desperately needed at the time.Then he started playing something she didn't know.It was a music she had never heard before, wild and strangely sad, and it reminded her of a windless moonlit night in the wilderness, the palm trees standing there silently, and the tawny distance.She seemed to see winding paths, the quiet white house hiding in the shadow of the moonlight, and the little yellow light coming out of the house.She seemed to hear the tinkle of clumsy instruments, and seemed to smell the pungent aroma of oriental spices.Her mind flashed one after another of people who did not have human life, but lived mysteriously like vampires: Mona Lisa, St. John the Baptist, Bacchus and St. Anne performing mysterious movements. ; and the daughter of Herodias raised her hands, as if in perpetual mystic ritual to awaken the foreign gods.Her face was pale, and her black eyes were bloodshot.The jewels at her girdle shone sadly.Her dress is faded.She stared at the saint's pale head with a smile that condensed all the sorrow and evil in the world, and murmured in a voice as cold as death: "I am in love with your body, Iocanan! Your body is as white as a wild lily that no one has ever harvested. Your body is as white as snow that covers the mountains of Judea and falls into the valleys. Not even the white roses in the garden of the Queen of Arabia are equal to your white body. Neither the white roses in the garden of the Queen of Arabia, nor her spice garden, nor the light of dawn that illuminates the leaves, nor the white roses that lie The moon above the sea... nothing in this world is whiter than your body. Allow me to touch your body." Oliver Hadow paused.Neither of them moved.Finally Margaret struggled to regain control of her consciousness. "I think you really are a magician," she said softly. "I can show you a lot of strange things if you want," he said, looking into her eyes again. "I don't think you can convince me of mysticism," she said with a smile. "Mysticism once ruled Persia with the wise men of the East. Many wonderful traditions in India also have mysticism. And mysticism civilized the Greeks, so they could hear the voice of Orpheus' lire." He stood in front of Margaret, his tall and strong body was much taller than her.He stared at her with a unique magic in his eyes.In this case, he speaks only to divert Margaret's attention from the fact that he is working all the magic in him on her. "The light of the earliest mathematical theorems discovered by Pythagoras was also overshadowed by the teachings of mysticism. Mysticism established empires through the oracles of the gods, and under its will tyrants were overshadowed. It Control people's minds, sometimes through curiosity, sometimes through fear." His voice was low and full of allure, which made Marguerite dizzy.The sensuality was as strong as an overly sweet fragrance, which was unbearable. "I tell you, nothing is impossible for this art. It leads all the elements, understands the language of the stars, and directs the planets to follow their orbits. At its command, the blood-red moon will fall from the night sky. and the dead will rise again, and turn into ominous words the night wind that whistles through their wreckage. Heaven and hell are its kingdoms; all things, lovely or ugly; all emotions, love or hatred, Ruled by it. With the wand of Circe it turns men into beasts of the wilderness, and gives them a deformed humanity. Whoever learns its secrets controls life and death. By the transmutation of metals it bestows wealth ; by its essence it gives eternal life." Margaret could not hear what he said.Under his evil gaze, she felt a strong weariness.She didn't even have the strength to call for help.She seemed to be tightly bound to him by an invisible chain. "If you really have magic, show it," she whispered, barely realizing she was speaking. Suddenly, the tension with which he had been staring at her so hard relaxed, like a person who had exhausted his strength for some purpose, relaxed his muscles after victory, and let out a soft breath of exhaustion.Margaret did not speak, but she knew something terrible was about to happen.Her heart was pounding like a captive bird flapping its wings helplessly.But now she is too late to regret it.Influenced by some mysterious force, her words have sealed an irreparable event. A polished brass bowl stood over the stove, containing water to add some humidity to the dry air.Oliver Hadow reached into his pocket, and produced a small silver box, which opened with a tap like a snuffbox.The box contained a blue powder, and he twisted a little out and sprinkled it into the water in the brass bowl.Suddenly a bright flame shot up in the water, and Margaret screamed loudly.Oliver gave her a quick look and motioned her to be quiet.She saw the surface of the water ablaze, burning brightly and hotly like common gas, and making the dry, hoarse sound of common gas burning.Suddenly, the fire went out.She leaned forward and looked forward, only to see that the bowl was empty. The water in the bowl was burnt clean like straw, not a single drop remained.She rubbed her forehead blankly. "Water is impossible to burn," she said softly to herself. Haddo smiled strangely, as if he knew what she was thinking. "Do you know that no one can refine something more destructive than this blue powder, and what I brought with me is enough to burn the water in Paris. Who would have thought that water could burn like dry grass?" He paused, staring thoughtfully at the locket, seemingly oblivious to her existence. "This powder is produced in very small quantities each time, and it takes a lot of money and manpower. It is very volatile and can only be stored for three years. I often think that if I use a little brains, I may be able to make it more stable, or perhaps improve it to be like radium, burn without loss, and then I could have the greatest mystery of all time, because once it burns, it will never end. As long as there is one left on the earth A drop of water, and it will go on burning till it consumes the whole world. It is a dreadful thing to possess such a substance, for once it is sprinkled on water, the death of all things is irretrievable. " He took a deep breath, his eyes glowing like demons.His voice was hoarse, revealing an overwhelming intensity of emotion. "I've had this crazy idea in my head, and I'd like to see what that majestic doomsday scene will look like: the unquenchable flames pouring down the rivers, rushing along all the streams on the earth. , will never let go of any water that exists in all things, even the water in rocks will be torn away. The flame whizzed past like the rushing wind, and all life made way for it. At last it came reached the sea, and the whole sea was engulfed in violent flames." Marguerite listened and shuddered, but she did not think he was mad.She no longer doubted him.He took out another pinch of that appalling powder and placed it in a brass bowl.Then he reached into his pocket again and pulled out a handful of powdery stuff, sort of like mashed dried leaves of different kinds.He poured these leaves into a bowl, and suddenly a low tongue of fire shot up from the bottom of the bowl, it seemed that there was still some water left in those leaves.The house was filled with a thick mist, which gave off a unique and pungent smell that Marguerite had never smelled.She couldn't breathe and couldn't help coughing.She tried to beg Oliver to stop, but couldn't.He held the bowl in his hand and handed it to her. "Watch it," he ordered. She leaned forward and saw an unusual solid blue flame at the bottom of the bowl, as if it contained molten metal.The flame writhed strangely, like a serpent tormented by its own strange passion. "Take a deep breath." She did.Suddenly, a shudder spread through her whole body, and then there was darkness in front of her eyes.She tried to cry out, but no sound came out.She felt dizzy.Faintly she heard Haddo tell her to close her eyes.She gasped for breath, the ground seemed to spin under her feet, and she felt herself moving at top speed.She moved slightly, and Haddo told her not to look back.A deep fear welled up in her heart, she didn't know where she was going, she only knew that they were driving very fast, even the hurricane couldn't catch up with them.Finally, they stopped moving, Haddo gripping her arm tightly. "Don't be afraid," he said. "Open your eyes and stand up." Night comes, but not of tranquility, which soothes the troubled hearts of men, but of terror, that mysteriously stirs your restlessness, and makes every nerve tingle.Eerie darkness framed the distorted outlines of everything around it.There is no moon in the night, only the fireflies dancing on the heather are shining like stars.Will-o'-the-wisps loom, like cursed spirits.They stood in an empty and disconcerting field, surrounded by boulders and leafless branches gnarled and gnarled like tormented souls.This land seemed to have experienced a devastating storm, and now it is the exhausted calm after the squall, lightning and thunder.All the creatures seemed to be suffering silently, like a person who has been tortured by pain for too long, his heart has long been numb, and he can't even realize that the pain is no longer there.Marguerite heard the cry of a huge strange bird, which seemed to be whispering something queer.Oliver took her hand.He led her slowly towards an intersection.She didn't know whether they were walking among the rocks or among the graves. She heard a sound of horns, and then a strange figure emerged from the empty wasteland.Those figures gathered more and more, swarming toward her shoulder to shoulder like a tide.All the mighty who had died seemed to appear before her, the grim tyrant, the painted courtesan, the emperor in purple, the sultans of the East.Those old women who were full of sins walked past her one by one.It is Mona Lisa and Herodias' cunning daughter who is passing by now.Jezebel studied her carefully through her thick eyelashes.Cleopatra turned her pale, lustful face away.Then, Marguerite saw Messalina's insatiable lecherous face, and Faustin's face haggard because of the burning of eternal desire.She also saw bishops in red robes, warriors in steel armor, jovial gentlemen in earl curlers, and painted women.Suddenly, a crowd of oppressed people poured out densely in front of Margaret, as many as the sand on the beach.They were silent, pushing the crowd in front of them like the wind drives leaves.Their faces are full of vulgar desire and empty sickness, and their eyes are numb and full of despair.They were dressed in rags, some dressed like Dürer's beggars, others wrapped in the gray shroud wax cloth of the Renan brothers, many wore the shirts and hats of the French pariah, and many In the dirty, smoke-stained mourning clothes of the English poor.They ran forward in panic, like crowds fleeing in panic in the street after being chased by soldiers on tall horses.The whole world seemed to gather here in chaos. Then, all the figures disappeared, and Margaret's eyes were fixed on a huge dead tree.The dead tree stood alone in the wilderness, it was extremely desolate. Although it had become a rotten tree, it seemed to bear the pain that human beings could not bear.Lightning had split it in two, but centuries of wind had failed to uproot it.Its barely slender branches resembled the arms of a giant titan twitching in unbearable pain.After a while, the dead old tree unexpectedly changed, and a shocking vitality gushed out.Margaret felt more and more frightened, and saw that the rough bark turned into flesh, the twisted branches became human arms, and the whole tree became a deformed man with goat legs. , something bigger than the ghosts in the nightmare.She saw that it had horns on its head, a long beard on its chin, hairy legs, hooves, and greedy human hands.Its face is cruel and full of desire, it looks very terrifying, but it is not lacking in sacredness.It's Pan, that creepy Pan.It played the pan flute and caressed her with lewd eyes, with an ugly tenderness.At this time, the early morning mist curled up, and the beautiful countryside was faintly visible. Pan's lower body disappeared into the mist under Margaret's gaze.Then, she saw a young man leaning on a boulder.I saw that he was huge but majestic, even more beautiful than Adam awakened by God's call in Michelangelo's works.He seemed to have just come to life, with a charming waking languidness, his limbs still soaked with the raindrops that fell on the soft brown earth.She dared not look at his face, knowing that she could not bear the eternal pain that would carve the merciless scar on his face.Driven by curiosity, she originally wanted to take a few steps forward, but that huge figure turned into a cloud of mist strangely. At the same time, she felt a group of figures rushing past her side.Immediately afterwards, all the legendary beasts and evil devils who lived in the madman's imagination came to her together.In the darkness she saw a huge toad with its front paws at her side; a limping scarab—she had never seen such a shellfish; There are round, crab-eyed, foul-smelling beasts -- lumbering ancient creatures; winged serpents; and slimy reptiles.She heard piercing screams, hearty laughter, and the horrified murmurs of the dying.She saw haggard women with disheveled clothes and lewd looks, holding red wine in their hands.They spilled the wine on the ground, and the mottled traces were like spots of blood.Margaret felt as if a fire was burning inside her, and her soul flew away from her body, but a new soul immediately took its place.Suddenly, she knew all the obscene things in the world.Then she participated in an ugly feast of carnality, and all the evil in the world was everywhere in her eyes.She screamed in terror at the vile deed, when Haddo's jeers came from beside her.The sight in front of her was too terrifying to describe, and she covered her eyes with her hands. She felt Oliver Hadow take her hand.She froze, not wanting to let him pull his hands over.At this time, she heard his voice. "You don't have to be afraid." His voice was back to normal again.She was shocked, and suddenly realized that she was actually sitting quietly in the studio.She looked around with her eyes open in horror, and everything was still the same.Autumn night comes early, the whole house is pitch-black, and the only light comes from the coquettish flame.The spicy and hazy fragrance is still in the air. "Can I light a candle?" he said. He struck a match and lit the candle on the piano.The candlelight flickered strangely.Margaret suddenly recalled what she had just seen, and Haddo was beside her during the whole process.Suddenly, a deep sense of shame surged in her heart.She felt a burning sensation on her face, as if she was about to burn.She buried her face in her hands, tears welling up in her eyes. "Go away!" she said. "For God's sake, go!" He stared at her for a moment, a smile forming on his lips, exactly the same smile Susie had seen on his face after Arthur's beating the last time in the studio. "If you want to see me, come to me at 209 Rue Vaugirard," he said. "The second door on the left on the third floor." She didn't answer.Her mind was already occupied by that terrible shame. "I'll write it down so you don't forget." He pulled a piece of paper from the table and wrote down his address.Margaret ignored it and sobbed silently, as if her heart was broken.Suddenly, she looked up suddenly, but was surprised to find that he was gone.She didn't hear any doors opening and closing.She collapsed, knelt on the ground and prayed desperately, as if she had been greatly frightened. 过了一会儿，她听到了祖西开门的声音，便立刻站了起来。她背对着壁炉站着，双手背在身后，摆出了一副囚犯申辩自己无罪的姿态。祖西一进门便怒气冲冲，竟没有注意到玛格丽特的这份不安。 “你为什么没来喝茶？”她问，“真不知道你是怎么了。” “我头疼得厉害。”玛格丽特一边努力控制着自己的情绪一边说道。 祖西疲倦地倒在椅子里。 “南希和你聊了些什么？”玛格丽特强迫自己说道。 “她没来。”祖西生气地说，“真是搞不懂！火车来了后我也没有看到她，当时我想也许那是她随手写下的时间，也并不是从英国来，所以又把整个车站找了一遍，找了半个小时也没看到她。” 她走向壁炉架，拿起那份让她去巴黎北站的电报，再读了一遍。她惊讶地喊出声来。 “我真是傻，竟然没注意到邮戳。这是从利特蕾路发来的。” 从那里走到画室只需要不到十分钟。祖西困惑地看着手中的电报。 “看来是有人跟我开了个实实在在的玩笑。”她耸了耸肩说，“但这也太愚蠢了。如果我是一个多疑的女人，”她微笑着说，“我会认为是你为了支开我而发的电报。” 玛格丽特脑中闪过了一个念头：是奥利弗·哈多发的这份电报。他很可能是在上次时看到了南希写在照片上的名字。然而玛格丽特没有时间仔细思考，她必须若无其事地回答祖西的话。 “如果我想支开你，一定会明白告诉你的。” “有人来过吗？”祖西问。 "No." 玛格丽特还没来得及思考，谎言便轻巧地溜出了她的双唇。她的心怦怦直跳。她感到自己耳根都红了。 祖西站了起来，想点支烟定定神。烟盒就在桌上，因此当她拿烟时，便无意中看到了哈多留下的地址。她拿起了纸片，大声读出了上面的内容。 “这是谁的地址？”她问。 “我不知道。”玛格丽特说。 玛格丽特绷紧了神经，等待着祖西接下来的问题。可祖西却对此毫无兴趣，她放下了纸片，划了一根火柴。 玛格丽特感到非常羞愧。她的本性非常诚实，而今却欺骗了她最好的朋友，这让她感到非常不安。她感到有一种比她自身更为强大的力量正在驱使着她。她本可以向祖西承认先前的两次谎话，但却没有勇气这么做。她不忍心破坏祖西对她绝对的信任，而且，要是告诉祖西奥利弗·哈多来过这儿，她势必也得坦白自己刚才看到的那种说不出的恐怖。祖西一定会认为她疯了。 这时响起了一阵敲门声。玛格丽特的神经已经被折磨得脆弱至极，因此这突然的敲门声让她不禁惊恐地叫了起来。她害怕哈多又回来了，不过幸好是亚瑟·伯登。她松了一口气，激动地迎接了他。这很不寻常，因为她一向是一位非常镇定的女性。她感到非常虚弱。她的身体非常疲惫，就好像经历了漫长的跋山涉水，可她的心却依然激动着。她第一次来到巴黎时，也是这样。当时她迫不及待地想一睹巴黎的传奇，因此马不停蹄地参观了一个又一个著名的景点，把自己累得浑身酸痛不已。他们聊起了家常。聊天时玛格丽特竭力克制着自己的情绪，可她的声音却极不自然。她感到亚瑟不止一次奇怪地打量着她。终于，她再也克制不住，泪水决堤般流淌了下来。亚瑟将她揽在自己怀中，他虽然不理解，但仍对她充满了柔情。他温柔地问她到底发生了什么事，并试着安慰她。她不能自已地哭泣着，紧紧抓着他，寻求着庇护。 “没什么，”她喘着气说，“我也不知道怎么了，只是又紧张又害怕。” 亚瑟认为女人总喜欢无缘无故受到所谓忧郁的折磨，因此并不打算重视玛格丽特这突如其来的强烈的痛苦。他像哄孩子一样安抚着她。 “亚瑟，好好照顾我好吗？我恐怕自己将遭遇很坏的事，我需要你的力量，答应我你永远都不会抛弃我。” 他笑了起来，吻干了她的眼泪。她勉强挤出了笑容。 “我们为什么不能立刻就结婚？”她说，“我一分钟也不想再等了！一刻不成为你的妻子，一刻我都不安心。” 他温柔地劝说着她。毕竟，他们的婚礼就在几周后。现在他们的房子还没有准备好，她的婚纱也需要时间，所以不可能轻易将日程提前，而且她也定下了婚礼的日子。她木然地听着他那听上去是那么有道理的话，不知道自己还能如何坚持。即便她告诉他刚才发生的事，他也不会相信，只会认为那都是她病态的想象而已。 “如果我发生了什么事，”她说道，眼神如困兽般黑暗愤怒，“那全是你的错。” “我向你保证，什么事都不会发生。”