Ten years before the outbreak, I was living in a small apartment.Once there was a heated discussion at the dinner table, which unexpectedly turned into a rough dispute, which almost got to the point of insulting each other and insulting each other.The imagination of most people nowadays is very dull, no matter what, as long as it has nothing to do with them, as long as it does not drive into the head like a sharp wedge, they will not get angry, but once it happens to them, they will immediately Touch their sensibilities, and even a trifle will immediately excite them to excess.As a result, they deviated from their previous normal of meddling in their own affairs, and appeared unreasonable and aggressive.
This time, it was the same situation that was manifested in the full-fledged common people who ate at our table.On weekdays, this group of people get together calmly and play some innocuous jokes with each other, and usually they disperse immediately after dinner: the German couple went out for sightseeing and took pictures; the fat Dane was not too boring and went fishing alone ; the elegant English lady continued to read her book; the Italian couple went to gamble;But this time, the heated discussion completely entangled us all. After dinner, we all sat down and no one left.If any of us jumped up suddenly, it would not be as usual to stand up and politely bid farewell to everyone, but in a state of fever and anger in our hearts - as I have said before - undisguised form of rage.
The thing that bound the small group at our table together was odd enough indeed.The apartment where the seven of us stayed looked like a detached house from the outside—ah!It's wonderful to look out the window at the rocky seashore - but in fact it's just an annexe of the Palace Hotel, which charges a low fee and is connected to the hotel through the garden, so these guests who live in apartments live with the hotel. The guests of the hotel often come and go.The day before yesterday, there was an undeniably romantic incident in the hotel: a young Frenchman took the train at 12:20 noon - I have to give the exact time, because it is not important for this episode or It was all very important to the subject of that excited conversation - coming here, renting a room by the sea, with a view of the sea, a very good view, which in itself shows that he is quite rich.It is not only his discreet and elegant demeanor that attracts people's attention and people's favor, but more importantly, his preeminent and attractive beauty: a slender girlish face, passionate and sensual There is a soft, golden mustache around the lips, soft brown hair curled on the white forehead, and every glance that the gentle eyes cast on you is like a caress-everything about him is tender and charming. The rhyme is absolutely perfect, but it is not ostentatious or coquettish.If seeing him from a distance at first makes people feel a bit like those flesh-colored wax figures of ideal masculine beauty, elegant walking sticks and demeanor displayed in the windows of fashion shops, then there is no trace of dandyism at a closer look. Qi, because the handsomeness on his body is purely natural, innate, as if growing out of the skin, which is really rare.He always greeted everyone he walked by with the same humility and cordiality, and it was pleasing to see the ready-to-go chic with which he freely displayed himself on various occasions.If a lady was going to the coat locker, he would rush to meet her and help her take off her coat.He gave each child a friendly look or a joking remark, was easy and unobtrusive--in short, he seemed to be one of those lucky ones who, by a sense of validation, are convinced that they can be distinguished by their beauty. His beautiful face and youthful charm brighten other people's faces and transform this confidence into a new elegance.His presence was a boon to most of the hotel's elderly or sick guests.With his youthful victorious pace, his carefree, fresh and unrestrained storm of life has endowed many people with the enjoyment of beauty, making everyone who squeezed forward to see him irresistibly fond of him.He was already playing tennis with two girls from Lyons two hours after he came.They were Annette, twelve, and Blanche, thirteen, the daughters of a rich, fat factory owner.The girl's mother, the beautiful, slender and introverted Mrs. Henriette smiled, watching the two fledgling daughters subconsciously flirt with the strange young man.In the evening, he watched for an hour at our chess table, during which time he told a few interesting anecdotes, and then walked up and down on the roof terrace of the hotel with Mrs. Henriette for a long time, Her husband, as usual, played dominoes with a business friend.At night, I noticed that he was still in the shadow of the office talking with the female secretary of the hotel, with an almost suspicious intimacy.The next morning he went fishing with my Danish companion, and his knowledge in this field was astonishing.Then he had a long conversation about politics with the factory owner from Lyon, in which he proved to be equally well versed, for the fat gentleman's hearty laughter was heard drowning out the roar of the waves.After lunch, he sat alone with Mrs. Henriette in the garden and drank black coffee for an hour, played tennis with her daughter, and chatted with the German couple in the hall for a while.The reason why I have recorded his time in such detail in various periods is that it is absolutely necessary to understand the situation here.I went to post a letter at six in the afternoon and met him again at the train station.He hurried towards me, as if to say goodbye to me.He said that he suddenly received a letter telling him to go back, and he will still be back in two days.In the evening, he was not in the restaurant, but that was only his absence, for he was still being talked about at every table, and everyone was admiring his comfortable, jovial way of life.
At night, around eleven o'clock, I sat in the room trying to finish a book.At this moment, from the open window, I suddenly heard uneasy shouts in the garden, and saw the bustling scene in the restaurant over there.Curious, but more disturbed, I went at once, and ran fifty paces to get there.I found all the guests and hotel staff panicked and confused.It turned out that Mrs. Henriette used to go for a walk on the seaside slope every evening.Today, when her husband was playing dominoes with friends who came there on time as usual, she went for a walk there.Her broad, fat, usually slow-moving husband now ran like a bull toward the beach again and again, calling out into the night "Henriette! Henriette!" Now, the call sounded like the primal and terrible wail of a mortally wounded monster.The waiters and waiters ran up and down the stairs in panic, all the guests were woken up, and the police were called.Meanwhile, the fat husband with his waistcoat unbuttoned, staggering, stumbling, sobbing, calling in vain to the night, "Henriette! Henriette!" At that moment, the two daughters upstairs also woke up, in their pajamas, calling downstairs for their mother from the window, so the father hurried upstairs to comfort them.
Then came an event so appalling that it is difficult to repeat it, for at the moment of a great blow the man is so tense, and his manner often expresses a tragic color, that neither pictures nor words can react with the same force of thunder. reproduce it.Suddenly the hulking, fat husband came down the creaking stairs, his face changed too, tired but angry.He held a letter in his hand.He said to the director of the personnel department in a voice that was just audible: "Please call everyone back, and there is no need to look for it again. My wife has abandoned me."
That was the attitude of the mortally wounded man, the extraordinary attitude he displayed in front of these people around him.These people originally rushed to see him with curiosity, but now they were suddenly taken aback, all felt embarrassed, and everyone was at a loss, so they left him one after another.He had just enough strength left to stagger past us without looking at anyone, and just went into the reading room to turn off the lights.Then he heard his heavy and huge body fall into the armchair with a "bang", and heard a burst of "wow" sobbing, like the howling of a wild animal, only a man who has never cried before can cry like this .This deep pain has a narcotic power over every one of us, even the humblest.Whether it was the waiter or the guests who came quietly with curiosity, no one dared to laugh or say a word of regret.We all fell silent, as if ashamed of the all-shattering emotional explosion, and one by one slipped back to our respective rooms, leaving only the downed man weeping alone in the darkened room.Then the lights in the building slowly went out, but people were still whispering, muttering, and whispering.
It will be understood that it is probably very proper that such an event, which falls like lightning before our eyes, should give a sharp prod to those who are ordinarily accustomed only to pass their time in leisure and carelessness.But the discussion that ensued at our dinner table, a discussion so heated that it almost turned into a fistfight, was sparked by this amazing event, but it was in essence more antithetical to each other. A violent conflict over his views on life and a principled exposition of them.The husband, who had a total mental breakdown, lost his head for a moment, crumpled up the letter in his hand, and threw it on the ground.A maid picked up the letter to read it, and inadvertently gave away the secret, so that it soon became known that Madame Henriette had not gone away alone, but in complicity with the young Frenchman.In this way, most people's original goodwill for the young Frenchman disappeared in an instant.Now, it is obvious at a glance: the thin Madame Bovary has exchanged her fat, rustic husband for a suave, young and handsome man.What excited everyone in the restaurant, however, was the fact that neither the factory owner nor his two daughters, nor Mrs. Henriette had ever seen this man before, which made A woman of impeccable moral character who was about thirty-three years old abandoned her husband and two children overnight, and casually went away with a playboy she didn't know. Two hours of talking and an hour of black coffee in the garden would probably suffice.Our table was unanimous in disagreement with this apparently obvious fact, and it was agreed that it was a tricky smoke screen and a cunning trick played by the lovers: it is self-evident that Lady Henriette and the The young man must have had a secret relationship long ago.The lover had come here this time to agree on the last details of his elopement, because--so it was inferred--that a decent lady, who had known a man only two hours, would run away with him at the sound of a cry. Totally impossible.I thought it would be interesting to suggest a different opinion, and I tried my best to defend the possibility that a woman who had been bored and disappointed in her married life for many years was, I think, firmly prepared to be She, just go with him, this situation is very possible.Due to my unexpected objection, the discussion immediately engaged everyone, and was especially heated by the arguments of the German and Italian couples who denied with unabashed insult and contempt that some Existence, if there is, is just a stupid act, a fantasy in a boring novel.
Well, the quarrel started over the soup and went on until the pudding was finished, and it is really unnecessary to go over the details of the stormy argument: only to those who are commonplace, and happen occasionally at the dinner table. In an argument, the emotions are high, but the arguments are often banal because they are picked up in a hurry.It is also difficult to explain why our discussion has soared to the level of slander.It seems to me that from this point on the controversy became heated, owing to the unconscious desire of the German and Italian husbands to exclude their respective wives from the extremely dangerous possibility of falling into the abyss.It is a pity that these two could not find any strong arguments against me, saying that only those who judge the psychology of women on the basis of occasional examples of cheap conquests by single men can hold that view.This already pissed me off a little, and the German lady went on to lecture people with a lot of nonsense, saying that there are real women on the one hand, and "natural whores" on the other, in her opinion. Lady Henriette was sure to be one of them.This added fuel to the fire, and I couldn't bear it any longer, so I immediately took an aggressive stance.I say that it is an obvious fact that at certain moments in a woman's life she is at the mercy of mysterious forces, neither her will nor her knowledge, and to deny it is only It's just to cover up the fear of our own instincts, the demonic elements in our nature.It seems that many people can enjoy themselves doing this and feel stronger, purer, and nobler than those who are "easy to take the bait."I also personally feel that a woman is more honest if she does not lie in her husband's arms and deceive her husband with her eyes closed, as is often the case, but listens to her instincts freely and passionately.That's roughly what I said.The more attacks were made on poor Mrs. Henriette in this explosive conversation, the more vehemently I defended her, which in fact went far beyond my own feelings.This passion of mine, in the words of a college student, was a challenge to these two couples.They are like a quartet that is not very harmonious, and they are attacking me fiercely together.The elderly Danes sat here with a friendly expression, like a referee holding a running watch in a football match, who has to knock on the table with his finger bones from time to time as a warning.However, it only works for a while at a time.A gentleman, flushed all over his face, had jumped up from the table three times, and his wife had a hard time keeping him down.All in all, if Mrs. C hadn't come out suddenly to mediate and quelled the gunpowder-flavored conversation, our discussion would probably have ended with fists and kicks in less than ten minutes.
Mrs. C., a silver-haired, imposing old English lady, is the unelected honorary chairperson of our table.Sitting in her seat with her back straight, she always treated everyone with the same amiable attitude. She didn't talk much, but she always listened to others' opinions with interest. Her posture and demeanor alone gave people a pleasing look. Impression: The wondrous demeanor and gentle demeanor reveal her graceful and noble temperament.Although she is good at expressing special kind gestures to everyone with her clever wrists, she still keeps a certain distance: usually she always sits in the garden reading a book, sometimes plays the piano, and rarely stays with others Or join in a lively conversation.People paid little attention to her, yet she had a special influence on all of us, and the first time she came into our conversation we were all ashamed that we had spoken too loudly and without restraint.
At the moment when the German gentleman jumped up violently, was then lightly held down again, and sat down at the table again, Mrs. C took advantage of this unpleasant interval and unexpectedly raised her shiny eyes. She stared at me uncertainly for a moment with her gray eyes, and then raised a topic in an almost objective tone according to her own understanding:
"So, if I understand you correctly, you believe in Mrs. Henriette, in a woman innocently caught up in a sudden scandal, and in the fact that there are some women who do what they did an hour ago An action that neither thought possible nor could hardly be their responsibility?"
"I absolutely believe so, ma'am."
"In this way, any moral judgment is meaningless, and any indecent behavior is justified. If you really think that what the French say can't be done, then why do you need the national judiciary? What? Doesn't it all depend on not many good intentions? I can't imagine you have so many good intentions," she added with a slight smile, "in every crime there is a passion to be found, and with With such zeal, crimes can be forgiven."
Her voice was clear and cheerful, and I felt very comfortable listening to it.Subconsciously imitating her objectivity, I replied in the same half-joking and half-serious way: "The national judiciary must be stricter than I in such matters. Their duty is to ruthlessly uphold common customs, and they Judgment has to be made, not forgiveness. As a human being, I don't see why I would take the initiative to take on the role of prosecutor, I'd rather be an advocate. Personally, I get more pleasure from understanding people than judging them What you get is much bigger.”
Mrs. C looked me up and down with her bright gray eyes, showing hesitation.I was worried that she didn't understand me correctly, so I was going to repeat what I just said to her in English.But she continued to ask questions with a strangely serious expression like she was in the main exam:
"Don't you think it's despicable and ugly for a woman to run off with someone, leaving her husband and two daughters behind, and she doesn't even know if he's worthy of her love? The woman isn't very young after all. For the sake of her own children, she must also learn self-respect, but she is so reckless and reckless, can you really forgive such a woman?"
"I repeat, my esteemed lady," I reiterated myself, "that in the circumstances I do not wish to judge, nor to condemn. In your presence, I can confess frankly that what I said earlier was somewhat It's too much--poor Mrs. Henriette is certainly not a heroine, not even a womanizer, much less a woman. As far as I know, I think she is just an ordinary and weak woman. I I have some respect for her, because she valiantly complied with her own will, but I feel more sorry for her, because she must be unhappy tomorrow if not today. She may have acted foolishly, too Indiscreet, but never mean. I have always believed that no one has a right to despise this poor, unfortunate woman."
"And yourself, do you still have the same respect and respect for her? Between the esteemed woman with whom you were with the day before yesterday and the woman who eloped yesterday with a stranger. Do you think there is no difference?"
"There is no difference. There is no difference."
She spoke English subconsciously.Strangely, she seemed to be thinking about the whole conversation.After thinking for a moment, she raised her clear eyes again, and looked at me questioningly:
"If you met Mrs. Henriette tomorrow, let's say, at Nizza, and saw her holding the young man's arm, would you still greet her?"
"certainly."
"Will talk to her?"
"certainly."
"Would you—if you...if you were married, introduce such a woman to your wife as if nothing had happened?"
"certainly."
She spoke English again, looking in disbelief and amazement.
I don't feel like answering in English either.
Mrs. C was silent.She seemed to be still thinking hard.Suddenly, looking at me, she said, as if amazed at her own courage: and having finished speaking, she got up, gave me her hand kindly, and ended the conversation without being abrupt, Only the British are the best at it.Under her influence, peace was restored on our table, and everyone was very grateful to her.Those of us who were at odds just now are now apologetically and politely greeting each other, and a few light-hearted jokes have eased the intense atmosphere just now.
Though our discussion seemed to end in a gentlemanly manner, the exasperation aroused somewhat alienated my opponent from me.The German couple was cautious, and the Italian couple in the next few days liked to ask me with irony if I had heard anything about him.Although we were all courteous in form, the former joyous atmosphere in which we treated each other with sincerity and unintentional pursuit has been spoiled and never returned. After that discussion, Mrs. C. showed me a special kindness, so that the irony and indifference that my opponents at that time treated me now seemed all the more prominent. Mrs. C has always been extremely reserved, and rarely chats with people at the same table outside the meal time, but now she finds opportunities to chat with me in the garden many times.I was almost going to say that she took me in a different light, because her demeanor was refined and reserved, and it seemed to be a special favor to you to be able to talk to you alone.Yes, if I’m telling the truth, then I have to say that she came to me on her own initiative and used various reasons to talk to me. Anyone with a discerning eye could understand her behavior. If she wasn’t an old man with white hair Ma'am, that really gives me a lot of wild ideas.However, as soon as we chatted together, the topic inevitably and uncontrollably returned to the original starting point, back to Mrs. Henriette: it seems that she is very interested in accusing the irresponsible woman, condemning her inconsistency and flirtatiousness. And feel secretly happy.But at the same time, she seemed very pleased to see that my sympathy for the delicate and elegant lady remained the same, and that I could not change my attitude in the slightest.She kept pulling our conversation in this direction, and I don't know what to think afterward of her uncharacteristic and persistent obstinacy. Just a few days later, about five or six days, she didn't reveal a word why such a conversation was so important to her.It was during a walk that I realized unmistakably that there must be something hidden.I happened to mention then that my vacation here was almost over and I thought I'd leave the day after tomorrow.At this time, a strange nervous expression suddenly appeared on her usually calm and unmoved face, like a dark cloud drifting over her blue eyes: "What a pity! I still have many questions to discuss with you. "From this moment on, she seemed out of her mind, talking about this, but thinking about another thing in her heart, another thing that entangled her tightly and controlled her.In the end she seemed to be dissatisfied with this absent-mindedness herself, for breaking out of the sudden silence, she stretched out her hand out of the blue and said: "I see, I cannot express what I wanted to say to you. Clear. I'd better write to you." As he spoke, he walked towards the building of the hotel, walking in a hurry, not in his usual leisurely manner at all. In the evening, just before dinner, I found a letter in the room in her bold and easy handwriting.It's a pity that I didn't care much about letters when I was young, so I can't quote the original letter, I can only describe the general content of the letter.In it she asked if she would be allowed to tell me about her own life.She said that that incident happened a long time ago, and it had almost nothing to do with her current life. She also said that I will leave the day after tomorrow. Come out and feel better.She said that if I wasn't offended by such a conversation, she would love to ask me to give her the time. Here I am just describing the content of the letter. The original letter has a great attraction for me: the letter is written in English, and this alone makes the letter very clear and decisive.But my reply was not easy. I tore up the manuscript three times, and finally wrote her a letter like this: "It is a great honor that you trust me so much. If you want me to tell the truth, I promise to give you what I think. Of course I will not ask you to tell me anything but what you want to say. Confidentially more. But please, be completely honest with yourself and with me in what you say. Believe me, I regard your letter as a privilege." In the evening, the note arrived in her room.The next morning, I found her reply: "You are quite right: the half truth is worthless, only the whole truth. I will do my best not to hide anything from myself or from you. Please come to my room after dinner—I have At sixty-seven, I don't have to worry about rumors. For I can't tell in a garden or near a lot of people. You will believe that it is not easy for me to make up my mind." We also met at the dinner table at noon, and said some insignificant words in a polite manner.However, when she met me in the garden after dinner, she was obviously flustered and avoided me.The silver-haired old lady looked like a shy girl in front of me, and quickly fled to a pine forest road.Seeing this scene, I felt both guilty and moved. In the evening, at the appointed time, I went to knock on her door, and the door opened for me immediately: the room was dimly lit, with only a small desk lamp casting a circle of yellow light in the usually dim and dim room. Mrs. C greeted me unrestrainedly, and asked me to sit down in an armchair, while she herself sat opposite me.I feel that every action of hers is carefully prepared, but there is still a cold scene, which is obviously not the cold scene she wanted, and it is difficult to make a decision.The silence lasted for a long time, and it was getting longer and longer, but I didn't dare to make a sound to break it.Because I feel that this silence means that a strong will is fighting fiercely with a stubborn sense of resistance.The faint waltz came intermittently from the living room downstairs, and I listened intently, as if trying to relieve the breathless weight of the silence.She also seemed a little embarrassed by the unnatural tension created by the silence, for she jumped up suddenly and said: "The most difficult thing to say is the first sentence. I have been preparing for the past two days to speak this matter very clearly and truthfully, and I hope to be able to do it. Maybe you still don't understand why I should say this to you. Strangers tell these things, but I think about it almost all the time, and you can believe me, an old woman, it is intolerable for her to spend her whole life staring at one point, one day. Because what I'm going to tell you has taken up only twenty-four hours in my sixty-seven years of life. I've often said to myself, it's no big deal if a man does something absurd once in a while Yes. I have often said that, almost to the point of madness. Yet people still cannot get rid of what we so uncertainly call conscience. When I heard you speak so objectively of Mrs. Henriette's affair, I Thinking that if I could just make up my mind to tell someone about that day in my life, maybe it would put an end to this pointless reminiscence and endless self-condemnation. If I didn't believe, But Catholicism, I would have had a chance to confess and get relief by telling what I have been keeping silent about - but that comfort is not ours, so I will try today and tell you exactly what it is This incident, in order to acquit myself. I know that all this is very strange, but you did not hesitate to accept my suggestion, for which I am very grateful to you. "Well, let's get down to business. As I said, what I'm going to tell you about is the only day in my life—all the rest is insignificant to me, and dull to others. Until forty-two At the age of ten, I have never strayed a step from the path of life. My parents were wealthy Scotch country lords, we owned several large factories and many rented fields, and we, in the usual manner of country lords, had large Lived part of the time on his estate, and in London in the summer. I met my husband at a social gathering when I was eighteen. He was born into a distinguished family, the second son of the R. been stationed in India for years. We were soon married and lived a carefree life in our social circle, living three months a year in London, three months at the estate, and the rest of the year to Traveled and stayed in hotels in Italy, Spain and France. Our marriage has never had a shadow, and our two sons are now grown. When I was forty, my husband died suddenly. He was in Liver disease while living in the tropics: Horrible, he was only 2 weeks sick and I lost him forever. My oldest son was in the military and my youngest was in college - so overnight I was alone in an empty room I am used to a warm family life, and now the loneliness and loneliness are a terrible torture for me. Everything in the house makes me feel emotionally and reminds me of my dear husband. I was very sad. I felt that I could not stay in this dreary house any longer, not even for one more day. So I decided to pass the time by traveling around until my two sons were married. "Actually, I have since seen my life as meaningless and superfluous. The person I have been inseparable and congenial to for twenty-three years is dead, and the children don't need me. I worry about my own life. Depression, despondency would spoil the joy of their youth—for myself, there was nothing worth looking forward to, nothing to be attached to. At first I moved to Paris, and when I was bored, I went to the shops and museums. But this city and its surroundings seemed alien to me: the people there stared at my mourning clothes, and I couldn't bear their polite and regretful eyes, so I always tried to avoid them, I was silent like a gypsy. Wandering here and there. I don’t know where to start with how the past few months have passed. All I know is that I always want to die, but I don’t have the strength to make this painful longing wish come true. "In the second year of my widow's death, that is, at the age of forty-two, I came to Montenegro at the end of March in order to escape, although I didn't admit it, but to escape the time of being worthless and unable to die immediately. Carlo. To be frank, I came to Monte Carlo because I was bored, because I needed at least some small external stimulation to fill the tormenting, disgusting inner emptiness that rose from the stomach. The more I The more depressed I am, the more I want to go to the place where the spinning top of life spins the fastest: for people who have no life experience, the passion and turmoil of others is like drama and music, it is also a spiritual experience. "That's why I frequent the casinos too. Seeing other people's faces in waves of apprehension, turbulence, joy, and horror can pique my interest, while my own surges and ebbs and flows startlingly. My husband used to visit the casinos now and then, but never rashly. With a certain unconscious piety, I faithfully continued his old habits. In a casino in Monte Carlo, I started the second For fourteen hours, it was more exciting than all gambling, and since then, year after year, I have been confused and lost. "At noon, I ate with my relative, the Duchess von M. After dinner, I didn't feel tired and didn't want to go to bed. So I went into the casino and walked up and down between the tables. I didn't Instead of gambling, I observed groups of gamblers gathered in a special way. The 'special way' I said was taught to me by my husband once when he was alive. I was tired of watching that time, so I complained, Tired of staring at the same faces all the time. The wizened old woman who sat on a chair for hours before she dared to bet a single chip, the crooked gambler and the card whore—the gang臭味相投的无耻之徒，您知道，他们远不像蹩脚小说里所描绘的那样充满诗情画意和罗曼蒂克，也不像小说中所写的那些和欧洲贵族。再说，二十年前赌钱时台上滚动着的是看得见摸得着的现金——沙沙作响的钞票、拿破仑金币、厚实的五法郎硬币一起回旋飞舞。那时的赌场魅力无穷，不像今天，在新建的式样时新的豪华赌宫里尽是些透着小市民气的观光客无精打采地耗费他们手里那些平淡无奇的筹码。那时我觉得这些千篇一律的冷漠脸孔实在没有什么吸引力。我丈夫对手相术非常热衷，后来他就教给我一种特殊的观察方法，那确实比懒洋洋地东站站西伫伫有趣得多，心情也更为激动和紧张。这种方法是：绝不要看脸，而要专门瞅着桌子的四边，在那儿再专门盯住赌徒的手，只注视这些手的特殊动作。我不知道，您自己是否曾经偶然单单注视过绿色赌桌，专门注视那绿色的菱形桌面，桌面中央那圆球像醉汉似的蹒跚着一个号码一个号码地滚过去。这当间飞舞的钞票、圆圆的银币金币等赌注纷纷落入各个方格里，宛如种下的禾苗，随后掌盘人的耙子就像锋利的镰刀，一家伙就把这些禾苗割掉，将其耙拢并收拾起来，成了自己的进帐，或者将它们作为礼品，推到赢家面前。你只要调准观察的焦距，就会发现，这时唯有那些手才是变幻莫测的——绿色赌台四周的那些手，色泽鲜明，异常激动，都在伺机而动，从各自的袖筒里往外窥视着。每只手都像一只猛兽，随时准备蹿出来。手的形状不一，颜色各异，有裸露的，没戴任何饰物，有的戴着戒指和叮当作响的手镯，有的毛茸茸的像野兽，有的卷曲着，湿漉漉的像鳗鱼，但是所有的手都极其紧张，战战兢兢地显得极其焦灼不安。此情此景常常使我下意识地想到赛马场：开赛前得使劲勒住亢奋的赛马，不让它抢跑。那些马也是这样，浑身打颤，仰首向上，高抬前足，直立而起。根据手的各种状态，如伺机而动，迅速攫取或戛然而止，对赌徒的状况就会一目了然：贪得无厌者的手握得很紧，挥金如土者的手放得很松，工于心计者的手关节平衡安静，举棋不定者的手关节颤栗不已；从抓钱的瞬间姿态上，对人生百态可以一览无遗：这一位把钞镖抓成一团，那一位神经质地把钞票揉成碎纸，或者精疲力竭地微曲着有气无力的手指，在整个一局中没下一处赌注。俗语说赌博见人品，但是我说，赌博的时候，手将人展露得更加清楚。因为所有的、或者说几乎是所有的赌徒一下就学会了驾驭自己面部表情的本领——在衬衣领子上部戴着一副的冷漠面具——他们能抑制嘴角的皱纹，咬紧牙齿，压住内心的激动，不让眼睛里露出一丝不安的神色，他们能抚平脸上暴凸的青筋，不动声色，装出一副悠哉悠哉的样子。然而，正因为大家都拼命集中注意力，脸上不露声色，却忘了自己的一双手，忘了有专门观察手的人。尽管赌徒们微笑着撅起的嘴唇和故作冷淡的目光竭力掩饰着自己的心曲，可是别人从他们手上已对他们的一切了如指掌。在泄露秘密这一点上，这种时候手是最直截了当的。因为总有那么一瞬间，稍一疏忽，那些拼命抑制住的、看似毫无动静的手指就会一起张开：在转盘的小球落进小格子里，大声报着赢家们号码时紧张到空气都要爆裂的一刻，这一百只或五百只手就会情不自禁地做出各具个性的、具有原始本能特征的动作来。要是有人像我这样——我丈夫将他的此种癖好教给了我——养成这种在竞技场上进行观察的习惯，那么就会觉得这些性格各异的赌徒的手一下子做出的各不相同、出乎意料的动作，远比戏剧和音乐更为扣人心弦。手的姿态何止千百种，我简直无法向您描述：有的像野兽伸出毛茸茸的、曲卷的手指忘乎所以地在搂钱，有的指甲苍白、神经质地哆嗦着，几乎不敢去抓钱，有高贵的和卑贱的，残暴的和畏葸的，诡计多端和老实巴交的——这些手给人的印象各不相同，因为每一双手表达的都是一种特殊的人生，只有那四五双掌盘人的手是个例外。这几双手完全像机器，运作起来就事论事，有板有眼，不偏不倚，极其精确，跟那些生气勃勃的手比起来，它们简直就像是计算器上格格作响的钢扣。然而，即使是这几双冷静的手，由于它们在猎人似的亢奋的手之间忙个不停，两相对照又会留下令人吃惊的印象：我要说，这些手单调划一，犹如群众暴动时处于汹涌澎湃、慷慨激昂的人潮中的警察。此外，对我来说还有一种诱惑，那就是要在几天之后熟悉各种手的种种习惯和癖好。数日之后我在众多的手中总会发现一些熟悉的手，并将它们当作人一样分为喜爱的和讨厌的两类：有的厚颜无耻，贪得无厌，令我恶心，所以我总是像是见到下流事一样，赶紧把目光移开。赌台上出现的每一只新的手对我来说都是一件大事，都会引起我的好奇。我往往忘了抬头看看那脸，反正那张脸也不外乎是一副冷冰冰毫无表情的社交面具而已，它是从高领中伸出来插在礼服或者熠熠闪光的胸饰上面的。 “那天晚上我走进赌馆，绕过两张已经挤满了人的台子，向第三张走去，并且准备了几枚下注的金币。这时大厅里寂然无声，紧张的沉默像要炸裂似的，这种时刻每逢圆球在轮盘上转得有气无力、只在两个号码之间晃来晃去的时候，总是会出现的。就在这一瞬间我听到正对面传来'咔嚓'一声，像是折断了手关节，这令我大为惊讶，不由自主地朝对面望去。这时我看见——真的，我吓坏了——两只手，我从未见过的两只手，一只右手和一只左手，像两只横眉竖目的猛兽交织在一起厮拼，互相伸出爪子，朝对方身上狠抓，于是指关节便发出砸干核桃时的那种咔嚓声。这两只手美得简直不可思议，长得出奇，又细得卓绝，绷得紧紧的肌肉宛如凝脂，指甲白皙，指甲尖修得圆圆的好似珍珠轮叶。一晚上我一直盯着这双手，对这双出类拔萃、简直是绝无仅有的手惊叹不已。然而最先令我惊愕不已的是这双手的热情，它所表现出来的狂热激情，是两只手的手指互相交织在一起痉挛地拧扭而又相互支撑的情景。我马上便知道，这是个精力过剩的人，他正把自己的激情集中在手指尖上，免得自己被它炸成两半。而现在……这瞬间圆球'啪嗒'一声落进码格，掌盘人高喊彩门……这瞬间，两只手突然互相松开，就像两只同时被一颗子弹击中的猛兽。两只手一起瘫落下来，确实是死了。这不仅仅是精疲力竭，瘫落的时候清楚地现出一副憔悴、失望、遭了电击、彻底完蛋的样子，这情景我实在无法用语言来形容。我还从未见过、从此以后再也没有见到过表情那么丰富的两只手，它们的每块肌肉都是一张倾诉心曲的嘴，可以感到几乎每个毛孔都在发泄激情。随后这两只手在绿色赌台上摊放了一会儿，就像被波涛冲上海滩的水母，扁平，而没有一点生气。稍后，一只手，是右手，又从指尖上艰难地开始动起来了，它颤抖着，缩了回去，自己转动着，颤颤悠悠，旋转起来，突然神经质地抓起一根筹码，捏在拇指和食指的指尖中犹豫不决地捏滚着，像在玩一个小轮子。突然手背像一头豹，弓了起来，把一百法郎的筹码快如闪电似的掷进，不，简直就是一口吐到了黑格中。这时那只一动不动的左手像是接到了信号，也立刻激动起来了。它抬了起来，悄悄滑向，不，是爬向那只索索发抖、仿佛刚才的一掷耗尽了精力的右手。现在这两只手胆战心惊地挨在一起，用腕肘不出声地碰击着台面，就像牙齿上下咯咯地打着寒战——没有，我还从来没有见过表情如此丰富、简直像是会说话似的手，从来未曾见过这副激动和紧张到痉挛的样子。我盯着这双索索发抖、呼吸急促、喘息不停、伺机而动、哆哆嗦嗦、胆战心惊的手，简直像着了魔似的，除此之外，我觉得这拱形大厅里其他的一切，无论是各个房间里嗡嗡的喧嚷声，掌盘人那商贩似的叫喊声，还有熙来攘往的人群或者现在高高地弹起又跳进轮盘上圆格之中的小球——所有这些嘤嘤嗡嗡、刺耳地袭击神经的种种飞速变换的景象，突然之间仿佛全都寂静无声，全不存在了。 “不过，这种情景我没有坚持多久，无论如何我都要看看这个人，无论如何都要看看那拥有这双神奇之手的脸。我怯生生地——是的，真是怯生生地，因为我怕这双手——让目光循着衣袖慢慢往上移动，到了两只瘦削的肩膀那儿。这时我又吓了一跳，因为这张脸同那双手一样，说着同样毫无节制、想入非非的语言，以同样娇柔的、几乎是女性之美极其顽强地抑制着自己的表情，使之不露声色。我从未见过这样的脸，这样神情专注、沉湎自我的脸。我有着充分的机会，把这张脸当作一副面具，当作一尊没有眼睛的雕像来从容不迫地加以观赏。这对着了魔的眸子一动不动，既不左顾也不右盼，在眼睑下，那乌黑的瞳仁直勾勾地凝视着，像是没有生命的玻璃珠，映出另一个桃花心木色的、在转轮圆盘里呆头呆脑、右冲右突地滚动和跳跃的原球。我不得不再说一遍，我从来未曾见过如此紧张、如此令人神往的脸。那是一位大约二十四岁的年轻人的脸，窄窄的、很秀气、略长，表情非常丰富。同那双手一样，这张脸也不具十足的男子气，它更像一个玩得忘形的男孩子的脸——可是所有这些我都是后来才注意到的，因为现在这张脸上完全现着贪婪和暴怒的神情。窄窄的嘴馋涎欲滴地张启着，露了大半的牙齿：在十步的距离就可以看到牙齿在上下打着寒战，嘴唇则一直呆呆地张开着。一绺浅黄色的头发湿漉漉地帖在额头上，往前耷拉着，像正在摔下来似的。鼻翼不停地翕动抽搐，仿像有一阵看不见的小浪涛在皮肤底下汹涌翻腾。探着的脑袋下意识地越来越往前伸，让人觉得，这脑袋也要卷进转盘，随着圆球一起旋转。这时我才明白，这两只手为什么要使劲地按着，因为只有按着，只有使劲按着，才能使将要从中间摔倒的身体保持平衡。我不得不再三说，我从来未曾见过这样的脸，会把其激情赤裸裸地流露得如此明目张胆，如此兽性，如此恬不知耻。我紧紧盯着这张脸……它是那么魅力无穷，他那迷狂的状态令人如此着魔，就像看到那个旋转的圆球的跳跃和颤动一样。从那一刻起，大厅里其余的一切我全然不再意了，同这张喷着火焰的脸相比，其他的一切都显得黯淡、迟钝、模糊不清。也许有一小时之久，我谁也没看，单单注视着这一个人，注视着他的每一个姿态。当掌盘人把二十个金币推到他贪婪的手里时，他眼睛里闪着晶亮晶亮的光，本来紧紧抱合着的两只手也像是被炸散似的，手指头也抖抖索索地全都张开了。在这瞬间，他的脸上突然容光焕发，显得非常年轻、滋润，没有皱纹，眼睛开始炯炯有神，前倾的身体也轻快利索地伸直了——他坐在这里，一下子宛如潇洒的骑手，沾沾自喜和爱不释手地用手指捏着圆圆的金币加以拨弄，将它们彼此弹击，让其戏耍跳动，发出叮当的声响。随后他又心神不宁地转过脑袋，朝绿色赌台飞快地寻视一遍，就像一只年轻的猎狗用鼻子东闻闻西嗅嗅，要找出正确的踪迹一样。接着，他突然抓起一把金币，朝轮船的一角扔去。于是那焦急期盼和紧张的神态又立即重现了。那电控似的波浪起伏式的抽搐又爬上了他的嘴唇，两只手又互相痉挛般地紧紧抓住，孩子气的脸消失了，换成了贪婪的期待，直到这抽搐着的紧张突然被炸散，化为失望：刚才还孩子气的兴奋不已的脸憔悴了，变得苍白而衰老，目光呆滞，失去了光泽。而这一切都是在一秒钟内发生的，是圆球落入他未曾猜中的号码时发生的。他输了，他的眼睛愣愣地瞪了几秒钟，目光几乎是痴呆的，仿佛他对所发生的事全然不解。可是一听到掌盘人第一声刺激性的吆喝，他的手指又立即掏出几个金币。然后他已没有了把握，他先将金币押在一个格里，随后想了想，又押到另一个格里，圆球已经在滚动了，他突然身子往前一俯，用颤抖的手又将两张捏成一团的钞票飞快地扔进同一个方格中。 “就这样惴惴不安地来来回回，有输有赢，从不停顿，大约持续了一小时。在这一小时里，我一直目不转睛地盯着那张不时变化着的脸，种种激情时而波浪翻滚涌到脸上，时而又像潮水一样退得无影无踪。我着了魔的目光始终紧紧凝视着，连喘息时都没有移开；我的眼睛也没有放过那双魅力无穷的手，手上的每块肌肉像喷泉一样生动地反映出他感情上的起伏跌宕。在剧院里我都从未如此神魂颠倒地注视过一位演员的脸，像注视这张脸那样，这张脸上不停地变幻着各种色彩和感觉，犹如自然景色的光和影。我从来没有如此全身心地关注过赌局，把别人的喜怒哀乐反映在我自己心里。要是有人此刻注意到我，见我呆呆发愣的样子，准会以为我是受了人家催眠术的戏弄，而我当时正处于十足的迷迷糊糊的状态，也真的同受了催眠差不多——我实在无法把目光从这张不断变幻着表情的脸上移开，其他一切，大厅里交织着灯光、笑声、人群和目光的一切，只像一片黄色的烟雾围在我的四周，而在黄色烟雾中心的就是那张脸，它是火焰中的火焰。我什么也听不见，什么也感觉不到，我注意不到身边往前挤的人，也注意不到其他像触角似的突然伸到前面来扔钱或者把钱归拾到自己面前去的手；我看不见转轮里的圆球，听不见掌盘人的声音，可是台面上所发生的一切我确实就像在梦里一样在这双手上全都看到了。这双手犹如凹镜，把巨大的激动和亢奋映照得一览无遗。因为要知道圆球落入红门还是黑门，是在滚动还是已经停下，这些我都不用看转轮：这张洋溢着激情的脸，脸上的神经和表情就像熊熊烈焰，会把输和赢、期待和失望种种变化一一映照出来。 “但是接着就出现了一个可怕的瞬间——整个时间里我心里一直隐隐约约地在为这一瞬间的出现而担心，它像暴风雨一样高悬于我忐忑不安的神经之上，并且突然之间将我的神经从中间扯断。转轮里的小球带着轻微的噼啪声在倒着滚来，那一秒钟又闪烁起来了，两百张嘴唇一起屏住呼吸，直到响起掌盘人的宣布声，这次他唱出的是，同时他急忙伸出筢子，从四面八方将叮当作响的金币银币和簌簌作响的钞票全部扒拢在一起，就在这一瞬间这双紧紧抓着的手做了一个特别吓人的动作，它们好似突然往上一伸，要去抓住某样并不存在的东西，接着就死一般地疲乏地重新跌落在桌上，但用的并不是自身的力气，而只是凭借退回来的重力。可是随后这双手突然又一次活了起来，狂热地从桌上缩回到自己身上，像野猫似的顺着躯干爬上爬下，一会儿左，一会儿右，神经质地伸进每只口袋，看看能不能在某只口袋里再找出一个被遗忘的金币来。然而每次总是空手而回，但两只手还在不断重复这种毫无意义的寻找。这时轮船又已经开始重新旋转，别人的赌博在继续进行，硬币叮当作响，椅子在挪动，由数百种低声细语组成的一片嘈杂声充满大厅。我不得不如此清楚地亲身来体会这一切，仿佛是我自己的手指在口袋里，在皱皱巴巴的衣服褶子里拼命寻找一块钱币。突然，我对面的那个人猛的一下站了起来——就像有人突如其来地感到不舒服，便猛的站了起来，以免窒息。他背后的椅子'咔哒'一声倒在地上。他连看都没看一眼，也没去理会。旁边的人又胆怯又惊讶地避开这位摇摇晃晃的人，任他自己拖着沉重的脚步离开了赌台。这可怕的一幕使我颤栗，不禁浑身哆嗦。 “目睹这一情景，我完全惊呆了。因为我立即就明白了，这个人要上哪儿去：去死。这副样子站起来的人不会回旅馆，不会去喝酒，不会去找女人，不会去乘火车，也不会去过另一种生活，而是径直去跃入无底深渊。在这地狱般的大厅里就连最最冷漠的人也会看出，这个人不会再在家里、在银行里，或者在亲戚那里得到援助了，他方才坐在这里是拿他最后的钱，拿自己的生命来孤注一掷。现在他踉踉跄跄地走了，到别处去了，但肯定是不想活了。我曾一直担着心，从第一个瞬间起我就神奇地感觉到，这里是一场比输赢更高的赌博。这时，当我看到，生活突然从他眼睛里消失，这张方才还是活生生的脸上蒙上了一层阴影时，一道黑黑的闪电猛烈地击在了我的身上。此人生动的姿态深深地印在了我心里，所以当他离开座位，蹒跚地走出去的时候，我也不由自主地要用手抵着桌子，因为那种蹒跚的样子现在也从他的神态中传到了我自己身上，正如先前他紧张的心情进入了我的血管和神经一样。我被吸引住了，不得不跟着他：我还没有想好，但我的脚已经开始移动了。我谁也没去理会，也没有感觉到自己，就跑到通往大门的走廊上去了。这完全是下意识发生的，并非是我自己所为，而只是发生在我身上罢了。 “他站在存衣处，侍役替他取来了大衣。可是他自己的胳膊不听使唤了：殷勤的侍役像帮助一个手臂麻痹的人似的，费了好大的劲，才帮他套上袖子。我看到他机械地将手伸进坎肩的口袋，想给侍役一点小费，但是抽出来的手里仍是空的。这时，他好像突然间又想起了一切，狼狈不堪地对侍役结结巴巴说了一句什么话，便完全像先前一样，突然猛的朝前走去，接着像醉汉似的踉踉跄跄地走下赌馆的台阶。侍役先是带着轻蔑的、随后便是理解的微笑，还朝他背后望了一会儿。 “他的姿态感人至深，我为自己在一旁观看而感到不好意思。我不由自主地走到一边，心里感到害羞，因为我像在剧场的舞台前那样观看了陌生人走投无路的绝望神情——但是后来那种难以理解的恐惧突然又推了我一把，我赶紧叫侍役把我的衣服取来，未去想什么具体的事情，完全机械地，完全本能地，急忙跟着这个陌生人往黑暗中走去。” C夫人讲到这里便停了一会儿。她坐在我对面，脸上毫无表情，以其特有的冷静和客观的态度娓娓道来，几乎没有停顿。只有心里早有准备，对发生的事情进行了精心组织和整理的人才会如此侃侃而谈。现在她第一次打顿，显得有些迟疑不决，随后她脱离开刚才所叙述的事，突然直接对我说： “我曾向您和我自己答应过，”她开始显得有点不安，“保证极其坦诚地把所有的事实讲出来。可是，我现在必须要求您也要完全相信我的坦诚，不要把我的行为理解成有什么隐蔽的动机，认为也许我今天讲出这个动机就不会感到害羞了。在这件事情上，这种猜测是完全错误的。所以我必须强调，我在街上尾随这位身心已经崩溃的赌客，决不是因为我爱上了这个年轻人——我根本没有去想他是个男人，事实上我这个当时已经四十多岁的女人，丈夫去世以后从来未正眼注视过任何男人。谈情说爱的事对我来说已经彻底结束了。我要对您强调这一点，而且非对您说不可，否则对于后来所发生的事情的可怕性您就难以理解了。当然，另一方面就我来说，当时我非要去跟随那个不幸的人不可，要把这种感情说清楚也是很难的：这里面有好奇心的成分，但是最主要的还是一种可怕的恐惧，或者确切地说是担心发生什么可怕的事。从第一秒钟起我就隐隐约约地感觉到，那件可怕的事像阴云似的正笼罩在这个年轻人身上。但是又不能把这些感觉加以分解和拆散，之所以不行，主要是因为这些感觉过于强制性、过于迅速、过于自发，种种因素错综复杂地交织在一起——很可能我所做的完全是救人的本能行为，正如有人在街上看到一个小孩朝汽车跑去，就会马上去把他拉回来一样。或许也许可以这样来解释：自己不会游泳的人在桥上看见一个快要淹死的落水人，就会跟着跳进河里去。他们还没有来得及对自己无谓的冒险壮举作出决定，就受到神奇力量的牵引，一股意志力将他们推了下去，我当时的情况也正是这样，没有思考，没有清醒的考虑，就跟着这个不幸的人出了大厅，走到大门口，又从大门口跟下台阶。 “我敢肯定，无论是您或者任何一个能用清醒的眼睛来感觉的人当时都不能摆脱这种充满了恐惧的好奇心。那位顶多二十四岁的年轻人走起路来十分吃力，就像老人一样，摇摇晃晃的好似醉汉。他四肢的关节像是脱了臼、散了架一样，拖着沉重的脚步从赌馆的台阶下去朝街头绿地走去。见到这幅可怕的景象，也就不会有思考的余地了。到了那里，他的身体像一只麻袋似的笨重地跌落在长椅上。对于这个动作我再一次感到不寒而栗，我想：这人完了。只有死人，或者全身肌肉没有一点生气的人才会这样跌落下去。他的脑袋斜倚着，往后垂靠在长椅的靠背上，两条胳膊软绵绵地垂下来。在路灯闪烁着的昏暗的微光中，每个过路人都会以为这是个自杀者。以为这是个自杀者——我无法解释，怎么我心里突然会出现这种幻象，可是这幻象突然站在这里了，看得见摸得着，非常真切，令人毛骨悚然、胆颤心惊——以为这是个自杀者。这一瞬间，我望着面前的这个人，我心里绝对确信，他口袋里有支手枪，明天别人就会发现在这长椅上或者另一张椅子上躺着这具气息已绝、鲜血淋漓的躯体，因为他跌落下来的情景完全像一块坠入深谷的石头，中间没有停住，一直摔到谷底。这躯体所表现出来的那种疲惫和绝望的样子，我还从未曾见到过。 “现在请您想一想我的处境：我站在长椅后面二三十步远的地方，椅子上躺着一个一动不动、身心完全崩溃的人。我真不知道该怎么办，一方面意志驱使我走上前去帮助他，但是学到的和因袭的羞怯心理又在将我往后推，不好意思主动跟大街上的一个陌生男人说话。街灯黯淡地闪烁着，天空布满阴云，只有屈指可数的行人从这儿匆匆走过。将近子夜了，我几乎是独自一人在街心花园里同这个颇像自杀的人在一起。五次、十次，我鼓起勇气朝他走去，每次都被羞涩的心理给拉了回来，或者说也许是被内心深处的这种本能的预感拉回去的：正从高处摔下来的人总喜欢拽住救助者一起同归于尽——我就这样再三斟酌，反复考虑，自己都清楚地感觉到这种处境既无意义又可笑。尽管这样，我还是既不能说话，又不能走开；既不能做些什么，又不能离开他。我希望，您相信我，我要告诉您，我在那片绿地上犹豫不决地徘徊了也许有一小时之久，那是无穷无尽的一小时。这时间是在看不见的大海波浪的千万次撞击下一点点扯掉的。这个人彻底毁灭的形象竟是如此使我震撼，使我无法离去。 “可是，我始终没有说一句话、做一件事的勇气。后半夜我真该也这样站着等下去的，也许最后真该让聪明的自私心理说服自己回家去的。是的，我甚至认为自己已经下了决心，让这个晕厥的可怜家伙就这样躺在这里——然而这时一股强大的力量在我进退两难的时候为我作出了抉择。这时下起雨来了。整个晚上海风呼啸，把沉甸甸的乌黑的春云刮到一起，让人从肺里、心里感觉到，天空整个儿低低地压了下来——突然掉下一滴雨点，接着风助雨势，密密的大雨哗哗而下，竟成瓢泼之势。我不由自主地逃到一座商亭的前檐下，虽然撑开了伞，但是这时从坚实的土地激起的一束束泥水，仍是溅在我衣服上。噼噼啪啪打在地上的雨点弹起带泥的水，溅在我的脸上和手上，凉丝丝的。 “可是就在这瓢泼大雨中，那不幸的怪人仍旧坐在长椅上一动不动，这一可怕的景象，二十年后的今天我回想起来喉咙里还感到梗塞。雨从从所有的屋檐上哗哗地流下来，我听到市内隆隆的车轮声，左边和右边都有人撩起大衣在奔跑。一切有生命的东西都怯生生地着蜷缩着，都在躲避、逃跑，寻找栖身之所。任何地方，无论是人还是动物，都可以感到他们对这场倾盆大雨的恐惧——唯独长椅上那个黑黑的、像团东西的人却纹丝不动。我先前对您说过，这个人具有神奇的法力，能将他的各种感情通过动作和表情生动地表现出来。在滂沱大雨中他纹丝不动，全无感觉地坐着，连站起来几步走到雨水哗哗泼下的屋檐下的力气都没有的那精疲力竭的状态，万念俱灰的心境——世上任何东西也不会像这种情景那样，将槁木死灰、彻底自弃、活人死态表现得如此惊心动魄。这个人活活地任凭大雨浇淋，他精疲力竭，竟懒得动一下来避一避雨。任何雕塑家、诗人，无论是米开朗基罗还是但丁都不能像这个人那样把万念俱灰的心境，把人间惨状为我刻画得如此感人肺腑、荡气回肠。 “这一景象把我拉了过去，我也没有别的办法。我猛的穿过密集的大雨，用手去摇长椅上的那个淋得落汤鸡似的人。'来！'我抓住他的胳膊。他的眼睛吃力地朝上瞪着。他身体似乎想慢慢地动一下，但是他没懂我的话。'来！'我再次拽着那只湿漉漉的衣袖，这次我几乎要发火了。他慢慢地站了起来，摇摇晃晃地没有一点意志。'您要干吗？'他问道，我没有回答他，因为我自己也不知道要带他到哪儿去：只要不受冷雨浇淋，只要不再毫无意义地、自杀般地坐在这里。我抓着他的胳膊不放，拉着这个全无意志的人往前走，一直将他拉到商亭那里。商亭有一个向前伸出的窄窄屋檐，多少可以为他遮挡一下驾着风势的滂沱大雨。下一步怎么办，我不知道，也不想有下一步。只要把这个人拉到干的地方，只要把他拉到屋檐下就行了，以后的事起先我并没有考虑。 “我们两人就这么并肩站在狭窄的、淋不着雨的屋檐下。我们后面商亭的门锁着，头上只有一片小屋檐，雨还在没完没了地下，只要一阵狂风刮来，冷飕飕的雨水就会不断狠狠地朝我们衣服上、脸上袭过来。这种情况真是无法忍受。我可不能老是挨着这个水淋淋的陌生人站着。另一方面，既然我把他拉到这儿来了，总不能一句话都不说就将他撂在这儿。总得想个什么办法呀，我慢慢强迫自己坦率地作一次冷静的考虑。我想，最好雇辆车先把他送回家，然后我自己再回家：明天他就会知道有人救了他。于是我就问一动不动地站在我旁边愣愣地凝视着乌云飞驰的夜空的人：'您住在哪儿？' “'我没有住处……我傍晚时候才从尼查来……要上我那儿去是不成的。' “最后这句话我没有立即听懂。后来我才明白，他把我当作……当作娼妓，当作拉客女子——每天晚上赌馆周围都有成群拉客女出没，她们希望能从赢了钱的赌客或醉汉身上得些好处。不论他后来是怎么想的，直到现在我讲给你听的时候，才感觉到我当时的处境有点邪乎，有点离奇——我把他从长椅上拉走，当然是把他拽去的，这真的不是正派女人的行为，叫他怎能不以为我是娼妓呢。但是当时我没有立即意识到这一点。后来我才开始意识到他对我这个人作出了错误的判断，但是发现这个可怕的误解时已经太晚了。要是早些发现的话，我就绝不会说出下面这句越发增强他误解的话来了：'那么，就到旅馆里去要个房间吧。您不该待在这里。您现在必须找个地方安顿下来。' “这句话一出口，我就立即明白了他的那个令人难堪的误解，因为他并没有朝我转过头来，而只是以一种讥讽的言辞加以拒绝：'不用，我不要房间，我什么都不需要了。请你别费劲，从我身上是什么都捞不着的。你找错人了，我已身无分文。' “这句话说得好可怕，他心灰意冷的神态真令人胆颤心惊。一个全身水淋淋的、心力衰竭的人在这儿站着，垂头丧气地靠在墙上，这情景使我如此震撼，以致根本无暇顾及自己所受的那点儿愚蠢的屈辱。我这时感觉到的，同我见到他蹒跚地走出大厅时第一眼的感觉，以及在这难以想象的一小时里不断得到的感觉是一样的：这里的这个人，这个年轻的、活着的、在呼吸的人正处于死亡的边缘。我一定得救他。于是我便走近他。 “'钱您不用担心，来吧！您不能待在这儿，我来给您找个地方安顿下来。您什么都不用顾虑，现在就来吧！' “他转过头来，我们四周雨声噼噼啪啪一阵紧似一阵，檐水哗哗地朝我们的脚倾泻下来，这时我感觉到，在黑暗中他第一次竭力想看一看我的面貌。他的身体似乎也正从昏睡中慢慢苏醒过来。 “'好吧，随你的便，'他让步了，'对我来说反正都一样……毕竟嘛，干吗不去？我们走吧。'我撑开伞，他走到我身边，挽着我的手臂。这突如其来的亲昵姿态使我感到很别扭，令我惊慌失措，吓得直发凉，一直凉到心底。但是，我没有勇气拒绝他，因为，要是我现在把他推开，他就会坠入无底深渊，直到现在我所作的一切努力和尝试，就全都白费了。我们往回朝赌馆走了几步。现在我才想起，我还不知道拿他怎么办呢。我很快地思忖，最好把他领到一家旅馆去，到那儿以后把钱塞到他手里，好让他在那儿过夜，明天乘车回家
Though our discussion seemed to end in a gentlemanly manner, the exasperation aroused somewhat alienated my opponent from me.The German couple was cautious, and the Italian couple in the next few days liked to ask me with irony if I had heard anything about him.Although we were all courteous in form, the former joyous atmosphere in which we treated each other with sincerity and unintentional pursuit has been spoiled and never returned. After that discussion, Mrs. C. showed me a special kindness, so that the irony and indifference that my opponents at that time treated me now seemed all the more prominent. Mrs. C has always been extremely reserved, and rarely chats with people at the same table outside the meal time, but now she finds opportunities to chat with me in the garden many times.I was almost going to say that she took me in a different light, because her demeanor was refined and reserved, and it seemed to be a special favor to you to be able to talk to you alone.Yes, if I’m telling the truth, then I have to say that she came to me on her own initiative and used various reasons to talk to me. Anyone with a discerning eye could understand her behavior. If she wasn’t an old man with white hair Ma'am, that really gives me a lot of wild ideas.However, as soon as we chatted together, the topic inevitably and uncontrollably returned to the original starting point, back to Mrs. Henriette: it seems that she is very interested in accusing the irresponsible woman, condemning her inconsistency and flirtatiousness. And feel secretly happy.But at the same time, she seemed very pleased to see that my sympathy for the delicate and elegant lady remained the same, and that I could not change my attitude in the slightest.She kept pulling our conversation in this direction, and I don't know what to think afterward of her uncharacteristic and persistent obstinacy. Just a few days later, about five or six days, she didn't reveal a word why such a conversation was so important to her.It was during a walk that I realized unmistakably that there must be something hidden.I happened to mention then that my vacation here was almost over and I thought I'd leave the day after tomorrow.At this time, a strange nervous expression suddenly appeared on her usually calm and unmoved face, like a dark cloud drifting over her blue eyes: "What a pity! I still have many questions to discuss with you. "From this moment on, she seemed out of her mind, talking about this, but thinking about another thing in her heart, another thing that entangled her tightly and controlled her.In the end she seemed to be dissatisfied with this absent-mindedness herself, for breaking out of the sudden silence, she stretched out her hand out of the blue and said: "I see, I cannot express what I wanted to say to you. Clear. I'd better write to you." As he spoke, he walked towards the building of the hotel, walking in a hurry, not in his usual leisurely manner at all. In the evening, just before dinner, I found a letter in the room in her bold and easy handwriting.It's a pity that I didn't care much about letters when I was young, so I can't quote the original letter, I can only describe the general content of the letter.In it she asked if she would be allowed to tell me about her own life.She said that that incident happened a long time ago, and it had almost nothing to do with her current life. She also said that I will leave the day after tomorrow. Come out and feel better.She said that if I wasn't offended by such a conversation, she would love to ask me to give her the time. Here I am just describing the content of the letter. The original letter has a great attraction for me: the letter is written in English, and this alone makes the letter very clear and decisive.But my reply was not easy. I tore up the manuscript three times, and finally wrote her a letter like this: "It is a great honor that you trust me so much. If you want me to tell the truth, I promise to give you what I think. Of course I will not ask you to tell me anything but what you want to say. Confidentially more. But please, be completely honest with yourself and with me in what you say. Believe me, I regard your letter as a privilege." In the evening, the note arrived in her room.The next morning, I found her reply: "You are quite right: the half truth is worthless, only the whole truth. I will do my best not to hide anything from myself or from you. Please come to my room after dinner—I have At sixty-seven, I don't have to worry about rumors. For I can't tell in a garden or near a lot of people. You will believe that it is not easy for me to make up my mind." We also met at the dinner table at noon, and said some insignificant words in a polite manner.However, when she met me in the garden after dinner, she was obviously flustered and avoided me.The silver-haired old lady looked like a shy girl in front of me, and quickly fled to a pine forest road.Seeing this scene, I felt both guilty and moved. In the evening, at the appointed time, I went to knock on her door, and the door opened for me immediately: the room was dimly lit, with only a small desk lamp casting a circle of yellow light in the usually dim and dim room. Mrs. C greeted me unrestrainedly, and asked me to sit down in an armchair, while she herself sat opposite me.I feel that every action of hers is carefully prepared, but there is still a cold scene, which is obviously not the cold scene she wanted, and it is difficult to make a decision.The silence lasted for a long time, and it was getting longer and longer, but I didn't dare to make a sound to break it.Because I feel that this silence means that a strong will is fighting fiercely with a stubborn sense of resistance.The faint waltz came intermittently from the living room downstairs, and I listened intently, as if trying to relieve the breathless weight of the silence.She also seemed a little embarrassed by the unnatural tension created by the silence, for she jumped up suddenly and said: "The most difficult thing to say is the first sentence. I have been preparing for the past two days to speak this matter very clearly and truthfully, and I hope to be able to do it. Maybe you still don't understand why I should say this to you. Strangers tell these things, but I think about it almost all the time, and you can believe me, an old woman, it is intolerable for her to spend her whole life staring at one point, one day. Because what I'm going to tell you has taken up only twenty-four hours in my sixty-seven years of life. I've often said to myself, it's no big deal if a man does something absurd once in a while Yes. I have often said that, almost to the point of madness. Yet people still cannot get rid of what we so uncertainly call conscience. When I heard you speak so objectively of Mrs. Henriette's affair, I Thinking that if I could just make up my mind to tell someone about that day in my life, maybe it would put an end to this pointless reminiscence and endless self-condemnation. If I didn't believe, But Catholicism, I would have had a chance to confess and get relief by telling what I have been keeping silent about - but that comfort is not ours, so I will try today and tell you exactly what it is This incident, in order to acquit myself. I know that all this is very strange, but you did not hesitate to accept my suggestion, for which I am very grateful to you. "Well, let's get down to business. As I said, what I'm going to tell you about is the only day in my life—all the rest is insignificant to me, and dull to others. Until forty-two At the age of ten, I have never strayed a step from the path of life. My parents were wealthy Scotch country lords, we owned several large factories and many rented fields, and we, in the usual manner of country lords, had large Lived part of the time on his estate, and in London in the summer. I met my husband at a social gathering when I was eighteen. He was born into a distinguished family, the second son of the R. been stationed in India for years. We were soon married and lived a carefree life in our social circle, living three months a year in London, three months at the estate, and the rest of the year to Traveled and stayed in hotels in Italy, Spain and France. Our marriage has never had a shadow, and our two sons are now grown. When I was forty, my husband died suddenly. He was in Liver disease while living in the tropics: Horrible, he was only 2 weeks sick and I lost him forever. My oldest son was in the military and my youngest was in college - so overnight I was alone in an empty room I am used to a warm family life, and now the loneliness and loneliness are a terrible torture for me. Everything in the house makes me feel emotionally and reminds me of my dear husband. I was very sad. I felt that I could not stay in this dreary house any longer, not even for one more day. So I decided to pass the time by traveling around until my two sons were married. "Actually, I have since seen my life as meaningless and superfluous. The person I have been inseparable and congenial to for twenty-three years is dead, and the children don't need me. I worry about my own life. Depression, despondency would spoil the joy of their youth—for myself, there was nothing worth looking forward to, nothing to be attached to. At first I moved to Paris, and when I was bored, I went to the shops and museums. But this city and its surroundings seemed alien to me: the people there stared at my mourning clothes, and I couldn't bear their polite and regretful eyes, so I always tried to avoid them, I was silent like a gypsy. Wandering here and there. I don’t know where to start with how the past few months have passed. All I know is that I always want to die, but I don’t have the strength to make this painful longing wish come true. "In the second year of my widow's death, that is, at the age of forty-two, I came to Montenegro at the end of March in order to escape, although I didn't admit it, but to escape the time of being worthless and unable to die immediately. Carlo. To be frank, I came to Monte Carlo because I was bored, because I needed at least some small external stimulation to fill the tormenting, disgusting inner emptiness that rose from the stomach. The more I The more depressed I am, the more I want to go to the place where the spinning top of life spins the fastest: for people who have no life experience, the passion and turmoil of others is like drama and music, it is also a spiritual experience. "That's why I frequent the casinos too. Seeing other people's faces in waves of apprehension, turbulence, joy, and horror can pique my interest, while my own surges and ebbs and flows startlingly. My husband used to visit the casinos now and then, but never rashly. With a certain unconscious piety, I faithfully continued his old habits. In a casino in Monte Carlo, I started the second For fourteen hours, it was more exciting than all gambling, and since then, year after year, I have been confused and lost. "At noon, I ate with my relative, the Duchess von M. After dinner, I didn't feel tired and didn't want to go to bed. So I went into the casino and walked up and down between the tables. I didn't Instead of gambling, I observed groups of gamblers gathered in a special way. The 'special way' I said was taught to me by my husband once when he was alive. I was tired of watching that time, so I complained, Tired of staring at the same faces all the time. The wizened old woman who sat on a chair for hours before she dared to bet a single chip, the crooked gambler and the card whore—the gang臭味相投的无耻之徒，您知道，他们远不像蹩脚小说里所描绘的那样充满诗情画意和罗曼蒂克，也不像小说中所写的那些和欧洲贵族。再说，二十年前赌钱时台上滚动着的是看得见摸得着的现金——沙沙作响的钞票、拿破仑金币、厚实的五法郎硬币一起回旋飞舞。那时的赌场魅力无穷，不像今天，在新建的式样时新的豪华赌宫里尽是些透着小市民气的观光客无精打采地耗费他们手里那些平淡无奇的筹码。那时我觉得这些千篇一律的冷漠脸孔实在没有什么吸引力。我丈夫对手相术非常热衷，后来他就教给我一种特殊的观察方法，那确实比懒洋洋地东站站西伫伫有趣得多，心情也更为激动和紧张。这种方法是：绝不要看脸，而要专门瞅着桌子的四边，在那儿再专门盯住赌徒的手，只注视这些手的特殊动作。我不知道，您自己是否曾经偶然单单注视过绿色赌桌，专门注视那绿色的菱形桌面，桌面中央那圆球像醉汉似的蹒跚着一个号码一个号码地滚过去。这当间飞舞的钞票、圆圆的银币金币等赌注纷纷落入各个方格里，宛如种下的禾苗，随后掌盘人的耙子就像锋利的镰刀，一家伙就把这些禾苗割掉，将其耙拢并收拾起来，成了自己的进帐，或者将它们作为礼品，推到赢家面前。你只要调准观察的焦距，就会发现，这时唯有那些手才是变幻莫测的——绿色赌台四周的那些手，色泽鲜明，异常激动，都在伺机而动，从各自的袖筒里往外窥视着。每只手都像一只猛兽，随时准备蹿出来。手的形状不一，颜色各异，有裸露的，没戴任何饰物，有的戴着戒指和叮当作响的手镯，有的毛茸茸的像野兽，有的卷曲着，湿漉漉的像鳗鱼，但是所有的手都极其紧张，战战兢兢地显得极其焦灼不安。此情此景常常使我下意识地想到赛马场：开赛前得使劲勒住亢奋的赛马，不让它抢跑。那些马也是这样，浑身打颤，仰首向上，高抬前足，直立而起。根据手的各种状态，如伺机而动，迅速攫取或戛然而止，对赌徒的状况就会一目了然：贪得无厌者的手握得很紧，挥金如土者的手放得很松，工于心计者的手关节平衡安静，举棋不定者的手关节颤栗不已；从抓钱的瞬间姿态上，对人生百态可以一览无遗：这一位把钞镖抓成一团，那一位神经质地把钞票揉成碎纸，或者精疲力竭地微曲着有气无力的手指，在整个一局中没下一处赌注。俗语说赌博见人品，但是我说，赌博的时候，手将人展露得更加清楚。因为所有的、或者说几乎是所有的赌徒一下就学会了驾驭自己面部表情的本领——在衬衣领子上部戴着一副的冷漠面具——他们能抑制嘴角的皱纹，咬紧牙齿，压住内心的激动，不让眼睛里露出一丝不安的神色，他们能抚平脸上暴凸的青筋，不动声色，装出一副悠哉悠哉的样子。然而，正因为大家都拼命集中注意力，脸上不露声色，却忘了自己的一双手，忘了有专门观察手的人。尽管赌徒们微笑着撅起的嘴唇和故作冷淡的目光竭力掩饰着自己的心曲，可是别人从他们手上已对他们的一切了如指掌。在泄露秘密这一点上，这种时候手是最直截了当的。因为总有那么一瞬间，稍一疏忽，那些拼命抑制住的、看似毫无动静的手指就会一起张开：在转盘的小球落进小格子里，大声报着赢家们号码时紧张到空气都要爆裂的一刻，这一百只或五百只手就会情不自禁地做出各具个性的、具有原始本能特征的动作来。要是有人像我这样——我丈夫将他的此种癖好教给了我——养成这种在竞技场上进行观察的习惯，那么就会觉得这些性格各异的赌徒的手一下子做出的各不相同、出乎意料的动作，远比戏剧和音乐更为扣人心弦。手的姿态何止千百种，我简直无法向您描述：有的像野兽伸出毛茸茸的、曲卷的手指忘乎所以地在搂钱，有的指甲苍白、神经质地哆嗦着，几乎不敢去抓钱，有高贵的和卑贱的，残暴的和畏葸的，诡计多端和老实巴交的——这些手给人的印象各不相同，因为每一双手表达的都是一种特殊的人生，只有那四五双掌盘人的手是个例外。这几双手完全像机器，运作起来就事论事，有板有眼，不偏不倚，极其精确，跟那些生气勃勃的手比起来，它们简直就像是计算器上格格作响的钢扣。然而，即使是这几双冷静的手，由于它们在猎人似的亢奋的手之间忙个不停，两相对照又会留下令人吃惊的印象：我要说，这些手单调划一，犹如群众暴动时处于汹涌澎湃、慷慨激昂的人潮中的警察。此外，对我来说还有一种诱惑，那就是要在几天之后熟悉各种手的种种习惯和癖好。数日之后我在众多的手中总会发现一些熟悉的手，并将它们当作人一样分为喜爱的和讨厌的两类：有的厚颜无耻，贪得无厌，令我恶心，所以我总是像是见到下流事一样，赶紧把目光移开。赌台上出现的每一只新的手对我来说都是一件大事，都会引起我的好奇。我往往忘了抬头看看那脸，反正那张脸也不外乎是一副冷冰冰毫无表情的社交面具而已，它是从高领中伸出来插在礼服或者熠熠闪光的胸饰上面的。 “那天晚上我走进赌馆，绕过两张已经挤满了人的台子，向第三张走去，并且准备了几枚下注的金币。这时大厅里寂然无声，紧张的沉默像要炸裂似的，这种时刻每逢圆球在轮盘上转得有气无力、只在两个号码之间晃来晃去的时候，总是会出现的。就在这一瞬间我听到正对面传来'咔嚓'一声，像是折断了手关节，这令我大为惊讶，不由自主地朝对面望去。这时我看见——真的，我吓坏了——两只手，我从未见过的两只手，一只右手和一只左手，像两只横眉竖目的猛兽交织在一起厮拼，互相伸出爪子，朝对方身上狠抓，于是指关节便发出砸干核桃时的那种咔嚓声。这两只手美得简直不可思议，长得出奇，又细得卓绝，绷得紧紧的肌肉宛如凝脂，指甲白皙，指甲尖修得圆圆的好似珍珠轮叶。一晚上我一直盯着这双手，对这双出类拔萃、简直是绝无仅有的手惊叹不已。然而最先令我惊愕不已的是这双手的热情，它所表现出来的狂热激情，是两只手的手指互相交织在一起痉挛地拧扭而又相互支撑的情景。我马上便知道，这是个精力过剩的人，他正把自己的激情集中在手指尖上，免得自己被它炸成两半。而现在……这瞬间圆球'啪嗒'一声落进码格，掌盘人高喊彩门……这瞬间，两只手突然互相松开，就像两只同时被一颗子弹击中的猛兽。两只手一起瘫落下来，确实是死了。这不仅仅是精疲力竭，瘫落的时候清楚地现出一副憔悴、失望、遭了电击、彻底完蛋的样子，这情景我实在无法用语言来形容。我还从未见过、从此以后再也没有见到过表情那么丰富的两只手，它们的每块肌肉都是一张倾诉心曲的嘴，可以感到几乎每个毛孔都在发泄激情。随后这两只手在绿色赌台上摊放了一会儿，就像被波涛冲上海滩的水母，扁平，而没有一点生气。稍后，一只手，是右手，又从指尖上艰难地开始动起来了，它颤抖着，缩了回去，自己转动着，颤颤悠悠，旋转起来，突然神经质地抓起一根筹码，捏在拇指和食指的指尖中犹豫不决地捏滚着，像在玩一个小轮子。突然手背像一头豹，弓了起来，把一百法郎的筹码快如闪电似的掷进，不，简直就是一口吐到了黑格中。这时那只一动不动的左手像是接到了信号，也立刻激动起来了。它抬了起来，悄悄滑向，不，是爬向那只索索发抖、仿佛刚才的一掷耗尽了精力的右手。现在这两只手胆战心惊地挨在一起，用腕肘不出声地碰击着台面，就像牙齿上下咯咯地打着寒战——没有，我还从来没有见过表情如此丰富、简直像是会说话似的手，从来未曾见过这副激动和紧张到痉挛的样子。我盯着这双索索发抖、呼吸急促、喘息不停、伺机而动、哆哆嗦嗦、胆战心惊的手，简直像着了魔似的，除此之外，我觉得这拱形大厅里其他的一切，无论是各个房间里嗡嗡的喧嚷声，掌盘人那商贩似的叫喊声，还有熙来攘往的人群或者现在高高地弹起又跳进轮盘上圆格之中的小球——所有这些嘤嘤嗡嗡、刺耳地袭击神经的种种飞速变换的景象，突然之间仿佛全都寂静无声，全不存在了。 “不过，这种情景我没有坚持多久，无论如何我都要看看这个人，无论如何都要看看那拥有这双神奇之手的脸。我怯生生地——是的，真是怯生生地，因为我怕这双手——让目光循着衣袖慢慢往上移动，到了两只瘦削的肩膀那儿。这时我又吓了一跳，因为这张脸同那双手一样，说着同样毫无节制、想入非非的语言，以同样娇柔的、几乎是女性之美极其顽强地抑制着自己的表情，使之不露声色。我从未见过这样的脸，这样神情专注、沉湎自我的脸。我有着充分的机会，把这张脸当作一副面具，当作一尊没有眼睛的雕像来从容不迫地加以观赏。这对着了魔的眸子一动不动，既不左顾也不右盼，在眼睑下，那乌黑的瞳仁直勾勾地凝视着，像是没有生命的玻璃珠，映出另一个桃花心木色的、在转轮圆盘里呆头呆脑、右冲右突地滚动和跳跃的原球。我不得不再说一遍，我从来未曾见过如此紧张、如此令人神往的脸。那是一位大约二十四岁的年轻人的脸，窄窄的、很秀气、略长，表情非常丰富。同那双手一样，这张脸也不具十足的男子气，它更像一个玩得忘形的男孩子的脸——可是所有这些我都是后来才注意到的，因为现在这张脸上完全现着贪婪和暴怒的神情。窄窄的嘴馋涎欲滴地张启着，露了大半的牙齿：在十步的距离就可以看到牙齿在上下打着寒战，嘴唇则一直呆呆地张开着。一绺浅黄色的头发湿漉漉地帖在额头上，往前耷拉着，像正在摔下来似的。鼻翼不停地翕动抽搐，仿像有一阵看不见的小浪涛在皮肤底下汹涌翻腾。探着的脑袋下意识地越来越往前伸，让人觉得，这脑袋也要卷进转盘，随着圆球一起旋转。这时我才明白，这两只手为什么要使劲地按着，因为只有按着，只有使劲按着，才能使将要从中间摔倒的身体保持平衡。我不得不再三说，我从来未曾见过这样的脸，会把其激情赤裸裸地流露得如此明目张胆，如此兽性，如此恬不知耻。我紧紧盯着这张脸……它是那么魅力无穷，他那迷狂的状态令人如此着魔，就像看到那个旋转的圆球的跳跃和颤动一样。从那一刻起，大厅里其余的一切我全然不再意了，同这张喷着火焰的脸相比，其他的一切都显得黯淡、迟钝、模糊不清。也许有一小时之久，我谁也没看，单单注视着这一个人，注视着他的每一个姿态。当掌盘人把二十个金币推到他贪婪的手里时，他眼睛里闪着晶亮晶亮的光，本来紧紧抱合着的两只手也像是被炸散似的，手指头也抖抖索索地全都张开了。在这瞬间，他的脸上突然容光焕发，显得非常年轻、滋润，没有皱纹，眼睛开始炯炯有神，前倾的身体也轻快利索地伸直了——他坐在这里，一下子宛如潇洒的骑手，沾沾自喜和爱不释手地用手指捏着圆圆的金币加以拨弄，将它们彼此弹击，让其戏耍跳动，发出叮当的声响。随后他又心神不宁地转过脑袋，朝绿色赌台飞快地寻视一遍，就像一只年轻的猎狗用鼻子东闻闻西嗅嗅，要找出正确的踪迹一样。接着，他突然抓起一把金币，朝轮船的一角扔去。于是那焦急期盼和紧张的神态又立即重现了。那电控似的波浪起伏式的抽搐又爬上了他的嘴唇，两只手又互相痉挛般地紧紧抓住，孩子气的脸消失了，换成了贪婪的期待，直到这抽搐着的紧张突然被炸散，化为失望：刚才还孩子气的兴奋不已的脸憔悴了，变得苍白而衰老，目光呆滞，失去了光泽。而这一切都是在一秒钟内发生的，是圆球落入他未曾猜中的号码时发生的。他输了，他的眼睛愣愣地瞪了几秒钟，目光几乎是痴呆的，仿佛他对所发生的事全然不解。可是一听到掌盘人第一声刺激性的吆喝，他的手指又立即掏出几个金币。然后他已没有了把握，他先将金币押在一个格里，随后想了想，又押到另一个格里，圆球已经在滚动了，他突然身子往前一俯，用颤抖的手又将两张捏成一团的钞票飞快地扔进同一个方格中。 “就这样惴惴不安地来来回回，有输有赢，从不停顿，大约持续了一小时。在这一小时里，我一直目不转睛地盯着那张不时变化着的脸，种种激情时而波浪翻滚涌到脸上，时而又像潮水一样退得无影无踪。我着了魔的目光始终紧紧凝视着，连喘息时都没有移开；我的眼睛也没有放过那双魅力无穷的手，手上的每块肌肉像喷泉一样生动地反映出他感情上的起伏跌宕。在剧院里我都从未如此神魂颠倒地注视过一位演员的脸，像注视这张脸那样，这张脸上不停地变幻着各种色彩和感觉，犹如自然景色的光和影。我从来没有如此全身心地关注过赌局，把别人的喜怒哀乐反映在我自己心里。要是有人此刻注意到我，见我呆呆发愣的样子，准会以为我是受了人家催眠术的戏弄，而我当时正处于十足的迷迷糊糊的状态，也真的同受了催眠差不多——我实在无法把目光从这张不断变幻着表情的脸上移开，其他一切，大厅里交织着灯光、笑声、人群和目光的一切，只像一片黄色的烟雾围在我的四周，而在黄色烟雾中心的就是那张脸，它是火焰中的火焰。我什么也听不见，什么也感觉不到，我注意不到身边往前挤的人，也注意不到其他像触角似的突然伸到前面来扔钱或者把钱归拾到自己面前去的手；我看不见转轮里的圆球，听不见掌盘人的声音，可是台面上所发生的一切我确实就像在梦里一样在这双手上全都看到了。这双手犹如凹镜，把巨大的激动和亢奋映照得一览无遗。因为要知道圆球落入红门还是黑门，是在滚动还是已经停下，这些我都不用看转轮：这张洋溢着激情的脸，脸上的神经和表情就像熊熊烈焰，会把输和赢、期待和失望种种变化一一映照出来。 “但是接着就出现了一个可怕的瞬间——整个时间里我心里一直隐隐约约地在为这一瞬间的出现而担心，它像暴风雨一样高悬于我忐忑不安的神经之上，并且突然之间将我的神经从中间扯断。转轮里的小球带着轻微的噼啪声在倒着滚来，那一秒钟又闪烁起来了，两百张嘴唇一起屏住呼吸，直到响起掌盘人的宣布声，这次他唱出的是，同时他急忙伸出筢子，从四面八方将叮当作响的金币银币和簌簌作响的钞票全部扒拢在一起，就在这一瞬间这双紧紧抓着的手做了一个特别吓人的动作，它们好似突然往上一伸，要去抓住某样并不存在的东西，接着就死一般地疲乏地重新跌落在桌上，但用的并不是自身的力气，而只是凭借退回来的重力。可是随后这双手突然又一次活了起来，狂热地从桌上缩回到自己身上，像野猫似的顺着躯干爬上爬下，一会儿左，一会儿右，神经质地伸进每只口袋，看看能不能在某只口袋里再找出一个被遗忘的金币来。然而每次总是空手而回，但两只手还在不断重复这种毫无意义的寻找。这时轮船又已经开始重新旋转，别人的赌博在继续进行，硬币叮当作响，椅子在挪动，由数百种低声细语组成的一片嘈杂声充满大厅。我不得不如此清楚地亲身来体会这一切，仿佛是我自己的手指在口袋里，在皱皱巴巴的衣服褶子里拼命寻找一块钱币。突然，我对面的那个人猛的一下站了起来——就像有人突如其来地感到不舒服，便猛的站了起来，以免窒息。他背后的椅子'咔哒'一声倒在地上。他连看都没看一眼，也没去理会。旁边的人又胆怯又惊讶地避开这位摇摇晃晃的人，任他自己拖着沉重的脚步离开了赌台。这可怕的一幕使我颤栗，不禁浑身哆嗦。 “目睹这一情景，我完全惊呆了。因为我立即就明白了，这个人要上哪儿去：去死。这副样子站起来的人不会回旅馆，不会去喝酒，不会去找女人，不会去乘火车，也不会去过另一种生活，而是径直去跃入无底深渊。在这地狱般的大厅里就连最最冷漠的人也会看出，这个人不会再在家里、在银行里，或者在亲戚那里得到援助了，他方才坐在这里是拿他最后的钱，拿自己的生命来孤注一掷。现在他踉踉跄跄地走了，到别处去了，但肯定是不想活了。我曾一直担着心，从第一个瞬间起我就神奇地感觉到，这里是一场比输赢更高的赌博。这时，当我看到，生活突然从他眼睛里消失，这张方才还是活生生的脸上蒙上了一层阴影时，一道黑黑的闪电猛烈地击在了我的身上。此人生动的姿态深深地印在了我心里，所以当他离开座位，蹒跚地走出去的时候，我也不由自主地要用手抵着桌子，因为那种蹒跚的样子现在也从他的神态中传到了我自己身上，正如先前他紧张的心情进入了我的血管和神经一样。我被吸引住了，不得不跟着他：我还没有想好，但我的脚已经开始移动了。我谁也没去理会，也没有感觉到自己，就跑到通往大门的走廊上去了。这完全是下意识发生的，并非是我自己所为，而只是发生在我身上罢了。 “他站在存衣处，侍役替他取来了大衣。可是他自己的胳膊不听使唤了：殷勤的侍役像帮助一个手臂麻痹的人似的，费了好大的劲，才帮他套上袖子。我看到他机械地将手伸进坎肩的口袋，想给侍役一点小费，但是抽出来的手里仍是空的。这时，他好像突然间又想起了一切，狼狈不堪地对侍役结结巴巴说了一句什么话，便完全像先前一样，突然猛的朝前走去，接着像醉汉似的踉踉跄跄地走下赌馆的台阶。侍役先是带着轻蔑的、随后便是理解的微笑，还朝他背后望了一会儿。 “他的姿态感人至深，我为自己在一旁观看而感到不好意思。我不由自主地走到一边，心里感到害羞，因为我像在剧场的舞台前那样观看了陌生人走投无路的绝望神情——但是后来那种难以理解的恐惧突然又推了我一把，我赶紧叫侍役把我的衣服取来，未去想什么具体的事情，完全机械地，完全本能地，急忙跟着这个陌生人往黑暗中走去。” C夫人讲到这里便停了一会儿。她坐在我对面，脸上毫无表情，以其特有的冷静和客观的态度娓娓道来，几乎没有停顿。只有心里早有准备，对发生的事情进行了精心组织和整理的人才会如此侃侃而谈。现在她第一次打顿，显得有些迟疑不决，随后她脱离开刚才所叙述的事，突然直接对我说： “我曾向您和我自己答应过，”她开始显得有点不安，“保证极其坦诚地把所有的事实讲出来。可是，我现在必须要求您也要完全相信我的坦诚，不要把我的行为理解成有什么隐蔽的动机，认为也许我今天讲出这个动机就不会感到害羞了。在这件事情上，这种猜测是完全错误的。所以我必须强调，我在街上尾随这位身心已经崩溃的赌客，决不是因为我爱上了这个年轻人——我根本没有去想他是个男人，事实上我这个当时已经四十多岁的女人，丈夫去世以后从来未正眼注视过任何男人。谈情说爱的事对我来说已经彻底结束了。我要对您强调这一点，而且非对您说不可，否则对于后来所发生的事情的可怕性您就难以理解了。当然，另一方面就我来说，当时我非要去跟随那个不幸的人不可，要把这种感情说清楚也是很难的：这里面有好奇心的成分，但是最主要的还是一种可怕的恐惧，或者确切地说是担心发生什么可怕的事。从第一秒钟起我就隐隐约约地感觉到，那件可怕的事像阴云似的正笼罩在这个年轻人身上。但是又不能把这些感觉加以分解和拆散，之所以不行，主要是因为这些感觉过于强制性、过于迅速、过于自发，种种因素错综复杂地交织在一起——很可能我所做的完全是救人的本能行为，正如有人在街上看到一个小孩朝汽车跑去，就会马上去把他拉回来一样。或许也许可以这样来解释：自己不会游泳的人在桥上看见一个快要淹死的落水人，就会跟着跳进河里去。他们还没有来得及对自己无谓的冒险壮举作出决定，就受到神奇力量的牵引，一股意志力将他们推了下去，我当时的情况也正是这样，没有思考，没有清醒的考虑，就跟着这个不幸的人出了大厅，走到大门口，又从大门口跟下台阶。 “我敢肯定，无论是您或者任何一个能用清醒的眼睛来感觉的人当时都不能摆脱这种充满了恐惧的好奇心。那位顶多二十四岁的年轻人走起路来十分吃力，就像老人一样，摇摇晃晃的好似醉汉。他四肢的关节像是脱了臼、散了架一样，拖着沉重的脚步从赌馆的台阶下去朝街头绿地走去。见到这幅可怕的景象，也就不会有思考的余地了。到了那里，他的身体像一只麻袋似的笨重地跌落在长椅上。对于这个动作我再一次感到不寒而栗，我想：这人完了。只有死人，或者全身肌肉没有一点生气的人才会这样跌落下去。他的脑袋斜倚着，往后垂靠在长椅的靠背上，两条胳膊软绵绵地垂下来。在路灯闪烁着的昏暗的微光中，每个过路人都会以为这是个自杀者。以为这是个自杀者——我无法解释，怎么我心里突然会出现这种幻象，可是这幻象突然站在这里了，看得见摸得着，非常真切，令人毛骨悚然、胆颤心惊——以为这是个自杀者。这一瞬间，我望着面前的这个人，我心里绝对确信，他口袋里有支手枪，明天别人就会发现在这长椅上或者另一张椅子上躺着这具气息已绝、鲜血淋漓的躯体，因为他跌落下来的情景完全像一块坠入深谷的石头，中间没有停住，一直摔到谷底。这躯体所表现出来的那种疲惫和绝望的样子，我还从未曾见到过。 “现在请您想一想我的处境：我站在长椅后面二三十步远的地方，椅子上躺着一个一动不动、身心完全崩溃的人。我真不知道该怎么办，一方面意志驱使我走上前去帮助他，但是学到的和因袭的羞怯心理又在将我往后推，不好意思主动跟大街上的一个陌生男人说话。街灯黯淡地闪烁着，天空布满阴云，只有屈指可数的行人从这儿匆匆走过。将近子夜了，我几乎是独自一人在街心花园里同这个颇像自杀的人在一起。五次、十次，我鼓起勇气朝他走去，每次都被羞涩的心理给拉了回来，或者说也许是被内心深处的这种本能的预感拉回去的：正从高处摔下来的人总喜欢拽住救助者一起同归于尽——我就这样再三斟酌，反复考虑，自己都清楚地感觉到这种处境既无意义又可笑。尽管这样，我还是既不能说话，又不能走开；既不能做些什么，又不能离开他。我希望，您相信我，我要告诉您，我在那片绿地上犹豫不决地徘徊了也许有一小时之久，那是无穷无尽的一小时。这时间是在看不见的大海波浪的千万次撞击下一点点扯掉的。这个人彻底毁灭的形象竟是如此使我震撼，使我无法离去。 “可是，我始终没有说一句话、做一件事的勇气。后半夜我真该也这样站着等下去的，也许最后真该让聪明的自私心理说服自己回家去的。是的，我甚至认为自己已经下了决心，让这个晕厥的可怜家伙就这样躺在这里——然而这时一股强大的力量在我进退两难的时候为我作出了抉择。这时下起雨来了。整个晚上海风呼啸，把沉甸甸的乌黑的春云刮到一起，让人从肺里、心里感觉到，天空整个儿低低地压了下来——突然掉下一滴雨点，接着风助雨势，密密的大雨哗哗而下，竟成瓢泼之势。我不由自主地逃到一座商亭的前檐下，虽然撑开了伞，但是这时从坚实的土地激起的一束束泥水，仍是溅在我衣服上。噼噼啪啪打在地上的雨点弹起带泥的水，溅在我的脸上和手上，凉丝丝的。 “可是就在这瓢泼大雨中，那不幸的怪人仍旧坐在长椅上一动不动，这一可怕的景象，二十年后的今天我回想起来喉咙里还感到梗塞。雨从从所有的屋檐上哗哗地流下来，我听到市内隆隆的车轮声，左边和右边都有人撩起大衣在奔跑。一切有生命的东西都怯生生地着蜷缩着，都在躲避、逃跑，寻找栖身之所。任何地方，无论是人还是动物，都可以感到他们对这场倾盆大雨的恐惧——唯独长椅上那个黑黑的、像团东西的人却纹丝不动。我先前对您说过，这个人具有神奇的法力，能将他的各种感情通过动作和表情生动地表现出来。在滂沱大雨中他纹丝不动，全无感觉地坐着，连站起来几步走到雨水哗哗泼下的屋檐下的力气都没有的那精疲力竭的状态，万念俱灰的心境——世上任何东西也不会像这种情景那样，将槁木死灰、彻底自弃、活人死态表现得如此惊心动魄。这个人活活地任凭大雨浇淋，他精疲力竭，竟懒得动一下来避一避雨。任何雕塑家、诗人，无论是米开朗基罗还是但丁都不能像这个人那样把万念俱灰的心境，把人间惨状为我刻画得如此感人肺腑、荡气回肠。 “这一景象把我拉了过去，我也没有别的办法。我猛的穿过密集的大雨，用手去摇长椅上的那个淋得落汤鸡似的人。'来！'我抓住他的胳膊。他的眼睛吃力地朝上瞪着。他身体似乎想慢慢地动一下，但是他没懂我的话。'来！'我再次拽着那只湿漉漉的衣袖，这次我几乎要发火了。他慢慢地站了起来，摇摇晃晃地没有一点意志。'您要干吗？'他问道，我没有回答他，因为我自己也不知道要带他到哪儿去：只要不受冷雨浇淋，只要不再毫无意义地、自杀般地坐在这里。我抓着他的胳膊不放，拉着这个全无意志的人往前走，一直将他拉到商亭那里。商亭有一个向前伸出的窄窄屋檐，多少可以为他遮挡一下驾着风势的滂沱大雨。下一步怎么办，我不知道，也不想有下一步。只要把这个人拉到干的地方，只要把他拉到屋檐下就行了，以后的事起先我并没有考虑。 “我们两人就这么并肩站在狭窄的、淋不着雨的屋檐下。我们后面商亭的门锁着，头上只有一片小屋檐，雨还在没完没了地下，只要一阵狂风刮来，冷飕飕的雨水就会不断狠狠地朝我们衣服上、脸上袭过来。这种情况真是无法忍受。我可不能老是挨着这个水淋淋的陌生人站着。另一方面，既然我把他拉到这儿来了，总不能一句话都不说就将他撂在这儿。总得想个什么办法呀，我慢慢强迫自己坦率地作一次冷静的考虑。我想，最好雇辆车先把他送回家，然后我自己再回家：明天他就会知道有人救了他。于是我就问一动不动地站在我旁边愣愣地凝视着乌云飞驰的夜空的人：'您住在哪儿？' “'我没有住处……我傍晚时候才从尼查来……要上我那儿去是不成的。' “最后这句话我没有立即听懂。后来我才明白，他把我当作……当作娼妓，当作拉客女子——每天晚上赌馆周围都有成群拉客女出没，她们希望能从赢了钱的赌客或醉汉身上得些好处。不论他后来是怎么想的，直到现在我讲给你听的时候，才感觉到我当时的处境有点邪乎，有点离奇——我把他从长椅上拉走，当然是把他拽去的，这真的不是正派女人的行为，叫他怎能不以为我是娼妓呢。但是当时我没有立即意识到这一点。后来我才开始意识到他对我这个人作出了错误的判断，但是发现这个可怕的误解时已经太晚了。要是早些发现的话，我就绝不会说出下面这句越发增强他误解的话来了：'那么，就到旅馆里去要个房间吧。您不该待在这里。您现在必须找个地方安顿下来。' “这句话一出口，我就立即明白了他的那个令人难堪的误解，因为他并没有朝我转过头来，而只是以一种讥讽的言辞加以拒绝：'不用，我不要房间，我什么都不需要了。请你别费劲，从我身上是什么都捞不着的。你找错人了，我已身无分文。' “这句话说得好可怕，他心灰意冷的神态真令人胆颤心惊。一个全身水淋淋的、心力衰竭的人在这儿站着，垂头丧气地靠在墙上，这情景使我如此震撼，以致根本无暇顾及自己所受的那点儿愚蠢的屈辱。我这时感觉到的，同我见到他蹒跚地走出大厅时第一眼的感觉，以及在这难以想象的一小时里不断得到的感觉是一样的：这里的这个人，这个年轻的、活着的、在呼吸的人正处于死亡的边缘。我一定得救他。于是我便走近他。 “'钱您不用担心，来吧！您不能待在这儿，我来给您找个地方安顿下来。您什么都不用顾虑，现在就来吧！' “他转过头来，我们四周雨声噼噼啪啪一阵紧似一阵，檐水哗哗地朝我们的脚倾泻下来，这时我感觉到，在黑暗中他第一次竭力想看一看我的面貌。他的身体似乎也正从昏睡中慢慢苏醒过来。 “'好吧，随你的便，'他让步了，'对我来说反正都一样……毕竟嘛，干吗不去？我们走吧。'我撑开伞，他走到我身边，挽着我的手臂。这突如其来的亲昵姿态使我感到很别扭，令我惊慌失措，吓得直发凉，一直凉到心底。但是，我没有勇气拒绝他，因为，要是我现在把他推开，他就会坠入无底深渊，直到现在我所作的一切努力和尝试，就全都白费了。我们往回朝赌馆走了几步。现在我才想起，我还不知道拿他怎么办呢。我很快地思忖，最好把他领到一家旅馆去，到那儿以后把钱塞到他手里，好让他在那儿过夜，明天乘车回家