Chapter 9 chapter eight

Still in Parkington.Finally, I managed to get an hour of sleep - and woke up in horror and exhaustion from having sex with a total monster, hairy little hermaphrodite for no apparent reason.At that moment, it was already six o'clock in the morning, and it occurred to me that I might be better off arriving at camp earlier.I still had a hundred miles to go from Parkington, and still more to Mount Haze and Bryce Land.If I said I was going to pick up Dolly in the afternoon, it was only because my fancy insisted that the blessed night should come as soon as possible to bury my impatient heart.But at this point, I foresee all sorts of misunderstandings, and any nervous delay might give her the opportunity to make some confused phone calls to Ramschdale.At nine-thirty, when I decided to go, a bad battery made me very unhappy; it was nearing noon that I finally left Parkington.

About half past two I arrived at my destination; I parked in a pine forest, where a young man in a green shirt and a red-headed imp stood there throwing horseshoes sullenly; he took me straight to Ash An office in the mudroom; I was already on the brink of death and had to endure a few more minutes of meddling sympathy from the scruffy, auburn-haired camp mistress.Dolly's things, she said, were all packed and ready to go.She knew her mother was sick but not dangerous. Mr. Haze, I mean, Mr. Humbert, would you like to meet the camp counselor? Or look at the house where the kids live?Each room is dedicated to Disney creations?Want to see Rocky?Shall Charlie come to her?The kids just set up the dining room for a dance. (Perhaps afterward she will say to someone: "The poor thing looks like a dead body.") For the moment, let me reserve all the trivial and important details of the scene: Old Hag Holmes wrote a I opened a receipt, scratched my head, pulled out a drawer of the table, poured the change into my impatient palm, then spread out a bill neatly, and issued a cheerful "...and five yuan!"; A picture of a child; some gaudy moth or butterfly, still alive, pinned safely to the wall ("Nature Study"); the camp certificate of sanitation in a frame; my trembling hands; A card reporting Dolly Haze's performance in July ("Nice; loved swimming and boating"); a sound of trees and birds, and my beating heart clucking...  

I stood with my back to the open door, and then I felt the blood rush to my head, and I heard her panting behind me.She came, dragging and banging her suitcase. "Cough!" she said, stopping, looking at me with her sly, delighted eyes, her silly, yet lovely smile, and her soft lips parted. She was thinner and taller, and for a moment it seemed to me that her face was not as beautiful as the one I had been cherishing in my mind for a month; her cheeks seemed sunken and there were too many freckles concealed her rosy complexion; this first impression (a very brief human pause between the beating of two tiger hearts) clearly contained all that Humbert had to do, wanted to do, and would do, that is, To give this little orphan, pale in spite of her sun, with dark circles under her eyes (even the leaden shadows under her eyes harbored freckles) a good education, a healthy and happy teenage life, a clean Home, and good friends of her own age, among whom (if fate thought it worthwhile to compensate me), I might find a pretty little virgin for Mr. Dr. Humbert.But "in the blink of an eye," as the Germans say, the angelic lines were erased, I overcame my predatory habits (times beyond our wildest imaginations), and she was my Lori again Ta--in fact, more of my Lolita than ever.I put my hand on her warm, reddish-brown head and lifted her luggage.She was rose and honey all over, and she wore her brightest gingham dress with a pattern of little red apples. Her hands and legs were dark yellow-brown, and there were a few small streaks on them that looked like clotted blood. The dotted line, the drawstrings on her white socks turned down are still as high as I remember, and because of her childish gait, or because I remember her always wearing heelless shoes, her current sneakers look somehow Too big and the heels were too high for her.Goodbye, Camp Q, happy Camp Q.Goodbye bland and unhygienic food, goodbye Charlie Boy.In the hot car, she sat down next to me and punched the fly that landed on her beautiful lap; then, her mouth kept chewing a piece of gum vigorously, and she quickly shook her side down glass, and sat down again.We move quickly through the dappled woods.

"How's Mommy?" she asked responsibly. I said the doctor didn't quite know what the problem was.Anyway, something in the abdomen. Monk?No, it's the belly.We're going to stop nearby for a while.The hospital is in the country, near the weathered town of Lipingville, where a great poet lived in the early nineteenth century, and we shall see everything there.She thought it a very good idea, and asked if we could get to Lipingville by nine o'clock at night. "We'll be at Bryce Field by supper," I said, "tomorrow, we'll go to Lippinville. How was the march? Did you have a good time at camp?"

"uh-huh." "Do you regret leaving?" "uh-huh." "Say it, Lo--don't just hum. Tell me something." "What, Dad?" (She lets the word drag out with thoughtful sarcasm.) "Any old thing." "Okay, as long as I call you that?" (squinting eyes looking at the road). "certainly." "It's a skit, you know. When did you have a crush on my mom?" "One day, Lo, you will understand many feelings and situations, such as harmony, the beauty of spiritual relationships." "Hmph!" the sexy girl sneered.

The short breaks in the conversation are filled with scenery. "Look, Lo, those cows on the side of the hill." "I think I'm going to throw up if I look at the cow again." "You know, I miss you, Lo." "I don't. I've betrayed you and been unfaithful to you in fact, but it doesn't matter because you don't care about me anymore anyway. You drive much faster than my mother, sir." I slowed down from a blind seventy to a half-blind fifty. "Why do you think I don't care about you anymore, Lo?" "Yeah, you haven't kissed me yet, have you?"

My heart was looking forward to it, my heart was moaning, I caught a glimpse of the wide roadside in front of me, and I swayed into the grass.Remember that she is still just a child, remember that she is just--the moment the car stopped, Lolita fell into my arms.Dare, dare not allow myself to be so -- dare not even let myself discover that this (sweet moisture and quivering fire) was the beginning of an indescribable life, which at last, with the ingenious assistance of fate, I transformed from wish to Fulfilled--really afraid to kiss her, I touched her hot, parted lips, with great reverence, sucked lightly, not obscenely at all: but she, in an unbearable squirm , pressing her lips so hard on top of mine, I touched her front teeth and shared the mint flavor of her saliva.Of course I knew that to her it was nothing more than an ignorant game, a little girlish silliness imitating some idol in a made-up romantic act, and because (like a psychiatrist, or a rapist would tell Your) the limits and rules of this girl's game are changeable, or at least too elusive for grown-up playmates--I'm terrified I'll go too far and make her twitch in disgust and panic turn around.On top of that, I was agonizingly eager to sneak her to the secluded place of the "Possessed Hunters" and with eighty miles to go, God-given instinct parted our embrace -- a second later, a car A highway patrol car pulls up next to our car.

The driver with bright red face and thick eyebrows stared at me: "See a blue car with the same make as yours passing you before the intersection?" "why not." "We don't," said Lo, leaning eagerly toward me, her innocent hand on my lap, "but surely you're blue, because—" That cop (who's after our what Shadow?) gave the girl his most beautiful smile, and then entered the "U" bend. We drive on. "Elmhead!" said Lo. "He should arrest you." "God, why me?" "Yeah, the speed limit is fifty in this shitty state, and—no, don't slow down, you idiot. He's gone."

"We've got a ways to go," I said, "and I'm going to be there before dark. Be a good boy. " "Bad, bad boy," said Lo comfortably. "Juvenile delinquency, but frank and compelling. The lights are red. I've never seen driving like this." We drove soundlessly through a small, soundless town. "Well, wouldn't mother be crazy if she found out we were lovers?" "God, Lo, let's not talk like that." "But we're lovers, aren't we?" "Not as far as I know. I think we're going to get more rain. Won't you tell me about some of your little pranks at camp?"

"You talk like a book, Dad." "What can you do? I'll let you tell." "Are you easily scared?" "No. Go ahead." "Let's turn into a secluded lane, and I'll tell you." "Lo, I have to tell you seriously, don't do anything stupid. Do you hear me?" "Yeah - I've taken in everything there has to offer." "and after?" "Later, I was educated to live happily and productively with other people and to develop a healthy personality. Make a cake, actually." "Yes, I've seen such things in pamphlets."

"We love singing around the big stone fire, or under the nasty stars, each girl bringing her happy soul to the collective sound." "You have a great memory, Lo, but I'm going to trouble you to drop the swear words. What else? " "The motto of the Girl Scouts," Lo said fervently, "is mine too. I fill my life with worthwhile deeds like—well, it doesn't matter. My duty is—to be useful. I am A male animal friend. I follow orders. I am happy.Another police car.I am frugal and utterly abundant in thought, word, and deed. " "I hope that's all, you naughty bastard." "Yeah, that's all. No--wait. We're baking things in a reflector oven. Is it scary? " "Ha, that's good." "We washed billions and billions of dishes. Billions and billions, you know that's the female teacher's dialect for many, many, many, many. Oh yes, last but not least, Ma's words - now let me see - - what? I know: We do slideshows, ahem, how interesting. " "Is everything okay?" "Yes. Except for one little thing, which I can't tell you, without blushing." "Will you tell me later?" "If we sit in the dark and you let me speak into your ear, I'll tell. Do you sleep in your own room, or do you huddle with your mother? " "Original house. Your mother may have a major operation, Lo." "Stop at that candy store, okay?" Lo said. She was sitting on a high stool, a beam of sunlight slanting on her bare brown forearm, and someone brought Lolita a delicate ice cream topped with artificial syrup.It was brought for her by a lecherous boy with pimples all over his face, wearing a greasy bow tie, and staring lewdly at my thin child in a thin cotton robe.My impatience to go to Bryceland and "The Possessed Hunter" was becoming more and more intolerable.Thankfully she ended the matter with her usual quickness. "How much money do you have?" I asked. "Not a penny," she said sadly, raising her eyebrows to show me the emptiness in her purse. "It's a problem, and it will be fixed when the time is right," I jokingly interjected. "How are you?" "Hey, I wanted to ask, do they have bathrooms?" "Not going there," I said firmly. "It must be rough here. Come with me." She was generally an obedient little girl, and I kissed her on the neck when we got back in the car. "Don't do that," she said, looking at me with unmistakable surprise. "Don't drool on me, you dirty thing." She lifted one shoulder and rubbed the spot. "I'm sorry," I whispered, "I like you a lot, nothing else." We drove forward under an overcast sky, into a curve, and out again. "Yeah, I like you too." Luo said, his voice was hesitant and weak, as if he was sighing, and he approached me again. (Oh my Lolita, we'll never get there!) Dusk begins to dip into pretty Little Bryce Field, with its mock-Colonial buildings, curio shops, and hardwood trees transplanted from overseas, and we drive through the light Looking for the "possessed hunter" on the vast street.The sky, despite the steady rain that adorns it, is still warm and clear green; a group of people, mainly children and old men, has gathered in front of the box office of a movie theater, sweating. "Oh, I'm going to see that movie. Let's go after dinner. Oh, go." "Maybe," sings Humbert—the cunning, bloated devil knows full well that at nine o'clock, as soon as his movie starts, she'll die in his arms. "Slow!" Lou yelled, leaning forward sharply.Ahead of us was an unlucky truck, its ruby ​​flashing on its back, parked at an intersection. If I don't immediately stop hesitating and find a hotel that's surprisingly close, I think I'm going to lose control of the Hazes' wretched car, which has no kicks and brakes; but I asked for directions. The passers-by were either strangers themselves, or frowned and asked "Obsessed what?" Local clues (...then you mention the courthouse, they say it's on the south side...) I inevitably got lost in their well-meaning gibberish.Luo's lovely horn-shaped internal organs have digested the sweets, and they are thinking about eating again, and have begun to fidget.As far as I am concerned, although I have long been accustomed to a kind of second fate (let's say, Mr. Fate's ridiculous secretary) unwilling to interfere with the boss's generous and generous plans-but so turning around on Bryce Land Mall Looking around was probably the most infuriating task I've ever faced.In the months that followed, when I amused myself at the thought of this obstinate childishness, I focused on the strangely named hotel; Taking their vacancy, house businessmen, fugitives, unaccompanied persons, family members, and the most depraved and energetic lovers.Ah, graceful drivers gliding through the summer night, what could be seen from the pristine highway if the "moving nest" suddenly faded and became as transparent as a glass box Pleasure-seeking, what entanglements of lust! The miracle I longed for happened anyway.A man and a girl seemed to be hugging each other in a dark car under a tree dripping with rain, and told us that we were in the center of the park, and we just had to turn left at the next traffic light.We didn't see any next traffic light - in fact, the park was as dark as the sin it concealed - but once we turned a nice detour and let the traffic flow smoothly, the traveler saw the jewel in the night dew Glittering like a lake, and then the crystal of a lake appeared - and there it was, imposing and indifferent, in the ghostly woods, at the end of the gravel drive - the pale palace of the Possessed Hunter. A row of parked cars is crowded together like pigs by a sink. At first glance, we seem to have no way to go; but after a while, a huge, deformed, brilliant ruby ​​is crystal clear We moved in the rain--before being slammed backwards by the broad-shouldered driver--and we happily slid into the gap it left.But I immediately regretted my hesitation, for I found that my predecessor now occupied a garage-like tent nearby, and there was enough space for another car; but I was impatient to follow in his footsteps. . "Oh! how gorgeous," exclaimed my rude little sweetheart, as she crawled out of the station in the pattering rain, squinted at the stucco house, and with a child's hand loosened the ties fastened to the beauty crack. Robe Ribbon - To quote Robert Browning. The arc cast magnified chestnut leaves swaying on the white columns.I open the luggage compartment. A hunchbacked, gray-haired black servant in uniform picked up our luggage and slowly pushed them into the hotel lobby.There were elderly women and priests everywhere.Lolita squatted on the ground, soothing a white-faced, blue-spotted, black-eared long-haired beagle, under her caress--and who could not, my darling--the dog gradually fainted on the tapestry I was clearing my throat and walking through the crowd to the counter.An old man with a bald head like a dirty pig--there are a lot of old fellows in this old hotel--scrutinized my image with a polite smile, then casually took out my (somewhat falsified) telegram, Wrestling with some doubts secretly, he turned his head to look at the clock, and finally said that he was sorry, he kept the room with the double bed until half past six, and now he had sold.A synod, he said, collided with a congregation in Bryceland, and—"The name," I said coldly, "is not Humberger, nor Humbarger, but Humbert, I mean Humbert, any room that will fit a cot for my youngest daughter. She's ten years old and exhausted." The pink-cheeked old man gave Lo a good-natured look—still squatting, mouth agape, listening sideways to the dog's mistress, an old lady heavily veiled in blue and purple, sitting in a cotton comforter. In the chair, tell her something. No matter what doubts the annoying person had, they were all driven away by the flower-like beauty.He said he might have another room, with one, in fact - a double bed.As for the cot—"Mr. Potts, do we have any more cots?" Potts, also pink-cheeked and bald, with gray hair growing out of his ears and other openings, was going to figure it out. He came over and said something, and I unscrewed my pen.Can't wait Humbert! "Our double bed is actually a triple," Potts said endearingly, slipping the baby and me into it. "One night was particularly crowded, and we also had three women and a child, like yours, sleeping together. I remember one of the three women being a man in disguise (I'm very traditional). But --Mr. Swain, is there a spare cot in No. 49?" "I think it's gone to the Swoosh's," said Swain, the old joker. "We'll get by anyway," I said, "and my wife might come later—even then, I think, we'll get by." These two pink pigs are now my best friends.Slowly and clearly with a guilty hand I write: Dr. Edgar H. Humbert & Daughters, 342 Lawn Street, Ramsdale.A key (3422) was only half-seen to me (the magician showing what he was about to hold in his hand) - and handed to Uncle Tom. Lo, get up off the ground and leave the dog, one day she'll leave me like that; a drop of rain falls on Charlotte's grave; a pretty young black waitress unscrews the elevator door, child doomed to wither After walking in, her father, who cleared his throat, and Tom the Crayfish followed with their luggage. A parody of a hotel corridor.A parody of tranquility and death. "Hey, here's our room number," said cheerful Lo. A double bed, a mirror, a double bed is reflected in the center of the mirror, a mirror on the cabinet door, a mirror on the bathroom door, a dark blue window, a bed reflecting the sun's rays and reflected in the In the mirror on the cabinet door, two chairs, a table with a glass top, two bedside tables, a double bed: a large paneled bed, to be precise, covered with a Tuscan rose Dark bed sheets, two desk lamps with frilly, pink shades, one on the left and one on the right. I wanted to put a five-dollar tip in the dark brown palm, but thought that a large number might lead to mistakes, so I only put a quarter.Plus a quarter.He backed out.Slap.It's us at last. "Are we two sleeping in the same room?" Luo asked.When she wanted to ask a question of great importance, her expression was always deliberately exaggerated--it was neither objection nor disgust (although it was far from plain) but just deliberately exaggerated. "I've got them to put a cot in. I'll sleep on it if you like." "You're crazy," Lo said. "Why, dear?" "Because, dear, if dear mother finds out, she will divorce you and strangle me." It's just an exaggeration on purpose, and it doesn't take things seriously. "Listen to me," I said, and sat down, while she stood, a few feet from me, admiring herself in the mirror, not unpleasantly surprised by the appearance, but filled with amazement and delight in her rosy sunlight. Mirror on the cabinet door. "Listen, Lo. Let's get this matter out of the way. For all practical purposes, I am your father. I have a great tenderness for you. I am responsible for your happiness in your mother's absence." .We're not rich, and when we travel, we have to--we'll often be put together. Two people share a room, and it's inevitable to get into a--how shall I put it--" "Incest," Lo said--went into the cupboard, came out again with a young golden laugh, opened the next door, and peeked in for a moment with her surprised, bewildered eyes, cautiously lest she repeat the other. One mistake, got into the bathroom. I opened the window, took off my sweaty shirt, changed, checked the glass vial in my pocket, locked it—and she rushed out.I wanted to hug her: casually, with a tinge of restrained tenderness before dinner. She said, "Hey, let's cut out the kissing game and find something to eat." It was then that my surprise occurred to me. Oh, a fantastic darling!She walked towards an open suitcase, as if stalking it from a distance in slow motion, looking at the distant treasure chest on the luggage rack. (Her big gray eyes, I thought, is there something wrong? Or, are we both caught in the same obsessed atmosphere?) She walked toward it step by step, putting her The heeled foot is raised quite high, and her beautiful boyish knees are bent, wearing a see-through mirror, walking through the expanding space, like an underwater walker, or walking in a dream of flying.Then, with her forearm, she raised a reddish-brown, charming and expensive corset, and slowly unfolded it between her dull hands, as if she were a bewildered bird hunter, grabbing the fiery red bird's wingtips and spreading them out, He held his breath in the face of such an unbelievable sight.Then (I had been standing there waiting for her) she drew out a gleaming sash, and put it around her waist like a sluggish snake. Then she walked silently into my expectant arms, with a happy face and a light heart, soothing me with her gentle, mysterious, not-so-innocent, indifferent, shining eyes--anyway, like the cheapest of cheap girls.Because that's what nymphets emulate -- and we're moaning and dying. "Kiss, how?" I sang in her hair (with no trace of control over words). "If you must know," she said, "you're not doing it the right way." Tell me what it is. " "In due course," replied the man who caught the slip of the tongue. But I'm sure I could have made a fatal mistake right away; luckily, she turned to the chest again. In the bathroom it took me quite a while to get back to normal, standing there with my heart pounding and holding my breath and I heard my lolita go "woo" and "hey" ah girl happy sound. She used the soap because it was a sample bar. "Well, come with me, honey, if you're as hungry as I am." Heading to the elevator, daughter rocking her old white leather bag, father in front (note: never in back, she's not a lady).As we stood (now side by side) waiting to be taken down, she threw her head back, yawned uncontrollably, and shook her curls. "What time are you called to wake up at camp?" "Six o'clock--" she stifled another yawn--"half"--and the yawn came out, her whole frame shaking. "Half," she repeated, her throat full. There was a smell of fried fat in the restaurant, and there was a smiling face of Kuso.It was a spacious place, with sentimental frescoes depicting enchanted hunters in various poses and states of obsession, amidst a motley mass of animals, satyrs, and groves.A few scattered old ladies, two priests, and a man in sportswear were quietly cleaning their meals.The restaurant closes at nine o'clock, and the green-clad, expressionless waitress is full of joy and in a hurry to drive us away. "Isn't he very, very Quilty-like?" Lo asked softly, her pointy brown elbow not raised but visibly eager to point to a brightly dressed man in the far corner of the restaurant. Lone Eater in Plaid. "Like our fat dentist in Ramsdale?" Luo stopped the sip of water she had just swallowed, and put down the glass. "Of course not," she said with a quick smile. "I mean the guy who wrote the airplane advertisement." Oh fame!Oh woman? Dessert came down with a thump--a large slice of cherry pie for the young lady, and most of the vanilla ice-cream for her protector was deftly spread on her pie--I took Produce a small glass bottle containing "Daddy's Purple Pill".When I look back at those seasick murals, at that strange and terrible moment, I can only explain my behavior at that time in terms of a deranged brain spinning in a dreamy vacuum; but at the time, everything It all seems very simple and inevitable to me.I looked around, glad that the last diner had left, I dismissed the person in the way, and after absolutely deliberating, I stuck the potion in the palm of my hand.I've carefully rehearsed this action many times in front of a mirror: Clasping two empty hands together and raising one open mouth to (pretend to) swallow a pill.As I expected, she snatched up the vial of brightly colored "Beauty's Sleep" pills. "Blue!" she exclaimed. "Purple blue. What is it made of?" "Summer sky," I said, "and plums, and figs, and the emperor's grape juice." "No, be serious—please." "Oh, it's the purple pill. Vitamin X. Makes a man as strong as an ox or an axe. Wanna try it?" Lolita held out her hand and nodded vigorously. I hope the medicine will work immediately.Sure enough.She had had a long, long day and had gone boating in the morning with Barbara, whose sister was the "Lake District Guide"; The amiable nymphet told me this, and the yawn developed into a series of -- oh, how effective the potion is!The movie that loomed in her mind was of course forgotten by the time we waded out of the restaurant.We stood in the elevator and she leaned against me, smiling softly—wouldn't you like to tell you? --her black eyelids half-closed; "Sleepy, eh?" said Uncle Tom, who was leading up the quiet French-Irish gentleman and his daughter, and two haggard ladies, rose connoisseurs.They looked at my frail, red-tanned, tottering, dazed rose-coloured baby with deep sympathy.I almost carried her into our house.She sat on the edge of the bed, swayed for a while, and then babbled in a soft, vague, drawn out voice. "If I tell you—if I tell you, you can guarantee that you will be sleepy for the first time, so sleepy—head shaking, eyes confused", promise you will not blame me? " "Later, Lo. Go to bed now. I'll put you here, and you go to bed. Ten minutes." "Oh, I'm a nasty girl," she went on, shaking her hair and removing a velvet headband with slow hands. "Let me tell you—" "Tomorrow, Lo. Go to sleep, go to sleep—for God's sake, go to bed." I put the keys in my pocket and went downstairs. Jury About Ms.: Bear with me!Let me take just a little bit of your precious time!This is the big moment.I left my Lolita, who was still sitting on the edge of the bottomless bed, drowsily raising one foot, touching her shoelace, inadvertently revealing the underside of her thigh to the bottom of her panties. Roots - she's often so casual, or unashamed, or both, when it comes to showing her thighs.At that time, this was the spring scene I was hiding in the house—after I found the door unlatched and felt very comfortable, the string of keys hanging with the wooden plate of the house number immediately became the key to enter the frenzied and exciting place. The spell of the dreaded future.It's mine, it's part of my hot, hairy fist; in a few minutes -- say twenty minutes, say half an hour, sure sure, in the words of my Uncle Gustav --I want to let myself into the "342".And see my nymphet, my beauty and bride trapped in her crystal luscious sleep.jury!If my happiness could be described in words, it would fill the elegant hotel with a deafening roar.My only regret today is that I didn't slip the key to "342" onto the counter that night and leave this country, this continent, this hemisphere -- actually, this planet. Let me explain.I was not unduly disturbed by her confession.I am still determined to pursue my policy, to use the dark night to carry out secret operations only on that little nude who is completely anesthetized, so as not to encroach on her chastity.Subjugation and reverence are still my mantras - even though her "virginity" (which, by the way, has been utterly disproved by modern science) has been refuted by some teenage sexual experience, no doubt in her indictable The gay action in Camp Summer is slightly spoiled.Of course, in my old fashioned eyes, I, Jean-Jacques Humbert, should admit that when I first met her she was not the ecstasy, and the stereotypes that have been popular and measured since the end of the ancient world centuries ago. The "normal child" in the concept is no different. In our enlightened age we are not surrounded, like the Romans, with young slave-flowers to pluck at will at office and bath; Little Yeling appeared at the dinner of mutton and rose dew.In short, the old chain between the worlds of adults and children has been completely severed by today's new customs and new laws.Despite my dabbles in psychiatry and social work, I actually knew very little about children.After all, Lolita was only twelve years old, and no matter what concessions I made to time and place—even the immature behavior of American students in my mind—I always thought that no matter among those rude brats Whatever happened will happen again in a different environment in the days to come.So (to get back on this thread of explanation), my role as the moralist bypasses this question and turns to conventional ideas of what a twelve-year-old girl should be like.My role as a child psychotherapist (a pretender, like most of these people - but that's ok) turns back the post-Freudian hashtag and conjures up a girlhood "latency" The dreamlike, exaggerated Dolly.In the end, the sensualist in me (a gigantic, deranged monster) didn't take issue with a certain evilness in his prey.But after the violent impulse, the shadow of bewilderment came--and I didn't know it, which I regret!Human beings, pay attention!I should have known that Lolita had shown to be very different from the innocent Annabelle, that the evil of the elf had poured into every pore of the crazy child I was about to feast on in secret, and that this must have made the secret difficult to keep, and Make pleasure kill.I should have known (through the traits Lolita manifested to me—the real child Lolita or some wild angel she concealed) that the ecstasy I expected would have no other outcome than pain and fear. O noble gentlemen of the jury! She's mine, she's mine, the key is in my hand, my hand is in my pocket, she's mine.In the process of calling and planning to which I have devoted so many sleepless nights, I have gradually removed all superfluous stains, and finally deduced the final picture through layers of translucent dreams.Naked, save for one sock and her beautiful necklace, lying on her back like a sprawling eaglet, my potion knocked her down—that's how I envisioned her; a wool headband still in hand her honey-brown body, the bathing suit silhouette the sunbath had left on her, and showed me pale breastbuds; a little pubic hair glinting on its hummock in the rose-colored light.The cold key and its warm wooden appendage are in my pocket. I wandered through several public rooms, bright below, dark above: for the face of desire is always gloomy; desire can never secure—even when the smooth soft offering is locked in a dungeon—some hostile demon Or a mighty God can still wreak havoc on a well-prepared success.按俗话说法，我需要喝点酒；但在那古老的庄严之地，除了满是汗流浃背的腓力斯人和具有时代特征的肉体，根本就没有酒吧。 我跑到了"男士之屋"。那儿有个人穿一身牧师黑衣--一个"交心晚会"，常言道--正在维也纳的协助下检查晚会是否还在进行，竟过来问我如何喜欢博伊德医生的讲话，而当我(西格蒙德国王第二)说博伊德还是个孩子时，他露出大惑不解的神色。随后，我利索的把那张包我的神经过敏的手指的卫生纸扔进了为它准备的容器里，转身朝休息厅方向走去。我将胳膊肘舒服地架在柜台上，问过波茨先生我妻子确实没来过电话吗，还有小床怎么样了？他说她没来过(她死了，当然)，小床明天会安好，如果我们还住下去的话。从一处叫"猎人大厅"的拥挤地段传来嘈杂的、谈论园艺学和来世的声响。另一间叫"覆盆子之屋"，灯火通明，里边有几张小长桌，还有一张摆着"点心"的大桌，除了一位女主人(那种衰败的女人，面楷呆滞的笑容，以夏洛特式腔调说话)尚空着；她飘过来，问我是不是布拉多克先生，因为如果是，比尔德小姐一直在找我。"女人叫这么个名字，"我说，踱开了。 彩虹般的血液在我心中翻涌。到九点半的时候我会献给她。回到休息厅，我发现那儿发生了变化：一些披着花衣或黑布的人一堆一堆地围着，某个神奇的机会使我看到了一个开心的孩子，象洛丽塔那么大，穿着洛丽塔穿过的那种长袍，只是苍白，黑色头发系了一根白带子。她不漂亮，但她是个性感少女，她象牙玉似的大腿和百合花色的颈项在令人难忘的一瞬间，为我对洛丽塔的欲望形成了一曲最为愉悦的和歌(就脊骨式音乐而言)，褐色和粉色，通畅和阻塞。那苍白的孩子注意到我的盯视(那确实是非常不经心和有礼的)，却非常可笑地不自然起来，完全丧失了镇定，转动着眼珠，把手背抚在脸颊上，拽着裙边，最后把她瘦削、动来动去的肩膀头冲向我，与她那母牛一样的母亲似是而非地聊着天。 我离开喧嚣的休息厅，站在门外白色台阶上，望着成千上万的粉状小虫在濡湿的黑夜里围着灯光旋转，心中微波荡漾，充溢着躁动。我所要做的一切--我敢于做的一切--不过就这样一点点…… 突然我发观，在黑暗笼罩的圆柱走廊里有个人坐在一张椅上。我其实并不能看见他，使他暴露的是一阵象拔螺丝的刺耳怪音和一阵谨慎的咯咯说话声，而后是静悄悄旋上螺丝的最后一个音符。我正要离开，他的声音招呼我： "妈的，你从哪儿把她弄来的？" "你说什么？" "我说：天气见好啊。" "象是如此。" "那小姑娘是谁？" "我女儿。" "撒谎。她不是。" "你说什么？" "我说：七月天很热。她妈妈呢？" "死了。" "是这样，对不起。随便说说，明天你们跟我一起吃午饭岂不更好：那会儿那群该死的人就滚蛋了。" "我们也滚。晚安。" "对不起。我醉了。晚安。你的孩子需要大睡一场。睡眠象一朵玫瑰，波斯人说。抽烟吗？" "现在不。" 他划着了火，但因为他醉了，或因为有风，那火苗照亮的不是他，而是另一个很老的老头，是旅馆里永久宿客中的一个--以及他的白色摇椅。没人说什么，黑暗又还原了。 而后我听见那个过时人的咳嗽，吐出了一口沉闷的粘液。 我离开前廊，至少半个小时已经流逝了。我该要口渴的了。紧张开始了。如果一根提琴弦也能感觉疼痛，那我就是那根弦。但性急是不宜的。我从休息厅里那团固定在一个角落的人星座中走过时，一道不明不白的闪光出现了--正照亮布拉多克医生、两个装饰性的淡紫色护士，照亮了穿白衣的少女，大概也照亮了正侧身从新娘似的少女和着魔的牧师中走过的亨伯特的秃牙，所有这一切都将不朽--只要那小镇报纸的文章和印刷能够奉为永恒。叽叽喳喳的一群人围在电梯边。我选择走楼梯。342号靠近避火梯。此刻当然还可以--但钥匙已插进锁头，我进了屋。 浴室的门还开着，里面亮着灯；另外屋外的弧光灯透过威尼期式百叶窗射进一道粗略的红光；这些交叉的光线刺破了卧室的幽暗，现出了以下的景象。 穿着一件她过去的睡衣，我的洛丽塔侧身躺着，背对着我。躺在床中央。她稍稍盖住的身体和裸露的四肢呈"Z"形。她把两只枕头都放在她黑发蓬乱的头下；一束惨淡的光横在她的脊柱上。 我脱去衣服套上睡袍，那么迅速如梦一般，好象电影拍摄，更衣的过程被删剪掉了；我已经把一只膝盖放在床边，洛丽塔转过头，透过斑驳的光影凝视着我。 这却是出乎这个强人预料的。整个药片演说(是件非常卑鄙的任务，我们悄悄谈吧)已经使听者有了个沉沉的睡眠，纵使人声鼎沸也不会把它打搅。但这会儿，她却凝望着我，重重地叫着我"巴巴拉"。巴巴拉穿着紧绷绷的睡衣，仍然保持自若，一动未动，面对着这个小梦话家。轻轻地，随着一声无望的叹息，洛丽塔又转过身去，还原她先前的姿势。至少有两分钟，我等待着，屏息在床缘，就象四十年前那位穿着自制降落伞准备从埃菲尔铁塔上跳下去的裁缝的心情。她微弱的呼吸发出均匀的睡眠韵声。最后，我终于强自移到床的一窄条上，悄悄拽过堆在我石头一样冰凉的脚跟处的一点床单--洛丽塔抬起头，看着我，张大了嘴。 我后来从一位帮了我很多忙的药剂师那儿得知，紫色药片甚至连那个庞大、神圣的巴比妥盐酸家族都不属于，尽管它能让一个相信它是效力极大的麻醉药的精神病患者入睡，却还只是太温和的镇定剂，不能在任意长时间里对虽然脆弱但机敏异常的性感少女发生作用。拉姆斯代尔医生是否是个庸医，还是一个精明的老骗子，现在、过去都无关紧要。要紧的是，我受了骗。当洛丽塔再次睁开眼睛的时，我发觉不论那药物在后半夜是否还会起作用，我所依赖的只是一件赝品。她的头又缓缓转过去，落入她独占的枕头里。我呆呆地躺在我的边沿上，偷眼看她散乱的头发，看她性感少女光滑的肌肤，她腰的一半和肩膀的一半露在外面，我还想通过她喘息的频律估量她睡意的深度。过了好一会儿，没有任何变化，我决意冒险朝那片可爱、今人发狂的光泽靠近；但不等我挪进它温暖的外缘，她的呼吸就停止了。我有种讨厌的感觉，小多洛雷斯早就大醒，只要我用我任何卑劣的部位触到她，她立即就会放声厉叫。请求你们，读者：不管你们对我书中这个温柔、过于敏感、无比谨惧的主人公多么愤怒，还是不要漏掉这重要的几页吧！想想我；如果你们不想，我就不会存在；试着辨识我心中的雌鹿，它在我自己邪恶的森林中战栗；甚至还让我们笑笑吧。毕竟笑是不至于伤害的。比如说(我几乎写错这几个字)，我没地方放我的头，还有一点儿胃灼热对我的不适火上浇油(他们管这些油炸食物叫"法国菜"，上帝啊！)。 她又沉沉睡去，我的性感少女，但我却依旧不敢开始我着魔的航行。这个轿车式小马车和这个滑稽的情人。明天，我要塞给她先前那些彻底麻醉了她妈妈的药片。在手提箱里还是在四轮游乐马车口袋里？我是否应该再塌塌实实等一个小时然后爬起来？对性感少女狂想的科学是一门精确的科学。真实的接触在二分之一音阶里就可以完成。千分之一立升的一个间隙在十个音阶里可以完成。让我们翘首以待。 没有比美国旅店更嘈闹的了；我得提醒你们这儿却被认为是一个静谧、安逸、旧式、如家一样的地方--"舒适的生活"，诸如此类。电梯门呵啷啷地响--距我的头东北二十码以外，但听起来那么清晰，就象在我左边太阳穴里--伴随着机器各种上下的轰响声和嗡嗡声，一直持续到子夜。偶尔，就在我左耳的正东边(假定我总是平躺着，不敢将自己卑劣的肋部朝向我床伴儿模糊的臀部)，走廊充溢着快乐、愚蠢带回音的感叹话，以及结束时的一连串"晚安"。当那停止以后，我小脑正北方的一只抽水马桶又取而代之。那是只男性的、精力旺盛的、吼声深沉的马桶，使用频繁。它的咯咯声、倾泻声和长时间的尾流震动了我脑后的墙壁。南边什么人又病得厉害，随着他咳出的液汁几乎把命也咳了出来，他的马桶象真正尼加拉瓜大瀑布，与我们的紧紧毗连。等所有的瀑布静止了以后，当一切着魔的猎人都沉沉睡去，在我醒着的西边，在我失眠窗下的大街，--满是参天大树的一条沉寂、醒目、庄严的宅区小径--衰落成巨型卡车经常出没的污涂地，其呼啸声横穿过濡湿、轻风席席的夜。 离我和我燃烧的生命不到六英寸远就是模糊的洛丽塔！ 长时间平静的守夜之后，我的触角又朝她挪去，床垫的吱吱声没有将她吵醒。我将我贪婪的躯体移得离她那么近，能感觉到她裸露的肩头的气息象一股温热的气涌上我的脸颊。她突然坐了起来，喘息不止，用不正常的快速度嘟哝了什么船的事，使劲拉了拉床单，又重新陷进她丰富、幽昧、年轻的无知无觉状态。她辗转反侧，在睡梦富盈的流动中，她近来呈褐色、现在是月白色的胳膊搭在我的脸上。我握住一秒钟。她随即从我拥抱的阴影中解脱出去--这动作是不自觉的、不粗暴的，不带任何感情好恶，但是带着一个孩子渴望自然休息的灰暗、哀伤的低吟。一切又恢复原状：洛丽塔蜷曲的脊骨朝向亨伯特，亨伯特枕在手上，因欲念和消化不良而火烧火燎。 后者需要去浴室饮一通水，此时这是对我的病症最好的药，除非有牛奶加红萝卜；当我再走回那个奇异的、惨淡光线斑驳的堡垒，洛丽塔的新旧衣服以各种各样的魔法姿态斜靠在每件家俱上，家俱在模糊之中仿佛开始漂浮，我那不可能成为女儿的女儿坐了起来，用清晰的声音也要水喝。她把冰凉富有弹性的纸杯拿在阴影中的手里，感激地一饮而尽。 她长长的睫毛正对着杯子，而后，做了一个比任何肉体的抚爱更今人销魂的婴孩的姿态，小洛丽塔在我的肩头蹭抹她的嘴唇。她又倒进她的枕头(趁她喝水时我抽走了我的)，不久又睡着了。 我不敢让她再服用那麻醉药，也没有放弃期望那第一片或许还能加固她的睡意。我开始向她移去，作好承受一切失败的准备，因为我明明知道最好还是等一等，但实在无力等下去。我的枕头散发着她头发的气味。我朝我晶莹的爱人移去，每次觉得她动了或正要动的时候便停下来，退后去。从奇境来的一阵微风，已经开始影响我的思绪，现在那些思绪似乎潜伏在斜体字中，仿佛反射它们的表面被那阵微风的幽灵吹皱了。我的意识一次次叠错着，我闪避的身体钻进睡眠的天体，又闪避出来，有一两次，我发现自己正在一阵忧郁的鼾声中漂浮。温柔的雾被封闭在渴求的山中。我偶尔以为那着魔的猎物就要与那着魔的猎人在半路相撞，她的臂不正在遥远而神话般的海滩柔软沙地下朝我而来；而后，她带着笑意的朦胧肉体稍一翻动，我就知道她比任何时候都离我更远更远。 我之所以最终能滞留在兴奋的颤栗、以及对那遥远夜晚的摸索中，是因为我坚持要证明我现在不是、从来也不是、将来也不可能是一个兽性恶棍。我偷行过的那个温和朦胧的境地是诗人的遗产--不是罪犯潜巡的地狱。如果我够到了我的目标，我的狂热就会全部化作柔情，是一种即使她清醒时也感觉不到其热力的内心燃烧。但是我仍然希望她能渐渐陷入彻底的昏迷，这样我便可以体味更多，而不仅仅是她的晶莹。因此在趋向靠近当中，因为混乱的感觉将她变形为月光透下的眼状斑点或是覆满松软茸草、鲜花盛开的灌木，我于是梦见我重获知觉，梦见我躺卧在期待中。 子夜一时里，旅馆不歇止的夜晚出现了一阵平息。四点左右，走廊的厕所瀑布又开始降落了，接着门也砰砰乱响。 五点刚过，一阵哆哆嗦嗦的独白就从乡间某处或停车场的地方传了过来。其实那并非独白，只是因为讲话人隔几秒钟就停下来(大概是)听另一个小伙子说话，但那另一个声音我听不见，因此，从能听到的那部分看不出任何意义。然而它乏味的语调却引进了黎明，房间已然被淡紫灰色充溢了，几个勤奋的厕所也已经开始工作，一个接一个，叮叮当当；低声哀怨的电梯开始接送起早的上楼客和下楼客，我痛苦地打了几分钟的磕睡，梦见夏洛特是绿水池里的美人鱼，过道里博伊德医生用宏亮的嗓音说："向您致以早安"，鸟儿在树上忙碌起来，不久洛丽塔打了个哈欠。 陪审团严正的女绅士们！我想过，在我敢于把自己坦露给多洛雷斯·黑兹之前，大概已经是消逝了多少月，甚或多少年；但现在六点时她已大醒，到六点十五分我们就形式上成了情人。我将要告诉你们一件怪事：是她诱惑了我。 听到她第一声清晨的哈欠，我假装优美地侧身睡着。我只是不知道该怎么做。她发现我在她身边而不是在另一张床上会吃惊吗？她会拾起衣服把自己锁在浴室里吗？她会要求立刻带她回拉姆斯代尔--到她母亲床边--或回到营地吗？但我的洛是个爱玩的少女。我感觉到她的眼睛盯着我，当她终于喃喃说出她那可爱的欢笑话语时，我知道她的眼睛一定在笑了。她滚到我这边，温热的褐色头发拂到我的颈骨。 我假装平常醒来的动作。我们静静地躺着。我轻轻抚弄她的头发，我们轻轻地亲吻。她的吻颤动着探寻着，有一种颇富喜剧性的精美，这使我在狂热中困惑地得出结论：她很小就受过一个小同性恋的训练。不可能有一个查理男孩教她那一套。仿佛要看看我是否已经尽兴并学过这一课，她缩回身，观察我。她的脸颊通红，丰满的下唇闪耀着光泽，我马上要崩溃了。就在一瞬间，在一阵粗野的欢快声(性感少女的标志！)中，她将嘴凑到我的耳边--但有好一阵我还是不能悟出她那旱天雷般耳语的真正含意，她笑着，甩开脸上的头发，又说了一遍，渐渐地，当我明白了她的提议是什么时，一种象是生活在崭新的、疯狂般崭新梦幻世界里的奇异感觉便向我涌来，那个世界里一切都可以畅行无阻。我说我不知道她和查理做过的游戏是什么。"你的意思是你从来没--"--她的面容扭曲成一种反感的怀疑，瞪大了眼睛。"你从来没--"她又问起。我乘机朝她挪近。"躺开，行不行啊你，"她说，带着鼻音的哀怨，迅速地将她褐色的肩膀从我唇边移开。(真是古怪--后来很长时间一直如此--她把一切除去亲吻和僵硬的爱的举动之外的抚爱都视为既"缺乏浪漫"又"变态失常"。)"你的意思是，"她现在跪在我的身上，追问道，"你小时候从没做过这事？" "从没，"我非常诚实地答道。 "好吧，"洛丽塔说，"我们就从这儿开始吧。" 然而，我不会拿洛丽塔任何冒然的细节叙述让我博学的读者们厌烦。只说我在这个美丽的巧夺天工的少女身上没有感觉出任何美德的蛛迹就够了，现代综合教育、少年风尚、篝火欢宴等等已经将她彻底败坏难以挽回。她把赤裸的行为只看作年轻人秘密世界的一部分，不为成年人所知。成年人为生育而做的却不关她事。我的生活被小洛用精力旺盛、实际又乏味的方式操纵了，仿佛那是一个设计精巧却与我无关、毫无感觉的小机械。虽然她急于用她坚韧的孩子世界影响我，却没有对一个孩子和我的生活之间的矛盾做出任何准备。骄傲阻止她放弃；因为，处在我奇异的困境中，我只能装出更大的愚蠢，任她为所欲为--至少在我不能忍受的时候。但确实，这些都是无关的事；我根本就毫不关心所谓的"性"。 每个人都能想象出兽性的本质。一个更大的欲望引诱我继续：去坚决地确定性感少女危险的魔力。 我必须小心而行了。我必须低声细语。噢你，老练的犯罪报导记者，你，阴郁的老门房，你，一时受人欢迎的警察，你，不幸的名誉退休教授多年为学校增光现在处在孤独的监禁中，靠一个孩子读书给你听！不，绝不，让你们这些小伙子疯狂地爱上我的洛丽塔！如果我是个画家，如果能让"着魔猎人"的经理在一个夏季的日子里精神失常，并委托我用我的壁画去重新装饰他们的餐厅，那么，下面这些就是出现在我脑中的画面，让我列出一些吧： 那里一定有一片湖。在花的火焰中一定有座凉亭。一定有自然的精灵--一只老虎追逐一只天国的鸟儿，令人窒息的蛇缠绕住小猪剥了皮的躯干。一定有一位回教国的君主苏丹，他的脸现出巨大的痛苦(同时又用他做出的抚爱掩饰了)，此刻他正帮助一个女奴爬上玛瑙的圆柱。一定有那些光灿灿性腺赤热的珠滴，走上自动点唱机泛乳白光的一边。一定会有作为媒介的所有形式的营地活动，沐浴着阳光划独木舟、跳库兰特舞、梳理卷发。一定有白杨、苹果树、一个郊外的星期天。一定有一个火蛋白石融化在阵阵涟漪的池中，一次最后的震颤，色彩的最后一次涂抹，刺痛的红，剧烈的粉，一声叹息，一个畏缩的孩子。Section 31 我努力描述这一切，不是为了此时在我无尽的痛苦中让它们复活，而是为了在那奇异、可怖、疯狂的世界里--性感少女之爱--分出地狱与天堂。兽性和美感交融在一点，那条界线正是我想确定的，但我觉得我彻底失败了。Why? 根据罗马法典规定，一个女孩子可以在十二岁结婚，此法典被教会采用了，现在在美国的某些州也不声不响地奉行着。十五岁则在任何地方都是合法的。如果一个四十岁的好色之徒，受过牧师的祝福、又灌了一肚子酒、脱下他汗渍的华丽衣饰，一直把他的剑柄插入他年轻的新娘身子里，这毫无过错；在哪个半球都如此。"在这种富于刺激又有节制的环境里(这家监狱图书馆里有本旧书说道)，比如圣路易斯，芝加哥和辛辛那提女孩差不多在十二岁末便告成熟了。"多洛雷斯·黑兹出生在离刺激的辛辛那提三百英里远的地方。我只是遵循自然。我是自然忠实的猎犬。那么为什么这种恐惧我不能摆脱掉呢？采过她的花蕊吗？敏感的陪审团女绅士们，我甚至不是她的第一个情人。 她告诉我她是如何失去童贞的。我们吃着无滋无味的面香蕉，受了瘀伤的梨和非常美味的土豆片，这个小东西对我讲述了一切。她流利又毫不连续的诉说伴随着许多滑稽的撅嘴。当我想到早就注意过，我特别记起了她发"唷！"时那副歪斜的面孔：胶粘的嘴向两边扩张，眼珠朝上转动又习惯地掺杂着可笑的反感、顺从以及对年轻人意志薄弱的容忍。 她惊人的故事从介绍前一年夏天在另一个营地的一位同帐伙伴开始，"精心挑选的"一个人，用她的话说。那位帐篷伙伴("一个非常不忠诚的人""半疯"，"但是个自负的小孩")教她各种手上的功夫。开始，忠诚的洛拒绝告诉我她的名字。 "是不是格雷斯·安杰尔？"我问。 She shook her head.不，不是的，是个大人物的女儿。他--"或者是罗斯．卡迈思？" "不，当然不是。她父亲--""那么，或许是阿格尼丝·谢里登？" 她叹了口气还是摇摇头--过了一会儿才惊讶起来。 "哎，你怎么会知道这些名字？" I explained. "好吧，"她说，"她们都坏透了，那学校的一些人，但不是那种坏。如果你一定要知道，她的名字是伊丽莎白·塔尔博特；现在她进了一所豪华的私人学校，她父亲是行政官。" 我怀着一种滑稽的痛苦回想起可怜的夏洛特过去经常在宴会闲谈时将诸如此类的美妙消息介绍给人们说"我女儿去年和塔尔博特家的女孩一道出去徒步旅行……。" 我想知道双方母亲是否听说过这些萨福式的娱乐？ "上帝，不知道，"瘦削的洛叫道，模仿一种畏怯和庆幸，将一只虚情假意颤抖的手压在她的胸前。 然而，我却对异性恋经历感兴趣。十一岁时她刚刚从中西部搬到拉姆斯代尔，就进了六年级。她说"坏透了"究竟是什么意思？ 是，米兰达孪生兄妹多少年一直同睡一张床，唐纳德·司各特，学校里最可笑的男孩儿，和黑兹尔·史密斯在他叔叔的修车厂里干了那事，肯尼思·奈特---最漂亮的一个--则无论何地，无论何时只要有机会，就大事暴露，而且--"让我们转到Q营地，"我说。于是我了解了故事的全部。 巴巴拉·伯克，一个健壮的金发、碧眼、白皮肤的女孩儿，比洛大两岁，而且是迄今为止营地最棒的游泳手，她有一条非常奇特的独木船，是她和洛共用的，"因为我是除她以外唯一能达到柳树岛的女孩儿"(一种游泳测验，我猜想)。整个七个月，每天早晨--注意，读者，每个天赐的早晨--巴巴拉和洛都把船弄到"黑玛瑙"或"红玛瑙"(丛林中的两处小湖)，查理·霍姆斯帮助她们，他是营地女主人的儿子，年方十三--而且是方圆数里内唯一的一位人类男性(除了一位温顺的全聋老杂务工，和一位时而驾一辆老福特轿车向露营人兜售鸡蛋的农场工人；每天早晨，噢，我的读者，这三个孩子抄近路穿过美丽无邪的森林，那林中充满了青春的象征，露水，鸟鸣，在一片富茂的矮灌木中，洛被留在一边放哨，巴巴拉和那男孩子则在树丛后面交欢。 最初，洛拒绝"尝试那是什么样子"，但好奇心和友爱使她屈服了，很快，她就与巴巴拉轮流奉陪那个默不作声、粗鲁、傲慢而且不知疲倦的查理做了，他的性欲象生红萝卜，他炫耀他收集的一堆迷人的避孕药，那是他从附近第三个湖--面积更大、游人也更多的一个，名为"高潮湖"，根据那座与此同名的沉闷却尚年轻的工业城镇取的名一一里捞出来的。虽然洛丽塔认为这"挺好玩"，而且，"能使人容光焕发"不过我很高兴说明，她对查理的思想和方式还是持极大的轻蔑。她的真情也末被那个卑鄙的色鬼唤醒多少。事实上，我想他是磨损了它，尽管"好玩"。 此时已快十点。欲念衰退了，一种尴尬的灰色感觉经过阴沉、昏暗、神经疼痛的月光的挑动，潜入我的体内，在我的躯干里营营哼唱。褐色的、赤裸的、脆弱的洛，她窄窄的臀对着我，她闷闷不乐的脸对着门镜，她站起来，两手叉腰，两脚(穿着毛茸茸的软头新拖鞋)分开，透过已扎好的卷发，对着镜中的自己蹙眉，老一套，走廊里传来有色仆人工作的咕咕叫声，突然，有一阵轻盈的动作想打开我们的房门。我让洛进浴室去冲个非常必要的肥皂浴。床上乱七八糟，到处都有炸土豆片的痕迹。她穿上一套两件的海军蓝羊毛衣，又套上件无袖衬衣和一条皱皱巴巴窗格子花裙，但前一件紧紧，话一件又太宽大，当我请求她加快速度时(形势开始使我害泊了)，洛恶意地将我那些美妙礼物一把扔进犄角旮旯，仍穿了昨天的长衣。她终于装扮好，我送给她一只美丽的假牛皮新钱包(我偷偷在里面放了不少零钱和两枚亮静静的角币)，让她到休息厅给自己买本杂志。 "一分钟之内我就下去，"我说。"如果我是你，亲爱的，我就不和生人说话。" 除了我可怜的小礼品，没有什么要收拾的；但我还是强迫自己拿出一部分非常危险的时间(她去楼下会出什么事吗？)把床整理得象是说明，它是好动的父亲和他假小子式女儿的一个废弃的窝，而不是一个有前科的罪犯和一对老胖娼妓寻欢作乐之地。而后我梳洗完，便叫来鬓发斑白的听差取行李。 一切都好极了。她，坐在休息厅的一张堆满软垫的血红色扶手椅里，沉浸在一本恐怖的电影画报中。一位年龄和我相仿、穿苏格兰粗呢衣服的人(那地方的风格一夜之间变得很有假乡绅气了)正越过他熄灭了的香烟和旧报纸盯着我的洛丽塔看。她穿着白袜和运动鞋，和那身耀眼的方领粉色长裙；-抹疲惫灯光的溅落，显出金黄色在她温热褐色的四肢上。她坐在那儿，两条腿不经意地高高交叉着，她被遮暗的眉眼在宇行间扫描着，不时眨动一下。比尔的妻子在他们初逢以前就从远方为他祈祷过：她实际上曾暗自崇拜过那位年轻的男演员，那时他却正在施沃布杂货店吃圣代。没有什么能比她翘俏的狮子鼻、满脸雀斑或赤裸的脖颈上的紫点更孩子气的了，那是神话里的吸血鬼在她玉颈上饱饮一顿的结果，也没有什么比她的舌头不经意在她肿胀的唇上舔出一点点玫瑰色斑瘀更可爱的了；没有什么比读有关吉尔的文章更无害的了，她是个充满活力的女明星，自己做衣服，还是专修严肃文学的学生；没有什么比柔腻滑洁的躯干上那一丛光润的褐色毛发中的那个部分更天真无邪的了；没有什么更单纯的了--但是，假使那淫恶的人，不管他是谁--想想看，他酷似我的瑞士叔叔古斯塔夫，也是一位透支金额的大崇拜者--知道我的每一根神经仍然涂抹着对她身体的热情而颤响，他会体验到一种多么令人作呕的嫉妒--那身体是一个必夺人魂魄的恶魔乔装成雌性的孩子。 粉猪斯伍恩先生完全确信我妻子没打过电话来吗？他确信。如果她打来，他能否告诉她我们已经出发去克莱尔姨妈家