Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

I saw Mrs. Danvers seldom;Although she made an internal call to the exhibition room every day and asked me to approve the menu, but this was purely routine, and our daily contact was limited to this.She found a maid for me, named Clarice, the daughter of a servant in the manor.The girl was quiet, well-behaved, and pleasant.Fortunately, she had never been a maid before, so she didn't have that scary set of rules for measuring people and things.In the whole house, I think she is the only one who has any respect for me, and only in her mind that I am the mistress of the place, Mrs. de Winter.The gossip that circulated among the servants probably didn't have any effect on her.She had been away from the estate for some time.She was brought up by her aunt's parents fifteen miles away.In a sense, she was as new to Manderley as I was.I feel at ease in her presence.I could say without a care, "Oh, Clarice, can you mend my socks?"

Alice, the former maid, was so smug.I always secretly take the shirts and pajamas out of the drawer and mend them myself, not daring to bother her.At one point, I saw her drape one of my undergarments over her arm, scrutinizing the worthless material and the shabby narrow lace sewn onto it.I will never forget that look on her face as long as I live. She looked almost shocked, as if something had struck her own dignity.I never paid much attention to underwear before, as long as it was clean and tidy, I didn't care about the texture of the material, whether it had lace or not. I read in the book that when a bride gets married, she has to collect dozens of sets of clothes as a dowry at once, but I haven't bothered with that at all.The look on Alice's face taught me a lesson, and I hurried to a shop in London for a catalog of underwear.By the time I had chosen my lingerie, Alice was no longer serving me, and Clarice took her place.It didn't seem worth it to buy new underwear for Clarice's sake, so I stuffed the underwear catalog in a drawer and never wrote to the shop again.

I've often wondered if Alice had brought this up among the servants, and if my underclothes had become the subject of chatter in the servants.Of course, this kind of thing is not decent, and it can only be whispered when the valet is away.Alice is too self-absorbed to let this be the butt of a joke; for example, there has never been a "take this lingerie" thing between her and Frith. Dialogue in the Hall of Elegance. No, the lingerie anecdote isn't meant to be a joke, it's a lot more serious, more like hearing about a divorce case under the rug... Anyway, I'm very sorry for Alice throwing me at Clarice. happy.Clarice couldn't tell real lace from fake.Mrs. Danvers was very considerate in employing her to keep an eye on me.She must have felt that Clarice and I were made for company, each in its place.I felt better now that I had ascertained the cause of Mrs. Danvers' dislike and irritation.I understood that it wasn't me she was gnashing her teeth for, but everything I stood for.

No matter who took Rebecca's place, she would treat everyone equally.At least on the day Beatrice came to dinner, I picked up the overtones in her words. "Don't you know?" she said. "She adores Rebecca!" When I heard it, I was really shocked.Somehow, I didn't expect her to say those few words.But after thinking it over and over again, my original fear of Mrs. Danvers began to fade.Instead, I felt sorry for her.I could feel what she was feeling inside.It must have hurt her when people called me "Mrs. de Winter."Every morning when she picked up the intercom to talk to me, and I replied "Yes, Mrs. Danvers" as a rule, she must be missing someone else's voice.She walked through the halls and rooms, and saw the traces of me everywhere-the bonnet on the window seat, the braided bag on the chair-she would be touched by the scene, thinking that she had left traces around the house before. another person.Even I can't help feeling this way, since Rebecca and I are strangers, after all?Mrs. Danvers was different. She knew the way of Rebecca's walk and the tone of her voice.Mrs. Danvers knew the color of her eyes, the smile on her face, the texture of her hair.I know nothing of these things, and I have never asked anyone else, but sometimes I feel that Rebecca is as much to me as to Mrs. Danvers, a ghost with a voice.

Frank wanted me to forget the past, and I wanted to put it behind me.But Frank didn't have to sit in the morning room every day like I did, touching the pen that had been between her fingers.He didn't have to rest his hands on the blotting table and stare at the file rack in front of him, at the writing she'd left there.He didn't have to look at the candlesticks on the mantelpiece, the clock, the vases of flowers, and the paintings on the walls every day, thinking that they belonged to her, that she had chosen them, and none of them were mine.In the dining room, Frank didn't have to sit in her seat, holding a knife and fork that she had held in her lifetime, and drink from her old glass.He never threw her raincoat over his shoulders, nor found her handkerchief in his pocket.Every day I also notice the blank eyes of that blind old dog, curled up in a basket in the library, when it hears my footsteps, a woman's footsteps, it always raises its head, sniffs the air, and immediately Head drooping again, because I'm not what it's looking for--and these Franks aren't paying attention.

Although these trifles themselves are extremely boring and meaningless, they are clearly there, and they cannot be ignored, deaf, or indifferent.My God, why should I think of Rebecca!I want to be happy, and I want to make Maxim happy. I want us to be together day and night, inseparable.I only have this wish in my heart, and I have nothing else to ask for.But she wants to break into my mind, into my dreams, what can I do?As I walk the paths where she walked and rest where she lay, I cannot help but feel that here at Manderley, in my own home, I am just a foreigner. guest.I am indeed like an outsider, waiting for the return of the hostess, even if it is some irrelevant gossip, some innocuous criticism, reminding me not to forget my status every moment.

"Fris," I ordered as I entered the library one summer morning with a huge bouquet of lilacs in my arms, "Fris, can I get a long-necked vase to put these flowers in? Too small." "Ma'am, that white plaster vase in the living room has always been used to hold lilacs." "Oh, won't it break the vase? I'm afraid it will break." "Ma'am, that plaster vase Mrs. de Winter always has." "Oh, oh, all right then." So the plaster vase was brought, already filled with water.I inserted the fragrant lilac flowers into it, and fiddled with them one by one.The house was filled with the fragrance of mauve flowers, and from the open windows there was now and then the scent of freshly mowed lawns.I thought to myself, "Rebecca did that too. She took lilacs just like me and put them in this white vase one by one. I'm not the first to think of doing this. The vase is Rebecca Yes, and the lilacs belong to Chambekka too." She must have wandered into the garden, as I did, wearing a gardening hat with a drooping brim, the same one I had seen in the conservatory under some old cushions. One.She walked lightly across the meadow toward the lilac bushes, perhaps humming a ditty and whistling to the two dogs behind her to follow, still holding the same pair of scissors I was holding now.

"Fris, would you move the bookshelf by the window table a little? I'm going to put the lilacs there." "But, ma'am, Mrs de Winter keeps the plaster vase on the table behind the sofa." "Oh, that's it..." I held the vase in my hand and hesitated for a while.Frith had no expression on his face.Of course, he would obey me if I said I liked the vase on the little table by the window, and would remove the bookshelf immediately. But I said, "Well, maybe it would look nicer on this bigger table." So the plaster vase was placed on the table behind the sofa as before...

Beatrice had not forgotten her promise of a wedding present.One morning a package arrived from the post office, so big that even Robert could hardly carry it.I'm sitting in the morning room, having just read the menu for the day.I always get excited like a child every time I receive a mail package.I hastily cut the rope and tore off the dark brown envelope.It looks like a book is wrapped inside. Sure enough, it is a book, the "History of Painting" in four volumes.Inside the first was a note that said, "Hope this gift pleases you." It was signed "Love you, Beatrice." I could picture her walking into Wigmore's The scene of buying books in the bookstore on the main street.With a bit of masculinity, she looked around abruptly. "I want to buy a set of books for a friend who is passionate about art." She may have a somewhat puzzled expression, stroking the books with her hands. "Yes, the price is about the same. It was a wedding present, and I hope I can get it out. Are these all about art?" "Yes, canonical works on art," the clerk answered her.So Beatrice wrote the note in the book, paid the money, and gave the address: "Mrs. de Winter, Manderley."

Beatrice is very kind.Knowing that I like painting, she specially went to a bookstore in London to buy these books for me. The affection in them is so deep that it makes me cry when I think about it.It seemed that she might have imagined a scene where, some rainy day, I sat idly looking at the illustrations with a serious face, and then, perhaps grabbing construction paper and a paint box, I copied one of them. Kind Beatrice.I suddenly wanted to cry for no reason.Gathering these large volumes, I looked around the morning room for a place to put them.These few books do not match this small and exquisite room.It doesn't matter, it's my room now anyway.I put the books on the desk in a row, one leaning against the other.The book is shaky, and it is not dangerous.I take a step or two back and see how it works.I don't know if it was because I retreated too hard and caused a shock, or what, in short, the front part tilted down, and the rest slipped and fell one after another.There were two ornaments on the desk: a pair of candlesticks and a small porcelain sculpture of Cupid.When these books fell, the porcelain statue of Cupid was overturned.Venus fell headlong into the wastebasket and fell to pieces.Like a troubled urchin, I glanced hastily at the door, then knelt on the floor, swept the shards of porcelain into my palm, and found an envelope to seal them in.I hid the envelope deep in a desk drawer.Then I took these books to the library, found a space on the bookshelf and inserted them.

When I proudly showed this book to Maxim, he was very happy. "Dear old sister Beatrice," said he, "you must seem to have won her favor. You know she doesn't open the book unless it is absolutely necessary." "Did she say anything about—er—what she thought of me?" I asked him. "The day she came to dinner? No, I don't think she talked about it." "I thought she was going to write you a letter or something." "Beatrice and I never correspond unless there is something important going on in the family. Writing letters is a waste of time," said Maxim. It seems that I am excluded from important things.I put myself in that shoes.If I were Beatrice, and I had a brother, and now the brother was married, of course I would say something, express my opinion, or put some ink in my letter.Unless I don't like that sister-in-law at all, or think she's not good enough for my brother, then that's a different matter.But Beatrice herself went to London to buy books for me.If she really didn't like me, she wouldn't bother to do it. I remember that just after lunch the next day, after Frith brought the coffee into the library, instead of leaving immediately, he walked around behind Maxim, and said after a while: "Sir, I can talk to you." Do you want to talk?" Maxim looked away from the paper and looked up at him. "All right, Ferris, what's up?" he said, a little surprised.Frith scowled and pouted.I immediately thought, maybe his wife died. "It's about Robert, sir. There's been some trouble between him and Mrs. Danvers. Robert's feeling very bad." "Oh, my God," Maxim made a ghostly look at me.I bent down to pet Jasper, which is a habit I do when I'm embarrassed. "Yes, sir. It was something like this: Mrs. Danvers accused Robert of hiding a valuable item in the showroom, because it was Robert's job to send and arrange flowers in the morning room. This morning Denver When Mrs. Smith entered the morning room, the flowers were already in the vase. She noticed that there was a piece of decoration missing. She said it was still there yesterday. She pointed to Robert's nose and said that either he took the decoration without authorization or broke it. Hide the pieces. Robert categorically denies any such thing. He came to me almost weeping. Perhaps you noticed, sir, that something was wrong with him at lunch." "No wonder he didn't give me a plate when he served my sliced ​​meat," Maxim muttered. "I didn't expect Robert's nerves to be so fragile. Well, I think this may have been done by someone else. I'm afraid it was done by some maid." "No, sir. When Mrs. Danvers came into the morning room, the maid hadn't come in to tidy up. No one has been in since Mrs. left yesterday, and Robert was the first to bring flowers in today. Sir, out." Robert and I are embarrassed by this!" "Of course. Well, go and fetch Mrs. Danvers, and we'll get to the bottom of the matter. Oh, which bauble is it?" "That porcelain statue of Cupid, sir, is the one on the desk." "Oh, dear. That's one of my treasures, isn't it? Must find it, and get Mrs. Danvers at once." "There is nothing better, sir." Frith left, and we were alone in the room again. "It's disgusting," said Maxim. "That Cupid is really worth a lot. Besides, seeing the servants quarreling is the most annoying thing for me. I don't understand why they come to me to solve it. It's up to you, my dear." I looked up, looked away from Jasper, and blushed like fire. "My dear," I said, "I wanted to tell you, but—but I forgot. In fact, I broke that china statue yesterday in the morning room." "You broke it? Then why didn't you say that in front of Frith just now?" "I don't know either. I don't want to do it. I'm afraid he'll think me a fool." "Now he's really going to think you a fool. Now you've got to make it clear to him and Mrs. Danvers." "Oh, no, come on, Maxim, you'd better tell them. Let me go upstairs." "Don't do such a foolish thing. Anyone would think you're afraid of them." "I'm really a little afraid of them. If I'm not afraid, at least..." The door opened, and Frith led Mrs. Danvers in.I looked nervously at Maxim, who shrugged his shoulders, both amused and warm. "Mrs. Danvers, it was a complete misunderstanding. It seems that Mrs. de Winter broke the porcelain figure herself and forgot about it at all," said Maxim, and all eyes were on me. , made me feel again that I was a kid who did something wrong.I still feel the heat on my face. "I'm so sorry," I said, looking at Mrs. Danvers. "I didn't expect the result to cause trouble for Robert." "Madam, can the decoration be repaired?" said Mrs. Danvers.She didn't seem to be surprised that it was me who caused your disaster. The pale skull face was facing me, and the pair of black eyes were fixed on me.I think she probably knew I was the one to blame, and she blamed Robert just to see if I'd have the guts to come forward and admit it. "I'm afraid it won't work," I said. "It's broken to pieces." "What about the pieces? What did you do with them?" Maxim asked me. This scene seems to force the criminal to confess his crime.What I was doing sounded too small and indecent even to myself. "I put the pieces in an envelope," I said. "And what did you do with that envelope?" Maxim said, lighting his cigarette, in a tone that was both joking and angry. "I put it in the desk drawer," I said. "Look at Mrs. de Winter as if you'd send her to jail, Mrs. Danvers, don't you?" said Maxim. "Would you find the envelope and send the pieces to London. If it's too broken to mend, then there's no way of thinking. Well, Frith, tell Robert to dry his tears, Don't cry." Frith was gone, and Mrs. Danvers didn't want to leave yet. "Of course I'm going to apologize to Robert," she said. "But from the indications, it is true that he did it. I didn't expect Mrs. de Winter to break the porcelain sculpture herself. If such a thing happens again in the future, can Mrs. de Winter explain it to me personally? , so that I can handle things properly? This will save everyone from many unnecessary misunderstandings." "Of course," said Maxim impatiently. "I don't know why she didn't do it yesterday. That's what I was going to say to her when you came in." "Perhaps Mrs. de Winter doesn't know the value of this decoration?" said Mrs. Danvers, her eyes falling on me again. "No, I know," I said pitifully. "I was worried that it was a very valuable thing, so I was so careful and swept up all the pieces." "And hide them in a drawer where no one can find them, huh?" Maxim laughed and shrugged. "Only a little girl can do such a thing, Mrs. Danvers, don't you think?" "My lord, Manderley's little girls are never allowed to touch those costly furnishings in the morning room," replied Mrs. Danvers. "Yeah, of course you wouldn't let them touch those things," Maxim said. "It's a very unfortunate incident," continued Mrs. Danvers. "I don't think there's been anything broken in the morning room before. We've always been extra careful about things there. I've been dusting it myself - I mean since last year. I don't care about anybody. Don't worry. During Mrs. de Winter's life we ​​always packed the valuables there together." "Isn't it? Well—it's irreparable," said Maxim. "That's all, Mrs. Danvers." She walked out.I sat in the window seat and looked out the window, Maxim picked up the newspaper again.Neither of us spoke. "Honey, I'm so sorry," I said after a while. "I was so careless. I don't know what I did. I just lined up the books on the desk to see if they were standing upright, and the porcelain sculpture of Cupid just fell down like this." "Don't think about it, baby. What does it matter?" "Of course it does. I should be more careful. Mrs. Danvers must be very angry with me." "What does it matter to her to annoy her? It's not her china." "It's not hers, but she's proud of it. It makes me sad to think that nothing has been broken there before. I set the precedent." "Rather than making Robert unlucky, it's better for you to break it." "I wish it was Robert who broke it. Then Mrs. Danvers will never forgive me." "Fuck Mrs. Danvers," said Maxim. "Is she Almighty? You are simply incomprehensible. What do you mean when you say you are afraid of her?" "I'm not saying I'm really afraid of her. I don't see her very often. It's not like that. I don't even know what it is." Maxime said, "What a strange way you've done it. Why don't you get her when you break something, and say to her, "Well, Mrs. Danvers, take this and mend it." 'When you put it that way, she will forgive me on a regular basis.But you, instead, put the pieces one by one into the envelope and stashed them in the drawer.As I said just now, you don't behave like a hostess, but like a girl at home. " "I do look like a girl," I said word for word. "I know I'm a girl in a lot of ways. That's why Clarice and I have so much in common. We're equal, and that's why she likes me. I went to see her mother the other day , guess what her mother said? I asked her if Clarice was happy with us; I said, "Mom, it's not like being with a rich lady, it's more like being with our own family. 'Do you think that was a compliment, or did she mean something else? " "Who knows," Maxim replied. "But thinking it's coming from Clarice's mother, I think it's a face-on insult. Her cabin is often a mess and smells like boiled cabbage. There was a time when all nine of her children weren't happy. Eleven, and she herself, with her head wrapped in stockings and her bare feet, pattering about in a field at the other end of the yard. We almost dismissed her. Clarice fell like this Clean and delicate, clean." "She's been living with her aunt," I said, feeling depressed. "I know there's a smudge on the front of my flannel dress, but I've never walked barefoot with socks on." That's when I understood why Clarice wasn't like Ellie. Sniff at my underwear like that. "Perhaps that's why I'd rather visit Clarice's mother than the bishop's wife?" I went on. "The bishop's wife never said I was like one of them." "If you came to her house in that slovenly dress, I don't think she'd think of you as one of her own," said Maxim. "I went to see her last time, and of course she wasn't wearing that old dress, but a coat," I said. "Anyway, I think that kind of person who takes people by clothes has nothing to recommend him." "I don't think the Bishop's wife puts much emphasis on clothes," said Maxim. "But she might be surprised if she sees you sitting on the edge of the chair and answering 'yes' and 'no' like a chick looking for a job. I made a unique salutation, and you were that look at that time." "I can't help but feel shy in front of strangers." "I can understand that, dear. But you just don't want to make an effort to overcome it." "It's very unfair of you to say that," I retorted. "Now every day, whenever I go out or receive visitors, I try to overcome my shyness and always try to be as generous as possible. You don't understand, it's not a problem for you, you're used to this kind of thing. I'm used to it, and I haven't been trained to deal with such situations in the future." "Strumm," said Maxim. "It's not a matter of upbringing at all as you said, but of how hard you work. You don't think I like going out, do you? This kind of thing is really tiresome. But in this circle of life in front of me Even if you don't want to, you have to bite the bullet and deal with it." "We're talking about things that have nothing to do with being bored," I said. "When you're bored, you have nothing to be afraid of. If I'm just bored, things are different.I hate being treated like a prize-winning thoroughbred cow, looking up and down. " "Who is looking you up and down?" "Everyone here, without exception." "Even so, what's the matter? It will give them a little more joy in life." "Why do I have to play the role of adding entertainment to others, and let others judge me?" "Because in this area, people are only interested in what happened in Manderley." "Then I must have disappointed them." Maxim stopped answering me and went back to reading the newspaper. "I must have disappointed them," I repeated, and went on. "That's probably why you married me. You know I'm dull, I don't like to talk, and I haven't seen the world, so people here don't gossip about me." Maxim threw the newspaper to the floor and stood up abruptly from his chair. "What do you mean by that?" he asked sharply. His face was strangely gloomy, and his tone was rough, definitely not his usual tone. "I—I don't know," I said, leaning back against the window. "I don't mean anything else. Why do you want to look like this?" "What gossip have you heard in here?" he said. "I heard nothing," I said.The way he looked at me was frightening. "I say this because—to find something to say. Don't look at me like that, Maxim, what did I say? What's the matter?" "Who's been babbling in front of you these days?" he said slowly. "No, no one." "Then why did you say that just now?" "I told you, I didn't know it myself. I just blurted it out when I was thinking about it. I was annoyed and lost my temper. I really hate going to those people's houses. I can't control it. You still Blame me for being timid. I didn't mean it, really, Maxim, I didn't mean it. Believe me." "That's not very pleasant to say, is it?" he said. "Yes," I said. "Yes, abrupt and annoying." He stared at me sullenly, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth with his weight on his heels. "I wonder if I did something extremely selfish by marrying you," he said slowly, thoughtfully. I felt a chill piercing my heart, and I felt very uncomfortable. "What do you mean by that?" I asked. "I'm not a good company for you, am I?" he said. "There's a huge age gap between us. You should wait and try to marry a lad your own age instead of a fellow like me who's wasted half his life." "What nonsense," I went on hastily. "You know, age doesn't matter when it comes to marriage. Of course we're life partners through thick and thin." "Really? I dare not say," he said. I knelt on the window seat and put my arms around his shoulders. "Why are you telling me this?" I said. "You know that I love you more than anything in the world. I have no one but you. You are my father, my brother, and my son. you are my Everything. " But he didn't listen to what I said, and said directly: "It's my fault, I pushed you too hard, and didn't give you a chance to think about it." "I don't have to think about it," I said. "There's no choice. You don't understand, Maxim, if a person is in love with someone..." "Are you happy here?" He looked away from me and stared out of the window. "Sometimes I wonder. You've been losing weight lately, and you're not looking well." "I'm happy, so what's the point?" I said. "I love Manderley, I love this garden, I love everything here. I don't care if I go to visit people, I just said those things in annoyance to you.If you tell me, I can go out every day to be a guest.I don't care what to do.I have never regretted marrying you, not for a minute. If I don't say this, you must know it. " With that terribly bewildered expression, he patted my cheek lightly, bent down, and kissed the top of my head. "Poor lamb, you haven't had much fun, have you? I'm afraid I'm a difficult fellow." "It's not difficult at all," I said eagerly. "You're very easygoing, easy to get along with, much easier than I thought. I always thought that life would be terrible when I was married, and my husband would drink and talk badly, and see the toast on the breakfast table. Once it’s baked home, you’ll have to keep complaining, all in all, it’s hard to say that there’s anything moving about it, and maybe you’ve got an unpleasant smell on your body. And you’re not like that at all.” "My God, I wish I wasn't like that," Maxim said, with a broad smile on his face. While he was smiling, I smiled back, took his hand and kissed it. "How ridiculous it is to say we're not ideal life partners," I said. "If you don't believe me, you can see that we sit here every night, you read books and newspapers, and I, knitting wool beside you, how perfect we are. We are like a loving couple who have grown old together. Of course we were a match made in heaven.Of course we are happy.But listening to you, it seems like we made some bad decisions.Maxim, you don't mean that, do you?You know our marriage is perfect, it's a match made in heaven, isn't it? " "It's all right if you say so," he said. "It's not just me. You think so too, don't you? My dear. It's not just me, is it? We're happy, aren't we? Very, very happy." He didn't answer me.His eyes were still staring out of the window.I held his hands, my voice was dry, I couldn't breathe, and my eyes were burning.I thought to myself, oh my god, it looks like we're on stage, and the curtain will come down in a moment, and we're going to bow to the audience and walk off the stage to undress.This could never have been a moment in Maxim's and my real life!I sat down on the window seat again and let go of his hands.I heard myself say in a icy voice: "If you really think we're having a bad time, it would be better to just say so. I don't want you to be insincere. I'd rather walk away than be with you." Let's live together." This, of course, did not mean it, it was the girl on the stage saying it, not my truth to Maxim.I'm secretly sketching out what kind of girl should play that role, she should be: tall, slender, dare to do anything. "Well, why don't you answer me?" I said. He held my face in his hands and looked at me, remembering how he was when Frith brought in the tea the day we went to the beach. "How can I answer you?" he said. "Even I can't figure it out myself. If you say we're happy, don't go any further. I can't really tell. I'll take your word for it. We're really happy. Isn't that all right? We agree." He kissed me again and walked across the room.I still sat upright by the window, with my hands in my arms. "You say that because you're disappointed in me," I said again. "I'm not sociable, I don't know what to do, I don't know how to dress, I don't know how to behave when I meet strangers. I warned you at Monte Carlo what will happen later. Now you think I'm out of tune with Manderley. " "Don't bullshit," he said. "I never said you couldn't dress well, or be sociable. It's all your own imagination. As for timidity, I've told you, and you'll get rid of it." "We argued and argued," I said. "Still made a detour and returned to the original place. The only cause of this turmoil is that I smashed the porcelain statue of Cupid in the morning room. Otherwise, there is no such thing at all. Maybe at this time we Having finished my coffee, I went for a walk in the garden." "Oh, to hell with that damned porcelain statue," said Maxim impatiently. "Do you really think I care if that thing is broken into powder?" "Isn't that a priceless antique?" "Who knows. I think so. I really can't remember." "Aren't all the decorations in the morning room very expensive?" "Probably so." "Why are all the valuables in the house in the morning room?" "I don't know, maybe it's because those things fit right there." "Have they always been there? They were there when your mother was alive?" "No, no, I don't think so. They were scattered all over the house. I remember the chairs were in the utility room." "When was the morning room arranged like this?" "When I got married." "Then the Cupid statue was placed in that room at that time?" "That's right." “也是从杂物房里找出来的吗？” “不，我想不是的。这个嘛，实际上是件结婚礼品。吕蓓卡对瓷器很在行。” 我没有朝他看，开始修挫起指甲来。他提到那个名字时竟那么自然，那么镇静，口气是那么轻松，过了一会，我飞快瞥了他一眼，看见他站在壁炉旁，双手插在口袋里，眼睛直瞪瞪地盯着前方。我暗自说，他是在想吕蓓卡；他在想，多奇怪的机缘，我的结婚礼品竟把吕蓓卡的结婚礼品毁了。他在想那尊瓷塑，回想是谁送给吕蓓卡的。他在脑海中重温收到邮包时的情景。吕蓓卡如何兴高采烈。她对瓷器很精通。也许她跪在地上，撬开那只装瓷塑的小匣子，这时他走了进来。她一定是抬起头来，朝他看一眼，接着莞尔一笑。“你瞧，迈克斯，”她一定会这么说。“给我们寄什么来了，”说着就把手伸进刨花填料中，拿出一具以一条腿站立的、手持弓箭的爱神塑像。“我们把它放在晨室里吧，”她一定是这么说的，而他呢，也在她身旁跪下来，于是两人一起赏玩那尊爱神。 我还是一个劲儿修锉自己的指甲。指甲难看得不成样子，活像小学男生的指甲。指甲根处的表皮长过了头，不再呈半月形。拇指甲几乎被咬得陷进肉里。我朝迈克西姆瞥了一眼，他仍站在壁炉前。 “你在想什么？”我问。 我的声音沉着而冷静，然而，心儿在胸口怦怦乱跳，脑海中苦恨交加的思潮起伏不已。他点了一支烟，虽然我们刚用过午饭，可他已在抽那天的第二十五支烟了；他把火柴往空荡荡的炉堂里一扔，然后捡起报纸。 “没想什么。怎么啦？”他说。 “哦，我也不知道，”我说。“你神情那么严肃，那么恍惚。” 他漫不经心地吹起口哨，夹在他手指缝里的那支烟卷被扭弯了。“事实上我不过在想，他们是不是选中塞雷板球队，让他们在奥佛尔球场上和中塞克思队交锋，”他说。 他重新在椅子上坐定，把报纸折起。我转脸朝窗外望去。不多一会，杰斯珀来到我跟前，爬上我的膝头。