Chapter 17 Part 3 Chapter 17

Clarice was waiting for me in the bedroom.She was pale and looked terrified.When she saw me, she burst into tears.I didn't say a word, I just went to pull the button on the skirt and tear the fabric with all my strength.I couldn't handle the buttons, and Clarice came and helped me, still wailing. "It's nothing, Clarice, it's not your fault," I said.She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Your beautiful dress, ma'am," she said. "Your pretty white dress." "That's okay," I said. "Why can't you find the buckle? It's right there, on the back. There's another buckle, just under the first button somewhere."

She groped around to undress me, with trembling hands, which was more troublesome than doing it by myself.She was sobbing all the time. "Madam, what would you like to change into?" she said. "I don't know," I said. "I don't know." She finally unbuttoned the purse, and I broke free from the dress. "I thought I'd better be left alone, Clarice," I said. "Listen to me and get out of here, will you? Don't worry, I'll get over it. Don't take it to heart. I want you to have a good time at the dance today." "Would you like me to iron a dress for you, ma'am?" she said, looking up at me through puffy, tearful eyes. "It will be hot in a short time."

"No," I said. "Don't worry about it, I think you'd better go, oh, Clarice..." "What is it, ma'am?" "Don't—don't tell anyone what just happened." "Okay, ma'am." She couldn't help sobbing again. "Don't let anyone see you like this," I said. "Go back to your own bedroom and wipe the tears off your face. What is there to cry about? It's not worth it." There was a knock on the door.Clarice shot me a panicked look. "Who?" I asked.The door opened, and Beatrice came in, and walked straight up to me, in an oriental dress, looking ridiculous, with bracelets jingling on her wrists.

"Honey, honey." She said, holding out her hands to me. Clarice slipped out of the room quietly.I suddenly felt weak all over and could no longer hold on.I went to sit on the edge of the bed and lifted the curls of the wig off my head with my hand.Beatrice stood looking at me. "Are you feeling okay?" she said. "You look very pale." "That's because of the lights," I said. "It always looks bloodless under the light." "Sit down and rest for a while and you'll be fine," she said. "By the way, let me pour you a glass of water."

She goes into the bathroom.As soon as she raised her leg and raised her hand, the bracelet on her wrist jingled.When she turned and entered the room, she was holding a glass of water in her hand. I didn't want to drink at all, but in order not to disappoint her, I took a few sips.The water from the faucet tasted hot to drink, and she didn't let the faucet run for a while first. "Of course, I could see right away that this was just a terrible misunderstanding," she said. "You can't know. How can you know?" "Know what?" I said. "My God, that masquerade. Poor boy, that portrait of the girl in the gallery you copied. That's exactly what Rebecca did at the Masquerade Ball at Manderley last time. Exactly the same. Same portrait." , in the same attire. You stood there on the landing, and for a split second I really thought--"

She stopped talking, didn't continue, and patted me on the shoulder lightly. "How unfortunate you are, poor boy. How could you know?" "I should know." I was so stunned that my mind was numb, I just stared at her in a daze and muttered drowsily: "I should know." "Don't talk nonsense, how could you know? This kind of thing won't just get into the heads of any of us. It's just that you have to understand that at first glance, it's like a bolt from the blue.None of us expected it, and Maxim..." "Say, what's the matter with Maxim?" I said.

"Well, he thinks you did it on purpose. Didn't you bet you were going to take him by surprise? A fool's joke. Of course he doesn't see it that way. It's a big blow to him. I told He, you wouldn't be interested in this kind of thing, it's just good luck that made you choose that portrait." "I should have known," I repeated. "It's all my fault. I should know. I should have thought of it." "Don't say that. Don't worry, you can explain it to him calmly. It will all work out. Just when I came upstairs, the first customers had arrived.They are drinking at the moment.no problem.I've got Frank and Giles to make up a phrase that you're mad because your fancy dress doesn't fit. "

I sat on the edge of the bed without saying a word, with my hands on my lap. "What other clothes can you find to wear?" Beatrice walked to my closet and slammed the door open. "Hey, how about this blue one? It looks beautiful. Put this on. No one will care. Come on, I'll help you put it on." "No," I said. "No, I'm not going downstairs." Beatrice looked at me morosely, the blue gown draped over her arm. "But, my dear, you must go down," she said sadly. "You can't show up!" "No, Beatrice, I don't want to go downstairs. I can't see these people, and I can't handle it any more."

"No one will know about the fake eye," she said. "Frank and Giles won't say anything. We've made up the whole thing, that the store sent the wrong dress and it didn't fit you, so you've got to wear a normal evening gown. Anyone would think it was perfectly reasonable. It wouldn't affect the party in any way." "You don't understand," I said. "I don't care what I wear, it doesn't matter at all. It's what happened, what I did, that bothers me. I can't go down now, Beatrice, I can't go down." "But, my dear, Giles and Frank fully understand and are very sympathetic. Maxim is no exception, only a little shocked at first. . . Explain everything to him."

"No!" I said. "No!" She put the blue gown on the edge of the bed beside me. "The guests will be here in a moment," she said, worried and distracted. "If you don't go down, people will think it's very strange. I can't say you have a headache all of a sudden." "Why not?" I said exhaustedly. "What does it matter? Say what you want. Nobody cares, and none of them know me." "Yes, my dear," she said, patting my hand. "Try to cheer yourself up. Put on this pretty blue dress. Think of Maxim. You ought to go downstairs for his sake, too."

"I've been thinking about Maxim," I said. "Right, so of course...?" "No," I stroked my nails and rocked back and forth on the edge of the bed. "I can't, I can't." There was another knock on the door. "Oh, dear, who could it be?" said Beatrice, going towards the door. "What's up?" She opened the door.Giles stood outside the door. "The guests are all here, and Maxim asked me to see what's going on, eh?" he said. "She said she didn't want to go downstairs," Beatrice said. "God knows what we should say." I caught Giles looking at me through the open door. "Oh, my God, this is messed up," he whispered.He noticed that I had seen him, and turned away embarrassedly. "What shall I tell Maxim?" he asked Beatrice. "It's eight past five." "Just say she's dizzy and uncomfortable, and I'll see if I can go downstairs later. Tell them not to wait, just invite the guests to the table. I'll come down right away. I'll take care of it here." "Okay, just say what you want." He said and secretly glanced at me again, with sympathy in his eyes, but mixed with a bit of curiosity, he didn't understand why I was sitting on the edge of the bed like this; he spoke He was still holding down his voice, as if something happened to someone in the family and he was waiting for the doctor to come to give first aid. "What else can I do?" he said. "No more," said Beatrice. "Go downstairs, I'll be right back." He dragged his Arabian robe and walked away obediently.I thought to myself, how many years from now I'll laugh when I look back at this moment, and say, "Remember when Giles was dressed as an Arab, Beatrice's face She is veiled, and the bracelets are jingling around her wrists." The passing time will mellow with nectar, making this moment a laughable one.But what's the fun in front of it?How can I laugh?After all, the present is the present, not the future.Everything in front of me is so real, it is a living fact.I sat on the edge of the bed, tugged on the duvet, and pulled out a small piece of feather from the gap in the corner of the quilt. "Would you like some brandy?" Beatrice made a last effort. "I know that a couple of sips can give you courage and give you a bit of vanity, but sometimes it really works wonders." "No," I said. "No, I don't want anything." "I've got to go downstairs. Giles says they're waiting for dinner. Is it okay for me to leave you here alone at the moment?" "Come on. Thank you, Beatrice." "Oh, honey, don't thank me. I wish I could help you with something." She bent down nimbly and looked into my vanity mirror.I put some powder on my face casually. "My God, look at me," she said. "I know it's all due to the damn veil. There's nothing I can do about it." She walked out in her rumbling robe and closed the door behind her.I felt that I had betrayed her sympathy for me by refusing to come downstairs.I have exposed the timid side of my character.But she doesn't understand me.She belongs to another circle of life and is a different type of person from me.The women in that circle are all courageous, not so cowardly as me.If it had happened to her, Beatrice, instead of me, she would have put on another dress, and gone downstairs again to meet her guests.She'd be standing next to Giles, shaking everyone's hand and talking, with a smile on her face.For me, this is impossible.I lack this arrogance and courage, I lack good education. I kept seeing Maxim's pale face, his eyes blazing with anger, and behind him stood Giles, Beatrice, and Frank, all looking at him dumbly. I was in a daze. I got up from the edge of the bed, went to the window and stared out.Gardeners paced the rose garden, busy checking colored bulbs for faults.The sky was getting darker, and on the western sky, a few streaks of orange-red sunset glow were reflected.At dusk, the lanterns will be brightly lit.Tables and chairs are set up in the rose garden, and guests in pairs can come here to rest if they are willing to sit outside.I can smell the roses from the window.The gardeners are talking and laughing. "There's one missing here," I heard one of them yell. "Could you get me another little light bulb? Bill, a little blue light bulb." He put the light bulb on and whistled a popular tune in his mouth leisurely. Maybe, I thought, the band would be playing it tonight in the bard gallery overlooking the hall. "All right," said the man, turning the light on and off. "The lights here are all right, and there is none missing. Now go and see the colorful lights on the platform." They turned the corner and walked away, still blowing the tune.If only I could become a craftsman. At night, hands in pockets, hat pulled back on head, standing in the driveway with friends watching cars drive up to the house.He would form a group with the others in the manor, and drink cider at the long table set up just for them in the corner of the platform. "It's the same as ever, isn't it?" the artisan would say.But his friend would shake his head and suck at his pipe. "This new lady is not like our Mrs. de Winter. It's completely different." Then a woman in the crowd next to him, and some other people also echoed: "That's right!" . "Where is she tonight? She didn't show up on the platform once." "I can't tell. I haven't seen her." "In the past, Mrs. de Winter was here and there, and she was everywhere." "Hi, not bad." The woman turned her face away and nodded mysteriously to her neighbor. "I hear she's not going to show up at all tonight." "Go on." "It's true. Ask Mary here if you don't believe me." "It is true. One of the servants at the house told me himself that Mrs. de Winter did not step out of the door all night." "What's the matter with her, is she sick?" "No, I thought it was temper tantrums. I heard that she didn't like that fancy dress." There was first a burst of shrill laughter from the crowd, and then shouting and chatter broke out. "Who ever heard of such a thing! What an embarrassment to Mr. de Winter!" "I don't believe this kind of statement, a yellow-haired girl like her would lose such a big temper?" "Maybe that's not the case at all." "It's absolutely true, the whole room said so." Just like that, one word spreads to ten, ten to hundreds.This one smiled, that one blinked, another shrugged.First one group here, then another group, and then spread to the ears of guests scattered on the terrace and lawn, and finally alarmed the couple sitting in the rose garden below for three hours. "Do you think what I just heard is true?" "What did you hear?" "Well, I hear she's all right. They've had a big fight, so they won't show up!" "Oh, that's right!" As he said, he raised his eyebrows and let out a long whistle. "Let me tell you, things are a little strange, don't you think? I mean, how can you suddenly have a headache for no reason? I think there's a lot to it." "I think he seems a little sullen." "I feel the same way. Of course, I have heard that their marriage is not very happy." "Oh, really?" "Well. Several people have said so. They say he, too, has come to realize that he's made a big mistake. There's nothing attractive about this man, after all." "Yes, I also heard people say that she doesn't look very good. Which family is she from?" "Oh, not a lady at all. He found it by chance in the south of France, in a nurse-governor or something." "my God!" "I say yes. When I think of Rebecca..." I'm still staring at the empty chairs.The sky that was dyed by the sunset glow gradually dimmed.The stars have twinkled above my head.In the woods behind the rose garden, the crows and birds returning to their nests are all flapping their wings and preparing to spend the night.A lone seagull flies across the sky.I leave the window and go back to the bed.I picked up the white dress that had been left on the floor and stuffed it into the box along with the tissue paper.I put the wig back in its hair case, then opened a utility cabinet and looked for the pocket iron I used to use to iron Mrs Van Hopper's clothes in Monte Carlo.It's on the inner shelf, with a few woolen sweaters that haven't been worn in a long time.It was an iron that could be used at any voltage, and I plugged it into the wall socket and started ironing the blue gown that Beatrice had brought out of the wardrobe.I iron slowly and methodically, just as I used to do for Mrs. Van Hopper in Monte Carlo. When the ironing was done, I spread the clothes out on the bed and wiped off the face powder that I had put on to match the original masquerade dress.I combed my hair, washed my hands, and put on the blue robe and matching shoes.I seemed to be the same as the old days again, and I was going to accompany Mrs. Van Hopper downstairs to the hotel lounge.I opened the door and walked down the corridor.It was quiet all around, as if no banquet was being held at all.I tiptoed to the end of the aisle and turned the corner.The door to the west wing was closed.There was no sound in the corridor.I went to the gallery and the archway over the staircase before I heard the faint hum of conversation in the dining room.The feast is not over yet.The hall was empty, and there was no one in the gallery.The musicians must have been having dinner too.I don't know how their daily meals are arranged.Frank had arranged it—either Frank or Mrs. Danvers. From where I was standing I could see the portrait of Caroline De Winter in the gallery right across from me.I could see the curls framing her face, and I could see the smile on her lips.I remembered what she said to me when I visited the bishop's wife that day: "I can never forget her appearance, she is dressed in snow-white clothes, and her hair is full of black hair." How could I forget these words, I should I know.What a strange looking thing those instruments are in the gallery, those little music stands, and that big drum.Some musician had dropped his handkerchief on a chair.I leaned against the railing and looked down into the hall below.In a little while the hall would be full of guests, as the bishop's wife had said, and Maxim would be standing at the foot of the stairs, shaking hands with the visitors.A clamor of voices will fill the hall, and then the orchestra will sing in the gallery where I am now leaning on the railing, and the violinist will laugh and sway to the beat of the music. At that time, it will no longer be so silent as it is now.Suddenly, a floorboard in the gallery creaked.I turned quickly and glanced at the back gallery, but there was no one there.The gallery was as deserted as before.But there was a cold wind blowing in my face, and someone must have left a window open in one passage and left it closed.The hum of conversation in the dining room continued.It's strange, I didn't move at all, how could the floor creak.Maybe it's because the night is too hot, or the floor wood is too old, and there is a warp somewhere.But gusts of cold wind are still blowing on my face.There was a piece of music paper on the music stand, which shook and fell to the floor.I looked up towards the arch above the stairs.The wind blows from there.I came under the arch again, and when I walked out of the arch to the corridor, I saw the door leading to the west wing blown open by the wind, and the door was pressed against the wall.The corridor in the west wing was dark, and none of the lights were turned on.I could feel the wind blowing into my face from some open window there.I reached out to feel for the switch on the wall, but I couldn't find it.I vaguely saw a window open at the corner of the passage, the curtains flapping slightly to and fro in the wind.The hazy twilight cast grotesque shadows on the floor.From the open window came the sound of the sea, the soft lapping of the tide as it retreated from the pebble beach. Instead of going to close the window, I stood listening to the moaning of the water as it left the shore, shivering from my thinness of clothing.After a while, I turned around and walked back, closed the door of the west wing, walked out of the arch again, and came to the stairs. The shouting and laughter were louder than before.The door of the restaurant is already open.Guests are leaving.I saw Robert standing in the doorway, chattering and laughing mingled with the sound of chairs being pulled back. I stepped down the stairs step by step, ready to go to meet the guests. Today, when I look back at my first ball at the Mandalay - the first and the last - I can recall only a few disconnected details, because if that evening were compared to a monotonous giant If it is a canvas, only these details have relatively clear outlines.As for the background, it was a haze, looming innumerable faces, none of whom I recognized, and the band was playing a slow, dreary waltz, one after another, endlessly.Couples of dancers twirled past us, with fixed smiles on their faces; Maxim and I stood at the bottom of the stairs to greet the late guests.It seemed to me that the couples were like puppets held by invisible hands, turning and twisting incessantly. There was a woman at the ball whose name I never knew, and I never saw again.She wore a flesh-coloured skirt with a whalebone ring, which must have been in fashion at one time in some past century, whether it was the seventeenth, eighteenth, or nineteenth century, I cannot say.Whenever she passed by me, it happened to coincide with the dragging beat of the waltz music, and she would bend or sway in place with the music, and at the same time smile at me.This scene was repeated again and again, and finally it became a habitual mechanical action, just like when we were taking a leisurely walk on the deck of a ship. Now we met some passengers with the same fitness sensibility, and we are convinced that we will turn to the bridge later. Over there will pass them by. To this day, I still remember the woman's face: the protruding teeth, the high cheekbones with a ring of bright red rouge, and the careless, happy smile on her mouth, as if she was the joy of the party.I saw her again later at the evening table, those piercing eyes searching the table for food.She filled a basin full of salmon and lobster mayonnaise and walked towards a corner with it.And there's Mrs. Crowan, in a monstrous mauve dress, and I don't know which ancient figure she was, perhaps Marie Antoinette, or Neil Gwynnie?Who knows, or it might just be a weird mishmash of these two voluptuous women."It's me, not Mr. and Mrs. de Winter, you've had the pleasure of enjoying today," she kept yelling, in a high-pitched excited voice, and she seemed to speak in a higher tone than usual because of the champagne. Sharper. ①The wife of Louis XVI, the French monarch in the eighteenth century, was hated by the world because of her extravagance. ② British actress in the seventeenth century, mistress of Charles II. I remember that Robert accidentally overturned a tray of ice cubes on the ground; Frith saw that it was not a servant who was temporarily hired to help but Robert, and he couldn't help showing extreme resentment.I really wanted to walk up to Robert, stand beside him and say, "I know what you're feeling. I understand, I was worse than you tonight." I can still feel my condensation on my face An unnatural smile, so out of tune with the pain in my eyes.I seem to see Beatrice again, Beatrice, who is more than kind but not very witty, dancing, nodding and cheering me up while leaning on her partner's arm; Noisily, the veil kept slipping off her hot, perspiring forehead.I can also vividly recall how I risked my life to dance around the hall again with Giles.Good Giles was genuinely sympathetic to me, so I couldn't bear to refuse, but he had to lead me through the kicking crowd as he would lead his horse at a race meeting. . "That robe you're wearing is beautiful," I can still hear him say. "Everyone here looks stupid by comparison." God bless Giles for expressing his sincere sympathy for me in such a blunt and eloquent way that he thought I was because Frustrated with not having decent dance clothes, worried about looking shabby in front of the guests, he thought that was all I cared about. It was Frank who brought me a pot of chicken and ham, but I couldn't eat it; it was Frank standing at my elbow with a glass of champagne in his hand, but I didn't feel like drinking it. "You'd better have a drink," he said softly. "I think you need a few sips." In order to live up to his good intentions, I reluctantly took three sips.With the black cloth over his eyes, his face looked pale and his appearance changed, he looked old and strange, and there seemed to be some wrinkles on his lids that I hadn't seen before. He is like another host of a dance party, busy socializing among the guests, toasting the guests with cigarettes and wine, and offering them refreshments; occasionally, he also walks off the dance floor, with a serious expression, dragging his difficult dance steps, stretching She covered her face and walked around the hall with her partner in her arms.His pirate attire was restrained; a red turban was wrapped around his head, and beneath it peeped out a shaggy beard, which he had evidently labored on, but to no avail.It's not hard to imagine how he used to stand in his bare-bones bachelor's bedroom, in front of the mirror, wrapping his beard around his finger, trying to curl it. Poor Frank.dear frank.I never asked, and never knew, how much he hated Manderley's last ball. The sound of piano and drums is endless, and the pairs of dancers on the dance floor are swinging and twisting their bodies like marionettes, turning around, turning around, turning from one end of the hall to that end, and from the other end to back again. This end; the one standing aside and watching calmly seems not to be me, not a living person with flesh and blood and emotions, but a clay sculpture and wood carving borrowed from my body, a wooden frame nailed with a smiling face.Standing next to it is also a wooden man.His face was like a mask, and the smile on his face was clearly not his own.Those eyes did not belong to the person I loved and knew well.The indifferent, dejected gaze, through my body, beyond my body, casts into a hell on earth that I cannot step into, into a spiritual desperation that I cannot share and is completely separated from the outside world. He didn't say a word to me, and he didn't touch me. Although our hostess and hostess stood side by side, there was a long distance between them.I watched him deal with the guests gracefully.He spat out a word to one, joked with another, smiled at a third, turned around and greeted a fourth, and no one but me knew what he said. Words and actions are nothing more than a series of stereotyped responses manipulated by machines.We are like two characters in a play, but each reads its own lines, and we can't talk about tacit cooperation.We each had to bear it, and we had to play it out, painfully, for all these people I never knew and never wanted to see again. "I heard your wife's gown didn't arrive in time," said a grinning guest in a mottled face and sailor cap, nudging Maxim's chest with his elbow. "It's bloody ugly, isn't it? If I were I, I'd sue the shop for fraud. It happened to my cousin once." "Yes, unfortunately," said Maxim. "Listen to me," said the sailor, turning to me again. "You should say you are a 'Don't forget-me-not'. The flower is blue, isn't it? 'Don't forget-me-not', a charming little flower. Are you right, De Winter? Tell your wife she should It's right to call yourself 'Unforgettable Flower'." He hugged his dance partner, laughed loudly, and dragged his dance steps away. "That's not a bad idea, huh? A 'Don't forget-me-not flower'," as Frank hovered behind me again, with a different glass in his hand, this time lemonade. "No, Frank, I'm not thirsty." "Why don't you dance? Or just sit down somewhere. There's a quiet corner on the terrace." "No, I'd better stand, I don't want to sit down." "Would you like me to get you something to eat. A guest sandwich and a peach?" "No, I don't want anything." The lady in the flesh-colored dance dress turned to me again, this time forgetting to smile at me.His face was flushed from having just had dinner.She threw her head up, staring intently at her partner's face.Her partner was a tall, thin man with a violin chin. Waltz, "The Blue Danube", "The Merry Widow".Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, turn and turn; boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, turn and turn.A figure passed before my eyes: the lady in the flesh-coloured ball gown; the lady in green; Beatrice again, her veil thrown back from her brow; Sweaty Giles; then the sailor again, this time with a different partner.The two stopped beside me.I didn't know the woman, she was a Tusker dowager, a nondescript Tudor dowager in a black velvet dress with a frill around her neck. "When are you coming to my house to play?" she said, as if we had known each other for years.I had no choice but to respond casually: "I will go in two days. We talked about it a few days ago." I was secretly surprised that it was so easy to lie according to the situation, and it didn't take much effort. "What a fun dance, you should be congratulated," she said. I replied, "Thanks for the compliment," and then I said, "It's kind of interesting, isn't it?" "I heard that the shop sent the wrong dress, is it?" "That's not true! It's unreasonable, what do you think?" "All the shops are the same. Don't trust them. But you look very young in this beautiful blue dress, which is much more pleasant than my sweaty velvet dress. Xian Husband and wife, don't forget to come to my palace for dinner in a few days!" "It will come." What did she mean, where?Palace?Are we entertaining some princes and nobles?She was twirling forward with the sailor in his arms, to the beat of "The Blue Danube," while the velvet skirt was dragged across the floor like a carpet cleaner.After a long time, one night, when I couldn't sleep, I suddenly remembered that the wife of the Duze dynasty was the bishop's wife who liked to walk in the Pennine Mountains. what time is it?I have no idea.The night dragged on hour by hour, the same faces, the same tune. The bridge players in the library slipped out like hermits now and then to see what was going on on the dance-floor, and then turned back in again.Beatrice tugged at the gown and whispered in my ear: "Why don't you sit down? You look so ugly." "I have nothing." Grease trickled down Giles' face with sweat.Poor man, smothered to death in the Arabian blanket wrapped around him. He walked up to me and said, "Go, go to the platform to watch the fireworks." I remember standing on the platform, looking up, and seeing those flying fireworks blooming in the air, and then falling down again.The little girl Clarice stayed in a corner of the courtyard with a young man outside the manor.She laughed a lot, and squealed with delight every time a firecracker crackled and exploded at her feet.She had forgotten the tears just now. "Look, this firecracker is very big." Giles raised his big round face and opened his mouth. "It exploded, wow! It's beautiful." With a long hissing sound, the fireworks tube flew into the night sky quickly, and then exploded with a bang, turning into a string of emerald-like fireworks.There were clicks of admiration from the crowd, some shouted joyfully, and some applauded.The lady in the meat-wrapped clothes squeezed to the front with an impatient look on her face, commenting every time a firework fell: "Oh, it's so beautiful...Look at that one, oh, it's really beautiful!" Graceful... oh, that one didn't burst... Watch out, it's coming our way... What are those people doing there?"...Even the bridge-playing hermits came out of their dormant cells, and danced people standing on platform together watching fireworks.The lawn was crowded with people, and the exploding fireworks illuminated the faces looking up. The fireworks tubes are like arrows that leave the string, rushing into the air one after another; the night sky is full of gold and purple, full of brilliance.Mandali stands tall like a magical house, every window is shining, and the surrounding gray walls are also painted with colorful fireworks.This is an enchanted mansion, standing out of nowhere amidst the dark woods.When the last fireworks were set off and people's laughter gradually disappeared, the beautiful summer night just now seemed to be lifeless all of a sudden, and the sky became a bleak gray curtain.The crowds on the lawn and driveway gradually dispersed.The guests crowded on the terrace in front of the long window retreated into the living room again.The climax has passed, and the end is drawing to a close.Everyone stood around in a daze.Someone handed me a glass of champagne.I heard the sound of a car starting in the driveway. "They're starting to go," I thought. "Thank God, it's finally starting to go." The lady in white began to eat again.It will take quite a while for the guests in the lobby to clear.I saw Frank gesture to the band.I stood on the passage between the living room and the hall, and beside me was a man I had never met. "The banquet was wonderful," he said. "Oh," I said. "I had a blast," he said. "I'm very happy," I said. "Molly threw a tantrum for not being able to come," he said. "Really?" I said. The band played "Auld Lang Syne".The man grabbed my hand and shook it up and down. "Hey," he said. “来吧，你们几个一齐来啊。”又有一个人拉住我的另一只手摇晃着。更多的人加入进来。我们围成一个大圆圈，扯着嗓子高声唱。那个在晚会上玩得尽兴并说莫利因为来不了而大发脾气的男子，穿着一身中国满清遗老的官服；就在我们上下甩动手臂的当儿，他的假指甲给袖管勾住了。他笑得前仰后合。我们也都笑了。 “旧日好友怎能忘怀，”大家齐声唱道。 唱到结尾的几小节，兴高采烈的狂欢气氛急转直下，接着，鼓手照例用鼓棒嗒嗒敲了几下作为引子，乐队随即奏起《上帝保佑英王》①。大家脸上的笑容不见了，就好比是被一块海绵抹了个干净。那位满清遗老猛地双脚一并，来了个立正姿势，双手僵直地垂在身子两侧。我记得当时自己曾暗暗揣摩，不知此公是不是现役陆军军人。那张毫无表情的马脸，配着一簇满族人式的垂髯，样子好不古怪。我看见那个身穿肉色衣服的太太正朝我望。乐队冷不防在这时奏起《上帝保佑英王》，弄得她手足无措，所以只好直挺挺地把一满盆冻鸡捧在胸前，那模样就好比捧着做礼拜时募到的捐款一般，脸上生气全无。一俟《上帝保佑英王》奏完，她忙不迭地松散一下身子，接着又吃起她那盆鸡肉来。她一面狼吞虎咽，一面转过头去同她的伴侣没完没了地闲扯。有人走过来紧紧握了握我的手。①英国国歌。 “别忘了，下月十四号请来合下便饭。” “哦，有这么回事吗？”我茫然望着他。 “是啊，刚才你大姑子也答应的。” “哦，哦，那可热闹啦。” “八点半。带黑领结的正式宴会。说定啦，届时恭候大驾光临。” “好，到时一定来。” 人们开始站成一行又一行，准备道别。迈克西姆在屋于的另一头。我脸上重新堆起在唱完《友谊地久天长》之后渐渐隐去的笑容。 “好久没度过这么愉快的夜晚了。” "I'm so happy." “多谢。这么盛大的宴会。” "I'm so happy." “告辞啦，你瞧，我们一直呆到晚会终了。” “是的，我真高兴。” 难道英语中再没有别的话了？我像木偶那样鞠躬微笑，目光越过人们的头顶，搜寻着迈克西姆的身影。他在藏书室门旁被一伙人缠住了；比阿特丽斯也被人围住；贾尔斯把一群零零落落的客人领到客厅的冷餐桌前；弗兰克则在外面车道上送客上车。我被一群素不相识的陌生人团团围在中间。 “再见，承蒙款待，不胜感激。” "I'm so happy." 大厅里的客人快走空了。在此黑夜将尽，疲惫的另一天即将破晓之际，大厅里已呈现出一派昏沉、凄凉的气氛。晨曦透射在平台上，我依稀辨出草坪上暗褐色焰火架的轮廓。 “再见，晚会妙极了。” "I'm so happy." 迈克西姆已经走出屋子，跟弗兰克一起站在车道上送客。比阿特丽斯一边朝我走来，一边卸下丁丁当当的手镯。“我再也受不了这些个劳什子。天哪，真把我累死了。我好像一场舞也没有错过。不管怎么说，这次舞会开得极为成功。” "Really?" I said. “亲爱的，你还不快去睡觉？看你这副疲惫不堪的样子。你差不多一个晚上都站着。 男人都上哪儿去了？ " “在外面车道上。” “我想喝点咖啡，吃点鸡蛋和熏肉，你也来点怎么样？” “不要，比阿特丽斯，我不想吃。” “你穿着这套蓝衣裙很迷人。大家都这么说。关于——关于那件事儿，没有人听到一点风声，所以你大可不必放在心上。” “我没放在心上。” “换了我，明儿早上就好好睡个懒觉。躺着别起来。早饭在床上吃。” “好的，也许就这么办。” “要不要我跟迈克西姆说你上楼去了？” “谢谢你，比阿特丽斯。” “好了，亲爱的，好好睡一觉。”她飞快地吻了我一下，又在我肩上轻轻一拍，随后就上冷餐室找贾尔斯去了。我蹒跚地一步一级跨上楼梯。乐师们已把画廊里的电灯关掉，下楼去吃鸡蛋和熏肉宵夜。乐谱散了一地。有把椅子翻倒在地。一只烟缸里盛满乐师们抽剩的烟蒂。这是舞会的余殃。我沿过道朝自己房间走去。天色一点点亮起来，鸟儿已经开始啁啾，脱衣时我已不必开灯。冷飕飕的晨风从窗口轻轻吹来，颇有几分寒意。 夜间，一定有好多人到玫瑰园来过，因为所有的椅子都从原来的位置上挪开了。有张桌子上放着一盘空玻璃杯。不知谁把只手提包遗忘在一张椅子上。我把窗帷拉上，好让房间里暗一些，可是灰蒙蒙的晨曦还是从旁边的缝隙里透了进来。 我钻进被窝，感到两腿发沉，没一点力气，腰背隐隐作痛。我仰面躺下，阖上眼，洁白的床单给人一种凉爽舒适的感觉。我多么希望脑子也能像身躯一样得到休息，松驰下来，然后进入梦乡，而不是像现在这样不住地嗡嗡作响，随着音乐的节拍乱蹦乱跳，在脸庞的海洋中旋转。我用双手紧紧压住自己的眼睛，但是这些脸庞却仍在我脑海中徘徊不去。 不知道迈克西姆还要等多少时间才回房来，我旁边的那张床看上去如此僵冷无情。 要不了多久，屋子里的阴影全会消遁不见，墙壁、天花板和地板都会被朝阳照得白灿灿的。鸟儿不再压低嗓子，而是将唱得更响，更欢。阳光会在窗帷上织成黄澄澄的图案。 床头小钟滴答作响，时间一秒一秒地过去。我侧转身子，望着时钟的针臂在钟面上缓缓移动。分外移到正点上，接着又转了过去，开始另一轮新的旅程。迈克西姆却始终没回房来。