Chapter 18 Chapter Eighteen

I probably fell asleep shortly after seven o'clock, remembering that it was broad daylight then, so I didn't have to delude myself into thinking that drawing the curtains would block out the sun.Daylight streamed in through the open windows, weaving patterns on the large walls. I heard the servants busily clearing the tables and chairs below in the rose garden, and taking down the string of colored light bulbs.Maxim's bed was still empty.I stretched out and lay comfortably on the bed with my arms over my eyes.This strange and indecent position seemed the least likely to induce sleep, yet I drowsily approached a state of bewilderment, and at last fell asleep.When I woke up, it was past eleven o'clock.Clarice must have been in the room and brought me my morning tea when I fell asleep just now, for then I found the tea tray and the cold teapot beside me.The eyes of my clothes are also neatly folded, and the blue dress has been taken away and put in the closet.

Although this sleep was short, it was very deep.I drank herbal tea, still sleepy, staring sleepily at the blank wall in front of me.Maxim's empty bed jolted me awake, and with a start that I didn't understand, the anguish of the night before came over me again.He didn't go to bed at all.His pajamas and pants lay on the spread out sheet, folded and untouched.I wondered to myself what Clarice had felt when she came in to bring me tea.Did she notice?Did you tell the other servants when you went out?Will they talk about it with gusto over breakfast?I don't know why I am so preoccupied with this; why I am so distressed at the thought of servants whispering at the kitchen.It must be that I am small-minded, narrow-minded, and old-fashioned, and I can't stand other people's gossip.

This is also the reason why I finally changed into that blue dress and went downstairs last night instead of hiding in my room.There was nothing brave or noble about it, it was merely driven by custom and propriety, and a desire to make things better. It wasn't for Maxim's sake, or Beatrice's or Manderley's, that I decided to go downstairs.I came downstairs because I didn't want the ball guests to think that Maxim and I were falling out.I don't want to give them something to talk about, so that these people can go home and gossip: "If you don't tell me, you know, they don't get along, and I heard that he doesn't live happily at all." I did it for myself, to protect my poor self-esteem I just went downstairs.I sipped my herbal tea one sip at a time, thinking with exhausted and painful despair: As long as no one ever knew about it, even if I lived in the corner of Manderley and Maxim lived in the corner of the manor, I would be willing.Even if he stopped showing any warmth to me, stopped kissing me, and stopped talking to me when he had to, I'm sure I could bear it, as long as no one but the two of us really knew what was going on.As long as we can gag the servants with money, we can force ourselves to smile in front of our friends, and Beatrice, and play the part of a loving couple, and when we are alone, we can go our separate ways and go our separate ways. Each of them lives their own life.

How stupid I sat on the bed, looking at the wall, looking at the sunlight coming in from the window, looking at Maxim's empty bed, as if there was nothing in the world that was more humiliating and humiliating than a broken marriage thing.After only three months of marriage, the couple turned against each other.At this moment, I no longer have any illusions, no more hypocrisy.Through the scene last night, I can see it all.My marriage was a colossal failure.If people know the truth, there will be a lot of discussion, and those gossips are not necessarily all speculation.We really didn't get along, we really weren't ideal partners.We are not compatible.For Maxim, I was too young, too inexperienced, and, more importantly, out of his circle.I loved him sickly, humiliatingly, desperately, like a child, like a dog, but it didn't help.It was not this kind of love that he needed, but something else that I could not give, another love that he had received before.I think of the hysterical youthful passion and self-importance I felt when I made this marriage, thinking that I could bring happiness to Maxim who had experienced great happiness.Even Mrs. Van Hopper, mediocre and shallow, knew that I was making a mistake. "I'm afraid you'll take the medicine later," she said. "I think you're making a big mistake."

I can't listen to these words, I just think she is ruthless, but in fact what she said is right.She is right about everything.That dastardly final blow she threw at me at parting was the most pertinent maxim she ever uttered: "You don't fool yourself into thinking he loves you, do you? Go to an empty mansion." Maxim didn't love me then, and he hasn't loved me since.Our honeymoon in Italy was nothing to him; our life together here was nothing to him.What I think of as love for me, for myself as an individual, is no love at all, except that he is a man, and I am his wife, and young, and besides, he feels lonely.He does not belong to me at all, but to Rebecca.

He is still attached to Rebecca.He will never love me because of Rebecca.Mrs. Danvers was right, and Rebecca was still in the house, in that room in the west wing, in the library, and the gallery, and the gallery over the hall, and even in the little conservatory— —her tape raincoat still hanging there.Rebecca was still in the garden, in the woods, in the little stone house on the beach.The sound of her light footsteps still echoed in the corridor, and the lingering fragrance of her body still lingered on the stairs. The servants are still doing her bidding: we eat her favorite food, and her favorite flowers fill the rooms.

Her clothes were still in the closet in her room, her hairbrush was still on the dresser, her shoes were still under the chair, her nightgown was still spread out on her bed.Rebecca is still Mistress of Manderley.Rebecca was still Mrs. de Winter.I'm completely redundant here.Like a poor fool, I stumbled into this forbidden zone. "Where's Rebecca?" Maxim's grandmother used to say aloud: "I want Rebecca, what are you doing to Rebecca?" She doesn't know me, she's cold to me, isn't she?No wonder.I was a stranger to her.I don't belong to Maxim, I don't belong to Manderley.Beatrice looked me up and down when we first met, and said bluntly, "How different you are from Rebecca." When I mentioned her to Frank, he hesitated and seemed embarrassed. restless, shying away from my barrage of questions, which I hated myself; and as we neared the house he answered my last question in a low, calm voice:" Yes, she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life."

Rebecca, Rebecca everywhere.In Manderley, wherever I went, wherever I sat, even when I was dreaming and dreaming, I could meet Rebecca.Now I know her figure, those slender thighs, and her petite feet.Her shoulders are plumper than mine, and she was born with a pair of dexterous hands—hands that can steer a light boat and steer a horse; those hands that grow flowers, make model boats, and once wrote on the title page of a book " To Max - from Rebecca" inscription.I am also familiar with her clear oval face; smooth and fair skin, black temples.I know what perfume she wears; I can picture her when she's laughing and smiling.

If I had heard that laughter, I would have recognized her voice even in a thousand people.Rebecca, Rebecca, all the time, everywhere.I can never get rid of Rebecca. She was haunting me, and perhaps I haunted her as much; , she sat next to me.The raincoat I wore and the handkerchief I used are her relics.Maybe she not only knew, but watched me hold them in my hands.Jasper, who used to be her pet dog, is spinning around my feet.She planted the roses with her own hands, but now I let me cut and pick them.Yes, I hate her, does she also hate me and be afraid of me?Was it her intention to make Maxim a widow again, a widow in this house?I can fight the living, but I cannot fight the dead.

If Maxim had some mistress in London, and he wrote to her, visited her, ate at the same table, slept with her, then I could still have a fight with her, because after all, they are all the same living people .I will not be discouraged.Anger and jealousy can be appeased.One day, when the woman got old and tired, or bored and changed her mind, Maxim would stop loving her.However, Rebecca is always young and always maintains the charm of the past.I can't be jealous of her.I really can't compete with such a powerful opponent. I got up and opened the curtains, and the sun suddenly flooded the room.The servants have cleaned up the rose garden.Every time people attend a banquet, they always talk for a long time the next day. I don’t know if they are also talking about the dance party last night.

"Do you think this dance is quite up to par?" "Oh, I guess so." "The band is a bit slow." “Dinner was very sumptuous.” "The fireworks aren't bad either." "Bill Lacey is starting to age!" "Who wouldn't look old in that attire?" "I think he's kind of sick." "Well, he's always been that way." "What do you think of the bride?" "It's not very good, it's very dull." "I doubt whether the marriage will be happy." "No, I suspect..." Only then did I notice a note under the door.I went to pick it up and recognized the square handwriting as Beatrice's.The note was hastily drawn with a pencil after breakfast. "I knocked on your door, but you didn't answer. I think you've followed my advice. Go to sleep and forget about last night. Giles is anxious to go back because someone from the family called and asked him to Replacing a player, playing a game of cricket, the game started at 2:00 pm, last night, God knows how much incense he took, I don't know how he catches the ball today, my legs are a little weak at the moment , but slept soundly last night. Frith said that Maxim had breakfast downstairs early in the morning, but now he is nowhere to be seen! So please give him our regards, thank you very much for your support last night Great hospitality. We had a great time last night. Don't think about that suit any more. (Pencil underlines the last sentence.) Your dear Bi." Added: "You two must make time to come to our house to play recently." She had written nine-thirty in the morning on the note, and it was nearly eleven-thirty now.They were almost two hours away from here, and they were probably home by this time.After Beatrice unpacked her suitcase and took out her traveling supplies, she went into the garden to do her usual gardening, while Giles got ready for a cricket match, putting on new lashes for his bats. In the afternoon, Beatrice would change into a cool coat and a wide-brimmed hat to watch Giles play cricket.Then they had tea in the awning, Giles was flushed with excitement, and Beatrice said to her friend with a smile: "Well, we went to the Manderley ball, play It's really exciting. I didn't expect that Giles can be so lively on the court today." As he spoke, he smiled at Giles and patted him on the back with his hand.They were both middle-aged and less romantic.They have been married for twenty years now, and their son has grown up and is preparing to go to Oxford for further study.They are very happy.Their marriage is happy, unlike mine, which broke up after only three months of marriage. I couldn't sit still in the bedroom any longer.The maids are coming to tidy up the room.Maybe Clarice hadn't noticed Maxim's bed at all just now.I creased the bed on purpose so that it would appear that he had slept on it.If Clarice didn't tell the other maids, I don't want them to know either. I took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs.The dance floor in the hall has been removed, and all the flowers have been removed. The music stands in the gallery had been removed, and the band must have left by the early train.Gardeners were sweeping lawns and driveways to sweep up debris from the fireworks.Before long, there would be no trace of the Manderley Masquerade, which had taken so long to prepare, and which now seemed to be cleaned up with little trouble, and was done in a second. I remembered the lady in the flesh-colored dress standing at the door of the living room with the frozen chicken in her hand last night; at this moment, to me, that scene seemed to be imagined out of thin air, or It's a long time ago.Robert was cleaning the tables in the dining room, and he was back to his normal self, solid and dull, not at all the character he'd been psyched out of for the past few weeks. "Good morning, Robert," I greeted him. "Good morning, ma'am." "Have you seen Mr. de Winter somewhere?" "Ma'am, after breakfast, he went out before Major Leyou and his wife came downstairs, and he hasn't come back since then." "Don't you know where he went?" "I don't know, ma'am, I can't tell." I walked back to the hall, through the living room, to the exhibition room.Jesper hurried over to lick my hand.Look at how wildly happy it is, as if I've been away for so long.The spaniel spent the night in Clarice's bed, and I haven't seen the beast since yesterday's tea-time, and perhaps he, like me, thinks it's a pretty long time. I picked up the phone and asked for the phone number of the manor office.Maybe Maxim was with Frank at the moment.I felt compelled to talk to him, if only for two minutes.I have to explain to him that I didn't mean to do what I did last night.Even if I never speak to him again, I have to tell him this.The clerk who answered the phone told me Maxim wasn't there. "Mr. Crawley is here, Mrs. de Winter," said the clerk. "Do you want him to answer the phone?" I was about to say no, but he moved faster than I did, and I heard Frank's voice before I could hang up the phone. "What's the matter?" It's so funny, how can I ask this to someone when I come up.This idea flashed through my mind.He didn't say "good morning" and he didn't ask "how did you sleep last night", why should he ask "what's the matter"? "Frank, it's me," I said. "Where's Maxim?" "I don't know. I haven't seen him. He wasn't here this morning." "Didn't go to the office?" "No." "Oh, oh, well, it's okay." "Did you see him at breakfast?" "No, I'm not up yet." "Did he sleep well?" I pondered.Frank was the only one I wasn't afraid to let him know the truth. "He didn't go back to his room to sleep last night." There was no sound on the other end of the line, and Frank was probably searching for something to say. "Oh," he said finally, very slowly. "Oh, I understand." After another moment of silence: "I'm afraid that something like this will happen." "Frank," I said angrily, "what did he say after the guests left last night? What did you guys do?" "I had a sandwich with Giles and Mrs. Lacey," said Frank. "Maxim didn't come. He found an excuse and went to the library. I went home after that. Maybe Mrs. Lacey knew." "She's gone," I said. "They left after breakfast. She left me a note saying she didn't see Maxim." "Oh," said Frank, and I didn't like the "oh," the way he said it. The voice was shrill and piercing, and the omen was ominous. "Where do you think he's going?" I asked. "I don't know," Frank said. "Maybe I've gone for a walk." That's the kind of tone the doctor puts down when the relatives of the patients come to the nursing home to ask about their condition. "Frank, I must see him," I said. "I have to explain what happened last night." Frank said nothing.I can imagine the anxious expression on his face, and the lines on his forehead. "Maxim thought I did that on purpose," I choked up, despite my best efforts to restrain myself.Last night my eyes were full of tears, and I tried my best not to shed them. Now, after sixteen hours, hot tears are welling up in my eyes and streaming down my cheeks. "Maxim thought I was joking on purpose, an unforgivable joke." "No," Frank said. "Will not." "Listen, he must have thought so. You didn't notice the look in his eyes, but I saw it. You didn't stand over him all night, like I did, looking at him. He kept ignoring me, Frank. He never looked at me again afterward. We stood there side by side the whole night without saying a word to each other." "No chance," Frank said. "There's a lot of customers to deal with. I noticed, all right. You think I don't know Maxim well enough to understand what's going on? Listen..." "I don't blame him," I interrupted him. "If he thinks that I intend to make that outrageous and vicious joke, then he has the right to think about me as he likes, and he can completely ignore me and never see me again." "Don't ever say that," Frank said. "You don't know where you've been. I'll see you right away, and I think I can explain." What can Frank do if he comes to see me?How about sitting together in the morning room and Frank, who is adaptable, calms me down with a few words of comfort in an amiable tone!I don't need anyone's sympathy right now.It's too late. "No," I said. "No, I don't want to go over and over again. It's happened and it can't be undone. Maybe it's good to realize something I should have known, something Things I should have known before I married Maxim." "What do you mean by that?" Frank said. His voice was sharp and unnatural.Maxim doesn't love me, I don't know what it has to do with him, why doesn't he want me to know what's going on? "I mean him and Rebecca," I said.The name came out of my mouth, it sounded like a taboo word, it was novel and unpleasant, and it didn’t bring me a sense of ease anymore, but it was hot, making me One feels as humiliated as one is when one confesses one's sins. Frank didn't answer right away.I heard him gasp on the other end of the phone line. "What do you mean by that?" he repeated, shorter and sharper than before. "What do you mean by that?" "He doesn't love me, he loves Rebecca," I said. "He never forgot her. He still thinks of her day and night. He never loved me, Frank. It was always Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca." I heard Frank let out a cry of surprise, and what the hell, it's none of my business how shocked he is. "Now you know how I feel," I said. "You should understand." "Hey, listen," he said. "I've got to see you, I've got to come, you hear? It's so important that I can't talk to you on the phone, Mrs. de Winter? Mrs. de Winter?" I slammed the microphone down and got up from my desk.I don't want to see Frank.He can't help me with this.Now no one can help but myself.I paced up and down the room, tear-stained and flushed, nibbling at the corner of the handkerchief and tearing at the same time. I had a strong presentiment that I would never see Maxim again.From some indefinable intuition, I dare say that it was settled.He left angrily and never came back.I knew in my heart that Frank felt the same way, but it was not convenient to admit it on the phone.He didn't want to surprise me.If I were to call his office again now, I would find him gone.The clerk would say, "Mr. Crawley was just out, Mrs. de Winter." And I could picture Frank getting into his crappy little Morris without even bothering to put his hat on, They went out looking for Maxim. I went to the window and looked out over the little glade where the satyr played his bagpipes.The heather has completely withered and will not bloom again until next year.Without the richness of the heather, the tall bushes looked dull and lifeless.Thick fog slowly rose from the sea, and I could no longer see the woods beyond the grassy slope.The weather was damp and suffocating.I can imagine the guests who came to my house last night celebrating now with their foreheads and hands: "It's a good thing that the fog has been postponed until today, otherwise we would not have been lucky enough to watch the fireworks yesterday." I walked out of the morning room, across the living room, and walked to the platform.The sun disappeared behind the thick fog, and what seemed to be an ominous shadow had enveloped the whole Manderley and robbed it of the sky and light above it.A gardener passed me pushing a cart full of confetti, fruit peels, and other rubbish left on the lawn by guests last night. "Good morning," I said. "Good morning, ma'am." "I'm afraid the dance last night gave you a lot of trouble," I said. "It's nothing, ma'am," he said. "I see you had a good time last night, and that's the main thing, isn't it?" "Well, good point," I said. He looked out across the lawn into the clearing where the valley sloped down to the sea.The trees on both sides looked gray and hazy, with indistinct outlines. "What a fog," he said. "Yes," I said. "It's a good thing it wasn't like that last night," he said. "Yes," I said. He stood there for a moment, then touched the brim of his hat to greet me, pushed the cart and left.I crossed the lawn and came to the edge of the woods.The mist in the village condensed into water droplets, which fell on my hatless head like a drizzle.Jesper stood dingy at my feet, tail drooping, pink tongue trailing.The damp and hot weather made it unhappy and unable to cheer up.From where I stood I could hear the muffled, muffled sound of the waves as the sea washed against the little bay below the woods.White mist, smelling bitterly of bittern and seaweed, drifted past me and rolled toward the house in clumps.I put my hand on Jasper's livery, which was so wet it could wring out.I looked back at the house, but unexpectedly I couldn't see the chimney on the roof and the outline of the surrounding walls. I could only vaguely see a house there, and I could vaguely make out the row of windows in the west wing and the few dogs on the platform. flowerpot.I noticed that the shutters of the large bedroom in the west wing had been drawn, and there was a man standing at the window, looking out over the lawn below.The figure was so vague that I couldn't make out who it was; I was startled suddenly, and for a moment I thought it must be Maxim.Just then, the man raised his arm and closed the shutter.I recognized it now, it was Mrs Danvers.So when I stood on the edge of the woods, bathed in this white mist, she was always watching.Before that, she had watched me shuffle from the platform to the lawn.Maybe she's eavesdropping on the extension in her room when I'm on the phone with Frank.Now she must know that Maxim was not with me last night.She might also have heard me whimper and know I was crying.She knew what part I had been playing for hours last night; in that blue robe, standing beside Maxim at the foot of the stairs; In a word.Of course she knew it all, because she had arranged all of this.It was her victory; this time she and Rebecca both won. I remembered the scene when I saw her last night.She stood looking at me from the door of the west wing of the passage, with a devil's grin on her pale face like a skeleton; at the same time, I remembered that she was a living woman like me, a mortal body with emotions , and not, like Rebecca, a breathless dead man.I could talk to her, but not to Rebecca. On a sudden impulse, I turned back across the lawn towards the house.I crossed the hall, went up the broad main staircase, and went in under the archway of the gallery; I stepped through the door leading to the west wing, and went straight down the dark, silent passage to Rebecca. In front of the card's bedroom.I turned the handle on the door and stepped in. Mrs Danvers was still standing at the window, the shutters were drawn. "Mrs. Danvers," I said. "Mrs. Danvers." She turned and looked at me.I found that her eyes were red and swollen from crying, just like mine, and her pale face was full of sorrow. "What's the matter?" Because she kept whimpering and crying, like me, her voice became cloudy and low. Didn't expect her to look like this.According to my original imagination, she must be the same as last night, with a vicious grin on her face.But looking at it now, this is not the case at all. The old woman standing in front of me is physically and mentally exhausted. I hesitated, still put my hand on the doorknob, and let the door open, I didn't know what to say to her at this time, how to deal with it. She continued to look at me with those red and swollen eyes, and I was speechless for a moment. "As usual, I left the menu on the desk," she said. "Do you want to change some dishes?" Her words gave me courage, and I walked from the door to the center of the room. "Mrs. Danvers," I said, "I'm not here to discuss the menu with you, and you know that, don't you?" She didn't answer, she spread and closed her left hand by herself. "You've done what you wanted to do, haven't you?" I said. "You mean to see such a scene, don't you? Are you satisfied now? Happy?" She turned her head away and looked out of the window as I had just stepped into the door. "Why did you come here?" she said. "Nobody wants you in Manderley. We were pretty peaceful here before you came. Why don't you stay in France?" "You seem to have forgotten that I love Mr. de Winter," I said. "If you loved him, you would never marry him," she said. I was at a loss for words.This scene is really absurd and ethereal.Without turning her head, she continued to speak in that cloudy and choked tone. "I used to seem to hate you, but not now," she said. "All the emotions inside me seemed to be drained." "Why do you hate me?" I asked. "What did I do to make you hate me?" "You're trying to take Mrs. de Winter's place," she said. She still didn't want to look at me directly, but still turned her back to me, standing at the window resentfully. "I haven't changed one thing here," I said. "It's business as usual at Manderley. I don't give orders, and you take care of every detail. If you didn't mean to be against us, we might have become friends, but you set out to be against me from the beginning. I met you and shook hands." At that moment, I sensed it from your face." She didn't say a word, and the hand that was attached to the skirt was still opening and closing. "A lot of people are married twice, both male and female," I went on. "Thousands of people marry a second time every day. From the tone of your voice, I marry Mr. de Winter as if I committed some great crime and blasphemed the dead. Don't we have a right to be happy like everyone else?" ?” "Mr. de Winter is not happy," she finally said, turning her head away from me. "Any stupid man can see it. Just look at his eyes. He's still in his misery; he's always looked that way since she died." "That's not true," I said. "That's not true. When we stayed together in France, he was very happy, much younger than he looks now, happy and carefree." "Well, he's a man after all," she said. "Is there any man in the world who doesn't indulge a little on his honeymoon? Mr. de Winter is not yet forty-six." She chuckled contemptuously and shrugged. "How dare you talk to me like that, so presumptuous!" I said. I am no longer afraid of her.I went up and grabbed her arm and shook it vigorously. "You set me up for wearing that costume last night," I said. "I wouldn't have thought of that if it hadn't been for you. You did it with the intention of hurting Mr. de Winter, of distressing him. He's had enough if you didn't play that nasty, horrible joke on him." Did you think that torturing him so viciously would bring Mrs. de Winter back to life?" She wrenched away from my grasp; her face was full of rage, and a blush came over her pale ashes. "What does it matter to me whether he's upset or not?" she said. "He never cared whether I was uncomfortable or not. Seeing you occupy her seat, step on her footprints, and touch those things that belonged to her, do you think I feel good? In the past few months, I know that you are developing Sitting at her desk in her living room, writing with the same pen she used when she was alive, and talking to people on the intercom—she has been talking to me every morning on that phone since she came to Manderley—you Don't think what it's like to me? How do I feel when Frith, Robert, and the other servants talk about you and call you Mrs. de Winter? What's Mrs. de Winter out for a walk? ',' Mrs. de Winter ordered her car to be ready at three o'clock in the afternoon', 'Mrs. The smiling, pretty-faced lady who does what she says, the real Mrs. de Winter, lies frozen in the churchyard, forgotten by the world. If he is distressed, it is his own fault Who told him to marry a young girl like you again after less than ten months? Huh, isn't he eating his own fruit now? I can see his face and eyes clearly. This kind of spiritual desperation He made it himself, and he can only blame him if he wants to. He knows she can see him, and comes to watch him at night. Mis-meaning Mrs. She's not one of those characters who swallows everything and takes it for granted. 'I'm going to see them suffer in hell, Danny,' she used to say to me. 'I'm going to see them go to hell.'" said That's right, my dear,' that's what I said to her. 'No one can fool you. You came into this world to enjoy the world,' and she did; she didn't care about anything, She is not afraid of anything. She has the courage and energy of a man. Yes, my Mrs. de Winter is such a strange woman. I used to tell her back then that she should have a boy in her mother's womb. I've taken care of her since she was a child. You should know that, don't you?" "No," I said, "no. What's the use of you talking about it, Mrs. Danvers? I don't want to hear any more, and I don't want to know. Ain't I a flesh and blood with feelings like you? I Standing here, listening to you mentioning her, listening to you talking about her, don't you understand how I feel?" She didn't listen to what I said at all, but kept talking nonsense like a crazy woman who has lost her mind.At the same time, her slender fingers were still desperately twisting the black dress on her body. "She was charming then," she said, "as charming as a painting. Men would turn and stare at her when she passed by men, and she wasn't dissatisfied. Twelve. She knew it well, the little dork was always winking at me and saying, "I'm going to look pretty when I grow up, won't I, Danny?" ’ I told her, “We’ll make it happen for you, baby, just wait.” She knew everything grown-ups knew; There are quite a lot of tricks in her belly. Her father is at her mercy and obeys her every way. If her mother is alive, she will certainly be like that. In terms of energy, no one can compare to my young lady. On her fourteenth birthday, she was driving a four-horse cart alone, and her cousin, Mr. Jack, climbed into the box and sat beside her, trying to take the reins from her hand. They were like a couple.野猫似地争夺了三分钟，让拉车的四匹马在野地里撕蹄狂奔。最后她赢了，我的小姐赢了。她在他头上唰地抽了一鞭，他从车上摔下，跌了个倒栽葱，嘴里不住笑骂着。实话对你说吧，他们才真是一对呢，她和杰克先生。他们把他送进海军，他受不了军纪的约束，那也难怪嘛。他也像我这位大小姐一样。精力过人，哪能俯首听命于他人。” 我魄散神移地望着她；她嘴角挂着一丝欣喜若狂的怪笑，显得越发苍老，可那张骷髅似的面庞倒有了几分生气，多少像一张活人的睑了。“没人制服得了她，是的，谁也别想制服得了，”她说。“她一向我行我素，爱怎么生活就怎么生活。说到她周身的气力，真不下于一头小狮子。记得她十六岁那年，有一次骑了她父亲的一匹马，而且是一匹惯于撒野的高头大马。马夫说，那马性子太烈，她驾驭不了。可她呢，照样稳稳地贴在马背上。此时我还能看到她跨骑马背长发飘拂的勃勃英姿。她扬鞭抽打胯下的坐骑，抽得它冒出血来，同时用马刺夹紧那畜生的肚子。等她跨下马背，那匹马已是遍体鳞伤，血迹斑斑，满嘴白沫，不住打着哆嗦'下回它会老实些了，是吗，丹尼？'她说着就像没事似地走去洗手了。后来，她长大成人，也始终是这样和生活格斗的。我看着她长大，一直守在她身边。她什么也不在乎，谁也不放在眼里。最后她到底还是被打垮了。但不是败在哪个男人手里，也不是败在哪个女人手里。是大海将她制服了。大海太强大，她没斗赢。最后，她终于被大海夺走了。” 她突然打住，嘴唇奇怪地抽搐，嘴角往下撇着。她大声干嚎起来，嘴巴张着，眼睛里却流不出眼泪。 “丹弗斯太太，”我说，“丹弗斯太太。”我束手无策地站在她面前，不知如何是好。我对她不再疑虑，也不再感到害怕，可是她站在那儿干嚎的模样，却使我毛骨惊然，令我作呕。“丹弗斯太太，”我说，“你不舒服，该到床上去躺着。你干吗不回到自己房里休息去呢？干吗不上床去躺着？” 她恶狠狠地冲着我说：“让我一个人清静一下，好不好？我倒一倒心头的苦水，关你什么事？我可不觉得有什么丢脸的，我可没有把自己关在房里偷偷哭鼻子。我不像德温特先生那样，关在自己房里，走过来，踱过去，还要把房门锁上，生怕我闯进去。” “你这话什么意思？”我说。“德温特先生可没有那样。” “她死后的那阵子，”她说，“他就在藏书室走来踱去，踱去走来。我听到的。而且我还不止一次打钥匙孔里看着他呢。走来踱去，活像一头关在笼子里的野兽。” “我不愿听，”我说。“也不想知道。” “而你居然大言不惭，说什么在蜜月期间曾使他幸福，”她说。“就凭你这样一个无知的小姑娘，年轻得足以做他的女儿，能使他幸福吗？你对生活知道些什么？对男人又知道些什么？你闯到这儿来，以为自己可以取代德温特夫人。你！就凭你这样一个人，竟想取代我家小姐的位子。去你的吧，你来曼陀丽的时候，仆人也在笑话你。甚至连那个在厨房打杂的小丫头也不例外，就是你初来庄园的那天早上在后屋过道那儿遇到的小丫头。德温特先生过完了他那甜甜的蜜月，把你带回到曼陀丽来，真不知道他是怎么想的。不知道他看到你第一回坐在餐厅桌旁的模样有何感受了。” “丹弗斯太太，你最好还是别说了，”我说。“你最好还是回自己的房间去。” “回自己的房间去，”她学着我腔调说。 “回自己的房间去。这宅子的女主人认为我最好还是回自己房间去。随后又怎么呢？你就赶快跑到德温特先生那儿去告我的状：”丹弗斯太太很不客气，丹弗斯太太对我很粗鲁。 '就像上回杰克先生来看望我之后那样，赶紧跑到他面前去告状。 " “我从来没对他讲过，”我说。 “撒谎！”她说。“除了你，还会有谁呢？这儿再没有别的人了。那天弗里思和罗伯特全不在，其他的仆人没有一个知道。当时我就决计要教训你一下，也要给他点颜色看看。我对自己说：让他受点儿苦。我有什么要顾忌的？他受苦与我何干？为什么我不能在曼陀丽见杰克先生？现在，在我和德温特夫人之间，就只剩下他这样一根纽带了。 而他竟对我说：“我不许他跨进这儿的门槛。这是我最后一次警告你了。'他直到今天还没忘记嫉妒，不是吗？” 我记得那天藏书室门打开的时候，自己如何躲在画廊里缩成一团。我也记得迈克西姆如何大发雷霆。扯着嗓子对丹弗斯太太讲了刚才她说的那几句话。envy.迈克西姆在嫉妒…… “她活着的时候他就嫉妒，现在她死了，他还在嫉妒，”丹弗斯太太接着说。“他那时不许杰克进这所屋子，现在还是不许。这说明他还没有把她忘掉，是吗？不用说，他在嫉妒。我也嫉妒呢！所有认识她的人全都在嫉妒。她才不管呢。她对此只是付之一笑。'我爱怎么生活就怎么生活，丹尼，'她对我说。'全世界的人都站出来也拦不住我。'男人只要看她一眼，就会爱她爱得发狂。我见到过那些她在伦敦结识的男人，她带他们到这儿来度周末。她带着他们上船，到海里去游泳，在海湾的小屋举行月夜野餐。 他们当然向她求爱罗，谁能例外呢？她乐啦，回来就把他们的一言一行和一举一动讲给我听。她满不在乎，对她来说无非是逢场作戏，闹着玩的。谁能不嫉妒呢？他们全都嫉妒，全都被她迷得神魂颠倒。德温特先生，杰克先生，克劳利先生，每一个认识她的人，每一个上曼陀丽来的人。 " “我不想知道，”我说。“我不想知道。” 丹弗斯太太挨近我，把脸凑过来。“谁也奈何她不得，”她说。“谁也别想制服她。 她即使死了，也还是这儿的女主人。真正的德温特夫人是她，而不是你，你才是亡灵和鬼魂。被人忘怀、被人丢弃、被人推到一边的是你。是嘛，你为什么不把曼陀丽留给她呢？你为什么不走开？ " 我避开她，往窗口退去，原先的惶惑和惊恐再次涌上心头，她一把抓住我的手臂，像把钳子那样将我紧紧夹住。 “你为什么不走开？”她说。“我们这儿谁也不需要你。他不需要你，他从来也不需要你。他忘不了她。他需要的是再让他一个人呆在这所屋子里，和她朝夕相处。躺在教堂墓地里的应该是你，而不是德温特夫人。” 她把我往窗口推去。窗开着，我可以看到身下沉浸在茫茫大雾之中的晦冥昏暗的平台。“往下面看，”她说。“不是很容易吗？你为什么不纵身往下一跳？只要不折断脖子，不会有什么痛苦。既快，又没有痛苦。可不像在水里淹死那样。你为什么不试一下呢？你为什么不去死？” 阴湿的迷雾从窗口涌进来，刺痛我的限睛，钻进我的鼻孔。我用双手紧紧抓住窗台。 “别害怕，”丹弗斯太太说。“我不会推你的。也不会站在你身边逼你。你可以自动往下跳。何必死赖在曼陀丽呢？你并没有好日子过。德温特先生不爱你。活着也没多大意思，不是吗？为什么不趁现在往下跳，一死百了？这样一来，就再不会有什么烦恼啦。” 我可以看到平台上的花盆，蓝色的绣球花开得密无缝隙。铺在平台上的石块显得平滑、灰白，而不是四凹凸凸，参差不齐。是迷雾使那些石块显得如此邈远。实际上，石块离得并不远。窗口并没有高出地面很多。 “为什么不往下跳？”丹弗斯太太在我耳畔轻声说。“为什么不试一下？” 雾更浓了。平台已隐匿不见。再也看不到花盆，看不到铺在平台上的光滑的石块。 周围除了一片白茫茫的迷雾，散发着冷涩的海藻味儿的迷雾，什么也看不见。眼前唯一真实可感的便是我手底下的窗台，还有丹弗斯太太紧抓着我左臂的那只手。如果我纵身跳下，我将不会看到石块向我迎面跃来，因为迷雾已将它们淹没。接着，像她说的那样，会突然感到一阵剧痛。摔下去，我的脖子一下子就会被折断。不像溺死那样，要拖很长时间。转眼就会过去的。再说，迈克西姆不爱我。迈克西姆还是希望独自一人，跟吕蓓卡作伴。 “跳呀，”丹弗斯太太又在我耳边低语。“跳嘛，别害怕。” 我闭起双眼，由于长时间凝视底下的庭院，我感到头晕目眩，手指也因为紧抓着窗台的边而痛得发麻。迷雾钻进我的鼻孔，沾着我的嘴唇，又腥又涩，我像是蒙了一条毛毯，又像上了麻醉药，只觉得要窒息。我开始忘掉自己的不幸，忘掉自己如何爱着迈克西姆。我开始忘掉吕蓓卡。再过片刻，我不必再老是想到吕蓓卡了…… 我松开双手，叹了口气。就在这时，茫茫的迷雾，还有与之相辅相成的沉寂，突然被轰然一声爆炸所震裂，碎成了两半。这一声爆炸震得我们身旁的窗子猛摇不已，玻璃在窗框里不住抖动。我挣开眼，呆呆地望着丹弗斯太太。接着又传来一声爆炸，随后是第三声，第四声。这声声爆炸刺破长空，鸟儿从宅子四周的树林里惊起——眼睛虽看不到，耳朵却听得见——发出一阵惊叫，与这爆炸声遥相呼应。 “怎么回事？”我茫然地问。 "What happened?" 丹弗斯大太松开我的手臂，朝窗外那片迷雾望去。“是号炮声，”她说。“一定是海湾那边有船只搁浅了。” 我们侧耳谛听，一起盯着眼前的茫茫大雾。接着，我们听到底下的平台上传来一阵急促的脚步声。