Chapter 14 seven, eight, nine

seven I mentioned Susan Rouvier at the beginning of this book.I have known her eleven or twelve years; she is nearly forty when I speak of her now.People aren't beautiful; in fact, they're pretty ugly. For French women, they are tall, with short bodies, long arms, and long legs; they move awkwardly, as if they don't know what to do with their long limbs.The hair color is to her liking, auburn most of the time.A small square face, high cheekbones, red with rouge; big mouth, thickly applied lipstick.All of these are far from touching, but there is someone who takes a fancy to her.True, she had good skin, strong white teeth, and large, spirited eyes.This is the most beautiful part of her face, so she dyed her eyelashes and eyelids black, trying to make the eyes look better.He looks shrewd and kind, and has a kind of easy-going style; his temperament is very honest and quite hardworking.For the kind of life she led, she had to earn a little.My mother married a small government servant. After her husband died, she returned to the village where Ang Yu was from to live on pensions.When Susan was fifteen years old, she was sent to a clothing store in a neighboring town to learn business. It was very close to her home and she could go home every week. At the age of seventeen, Susan was sent to her village for a two-week vacation. A painter of landscapes is seduced.Susan knew very well that she had no chance of getting married without a penny, so at the end of the summer, the painter proposed to take her to Paris, and she readily agreed.He took her to find a place in the Montmartre district, which was full of studios like a rabbit nest, and lived happily for a year.

A year later, he told her that he hadn't sold a single painting and therefore couldn't afford to support another mistress. She had already expected this, so she took it calmly.He asked her if she wanted to go home, and when she replied that she didn't want to go back, he told her that there was another painter who wanted her on the same street.The man he mentioned had seduced her two or three times; although she pushed him back, she laughed and laughed, so she didn't embarrass him.She didn't dislike this person, so she accepted the suggestion docilely.Moving is very convenient, I don't even need to call a taxi, just move the boxes there.Her second lover, much older than the first, but still very respectable, depicted her in various poses, clothed and nude.She lived with him for two years and lived happily.She was flattered that his first really successful picture had her as his model; she showed me a print of it, cut out from a magazine in which it was introduced.This painting was later purchased by an American art shop.A nude, life-size, lying in a posture similar to Manet's "Olympus".The painter quickly saw a modern taste in her proportions, and made her thin figure even thinner, her legs and arms longer, her high cheekbones more prominent, and her blue eyes especially large.Of course, it is impossible to tell what color was used from the reproduction, but it makes people feel that the composition is beautiful.The painting brought him a little fame, which enabled him to marry a wealthy widow, which everyone admired.Susan fully understood that a man should put his own future first, so she broke off this kind of intimate relationship with him without making any noise at all.

It turned out that by this time, she had realized her worth.She liked the life of an artist, was happy to have painters paint her, modeled; after a day's work, went to coffee shops to sit with painters, painters' wives and mistresses, and listened to them talk about art, curse dealers, tell dirty stories , she feels happy.On this occasion, she saw an opportunity to take advantage of and made up her own mind.She picked out a young painter who had no girlfriend, and seemed to her to be a bit talented; when the painter sat alone in a coffee shop, she took an opportunity to explain her situation clearly, and without any preface, she suggested two Individual cohabitation.

"I'm twenty and I'm a good housekeeper. I'll save you money, and save you money on models. You look at your shirts, you don't look like that; your studio is a mess. You need There is a woman to take care of you." He knew she was a good person; she was amused by her suggestion; she saw that he was interested in taking it. "There's no harm in trying anyway," she said. "If it doesn't work, we are at most the same as now, and no one has lost." He was a non-expressionist painter. He painted her portraits in squares and rectangles; painted her with only one eye and no mouth; painted her in a black, brown, and gray geometric pattern; There are chaotic lines, and a human face can barely be seen in it.She lived with him for a year and a half, and then left him voluntarily.

"Why?" I asked her. "Don't you like him?" "I like him, he's a good boy. I don't think he's improving. He's repeating himself." She had no trouble finding another successor.She was always loyal to the painters. "I've always worked with painting," she said. "I stayed with a sculptor for six months, but, I don't know why, I could never appreciate it." She took comfort in the fact that she had never been unhappy when she parted from those lovers.She is not only a good model, but also a good housewife.She likes to work in the studio where she lives temporarily, tidying up the studio and taking pride in it.Her cooking is very good, and she can cook very delicious dishes for very little money.

If a man's sock is torn, mend it for him; if the button of his shirt is off, fix it up for him. "I never understood why a man couldn't dress up just because he was a painter." She only failed once.This time it was the same young Englishman; richer than any painter she had ever known, and a car. "It didn't take long, though," she said. "He gets drunk a lot, and it's annoying when he's drunk. If he wasn't a bad painter, I wouldn't care, but, my dear, he's just plain ugly. After I told him I was leaving him, he cried and said he loved me.

"'My poor friend,' I said to him. 'It doesn't matter whether you love me or not, the important thing is that you have no talent. You'd better go back to your country and open a grocery store. That's your business. '" "What did he say after hearing what you said?" I asked. "He's furious and tells me to get out. But, you know, all I've given him is advice; I hope he'll take it. He's not bad, but he's just too bad." A sense of the world and a kind heart often make her life course smoother for a man of the world, but Susan's chosen career has its successes and failures like any other.Like the Scandinavian.Susan was so mad that she fell in love with him.

She told me, "Honey, he's a god. He's very tall, like the Eiffel Tower, with broad shoulders, a broad chest, and a waist that's only a little thinner, and you can almost wrap it around with just two hands." , the stomach is flat, as flat as my palm, and the muscles are strong like a professional athlete; the hair is golden curly hair, and the skin is as delicate as honey. The painting is not bad. I like his brushstrokes, strong and Spicy, strong and vivid colors." She made up her mind to have a child with him.He objected, but Susan said that she would take care of it.

"He liked it a lot when the baby was born. Oh, what a lovely doll, pink complexion, fair hair, blue eyes like father's. A girl." Susan lived with him for three years. "He's kind of goofy and annoying at times, but he's cute and really good looking, so I don't really care." Then he got a telegram from Sweden that his father was dying and he had to go home at once.He promised to return to Paris, but Susan had a presentiment that he would never come back.He left all the money to her; after he left, he didn't hear from him for a month, and then he received a letter saying that his father was dead and there were a lot of things to take care of behind him, and he thought it was his duty to serve his mother. And run the material business.Enclosed was a check for ten thousand francs.Suzanne, not the sort of woman to be easily discouraged, soon made up her mind that having a child at hand would be a nuisance, and took the child to the country, with the ten thousand francs, to be raised by her mother.

"It makes me very sad. I love the boy very much, but in life one must be practical." "What happened next?" I asked. "Oh, it's not over yet. I've found another friend." But then she came down with typhoid fever.She always referred to it as "my typhoid," as a millionaire would say "my Palm Beach" or "my grouse moor."She was so ill that she nearly died and spent three months in the hospital.After being discharged from the hospital, he was only skin and bones, his body was so weak that the wind could blow him down, and he would cry at every turn.At that time, she was useless at all. As a model, her health was too much and she had very little money.

"Oh la la," she said, "I had enough of it in those days. Luckily, I still have some good friends. But you know what kind of people painters are, and it's not easy for them to make a living. I Never been very pretty, of course she was, but she was no longer a twenty-year-old girl. Then I met the Cubist I lived with; since we parted, he's married and Divorced; he also gave up Cubism and became Surrealist. He thought he could use me and said he was lonely; all he could do was provide me with accommodation and food, which, to tell you the truth, I readily accepted.” Susan lived with him until she met the factory owner.The factory owner had been brought by a friend in the hope that he might buy a painting by the ex-Cubist.Eager to win the deal, Susan did her best to perfunctory the guest.The factory owner could not decide to buy or not to buy on the spot, but said he wanted to see it again.Two weeks later, he did come.This time, Susan had the impression that he had come to see her, not to see the paintings.When he left, he still didn't buy it, but he held hands with her a little too affectionately.The next day, the friend who brought the factory owner stopped her while she was shopping for vegetables, and told her that the factory owner had taken a fancy to her, and asked her if she would like to be with him the next time he came to Paris. Have dinner together because he wants to make a proposal to her. "What do you think he saw in me?" Susan asked. "He's an amateur of modern painting. He's seen your portrait. You fascinate him. He's a provincial, and a businessman. You represent Paris to him, art, love affairs, in short. Everything he couldn't get at Lille." "Is he rich?" Susan asked honestly. "a lot of." "Yes, I'd like to have dinner with him. Let's hear what he has to say." The Maxim Hotel he took her to made her feel that he was not a stingy man.She was dressed very quietly that day, and looking at the women around her, she felt that she was more than a high-class married woman.He ordered a bottle of champagne, which she also considered a respect for her.When it was time for coffee, he made the suggestion.She thinks the condition is very good.He told her that he used to come to Paris every two weeks for a board meeting; he always had dinner alone at night, and if he wanted a woman, he went to a brothel; it was a boring life.In his position, married and with two children, such a living arrangement was really unsatisfactory.The friend they both knew told him all about Susan's life experience, and he thought she was a woman who knew how to measure. He himself was approaching middle age, and he didn't want to hang out with those volatile girls.He was more or less a collector of modern paintings, and her connection to this made him feel a kind of sympathy.Then he made specific arrangements, he was going to rent her an apartment, fully furnished, including furniture, and give her another two thousand francs a month.In exchange, I get to spend one night with her every two weeks.Susan had never had so much money for her pockets in her life; she quickly calculated that with this money, she would not only be able to eat and clothe her present position, but also provide for her daughter and save a little. Just in case.But she hesitated for a while, because she had always claimed to be "in the painting world", and now she wanted to be a businessman's mistress, and dare to say that she felt a little lowered. "Cest a prendre ou A laisser," he said. "You can accept it or not." She didn't dislike him, and the rosette in his buttonhole showed that he was a man of honor.she laughed. "Je prends," she said. "I accept." Eight Although Susan had always lived in the Montmartre district, she felt that it was necessary to cut off from her past life, so she rented an apartment in a large house near the Avenue Montparnasse.The apartment has only two rooms, a kitchenette, and a bathroom; it is on the sixth floor, but there is an elevator.For Susan, having a bathroom and an elevator, although the elevator can only accommodate two people, drives like a snail, and has to walk downstairs, all these represent not only comfort, but also style. During the first few months of their union, Mr. Yasir Govan—that was his name—always stayed in a hotel when he came to Paris every fortnight; Afterwards, he still went back to the hotel to sleep alone, and got up in time the next day, took the train back to his business, and enjoyed quiet family fun. It was Suzanne who pointed out to him afterwards that this kind of hotel was a waste of money; why not stay in the apartment until the morning, which would save money and be much more comfortable.Mr. Gowan certainly felt that this made sense.He was pleased with Suzanne's thoughtfulness of her own life--to be honest, it's not a pleasant thing to run into the street on a cold winter's night looking for a taxi--and he agreed that she didn't want to see him do it for him. Waste money on yourself.A woman who not only saves money for herself, but also saves money for her lover is indeed a good woman. Mr. Yahir is very satisfied.They usually ate dinner in one of the nicer restaurants on the Avenue Montparnasse, but sometimes Suzanne cooked him a supper in the apartment.Those dishes were well cooked and Mr. Yasir liked them very much.On warmer evenings he would eat dinner in just a shirt, and he had a taste for the bohemian way of life.He was always happy to buy paintings, but he would never let him buy the paintings that Susan didn't like; soon, he also subdued his eyes to her.She never dealt with brokers, but always took him to the painter's studio to buy, so the money she spent was only half of what she bought outside.Mr. Yahir knew she was saving money; and when Suzanne told him later that she bought a little land in the village every year, Mr. Yahir felt a pang of pride in his heart. He knew that it was in the French blood that everyone wanted land, so Susan had land which made him value her all the more. As far as Susan is concerned, she is also very satisfied.She was neither loyal nor unfaithful to him; that is to say, she was careful not to have a permanent relationship with another person, but she did not refuse to sleep with someone if she came across one she liked.However, she never let him spend the night in the apartment, which she has always insisted on; she considers it her duty to Mr. Yasir, who is rich and powerful. His life is not all due to him. I met Susan when she lived with a painter.The painter happened to be an acquaintance of mine; I used to sit by and watch when Susan asked him to paint in the studio.I saw her occasionally later, but not very often; I really became close to her after she moved to Montparnasse.It seemed that Monsieur Yachir—as Suzanne called him behind her back and to her face—had read a French translation or two of one of my novels, and invited me to join them in a restaurant one evening. have a meal together.He was small, half a head shorter than Susan, with iron-gray hair and a neatly trimmed gray beard.He is a bit fatter and has a big belly, but not too much, which only shows off his rich style; he walks with the air of a dumpy man, and he is obviously very proud of himself.A dinner is very particular; people are also polite.He told me he was glad Susan had me as a friend; he could tell I was a comme if faut at a glance, and glad I valued Susan.His career, alas, had always tied him to Lille, and made Suzanne often very lonely; and he took comfort in the thought that she had an opportunity of approaching a man of culture.He was a businessman, but had a constant admiration for artists. Ah, mon cher monsieur [Note], art and literature have always been a pair of jewels in the palm of France.And, of course, its military technology.As a woolen manufacturer, I say without hesitation that I place painters and writers on an equal footing with military strategists and statesmen. " Nothing could have been more eloquent than his words. Susan would never have had a maid to do the housework, partly to save money, and partly because (she knew it best) she didn't like having people meddling in what she called personal affairs.The small apartment was kept clean and tidy by her, and furnished in the latest style at that time; all the underwear was sewn by herself.However, even so, since she is no longer a model, life is a bit boring, but she is a hardworking woman, and it didn't take long for her to think that if she had been painted by so many painters in the past, why not paint a little herself? So, she bought canvases, brushes and oil paints, etc., and started to work.Sometimes I would ask her out to dinner, and when I went early, I would see her busy painting in a smock.Just as the fetus in the womb largely re-enacted the evolution of the species, so Susan re-enacted the style of all her past lovers.She painted landscapes like the landscape painter, abstractions like the Cubist, and a sailboat at anchor from a landscape postcard, just like the Scandinavian.She doesn't know how to sketch, but she has a good sense of color, so even if she doesn't draw very well, she is very happy to draw. Mr. Yasher encouraged her to draw.It gave him a certain satisfaction to think that his mistress was a painter.It was at his urging that Susan sent a painting to the Autumn Salon; when it hung they were both very pleased. Mr. Yasher gave her a piece of advice. "Don't draw like a man, my dear," Mr. Yasher said. "Draw like a woman. Don't aim for power; just be likable. And be honest. In business deceit sometimes succeeds, but in art honesty is not only the best strategy, but the only strategy."[ Note]" As I write this, they have been in a relationship for five years; and both are satisfied. "Obviously he doesn't impress me," Susan told me. "However, he is smart and has status. At my age, I need to think about my situation." She was good-natured and sensible; Mr. Yasher respected her opinion.She listened with gusto when he talked to her about his business and family affairs.Mr. Yahir's daughter failed an exam, and she was as sad as he was; Mr. Yahir's son was engaged to a rich girl, and she was as happy as him.What Mr. Yashir is asking for is the only daughter of a colleague in the same industry; the two manufacturers were originally rivals, and such a merger will benefit both parties.Now Mr. Yasir's son can understand this truth, and realize that a happy marriage must be built on the basis of common material interests, which of course satisfies him.Mr. Yasir also told Susan about his thoughts, saying that he had an ambition to marry his daughter to a nobleman. "Why not, with her large sum of money?" said Susan. Monsieur Yassir made the way for Susan to send her own daughter to a convent school where she could receive a good education, and promised to teach her daughter to type and to write at his expense when she came of age. , in order to earn a living from it in the future. "She'll be a beauty when she grows up," Susan told me, "but a little education, and being able to work on a typewriter, obviously won't hurt. Of course she's very young now, too early to talk about anything, and maybe she'll change." There is no breath." Susan didn't say so.She let me use my intelligence to figure out what she meant.I guessed right. Nine A little over a week later, I ran into Larry completely unexpectedly.Suzanne and I had dinner one evening, went to the movies, and were sitting drinking a beer in a nice café on the Rue Montparnasse when Larry walked in casually.Susan was taken aback, and to my surprise called him.Larry came up to our table, kissed her, and shook my hand.I could see that Susan couldn't believe her eyes. "May I sit down?" he said. "I haven't had dinner yet, I want to order something to eat." "Oh, but it's a pleasure to see you, my darling," said Susan, with a gleam in her eyes. "Where did you jump out of? And why haven't you seen a shadow of it all these years? God, you're so leathery. I almost thought you were dead." "But I'm not dead," Larry replied, blinking. "How is Odette?" Odette was the name of Susan's daughter. "Oh, she's grown into a big girl. And beautiful. She remembers you." "You never told me you knew Larry," I said to Susan. "Why did I tell you? I never knew you knew him. We're old friends." Larry ordered himself eggs and ham.Susan told him all about her daughter, and later about herself.She croaked, and Larry listened, smiling kindly.She told him that she already had a home and was still painting.She turned to me and said, "I've improved, don't you think? I don't claim to be a genius, but my talent is not inferior to many painters I know." "Did you sell the painting?" Larry asked. "I don't have to sell paintings," she replied easily. "I have private income." "good luck." "No, it's not luck, it's cleverness. You must come and see my paintings." She wrote down her address on a piece of paper and forced him to agree to come.Because of her excitement, she talked on and on.Then Larry asked the waiter to open the bill. "Are you going?" she asked. "I'm going," Larry said with a smile. He paid us, waved us and left.I laughed out loud.His style has always made me feel very special. He was with you just now, and he left without any explanation in a blink of an eye. It was so abrupt, as if disappeared in the air. "Why did he leave so soon?" Susan asked angrily. "Maybe there's a girl waiting for him," I replied jokingly. "That's nonsense." She took out a powder mirror from her handbag and powdered her face. "Which woman falls in love with him, she is considered unlucky, oh la la." "why do you say that?" She stared at me for a minute with a very serious face, which I rarely saw her do. "I myself nearly fell in love with him for a time. It was like falling in love with a shadow in the water, or a ray of sunlight. Or a cloud in the sky. I was spared. Even now, when I think of the danger environment, I still feel shuddering." No fucking measure.As long as you are human, you always want to know how it all goes.It just so happened that Susan didn't know what it meant to keep a secret. "How did you even know him?" I asked. "Oh, that was many years ago. Six years ago, or seven years ago, I can't remember. Odette was only five years old. He knew Marcel, and I was living with Marcel at the time." He used to go to Marcel's studio and sit there watching Marcel paint me. Sometimes he invited us out to dinner. You never counted when he came. Sometimes, I don't come for several weeks in a row, and then come again for two or three days.Marcel often liked him to come to the studio, saying that he would paint more satisfactorily when he was by his side.Then I got my typhoid fever.After I came out of the hospital, life was very difficult. She shrugged. "But I've told you this before."Anyway, one day I was going around those studios looking for a job, but no one wanted me.I had had a glass of milk and a crouton all day, and hadn't even got the room money, when I happened to bump into Larry on the Rue de Clichy.He stopped and asked me how I was; I told him about my typhoid fever, and then he said to me: 'You look like you need a good feed. ' There was something about the sound of his voice and the look in his eyes that moved me; I began to cry. "Auntie Mariette's was next door to us, so he took me by the arm and took me to a table. I was so hungry I could eat my boots, but when the eggs came I felt Couldn't even eat a bite. He forced me to eat a little, and ordered me a glass of Burgundy[note].This made me feel better, so I ate a little asparagus.I told him all my difficulties, how could I be a model with such a weak body; how ugly a man is with his skin and bones, and it is impossible to hope to find a man.I asked him if he could lend me some money so I could go back to my village.At least I still have a little girl over there.He asked me if I was really going and I said of course not. Ma didn't want me; the prices were so high she couldn't easily live on that little pension, and all the money I sent Odette had been spent.But if I got to the door she couldn't keep me in, she'd see how ill I was.Larry looked at me for a long time, and I thought he was going to tell me he couldn't lend me money.Then he said, "'Would you like me to take you to a little place I know in the country, where you're with your kids? I need a vacation.'" I couldn't believe my ears.I have known him for so many years, but he has never hooked up with me. "'As I am now?,' I said, and I couldn't help laughing. 'My best friend,' I said, 'no man wants me right now.'" He looked at me and smiled.Have you ever noticed how sweet he is when he smiles?Almost as sweet as honey. "'Don't talk like that,' he said. 'I didn't mean that.'" At this, I burst into tears and couldn't even speak.He gave me money, picked up the child, and we went to the countryside together.The place he took us to had a lovely view. " Susan described the place to me.It was three miles away from a small town; the name of which I have forgotten. They drove to a hotel, a rickety house on the river's edge, with a lawn stretching down to the water's edge.There were plane trees on the lawn, and they ate in the shade.In summer, painters came to paint, but the season was still early, so the hotel was reserved by them.The food here is very good; people from other places often drive to have a big meal at noon on Sundays, but on other days, their quiet life is rarely disturbed. With rest and a good diet, Susan's health gradually improved, and she was happy with her children. "He liked Odette very much, and Odette was very close to him. I had to stop Odette from pestering him, but Larry didn't seem to mind whatever Odette was up to. This often caused me to Laugh, they are like two children together." "What do you guys do?" I asked. "Oh, there's plenty of things. We used to go out fishing in a boat; sometimes we borrowed the hotel owner's Citroen and drove up to town. Larry liked the town. Old houses, square yards. It's very Quiet, you walk on the cobbled road, the footsteps are the only sounds that can be heard. There is a Louis XIV town hall and an old church; on the edge of the town are the castle and Le Notre. Design garden. When you sit in the cafe in Fangchang, you feel as if you went back three hundred years ago; the Citroen car parked on the side of the road seems not to belong to this world at all.” The story I tell at the beginning of this book about the young Airman was told by Larry to Susan during one of his excursions. "I don't understand why he's telling you," I said. "Neither do I. There was a hospital in the town during the war; there were rows of crosses in the cemetery. We went to see; it wasn't long, because I'm a little creepy—so many poor young people sleeping in There. Larry was very silent on the way home. He never ate much, but when supper came he didn't eat a bite. I remember it very well, it was a beautiful night, the sky was full of stars, we sat by the river, the poplars were silhouettes in the dark, it was beautiful, Larry was smoking his pipe.Suddenly, a propos de bottes[note], he told me about this friend of his, and how he died trying to save him. Susan took a sip of her beer. "He's a weirdo."I will never understand him.He often likes to read to me.Sometimes during the day I listened while I sewed the little thing, and sometimes at night after I had put the little thing to sleep. " "What is he reading?" "Ah, books of all kinds. The letters of Madame de Sevigne[Note] and fragments of Saint-Simon[Note]. I used to read nothing but newspapers, as you may imagine; I read this novel because I heard people talking about it in the studio and didn't want to make myself a fool. I never thought reading was so enjoyable. Those old writers, they are not as dull as people think." "Who would have imagined that?" I giggled. "Then he asked me to read with him. We read Phaedel and Berenice. He read the men's lines and I read the women's lines. You never think it's so fun," she said naively. to add a sentence. "He used to look at me queerly when I cried at those bleak lines. Of course that's only because my body hasn't recovered. I still have the books, you know. Just today. , when I read the letters he read to me from Madame de Seigneur, I still seemed to hear his lovely voice in my ears, I still saw the river flowing quietly, and I saw the poplar trees on the other side of the river; , I couldn't read it, it made me so sick. I realize now that these weeks were the happiest I've ever had in my life. He's such a lovely angel." Susan felt herself becoming emotional, afraid that I would laugh at her (which I would not).She shrugged and smiled. "You know, I have always had this intention in my heart. When I live to the right age and no man wants to sleep with me, I will compromise with the church and repent of my crimes. But the crimes I committed with Larry , no matter what anyone says, I will never repent. Never, never, never!" "However, as you have just described, I see no point in which you should repent." "I haven't told you about the second half. You know, my physique was good. Now I walk around outside all day, eat well, sleep well, and have no thoughts at all. For three or four weeks, I have been the same as before. He is healthy. And he looks good; his cheeks are rosy, and his hair is shiny. He has become younger. Larry swims in the river every morning, and I often watch him. His body is beautiful, Not like my Scandinavian athlete's body, but strong and well proportioned. "He was very patient when I was bad, but now that I'm fully recovered I see no reason for him to wait. I gave him a hint or two that I could do the job, but he Doesn't seem to understand. Of course, you Anglo-Saxons are queer; you're rough and emotional at the same time; you're not good at flirting, that's undeniable. I said to myself, 'Maybe it's his thoughtfulness where he treated me so well that he asked me to bring the child, perhaps he was ashamed to ask me to repay him; but it was his right.' So one night, before we went to bed, I said to him , 'Do you want me to come to your room tonight?'" I laugh out loud. "You're pretty straightforward, aren't you?" "No, I can't ask him to come to my room, because Odette sleeps in it," she answered frankly. "He gave me one of those kind eyes of his, then smiled and said, 'Are you coming?'" 'What do you think - you have such a beautiful body? '“'好吧，你就来吧。'“我上了楼，脱掉衣服，然后，沿着过道溜进他的房间。他躺在床上看书，抽着烟斗。他放下烟斗和书，移过身子让出地方给我。 " 苏姗有这么一会没有说话，我也不想向她提出问题。可是，过了一会，她又继续说道：“他是一个很特别的情人。亲热，甚至温柔，健壮而不热烈，不知道你懂得我的意思没有，而且一点不下流。他爱得就象个青年学生一样。那情形相当可笑，但又令人感动。我离开他时，觉得应当是我感谢他，而不是他感谢我。当我关上门时，我看见他又拿起书，继续从刚才撂下的地方看下去。” 我开始笑了。 “我很高兴使你觉得开心，”她带有恶意说，可是，她自己也有点忍俊不禁，所以吃吃笑了。一我不久就发现，如果我要等他来请，那就说不定要永远等下去，所以，我感到需要时，自己就到他的房间去，爬上床。他始终都很好。总之，他也有人类天性中的那些本能，但是，他就象一个心不在焉的人忘记吃饭一样，你只要给他烧一顿好饭，他也能吃得有滋有味的。一个人爱我不爱我，我是清楚的。如果我认为拉里爱我，那我就是个傻瓜，但是，我想他会跟我过得很习惯。一个人在生活上应当实际一点，所以，我跟自己说，如果我们回到巴黎之后，他带着我和他住在一起，我也非常愿意。我知道他会让我把孩子带在身边，这一点我很喜欢。我的本能告诉我，如果我爱上他，那就很愚蠢，你知道女人是很不幸的；时常，她们一堕入情网，自己就变得不可爱了，所以，我打定主意不上这个当。 " 苏姗抽了一口香烟，把烟从鼻子里喷出来。时间已晚，许多桌子都已经空了，但是，还有一群人围在酒柜台那边。 “有天早晨，吃过早饭，我正坐在河边上做针线，奥代特玩着拉里给她买的积木，这时，拉里走到我面前来。 “'我是来向你告别的'，他说。 “'你要到什么地方去吗？'我说，感到诧异。 “'是的。'“'你就此不回来了吗？ 'I say. “'你现在身体已经很好了。这里的一笔钱够你过完夏天，并且回到巴黎重行开始了。'“我一时间心里非常难过，简直不知道说什么是好。他站在我面前，象平日那样坦然微笑着。 “'我有什么地方使你不快吗？'我问他。 “'一点没有。千万不要有这种想法。我有工作要做。我们在这儿过得非常开心。奥代特，来跟叔叔说再见。'“奥代特太小了，什么也不懂。拉里把她抱起来，吻了她；然后又吻了我，就走回旅馆去；一分钟后，我听见汽车开走了。我看看手里的银行支票。一万二千法郎。事情来得是这样快，我连反应都来不及。 'zut alors[注]，'我跟自己说。至少我有一件事情得感谢老天，我没有让自己爱上他。可是，我简直弄不懂这是怎么回事。 " 我不禁笑了。 “你知道，有一个时候，我只是简简单单把事情真相说出来，竟给自己挣得一个很不坏的幽默家头衔。对多数人说来，他们完全想象不到事实就是如此，所以当作我是说笑话。” “我看不出这里的关系。” “你知道，我觉得拉里在我认识的人当中，是唯一能够完全无所为而为的人。 这就使他的行动显得古怪。有些人不相信上帝，但是，他们的所作所为却完全是为了上帝之爱；这种人我们是不习惯的。 " 苏姗瞠着眼睛望我。 “我可怜的朋友，你酒喝得太多了。”