Chapter 11 chapter Ten

Briony has complicated feelings, and she is sure that she is entering an arena of adult emotion and disguise, and her creation will definitely benefit from it.What fairy tale could contain so many morals by means of paradox? In a fit of intense curiosity, she opened the letter without thinking--she read it in the hall after Polly had let her in-- —Although the letter shocked her and proved her judgment completely correct, she couldn't help feeling guilty.It's wrong to open other people's letters, but it's only natural that she is curious about everything.This is what it is.She was very happy to see her brother again, but she still exaggerated her feelings so that her sister would not scold her.Then she just pretended to be obedient to her mother, and ran upstairs and hid in her room; this was both to avoid Cecilia, and because she needed to be alone for a while, so that she could get to know Robbie again, and she was full of love. A real-life story idea opening sequence.No more princesses! The scene by the fountain, the intimidating atmosphere, and finally, when the two parted ways, the wet gravel gleaming and the deserted—all this had to be reconsidered.Through this letter something essential, cruel, perhaps even criminal, had been introduced, some dark principle, and even when she was thrilled by what might happen, she had no doubt that her The sister is threatened in some way and will need her help.

The word: She tried to get it out of her mind, but it just jumped around in her head.The devil in this print, juggling anagrams, is hazy and vague—an uncle and madman, Latin for next, an old English king trying to turn the tide.Rhyming words take shape from children's storybooks—the youngest pig in the litter, the hounds chasing the fox, the punt on the Cam River by Grantchester Meadows.Needless to say, she had never heard that word spoken, never seen it in a book, or encountered it in an asterisked note.No one had ever mentioned the existence of that word to her face, and no one—not even her mother—had ever mentioned that part of her body—Brioni was sure that the word It refers to that part.She was sure that it was that part.The context helped her understand, but more than that, the word had a meaning of its own.It's almost an onomatopoeia.The first three smooth, hollow letters of the word, in their partially closed form, are as legible as a set of illustrations of human anatomy.Three symbols are clustered under the cross.That word, written by a man, revealing an image in his head, pouring out something of his solitary preoccupation, made Briony terribly sick.

She had read the letter without shame, standing in the middle of the porch, and immediately saw the danger behind the rude words.Something utterly human, or masculine, threatened the order of her home.Briony knew that unless she helped her sister, they would all suffer.It was also clear that she had to help her sister in a subtle and tactful way.Otherwise, Briony knew from past experience that Cecilia would turn on her. These thoughts occupied her mind as she washed and picked out a clean suit.She couldn't find the socks she wanted to wear, but she didn't waste time looking for them.She put on other socks, tied her shoelaces, and sat down at the desk.Downstairs, people were drinking cocktails, and she had at least twenty minutes to spare.She can brush her hair when she goes out.Outside the open window, a cricket was singing.In front of her was a sheaf of writing paper from her father's office, and the lamp cast a soft yellow glow.She holds a pen in her hand.Along the window sill, a row of livestock toys are neatly placed, and in various rooms of the open-sided building, there are many dolls in tights who are posing, waiting for her to write every detail of the first chapter. In a word.At that moment, she had a strong urge to write, but she didn't care what to write.How she longed to be immersed in an irresistible reverie, to see a black thread coiled from the tip of her rustling silver pen and coiled into words.But how can one describe vividly the vicissitudes of life, the chaotic and turbulent impressions, the loathing and bewilderment in her heart that made her at last a real writer? There must be order.She should begin, as she had decided earlier, with a brief description of what she saw at the fountain.However, the episode in broad daylight is far less interesting than the episode at dusk - she stands on the bridge, indulging in daydreams, and the minutes pass by doing nothing; then, Robbie in the half-dark night Appeared, calling her name, holding a small white envelope containing the letter with that word in it.But what does that word contain?

"There was an old lady who swallowed a fly," she wrote. Of course, it is not too naive to say that there must be a story; and it is the story of a man whom everyone loves, but whose heroine has always had doubts about him, and at last she reveals that he is evil avatar.But shouldn't she—the author of the story, Briony—shouldn't be worldly at this time, beyond the fairy-tale notions of good and evil? There must be some sublime, godlike place where all Both were judged equally, and instead of being pitted against one another as in some lengthy hockey game, they were seen jostling together amidst the cacophony of honorable flaws.If there is such a place, she does not deserve to go.She would never forgive Robbie for his dirty thoughts.

On the one hand, she is eager to write a diary that simply tells the story of her day, and on the other hand, she is ambitious to make these polished, self-contained and vague experiences seem more important.Facing the manuscript paper on which the opening quotation was written, she sat frowning for several minutes without writing another word.She felt that she could describe the action vividly and recreate the dialogue vividly.She can describe winter forests, gloomy city walls.But how to express emotion? Yes, she could write that she feels sad, or describe what a sad person does, but what is the sadness itself? How should the sadness be expressed so that the reader feels it fully and directly What about the haze of the world? It is even more difficult to describe the sense of threat, or the confusion caused by the sense of contradiction.With a pen in her hand, she stared across the room at the hideous dolls.They were her childhood companions, and now she alienates them because she thinks her childhood is over.Growing up, it was such a chilling feeling.She would never sit on Emily's or Cecilia's lap, even if it was just for a joke.Two years ago, on her eleventh birthday, her parents, brother, sister, and someone took her outside on the lawn, pulled a blanket and threw her into the air—eleven times, and then In order to express his blessing, he threw her up again.Can she now trust the hilarious freedom of soaring into the air, when that fifth person could very well be Robbie? Can she trust blindly in the friendly grips of grown-ups?

She heard a soft voice of a woman clearing her throat, so she raised her head and froze for a moment.It was Laura who came.She leaned into the room apologetically.When their eyes met, she tapped on the door with her knuckles. "May I come in?" She came in without waiting for an answer.Her movements are somewhat restricted by her blue satin bodysuit.She has loose hair and bare feet.As she approached, Briony put away her pen and covered the sentence she had written with the corner of a book.Lola sat down on the edge of the bed and blew her nose sharply.They always seem to have a sisterly chat at the end of the day.

"Tonight is the scariest night I've ever had." Briony raised her eyebrows compelledly under her cousin's stern gaze.Lola continued: "The two twins have been torturing me." Briony thought Lola was bluffing until Lola twisted her shoulders and showed her a long scratch on her upper arm, and she believed it. "too terrifying!" Lorra stretched out his wrist.There were several erythematous abrasions on each of her wrists. "It's a scratch!" "Not bad." "I'm going to get some disinfectant and put it on your arm."

"I've taken the medicine myself." Admittedly, Lola's strong scent of woman's perfume could not mask the peculiar smell of antiseptic ointment for children.All Briony could do was leave the table and go and sit next to her cousin. "You poor wretch!" Briony's pity brought tears to Laura's eyes, and her voice became hoarse. "People think they're angels just because they look like them, but they're actually little animals." She stifled a sob, as if through a twitch of her jaw that had finally held it back, and fluffed her nostrils, taking a few deep breaths.Briony took her hand, thinking she could understand why anyone should start liking Laura.She went to the chest of drawers, took out a handkerchief, opened it, and handed it to Lola.Lola was about to use the handkerchief, but as soon as she saw the bright print of the cowgirl and the lasso on it, she let out a soft, melodious hooting sound, the sound children make when they pretend to be ghosts.The downstairs doorbell rang, and later, in the tiled corridor, there was the faintly discernible sound of a string of high-heeled shoes tapping rapidly on the ground.It might be Robbie, but Cecilia went to answer the door herself.Fearing that Lola's cries would carry downstairs, Briony got up again and closed the bedroom door.Her cousin's depression made her restless.It was an excitement bordering on excitement.She walked back to the bed and hugged Lola.Laura covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.That such a sharp and domineering girl should be so depressed by two nine-year-old boys seemed inconceivable to Briony, and it made her realize her own strength.That's why she felt such a thrill, bordering on excitement.She might not be as weak as she always thought she was; at the end of the day, you've got to measure yourself by others--and there's no other way.Now and then, inadvertently, someone brings you closer to yourself.Unable to think of words to comfort her, Briony rubbed her cousin's shoulder softly.She thought to herself that Jackson and Pierrot couldn't be blamed for this tragedy; she remembered other sad events in Lola's life.Lola's home was up north—a place Briony imagined filled with sooty mill streets and scowling men trudging to work with sandwiches in tin lunch boxes.The doors of the Quincy House are closed and may never be opened again.

Lola began to calm down.Briony asked softly, "What's going on?" The older girl blew her nose, thought for a moment, and said, "I was about to take a shower when they came in, swooped on me, and threw me to the ground..." She paused After a while, I tried not to cry again. "But why would they do that?" She took a deep breath to calm herself down.She scanned the room blankly and said, "They wanted to go home. I said they couldn't go back. They thought I was the one who kept them from going back and stayed here." Briony understood—it was the twins who had unreasonably taken their anger out on their sister.But at this moment a thought flashed through her, which disturbed her orderly state of mind: they would be called downstairs soon, and her cousin would have to keep her emotions under control.

"They really don't understand," said Briony solemnly, going to the washbasin and pouring hot water into it, "that they're just kids getting frustrated." Lola bowed her head sadly.Seeing her like this, Briony felt a pity for her.She led Laura to the washbasin and handed her a washcloth.Then, out of a practical need to change the subject, out of a desire to share secrets and show older girls that she too is sophisticated, but most of all, because she sympathizes with Lola and wants to get close to her—out of so many To find the motive, Briony told her how she met Robbie on the bridge, how he asked her to bring the letter, how she secretly opened the letter, and what was written in the letter.Instead of saying the word aloud, because that would be unthinkable, she spelled the word backwards to Lola.Lola's reaction pleases Briony.Laura raised her dripping face and left her mouth open.Briony handed her a towel.Laura pretended to be looking for the right words and said nothing for several seconds.She overacts a bit, but she does it well, and she does a good job of talking in a husky, low voice.

"Still thinking about that?" Briony nodded and turned her face away, as if fighting to the death with disaster.She could learn from her cousin to be more expressive.Now it was her cousin's turn to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's horrible! That man is a sex maniac." A satyr.The word is terse and carries medical diagnostic weight.She had known him for so many years, and he was such a person.When she was young, he often pretended to be a wild beast and let her ride on his back.One summer, she spent many times alone with him in the swimming pool, and he taught her tread water and breaststroke.Now that he was finally identified, she took some comfort, even as the mystery of the Fountain incident deepened.She had decided not to tell anyone about it, since she suspected that the explanation of the incident was naive, and it was better not to expose her ignorance. "Then what about your sister?" "I don't know." Again she didn't mention her fear of seeing Cecilia again. "You know, the first afternoon we met, when I heard him yelling at the twins by the pool, I thought he was a monster." Briony tried to recall similar situations."He always pretended to be very nice. He lied to us for many years," she said. The shifting ruse worked, and Lola's red, swollen eye circles returned to their pale and freckled appearance, and she was back to normal.Laura grabbed Briony's hand and said: "I think he should be reported to the police." The sheriff of the village was a kind man with a smooth, soft mustache.His wife keeps hens and distributes fresh eggs by bike.It was inconceivable to tell him the contents of the letter and the word, even spelling it backwards.She tried to pull her hand back, but Laura held hers tighter, as if she could read the young girl's mind. "We'll just have to show them the letter." "She might not agree to it." "I bet she'd agree. A satyr would attack anyone." Laura looked suddenly thoughtful, as if about to tell her cousin some news.But without saying a word, she jumped up, picked up Briony's comb, stood in front of the mirror, and combed her hair vigorously.She had just begun to comb her hair when they heard Mrs. Tallis calling them downstairs to supper.Laura lost her temper immediately, and Briony guessed that her rapid mood swings were partly responsible for her recent distraughts. "It's over, it's over. I'm far from ready," she said, almost crying again. "I don't even have makeup on yet." "I'll go down first," Briony said reassuringly, "I'll tell them you'll be back later." But Laura was already out the door, as if she hadn't heard her. After Briony combed her hair, she still stood in front of the mirror and looked at her face, thinking about how to start putting on makeup.She knew that one day soon, she would have to start putting on makeup.This is another thing that takes time.But at least she doesn't have freckles to cover up or lighten, which of course saves trouble.Long ago, when she was ten, she decided that wearing lipstick made her look like a clown.That concept is bound to be revised.But not yet, because there are so many other things to consider.She stood by the desk, absently capping the pen.When powerful and chaotic forces were at work around her, when the successive events of the day absorbed or changed what had happened before, writing a story was a hopeless and mediocre task.There was an old lady who swallowed a fly.She wondered if it had been a terrible mistake to tell her cousin the secret—Cecilia would never have been pleased if excitable Laura had shown off what she knew about Robbie's letter.And how was it possible to go downstairs and sit at a table with a satyr now? If the police came to arrest him, she, Briony, would probably have to testify and have to say that word aloud. Reluctantly she walked out of the room and down a dark, paneled corridor to the landing.She stopped and listened to the movement around her.The drawing room was still buzzing—she heard her mother and Mr. Marshall, and then the twin brothers talking to each other.No voices of Cecilia and Sagittarius.Briony felt her heart beat faster as she reluctantly began to descend the stairs.Her life is no longer simple.Only three days before she had been writing the epilogue of "The Ordeal of Arabella," and awaiting the arrival of her cousin.She had wanted everything to be different, and now it was the way it was; not only was it bad, it was going to get worse.She pauses again on the first landing to put her plans together; she'll stay away from her capricious cousin, won't even make eye contact with her—she can't afford to be drawn into an affair. Conspiracy, do not want to provoke a catastrophic outbreak.As for Cecilia, whom she was supposed to protect, she didn't dare to approach her.And Robbie, of course, she had to avoid for safety reasons.Her fussy mother wasn't going to help.It was impossible for Briony to think clearly in front of her.She should go to the twins - they would be her protectors.She would stay by their side and take care of them.Summer dinners always started so late--it was past ten o'clock--the boys would be tired.Or she should have been nice to Mr. Marshall and asked him about the sweets—who came up with the ideas and how they were made.It was a coward's trick, but she couldn't think of anything else.The dinner party was about to start, and this was not the time to call in Constable Watkins in the village. She continued down the stairs.She should have suggested that Lola change clothes to cover the scratch on her arm.If asked about the scratch, she might cry again.Then again, even the advice probably won't convince Lola not to wear a dress that makes it so difficult for her to walk.Being an adult means wanting to accept obstacles of all kinds.She herself is accepting their challenge.Even though it wasn't a scratch on her body, she felt responsible for it and everything that was about to happen.When her father is home, the home has a fixed axis around which everything revolves.He didn't organize anything, he didn't walk around the house worrying about other people, he rarely told people what to do - in fact, he spent most of his time in the library.But as long as he is at home, there is order in the home, which brings freedom to people.The burden has been lifted from everyone's shoulders.It didn't matter that her mother retreated to her own bedroom when he was there; it was enough for him to be downstairs with a book on his lap.A crisis in the kitchen resolves into a skit when he is kindly, calmly, and confidently seated at the table; in his absence, it becomes a thrilling drama.He knows most of what he should know.When he didn't know, he knew very well which authority to ask for advice, and would take her to the library to help him find the answer.As he himself described, if he was not a servant of the Ministry, if he was not busy with contingency planning for contingencies, if he was at home, sending Hardman to the wine cellar to get wine, leading the conversation, when it came to " When she voted, she made a decision without consulting others, so she wouldn't be trudging down the hallway so much now. Thinking of her father made her involuntarily slow down as she passed the library door.The library door was uncharacteristically closed.She stopped and listened.There was the clang of metal against china in the kitchen; her mother was talking softly in the living room; nearby one of the twins said in a high, clear voice: "It has the letter 'u' in it, really. ’” replied his twin, “Whether it’s there or not. Put it in the envelope.” Then, from behind the library door came a scraping, followed by a muffled thud and what seemed to be an explosion. A grunt from a man or woman.As far as she could remember—and Briony reflected on this later—she hadn't expected to see anything concrete when she put her hand on the brass doorknob and turned it.But since she had read Robbie's letter, she had considered herself her sister's protector, and she had been instructed by her cousin, what she saw must have been influenced more or less by her. The influence of what she already knows, or what she thinks she knows. At first, when she pushed open the door and walked in, she couldn't see anything.There is only one grass-green desk lamp lit in the room, and the light only illuminates the leather table top on which the tools are placed.After a few steps closer, she saw their dark figures in the farthest corner.Although they were motionless, she knew immediately that she had interrupted an attack, a hand-to-hand combat.This scene coincided completely with her uneasiness.She felt her overwrought imagination had projected the two of them onto the spines of the books.The hallucination, or the anticipation of it, dissipated as her eyes adjusted to the gloom.No one moved.Briony stared into her sister's frightened eyes over Robbie's shoulder.He had turned his head to look at the uninvited guest, but he did not let go of Cecilia.He squeezed his body against her, pulled her skirt up to her knees, and imprisoned her in the space where the bookshelves met.His left hand is on the back of her head and neck, grabbing her hair, and his right hand is holding her forearm, which is held high in protest or self-defense. He looked so huge and wild, and Cecilia looked so weak with bare shoulders and thin arms.When Briony walked up to them, she had no idea what she was capable of.She wanted to yell, but she couldn't breathe, and her tongue was heavy and heavy.Robbie moved his body, completely blocking her view from her sister.Cecilia broke free from his arms and he let her go.Briony stopped and called her sister's name.Cecilia showed no sign of gratitude or relief as she passed Briony.Expressionless, almost composed, she looked straight at the open door.Then, leaving Briony and Robbie behind, she walked out.He didn't look at her either, but turned to the corner, busily straightening his jacket and adjusting his tie.She backed away from him cautiously, but he didn't attack her, didn't even look up.So she turned and ran out of the room to find Cecilia, but the corridor was empty, and she didn't know where Cecilia went. (to be continued) ① An outstanding Christian writer in North Africa during the ancient Roman Empire, a genius in Christian literature, had a profound influence on church theology. ① Triton Fountain (Triton Fountain), located in Piazza Barberini in Rome, is a masterpiece of the Italian Baroque master Bernini. ① Adam style is the development and essence of Georgia style, which is very popular in the northeastern United States. It has absorbed the research results of the Adam brothers on the Italian Renaissance style. ① A famous German porcelain brand with a history of nearly 300 years, famous for its elegant design, royal temperament and pure handmade.On the white chassis, two beautifully curved blue swords are intertwined to become the symbol of Meissen's century-old classics, implying the supreme taste. ② A famous auction house with the longest history located in New York, USA. ① Cambridge University's first female inpatient college, built in 1869. ① Located at No. 214 Fashion Street in London, it is an old building with a history of more than 600 years. It is divided into various courtyards and sells textiles from China and other Asian countries. Excerpt from: "Foreign Literature and Art" Issue 03, 2004 Author: Ian McEwan