Chapter 9 6-1

In the brief period between the time I met Maria and the big masquerade ball, I was blissful and never had such a sense of relief, of transcendence.I clearly feel that all of this is a prelude, preparations, everything is moving forward intensely, and the real drama is yet to come. I've learned to dance quite a bit, and I'm pretty good at it, so it looks like I'm ready to go to the ball.As the date of the prom approached, it became more and more the talk of everyone.Hermine has a secret, she insists on not telling me what she will wear to the ball.She said that I will recognize her when the time comes, and if I am wrong, she will help me, but I am not allowed to know anything beforehand.She wasn't at all curious about what I was going to wear, so I decided not to make up.When I wanted to invite Maria to the ball, she told me that she already had a partner, indeed, she already had a ticket, and I was a bit disappointed to see that I had to go to the party alone.It was the premier masquerade ball in the city, held annually by the Society of Artists in Globus Hall.

I seldom see Hermine these days, and she came to see me for a while the day before the ball.I got her a ticket and she came to get her ticket.She sat calmly in my room, and we had a conversation which, I found peculiar, left a deep impression on me. "You're doing well now," she said. "Dancing is doing you good. If you haven't been seen for four weeks, you'll hardly be recognized." "Yes," I admitted, "I haven't had a better time in years than I do now. It's all thanks to you, Hermine." "Oh, not to your pretty Maria?"

"No. She was given to me by you, too. She's too good." "She's just the lover you need, Steppenwolf. Pretty, young, good-humored, capable of love, and can't have her every day. If you're not sharing her with someone else, if she's not your passing guest, You won't be so happy." Yes, I have to admit that too. "Have everything you need now?" "No, Hermine, that's not it. I've got something beautiful, something very cheerful, I've been very kindly comforted, very happy. I'm happy, so to speak..." "Isn't it, then what do you want?"

"I want more than that. I'm not content to be happy. I wasn't born to be happy. That's not my purpose in life. My purpose in life is the opposite." "That means you want misfortune? You see, in the past, you had enough misfortunes one after another. You couldn't even go home because of the razor." "No, Hermine, that was not the case. I confessed that I was unlucky at the time. But it was stupid unhappiness, fruitless unhappiness." "why?" "Because otherwise I would not be terrified in the face of death, and I wish to die! What I need and desire is another misfortune; one that allows me to suffer with longing and with great hope." Joy dies. That's what I look forward to, misfortune or happiness."

"I understand you. In this we are brother and sister. But why do you object to the happiness you now find in Maria? Why are you not content?" "I have nothing against this happiness, oh no, I love it, I am grateful for it. It is as beautiful as a sunny day in a rainy summer. But I feel that it will not last. This happiness Nothing will come of it either. It satisfies, but contentment is not my meal. It makes the wilderness drowsy and hiccupped. It's not happiness to die for." "Must die then, Steppenwolf?" "I think so! I'm quite content with my happiness, and I can bear it for quite some time. But if it gives me an hour now and then to revive me and give me something to desire, I do not desire, then, to possess this happiness forever, but on the contrary, I desire to suffer again, only a little more beautiful than before, and less pitiful. I long for the suffering which makes me voluntarily prepared to die."

Hermine's eyes suddenly became very sad, and she looked tenderly into my eyes.What a beautiful, what a terrible eye!She searched for the words, and said slowly, each word after a while (she spoke so softly that I had to pay attention to hear): "I want to tell you something I already know, and you already know it, but you may not have said it to yourself.Now, I tell you to find what I know about myself, about you, about our destiny.Harry, you were an artist, a thinker, a man of joy and faith, always on the trail of the great and eternal, never content with the beautiful and the small.But the more life wakes you up, the more it restores you to your own nature, the greater your misery, the deeper and deeper you sink into pain, restlessness, and despair, up to your neck.All the good and sacred things you used to know, love, and reverence, all your old beliefs about human beings and our destiny, are of no use to you, they have lost all value and become a pile of rubbish.Your faith has no air to breathe.Death by suffocation is a difficult death.Is that so, Harry?This is your destiny, right? "

I nodded again and again in agreement. "You have a picture of life in your mind, you have beliefs, you have demands, you are ready to do something, you are ready to suffer and sacrifice, but you gradually see that the world does not ask you to do something, to make sacrifices, the world You are not required to do such things, life is not a heroic epic of heroic characters and things like that, you come to realize that life is just a nice nice room where people live to eat, drink, drink coffee and wear a pair of Knitting socks, playing cards, listening to the radio, one feels content. Whoever seeks something else, who has something else in him—heroic, beautiful things, reverence for great poets or reverence for saints, he is A fool or a quixotic ride. Come on. It is the same with me, my friend! I am a girl of wit and intelligence, and I was born to live like a noble model, to set high demands on myself, To accomplish great tasks. I can bear bad luck, I can be queen. Be the mistress of a revolutionist, the sister of some genius, or the mother of some martyr. But; practical life only allows me to be cultivated. Courtesan! That alone is a sudden blow. That's what happened to me. I was desperate, and for a long time I searched myself for the reason. I thought, life must always be right, and if life mocks my sweet dreams, Then, I thought, maybe my dream is too stupid, my dream probably doesn't make sense. But it doesn't help. I have eyes and ears, and I am also a little curious, so I carefully observe this so-called life, observe my acquaintances and neighbors, observe Fifty people and their fate. I saw, Harry, that my dream was right, 100 percent right, and your dream was right. Life is wrong, reality is wrong. A woman like me can only Typing for a rich man, wasting his life in poverty and meaninglessly, or marrying a rich man for his money, or even being a prostitute; What is the reason for the razor to be left behind! With me, it is mainly material and moral poverty; with you, it is more ideological and spiritual poverty-our paths are the same. You are afraid You think I can't understand foxtrot, your distaste for bars and dance halls, your distaste for jazz music, your distaste for all that vulgarity? I understand all that well; And the babbling and irresponsible behavior of the press, your grief at wars—wars past and future, the way people think, read, build, make music, celebrate festivals, educate Feeling hopeless! You are right, Steppenwolf, you are right a thousand times, ten thousand times, and yet you are doomed. Your demands are too high for this simple, comfortable, easily gratified world. Yeah, you want too much, the world spit you out because you're different. In today's world, whoever wants to live and be happy all his life can't be like you and me. Who don't mess around Play but listen to real music, not low-level entertainmentIf you want real joy instead of money, real work instead of hustle and bustle, real passion instead of acting, then this beautiful world is not the hometown of such people..."

She looked down at the floor in thought. "Hermina," I cried softly, "my sister, you see everything! And yet you teach me to dance the foxtrot! But you say that we who are different cannot live here , what does this mean? What is the reason for this? Is it just in our time or has it always been like this?" "I don't know that. For the honor of the world, I prefer to imagine that it is only our time, that it is a disease, a temporary misfortune. The heads of state are preparing intensely and productively for the next war, and the rest of us are preparing for the next war." In an age when we dance foxtrot, we work for money, and we eat bonbons, the world must be pitiful and simple. May the past and future be much better than ours. Richer, wider, deeper. It doesn't help us, though. Maybe it's always been..."

"It has always been like this today? Since ancient times, it has been the world of politicians, profiteers, tricksters and playboys, while good people have no room for life!" "I don't know that, and nobody knows that. Besides, it doesn't matter, it's all the same. But now I'm thinking of your favorite, my friend, whom you've told me several times, and read his letters aloud." , he is Mozart. What is his situation? Who ruled the world in his time, who benefited the most, who set the tone, who paid attention to the world? Is it Mozart or a businessman, is it Mozart or those mediocre people? What about him? Died, how buried? I think, maybe it has always been, and always will be, what they call 'world history' in school, what students have to memorize in order to be educated, all those heroes, geniuses , great deeds, and relationships, are all just deceptions, invented by schoolteachers for educational purposes, so that children have something to do for a given number of years. Time and the world, money and power belong to the little Tang people, and other people, other real people, have nothing but death. It has always been like this."

"They have nothing but death?" "No, there are, and that is eternity." "You mean they can live forever?" "No, dear Steppenwolf, I'm not talking about honor. Does honor have any value? Don't you think that all truly perfect people are famous all over the world?" "No, of course not." "So, I'm not talking about honor. Honor exists only for education, and it's for the schoolteachers. Oh, I'm not talking about honor. So what do I mean by eternity? The devout call it the Kingdom of God. I Think of it this way: if there was no other air to breathe but the air of this world, and no eternity but time, then we who, we who demanded more, we who longed, we who were different No one can live at all, and this eternity is the real country. Belonging to this country is the music of Mozart, the poems of your great poets, those saints who performed miracles, died heroically, and provided great examples for mankind. But , Every picture of a true action, every power of a true feeling belongs also to eternity, even if no one knows it, sees it, writes it down, preserves it for posterity. There is no posterity in eternity, only this world. "

"Your words are good," I said. She continued musingly: "The pious know this best. So they raise up saints and start an organization they call the Saints. These saints are real people, disciples of Jesus. We All our lives are marching towards them, and with every good deed we do, with every brave idea we conceive, with every love we make, we are brought closer to them. In the early light, saints are painted by painters in golden skies, Radiant, very beautiful, very serene. What I called 'eternity' before is this congregation of saints. This is the land beyond time and appearance. We belong there, it is our home, our heart aspires There, Steppenwolf, that's why we long for death. There you'll find your Goethe again, your Novalis and Mozart, and I'll find my flame again, to Christophe Philippe von Nelly, Find all saints. There are many saints who were originally bad men who committed crimes. Sin, sin, and vice may also be the way to saints. You may laugh, but I often think that my friend Pablo may also be a hidden one. Holy One. Ah, Harry, we had to cross so much mud and go through so much folly to get home! And we have no one to guide us, our only guide is nostalgia." She spoke the last few words again very softly, and now the room was very peaceful and quiet, and the sun was setting, and the gold letters on the spines of many of my books were shining in the evening light.I took Hermine's head in my hands, kissed her forehead, and pressed her cheek to mine, and we stayed like brother and sister for a while.How I would like to stay like this and not go out tonight!However, on the last night before the big ball, Maria agreed to stay with me. However, on the way to Maria, I didn't think about Maria, but I kept thinking about what Hermine had said.It seemed to me that all this might not be her own thoughts, but mine.The keen-eyed Hermine, who had learned and assimilated these thoughts, recounted them to me, and they reappeared before my eyes in a language shell.What I was especially grateful to her for at that hour was that she uttered the idea of ​​eternity.I need this thought without which I can neither live nor die.Today, my friend and dance teacher gave me the sacred beyond, the world of eternity, eternal value, and the world of the divine ontology.I can't help but think of my Goethe dream, and the image of this young and wise man who laughed so inhumanly, pretended to be divine and immortal, and joked with me.Now I understand Goethe's laugh, the laugh of the immortal.This kind of laughter has no object, it is only light, only brightness, which is what is left after a real person has gone through human suffering, sin, error, passion and misunderstanding, and entered eternity and entered the universe.And "eternity" is nothing but the detachment of time, in a sense, returning to innocence and transforming into space again. I looked for Maria at our usual supper place, but she hadn't come yet.The small suburban restaurant was quiet, and I sat waiting for her at the set table, my thoughts still on the conversation.These thoughts, exchanged between Hermine and myself, I find so familiar, so dear, are drawn from my own mythological and pictorial world.These immortals, living absent-mindedly in a timeless space, became portraits around which crystal-clear, ether-like eternity was cast, these immortals and the cool, star-like luminosity of this otherworldly world. , why do I feel so familiar and kind?As I was thinking about it, I suddenly remembered passages from Mozart's "Les Tours" and Bach's "Piano Zin". In this music, I felt that there was this cool, star-like light shining everywhere, ether-like clarity. in oscillation.Yes, this is what I yearn for, this kind of music is something like time solidified into space, above which is boundless and shrouded in superhuman clarity, floating with eternal and holy laughter.Oh, how the old Goethe of my dream fits in with this!Suddenly, I heard this unfathomable laughter all around me, the loud laughter of the Immortal.I sat there fascinated. Fascinated, I found my pencil from my vest pocket, looked for paper, and found a wine list in front of me. I turned the wine list over and wrote a poem on the back. The next day I just found this poem in my pocket.The poem says: immortal person From the deep mountains and valleys of the earth The longing to live comes to me, Intense pain, intoxicated intoxication, The bloody smoke of a thousand gallows, Convulsions of joy, endless lust, The hand of the murderer, the hand of the usurer, the hand of the prayer, Crowd whipped by fear and joy exudes a warm and rotten stench, Breathe in bliss and ecstasy, Devouring itself and spitting it out of its mouth, Planning wars, cultivating the art of loveliness, Frantically adorning the brightly lit slopes, They search for flowers and ask willows, and indulge in pleasure, Live a luxurious life. They rose again from the sand, Once again sinking into the walking dead. The crystal clear ice of heaven, is where we live, We do not know that there are days and nights, We have no gender, no age. Your sins, your joys, your murders, your lusts, We seem to be just a drama, like a spinning sun, Every day is our longest day. We nod serenely to your indulgence, We silently gaze at the spinning stars, Breathing the cool air of cosmic winter, The proud dragon is our friend. cool; never changing our eternal existence, Cool and bright as a star Our eternal laughter. I finished the poem and Maria came.We ate happily, and then went to our little room.Today, she is more beautiful than ever, more warm and kind, and she has given me all kinds of tenderness, tenderness, games, and I think there is no more warm-hearted person. "Maria," I said, "you are generous today like a god. Don't wear us out. Tomorrow is a masquerade ball. Who will your partner be to-morrow? I'm afraid, my dear little flower, He is a miner in a fairy tale, you will be abducted by him, and you will never return to my side. You caress me like this today, just like lovers saying goodbye and loving each other when they meet for the last time." She pressed her lips to the base of my ear and whispered to me: "Shut up, Harry! Every time could be the last. If Hermione takes you, you won't come to me again. Maybe she'll take you tomorrow." On the night before that prom, I had a unique feeling that was stronger than ever.It's a very peculiar kind of bittersweet duality.What I feel is bliss: the beauty and indulgence of Maria, enjoying, caressing, and inhaling a thousand delicate and charming sensualities (unfortunately, I have not enjoyed it until nearly half a century), while the soft waves of joy are lapping and rippling .But this is only the shell, the inside of all this is full of meaning, tension and destiny, I am lovingly and tenderly indulging in a sweet and touching love, as if swimming in warm water of pure happiness.But in the bottom of my heart, I feel my destiny rushing forward in a hurry, neighing and running like a frightened horse, rushing towards the cliff, full of fear, longing, and dedication, rushing towards death.Just as I feared not so long ago against the comfort, frivolity of sex, the beauty that Maria was about to bestow, so now I am afraid of death, but this fear will soon turn into devotion and love. Relief, this has become clear. We were silently lost in the romp of love, feeling more than ever that we belonged to each other, while my soul said goodbye to Maria, to all that she had fascinated me.Through her, I learned to familiarize and enjoy superficial play like a child before the end of my life, to find momentary pleasure, to enjoy human nature, animal nature in pure sex.In a previous life, I experienced this condition only in isolated exceptions, because sex and sexuality almost always seemed to me to have a certain bitter taste of sin, sweet and frightening like forbidden fruit. In the face of this fruit, a person engaged in spiritual activities must be cautious.Now, Hermine and Maria showed me this pure sex paradise, I was once a guest in this paradise, grateful; but soon it was time for me to roll on and move on, for me this The paradise is so beautiful and warm.I am doomed to go on seeking life's laurels, to go on repenting and punishing life's endless sins.Easy life, easy love, easy death, it means nothing to me. From what the girls have hinted at, I've come to the conclusion that people are going to have a good time at or after the prom tomorrow, and maybe that's the end, and Maria's hunch may be right, we'll sleep together for the last time today , Maybe tomorrow will start a new path of destiny?Distressed, full of longing, full of suffocating terror, I embraced Maria wildly; once more fervently and greedily through all the paths and groves of her paradise, once more eating the sweet fruit of the tree of Paradise. I didn't get enough sleep at night, so I made up for it the next day.In the morning I took a shower, came home exhausted, drew the bedroom curtains, found the poem in my pocket as I undressed, but quickly forgot about it.I went to bed, forgot about Maria, forgot about Hermine, forgot about the masquerade, and slept all day.I got up in the evening, and when I was shaving I realized that the dance was going to start in an hour and I had to find a shirt to go with the dress.I am in a good mood, and I will soon be ready to go out and have some food first. This is the first masquerade ball I will be attending.In the past, I have occasionally gone to this kind of dance a few times, and sometimes I think this kind of dance is very interesting, but I am just a spectator and do not dance; when others talk about this kind of dance, they are full of enthusiasm and joy, I find this enthusiasm ridiculous.Today, too, I feel that the masquerade is a big event, and I look forward to it with great nervousness and fear.I didn't have to take a lady with me, so I decided to go later, and Hermione also advised me to do so. The "Steel Helmet" restaurant is where I used to spend my time, and those frustrated men used to sit there all night, gulping down their drinks and playing the role of bachelor.I have seldom been there lately, and the tavern no longer fits my present style of life.Tonight I came there involuntarily; and now a fatalistic feeling of dread and joy, a farewell to life, takes hold of me, with which the passages of my life and the places I have lived are once again within me. Painful and sweet in its action, the soot-blackened tavern shone likewise.Not so long ago, I was a regular visitor here, and I went here to drink a bottle of old country wine. This simplest and primitive anesthetic was enough to return me to my lonely bed for another night and another day of life's torture.Later, I tried other, stronger narcotics, and drank sweet drugs.I stepped into the bistro smiling, greeted by the proprietress, and nodded by the silent regulars.I was suggested to have roast chicken which was promptly served, farmhouse mugs filled with new Alsace wine, clean white wooden table and old yellow wainscoting looking kindly at me .I ate and drank, with a sense of despondency and farewell in my action, which was sweet but also heart-wrenchingly eager.I feel that all the important places and various things I have experienced in the first half of my life are intertwined with each other. Once they were never untied, now the conditions are gradually ripe and they will be untied. The "modern" man calls this feeling sentimentality; he no longer loves things, not even the holiest thing, the car which he will soon hope to exchange for a better make.The kind of modern man who is astute, competent, healthy, calm, and strong is an excellent example, and he will stand the test very well in the next war.I don't think so of this kind of person.I am neither a modern person nor an old-fashioned person. I have drifted away from the times, I am dying, I just want to die, I am not against sentimentality, I can still feel something like emotion in my burnt heart, feel Very happy and grateful.In this way, I was immersed in the memory of the old tavern, immersed in the nostalgia for the clumsy old chairs, I enjoyed the aroma of tobacco and alcohol, and enjoyed all the unique flashes of my habit, warmth, and hometown-like atmosphere.Farewells are beautiful and tender.I like my hard wooden seat, I like the mug, I like the cool juice of the Alsace wine, I know everything in this room, I like the faces of those frustrated, dreamy squatting drinkers, long For a while I was their brother and sister.What I feel here is the sentimentality of the petty bourgeoisie, mingled with a hint of old-fashioned romance in the taverns of my childhood, when restaurants, alcohol and tobacco were still strange and wonderful taboos.Yet no Steppenwolf sprang up, baring his teeth, trying to tear my sad sentiments to shreds.Enjoying the warmth of the past, I sat peacefully under the faint light of some fallen star. A peddler selling fried chestnuts came into the tavern, and I bought a bag of chestnuts.Another old flower seller came, and I bought some carnations from her for the proprietress.I was about to pay, and as I was accustomed to do in my coat pocket, I couldn't find my wallet, so I noticed I was wearing a dress.Ah, masquerade!Hermine! But it's still early, and I can't make up my mind whether to go to Globus Hall now.Like every time I go to this kind of entertainment in recent times, now I also feel some resistance in my body, I feel timid inside, I hate going into crowded and noisy halls, I am afraid of the strange atmosphere like a schoolboy, I am afraid of the world of playboys , afraid to dance. I wandered the streets and passed a movie theater and saw neon lights and huge colorful posters shining.I continued to walk a few steps forward, then turned around and walked into the cinema.Here I can sit comfortably in the dark until eleven o'clock.The usher led the way with a darkened flashlight, and led me through the curtain into the dark hall. I found a seat, and suddenly found that the show was a story from the "Old Testament".This is the kind of movie that is said to be expensive and well-made, not for money, but for a noble purpose.In the afternoon, led by the teacher of the religion class, the students went to watch the movie collectively.It tells the story of Moses and the Israelites in Egypt.In the movie, there are many characters, countless horses and camels, magnificent palaces, pharaohs are graceful and luxurious, and the Jews are struggling in the hot desert.I saw Moses with his hair combed a bit like Walt Whitman. This was Moses on the stage with gorgeous costumes. desert.I saw him praying to God by the Red Sea, and saw the waters of the Red Sea split to two sides, forming a road, with towering water mountains on both sides (how do filmmakers make such special effects shots, brought by the pastor to watch the film) The youths and students who are confirmed can argue as long as they want), I saw the prophets and the timid people marching through this waterway, saw the Pharaoh's chariot behind them, and saw the Egyptians stunned by the Red Sea, Inevitably afraid and hesitated for a while, then they bravely marched towards the road and saw the mountain of water collapsing towards the fully clothed Pharaoh and his chariot and soldiers.Seeing this, I am reminded of a very beautiful duet for bass by Handel, which beautifully celebrates the event.Then I saw Moses mount Sinai, and saw his melancholy hero standing on that dark and desolate rock, and saw how the LORD there taught Moses piety by storm and thunder, while his lowly people Forged a golden calf at the foot of the mountain, and made fun of it.Seeing all this, I find it inconceivable that, in our childhood, these sacred stories, with their heroes and wonders, gave us our first dim foreboding of another world, of superhuman beings, and now, I To see these stories, heroes, and wonders performed before a grateful audience (who bought tickets and quietly ate the bread they brought) is a small piece of the great rags and cultural auctions of our time. scene.My God, in order to avoid such blasphemy, it would be better for the Jews and everyone else to die, except the Egyptians, when death was tragic and fair, better than our terrible fake death and half-death. God! I was exhilarated after watching the movie, yet my inner timidity, my unadmitted fear of the masquerade, did not diminish, but intensified odiously.I thought of Hermine, so I took courage, made up my mind, and drove to the Globus Ballroom, and when I got there, I stepped into the ballroom.By this time it was late, the dance had already begun and was in full swing, and I had no time to undress before I was caught up in the revelry and masked crowd.I was shy and reserved, and I was kindly pushed, girls invited me to the bar and had a glass of champagne, and clowns patted me on the shoulder and called me "you".I ignored it and trudged through the crowded ballroom to the locker room.I took the coat tag and carefully put it in my pocket, thinking, maybe I will need it soon, the place is messy, maybe I will be bored soon. All the rooms in the whole building were beaming and very lively. There were people dancing in every hall and room, even in the basement. All the corridors and corridors were crowded with people in costumes. Absolutely.Disturbed, I made my way through the crowds, from the Negro bands to the farmhouse bands, from the grand and splendid main hall to the corridors, into the bar, to the food counter, and into the champagne booth.On the walls of the small room are many rough and funny paintings by young painters.Today, people from all walks of life gather here, including artists, journalists, scholars, and businessmen. Naturally, playboys in the city will not miss this Yaxing.Don Pablo was sitting in a band, playing passionately on his tasseled saxophone; when he recognized me, he greeted me with a loud song.I was carried by the crowd, rolled into this room or that, now up the stairs, now down the stairs; a hallway in the basement decorated by artists to look like hell, where a small band dressed as devils beat hard drum.Slowly, I began to look for Hermine and Maria. I searched everywhere and tried to squeeze into the main hall several times, but each time I either went to the wrong place or was squeezed out by the crowd.In the middle of the night, I hadn’t found anyone. I hadn’t danced once, and my whole body was hot and my head was dizzy. I quickly sat down on the nearest chair, surrounded by strangers, and I asked someone to pour the wine , I feel that an old man like me cannot participate in such a noisy festival.I drank in dismay, staring at the bare arms and backs of the women, seeing all the grotesque masks and fancy dress passing by, being jostled and bumped, and a few girls trying to sit in my arms Or dance with me, which I declined without a word.A girl yelled 'Hey, old man', and that was all right. I decided to drink up my nerves and cheer myself up, but it wasn't good, and I only drank one glass. I slowly felt that the wasteland How the wolf stuck out his tongue and stood behind me. Nothing happened to me, this is not where I came from. I came here with good intentions, but I can't be happy here, the noisy joy around ,.The bursts of laughter, the carnival dancing of the whole building, seems so annoying and artificial to me. So, at one o'clock, I was very disappointed and annoyed, and sneaked back to the coat-room, trying to put on my overcoat and leave.It was a defeat, a fall back into Steppenwolf, and Hermione would hardly forgive me for doing so.But I have no other choice.I struggled to squeeze through the crowd and walked towards the clothes storage, while carefully looking around to see if I would see a girlfriend.But no one saw it.现在我站在存衣处前，柜棚后面那位彬彬有礼的先生已经伸出手来接我的存衣牌，我伸手到背心口袋里掏存衣牌——存衣牌不见了！见鬼，怎么又碰见这种事！先前，我悲伤地在各个大厅转悠，坐着喝那没有什么味道的酒时，我一边进行着思想斗争，想下决心离开，一边伸手到口袋里，每次都摸到那块又圆又扁的牌儿。现在它却不见了。什么事都跟我作对。 “存衣牌丢了？”我旁边一个穿着红黄衣服的小鬼尖声问我。“伙计，那你可以拿我的。”他说着就已经把他的存衣牌递过来。我机械地接过存农牌，在手指间翻过来翻过去，转眼间，机灵的小家伙消失不见了。 我把又小又圆的马粪纸片凑近眼睛，想看看是多少号，这时我才发现，上面根本没有号，只是写着几个潦草的蝇头小字。我请存衣处的工作人员等一会儿，走到最近的一盏灯下看写的是什么。只见上面歪歪扭扭地涂了几行，字迹很难辨认： 魔剧院今晚四点开演 ——专为狂人而演—— 一入场就要失去理智， 普通人不得入内。 赫尔米娜在地狱里。 我就好像操纵线一度从表演者手中脱落而僵死麻木了片刻后才活跃起来、又跳又舞地重新开始表演的木偶，被魔索牵拉着，充满活力、生气勃勃、情绪热烈地又跑回到我刚才疲乏地、无精打采地逃离的熙攘嘈杂的人群中。没有哪个罪人会这样急于进入地狱。刚才，漆皮皮鞋还挤得我脚疼，充满浓烈的香水味的空气熏得我恶心讨厌，厅里的热气使我疲乏无力；可是现在，我随着每步舞的节奏，敏捷地迈着较快的步伐通过所有大厅，跑向地狱。我感到空气里充满了魔力，我似乎被那暖气，被所有狂热的音乐，被那色彩的海洋，被那女人肩膀的香气，被那千百人的醉意，被那笑声、舞蹈节奏，被那千百双眼睛的异样光彩抬起来摇晃着。一位西班牙舞女飞到我的怀里：“跟我跳舞！”“不行，”我说，“我必须到地狱去。不过很愿意吻你一下。”假面具下鲜红的嘴唇向我挨近，接吻时我才认出这是玛丽亚。我紧紧地把她搂到怀里，她那丰满的嘴像一朵成熟的夏玫瑰。我们嘴唇挨着嘴唇，立刻跳起舞来，从帕勃罗身边跳过，他爱恋地吹着他那根萨克斯管，他那美丽的动物似的眼睛炯炯有神地、同时又有点儿心不在焉地跟踪着我们。我们跳了还不到二十步，音乐就停了，我很不情愿地放开马丽亚。 “我很想再和你跳一次，”我说，我陶醉在她的温情之中。“来，玛丽亚，跟我走几步，我多么爱你美丽的双臂，再让我换你一会儿！可是你看，赫尔米娜已经在唤我。她在地狱里。” “我已经想到了。再见，哈里，我仍然爱着你。”她跟我告别。夏玫瑰这样成熟，这样芳香，她就是告别、秋天和命运的象征。 我继续往前跑，穿过挤满人的长长的走廊，走下楼梯，进入地狱。孤单，漆黑的墙，亮着刺眼的、凶神恶煞似的灯，魔鬼乐队狂热地演奏着音乐。在一把高高的柜台椅子上坐着一位漂亮的小伙子，他穿着礼服，没有戴假面具。他用讥嘲的眼光打量了我片刻。小房间里约有二十对舞伴在跳舞，我被舞者的旋流挤到墙边。我贪婪而又害怕地观察所有的女人，她们大多数仍戴着假面具，有的在向我笑，但是没有赫尔米娜。那漂亮的小伙子从高高的椅子上向我投来讥嘲的目光。我想，下一次休息时，她就会来喊我的。舞曲结束了，但没有人来。 我走向设在低矮的小房间里的酒吧。我走到小伙子座椅旁边，要了一杯威士忌。我一边喝着酒，一过细看年轻人的侧影。这人好像很熟，很招人喜爱，像远古时代的一幅画，正因为蒙上了一层年代久远的静静的灰尘而变得非常珍贵。噢，我内心忽然颤抖了一下：那不是赫尔曼，我年轻时的朋友吗！ “赫尔曼！”我犹豫地叫了一声。 He smiled. “哈里？你找到我了吗？” 原来是赫尔米娜，她只是稍许化装打扮了一下，她套着时髦的高领，聪慧的脸显得苍白，眼睛漠然地看着我，黑色礼服袖子过于宽大，露出白色的衬衣袖口，一双小手更显得娇小秀美，她穿着长长的黑裤，下面露出穿着黑白相间的男丝袜的纤纤小脚。 “赫尔米娜，这就是你要让我爱你的装束？” “到现在为止，我已搞得几位女子爱上了我。可现在轮到你了。让我们先喝一杯香槟酒。” 我们坐在高高的椅子上喝香槟酒，边上的人仍在跳着舞，热切而激烈的弦乐越来越强烈。赫尔米娜似乎没有资多少劲就使我很快爱上了她。她穿着男装，我不能和她跳舞，不能亲她，不能向她表示各种柔情。她穿着男装，显得那么陌生，那么漠然，然而她却用目光、言词、表情给我送来一种女性的魅力。我没有触及它们，只是完全被她的魔力所制服了，即使她穿着男装也有这种魔力，她的魔力是阴阳两性兼有的。接着她便跟我谈赫尔曼，谈我的童年，谈她的童年，谈论性成熟前的那些岁月。性成熟以前，青年人的爱的能力不仅包括两个性别，他们爱一切，既包括感官的，也包括精神的东西，他们把爱情的魔力，把童话般变化的能力赋予一切。人到了晚年，只有少数精英和诗人有时还会具有这种能力。她演得完全像个小伙子，抽烟，才气横溢，侃侃而谈，常常喜欢带点讥嘲，但是，她的一举一动都蒙上一层性爱的光泽，在我看来，一切都成了迷人的诱惑。 我从前以为我完全了解赫尔米娜。而今天夜里，她却以全新的面貌出现在我的面前！她多么轻柔，悄悄地在我周围织起我渴望已久的网，玩耍似地像水妖那样给我喝甜蜜的毒汁！ 我们坐在那里，喝着香按酒谈东论西。我们边走边观察着穿过一个个大厅，我们像探险家那样挑选一时对舞伴，窃听他们怎样谈情说爱。她向我指出一些女人，要求我跟她们跳舞，给我出谋划策，告诉我在这个或那个女人身上该用什么诀窍去引诱她们。我们像两个竞争对手那样上场，两个人追了一会儿同一个女人，轮换着和她跳舞，两个人都争取把她弄到手，然而这一切都是假的，只是我们两人之间的一场戏。这场戏把我们两人越拉越近，点燃了我们彼此的敬慕之火。一切都是童话，一切都比往常多了一点，意义更深了一层，一切都是游戏和象征。我们看见一位很漂亮的年轻妇女，她看样子有些痛苦和不满，赫尔曼跟她跳舞，使她容光焕发，转忧为喜，她带她去喝香槟酒，后来她告诉我，她并不是作为一个男子，而是作为一个女人，用同性爱的魔力占领了她。我逐渐觉得，狂欢乱舞的舞厅，这幢发出轰鸣的房子，所有这些戴着假面具的如醉如痴的人，变成了其妙无比的梦幻中的天堂世界，一朵朵鲜花吐芳争艳；我用手指反复地掂量着一个个果实，寻找中意的果子；一条条蛇隐蔽在绿色树荫中，诱惑似地看着我；荷花在黑沉沉的沼泽上影影绰绰地闪着激光；魔鸟在树林间鸣唱。一切的一切都把我引向渴望已久的目的地、一切都重新用来对某一个人的渴望追求邀我前去。一次，我和一位不相识的姑娘跳舞。我炽热地追求她；正当我们跳得如醉如痴，腾云驾雾似地在空中飘浮时，她突然大笑起来，说道：“我都认不出你了。今天晚上前不久你还那样呆笨无味。”我认出了，她就是几小时前叫我“糟老头”的那位姑娘。她以为我已经是她的了，但下一个舞我已经炽热地和另一个姑娘跳了起来。我跳了两小时舞，也许更长，每个舞我都跳，连我没有学过的舞也跳。赫尔曼——一位微笑的小伙子他时不时地在我近旁出现，向我点点头后又消失在人群中。 在今晚的舞会上，我经历了五十年中从未经历过的事，每个大姑娘和大学生都知道这种事：节目的经历，参加节日活动时的共同欢乐，个人融化到人群中时的秘密，欢乐时灵魂和上帝融为一体的秘密。我常常听人说起过这种经历，每个女仆都知道这种经历，我常常看到叙述老的眼睛闪出光芒，而我总是轻蔑和羡慕参半地置之一笑。这种如痴如狂的人，从自身超脱出来、笑容满面、迷乱恍惚的人，他们个个都是醉意醺醺、两眼生辉，眼前的这一切，我一生在高贵的和卑下的人的身上看到过千百次，他们有的是喝得酩酊大醉的新兵和水兵，有的是在隆重演出的热烈情绪中的伟大的艺术家，尤其在出征的新兵身上这种神采，这种微笑见得更多。就在不久前，当我的朋友帕勃罗为音乐所陶醉，坐在乐队中出神地吹奏萨克斯管，或者观看欢乐的、狂喜的指挥、鼓手、班卓琴师时．我曾欣赏、热爱、嘲讽、羡慕过幸福地出神狂喜的人的神采和微笑。先前，我有时想，这种微笑，这种孩子似的神采，只有青少年才会有，只有那些不允许有强烈个性、不允许人们之间存在差别的人才会有。可是今天，在这幸福的夜晚，我自己——荒原狼哈里——也神采焕发地微笑起来，我自己也在这天真的、童话般的深深的幸福中飘浮，我自己也从共同狂欢、音乐、节奏、酒和性感的欢乐中呼吸那甜蜜的梦幻和陶醉；以前，某位大学生在讲起舞会情况时对此大加赞扬，我常常怀着可怜的优越感和讥嘲情绪听着。我不再是我自己了，我的人格像盐溶解到水里那样在节日的陶醉中溶解了。我跟这位或那位女人跳舞，然而我占有的不仅仅是我搂在怀里的女人，不仅仅是在我胸前让我摩掌，并吸进她们的香气的女人，而是所有在这大厅里跳着同一个舞、和我一样随着同一舞曲飘荡的女人都属于我；她们神采飞扬，像一朵朵大鲜花飞掠过我身旁。不过我也属于她们大家，大家都是你属于我、我属于你。男人也在此列，我也存在于他们身中，他们对我也不陌生，他们的微笑就是我的微笑，他们的追求就是我的追求，我的就是他们的。 一种新的舞。一种名叫“思恋”的狐步舞在那个冬天风靡世界。人们一次又一次地演奏这支舞曲，人们一再希望跳这个舞，我们大家都被这个舞征服了，陶醉了，我们大家都一同哼起舞曲的旋律。我不断地跳舞，跟我遇到的每一个女人跳，跟黄花少女跳，跟如花似玉的妙龄女子跳，跟完全成熟正当年华的女人跳，也跟忧伤的半老徐娘跳：她们每一个人都使我喜悦、欢笑、幸福、眉飞色舞。当帕勃罗看见我那样神采奕奕，他的眼睛也闪出幸福的光芒，以前他总是把我看作可叹可怜的人。他兴奋地从乐队的椅子上站起来，使劲地吹奏他的萨克斯管，他登上椅子，高高地站在上面，鼓满腮帮吹奏着，随着“思恋”乐曲的节奏，使劲地摇摆着身体和乐器，我和我的舞伴向他投去飞吻，高声地和着节拍唱起来。啊，我一边跳一边想，不管我发生什么事情．我也感到幸福了，我神采焕发，我脱离了我自己，成了帕勃罗的朋友，成了孩子。 我已经失去了时间感，我不知道这种陶醉幸福感延续了几个小时，延续了多长时间。我也没有注意到，舞会越热烈红火，大家就越是集中到一个较小的范围、大部分人已经离开，走廊过道已经安静了，许多灯光已经熄灭，楼梯间空无一人，楼上的舞厅里，乐队一个接一个地停止演奏，离开大楼；只有主厅和地狱里还在喧闹，节目的狂欢之火仍在燃烧。我不能和赫尔米娜——她打扮成小伙子——跳舞，我们只能在跳舞的间歇匆匆见一面，互致问候，后来她干脆消失不见了，而且在思想上我也忘了她。我不再有什么思想了。我完全溶解了，在那充满醉意的舞蹈的旋涡上飘游，我闻到香气，听到音乐、叹息、言语声，不认识的人向我致意，给我以温暖欢乐，我被四周陌生的脸、嘴唇、脸颊、肩膀、胸脯、大腿所包围，让我随着节拍在水面上颠簸飘荡。 现在留下的客人不多了，他们拥挤在最后一个小厅里跳着，只有这里还响着音乐。我从沉醉中迷迷糊糊醒过来片刻，在这一瞬间，我突然在最后一批客人中看见一位画成白脸的黑衣女人，这位姑娘年轻标致。十分招人喜爱，女人中只有她一个人还戴着面具。整整一夜，我还是第一次见到她。在其他人身上可以看到熬夜的痕迹，他们的脸红扑扑的，有些疲惫，衣服被挤得起了皱折，领子和裙边像开败了的花朵耷拉着，而这位黑衣女人戴着假面具，画着白脸，唯独她显得那么精神，那么新鲜，她的衣服非常平整，毫无皱折，衬衫领子上的格进齐齐整整，花边袖口闪着光泽，头发一丝不乱。我不由得向她走过去，搂住她，和她跳起舞来，她衬衫领的领边触到了我的下颔，飘来一股芳香，她的头发掠过我的面颊，她那优美的身段随着我的动作轻盈舞动，比别的舞伴都轻柔热情，她不时地避开我的一些动作，但又总是。戏耍似地强迫、引诱我的身体重新向她靠拢。当我一边跳一边弯下腰想吻她时，她的嘴巴突然露出微笑，神色是那么高傲，那么熟悉，我认出了丰满结实的下巴，认出了肩膀、胳膊肘和双手，非常高兴。这是赫尔米娜，而不再是赫尔曼了，她换了装，脸上稍稍洒了点香水。擦了点扑粉，显得十分鲜嫩活泼。我们炽热的嘴唇靠在一起，有一会儿工夫，她怀着强烈的渴望，热烈地把整个身体从上到下都靠在我身上，然后她离开我的嘴唇，冷冷地和我跳着舞，似乎想逃离我似的。音乐停了，我们互相搂着停住舞步，我们周围那一时对眼睛燃烧着烈火的舞伴又是鼓掌又是跺脚，连喊带叫，要求疲惫不堪的乐队重新演奏“思恋”曲。这时，我们突然感到天已黎明．看见窗帘后面露出朦胧的微光，感到欢乐临近尾声，预感到舞会一结束，身体就会疲乏不堪，我们又一次盲目地、绝望地大笑着跳进音乐的海洋，跳进灯光的洪流，狂热地跳起舞来，我们一对对互相偎依着，随着节拍快速旋转迈步，再一次幸福地感到巨大的波涛在我们头上翻腾。在跳这个舞时，赫尔米娜抛却了高傲、嘲讽和冷漠的神态，她知道，她无需费力就能让我爱她。我是属于她的。不管是跳舞还是接吻，无论是抬眼还是露齿，她都那样炽热。这个情绪热烈的夜晚的所有女人，所有跟我跳过舞的女人，所有被我点燃了烈火以及点燃了我的烈火的女人，所有我追求过的、我怀着热望在她身边偎依过的、我用燃烧着烈火的眼睛盯着看过的女人全部熔化到一起，变成了一个女人：她就像一朵盛开的鲜花被我搂在怀里。