Chapter 8 chapter eight

What I felt when I returned home was exactly what Heinrich Mott had predicted: achievements had many unpleasant, even somewhat comical, consequences for me.I felt more at ease when I entrusted the opera business to an agent.But there were still countless visits, journalists, publishers, and many nasty letters, and it took a while before I got used to the little burden of rapid fame and gradually recovered from my initial disappointment.Of course, people have the right to praise a famous person in any form. As for whether he is a child prodigy, composer, poet, or murderer, it does not matter.One asked for his photograph, another for his handwriting, a third for money, and every young colleague sent him his work, flattered him, demanded his evaluation, and if ignored or Simply say what you think, and suddenly the admirer becomes mean, rough, and seeks revenge.Magazines wanted to publish the picture of the famous man, and newspapers competed to introduce his life, origin, and appearance.Old school friends wrote memoirs, and distant relatives claimed to have predicted that their cousin would one day become famous.

All letters of this kind always embarrassed and annoyed me, and one of them, from Miss Schnipper, made us laugh.There was also a letter from someone I had long since forgotten, the beautiful Liddy, which made no mention of our skiing, and was written entirely from the voice of a loyal old friend.She was married to a music teacher in her hometown, and she gave me the address of her home, and I immediately sent her all my songs with beautiful verses.She sent me a picture back, but her well-known appearance had clearly aged and coarsened, and I wrote her back as kindly as I could. These little things finally disappeared without a trace.And all my good and fruitful victories, together with my acquaintances with those noble and refined people who have music not only in their mouths but in their hearts, do not belong to my real life, which remains as quiet as ever, since then Nothing has changed since then.It is only worth mentioning the changes in the fortunes of my closest relatives and friends.

Old Mr Imdo doesn't seem to be throwing as many social evenings as he did in Gertrude's time.But in his house where many portraits hang, there is always a selected musical evening held every three weeks, and I am a regular visitor every time.Sometimes I also take Tessel with me.But Imdo is also happy for me to visit him at other times.So I used to go early in the evening, which was his favorite time, and we sat in his modest study, where the portrait of Gertrude hung on the wall.Gradually, the old man and I developed a relationship of mutual understanding and mutual understanding, which was apparently cold, but in fact, we often talked about things that had been on our minds.I also often have to talk about things in Munich, and I cannot keep silent about my impressions of the relationship between the Motters.He also nodded in agreement with me.

"Hopefully everything will turn out well," he sighed, "but there's nothing we can do about it. I like it when summer comes and my daughter can stay with me for two months. I rarely go to Munich to see them, I don't Go for it, she's acting bravely, and I don't want to bother her and make her weak." Gertrude's letter contained nothing new.She came to visit my old father during Easter, and she also came to our house, looking thin and tense.She was very kind and courteous to us all, and tried to hide herself, but we often saw in her serious eyes a look of despair that we hadn't seen before.I played my new composition for her, but when I asked her to sing, she shook her head and looked at me in rejection.

"Sing and growl next time," she said vaguely. It was clear to all of us that she was not doing well, and her father later admitted to me that he had suggested to her that she should simply come home, but she did not accept it. "She loves him," I said. He shrugged his shoulders, looked at me worriedly, and said, "Ah, I don't know what to do. Who can know himself in such a painful situation! But, she told me, she was for his sake." He stayed by his side for a reason, he destroyed her so much, made her miserable, and needed her so much more than he could ever know. He didn't say anything to her, but it was written all over his face .”

The old man lowered his voice and whispered in shame: "She said he was drinking." "He's always been drinking a little," I said reassuringly, "but I've never seen him drunk. He's very self-possessed. He's a nervous guy, he doesn't pay attention to trifles, but his behavior often hurts himself." Worse than harming others." How painfully this beautiful pair endured their silent life, none of us knows.I can't believe when they will stop loving each other.But their personalities are so different that they only get along with each other in moments of emotional excitement and artistic inspiration.Mott will never know how to accept a serious and cheerful life, will never know how to let himself breathe peacefully in a clean life, and for his wildness, his sinking and re-empowerment, and his constant pursuit of self-indulgence Wish, Gertrude is always tolerant and sympathetic, and will never change his mind, but he will not assimilate.The two lovers thus loved each other, but never quite agreed, and whenever his hopes failed, they found peace and comfort from Gertrude, who was painful to see his disappointment, but she His wishes and her sacrifices were all in vain, so that she could neither comfort him nor save herself.Shattered with their secret dreams and longed-for hopes, the lovers lived together entirely through the sacrifice and kindness that required courage.

I didn't see Heinrich Motter again until the summer, when he accompanied Gertrude to her father's house.He treated her and me with a tenderness and delicacy I had never seen before, and I felt exactly that he was afraid of losing her, and I felt that, if that were true, he would not be able to bear the loss.And she was very tired and wanted nothing more than quiet days to rediscover herself, regain her strength, and gain balance in her life.We spent a quiet evening in our garden, Gertrude sat between my mother and Brigitte, still holding Brigitte's hand tightly, Heinrich quietly among the rose bushes Walking around, Tessel and I played a violin sonata on the balcony.How Gertrude rested quietly and enjoyed the peaceful moment, how Bridgette nestled respectfully beside this beautiful and painful lady, how Mott walked and talked softly in the shadows. Listening carefully, all this is engraved in my mind like an indelible picture.Afterwards Heinrich joked softly to me, but with a look of sadness in his eyes, and said: "Look at these three women sitting together! Of the three of them only your mother looks really happy. I May we also enjoy old age like her."

After this meeting, we separated.Mott went to Bayreuth alone, Gertrude and her father went to the mountains, the Tessel brothers and sisters went to Styria, and my mother and I went to the North Sea.I often go to the beach to listen to the sound of the waves, thinking only of what I did in my youth many years ago, thinking with surprise and fear of a sad, stupid and chaotic life, love is always futile, and those who think they get along A man who is well-behaved makes his destiny dependent on another, each has his own, incomprehensible destiny, and he willingly uses his destiny to help others, wants to be close to each other, And yet as impossible to approach as in a pointless, horrifying nightmare.I often think now of what Mott said about youth and old age, and wonder if my own life, too, will end up being simple and simple.My mother laughed whenever I brought up the subject, and she seemed genuinely content.She reminded me to think of my friend Tesser and make me feel ashamed of it: Tesser is not old, but he has a lot of life experience, from his childhood to the present, he always sings the melody of Mozart briskly .It was clear to me that age was not the problem, that perhaps our misery and ignorance were simply a disease of the kind my teacher, Mr. Lowe, used to talk about.Probably even this sage was a child like Tessel.

Regardless of the situation, my thoughts and ideas have not changed in the slightest.When music shakes my soul, I don't need words to understand everything, to feel pure harmony in the depths of all life, and to be convinced that there is some meaning and beautiful law behind all appearances.Although it is an illusion, I am living it and having fun with it. -Perhaps it would be better if Gertrude did not leave her husband this summer.She did have a good rest at first, and when she came back from her autumn trips I saw she was actually healthier and stronger.But the hope we place on this kind of physical recovery is utterly illusory.

Gertrude had a good time with her father these few months, she could rest as much as she wished, and she allowed herself to be in a peaceful environment every day without struggling nervously.Like an overworked man who sleeps to his heart's content, he sleeps as long as he is allowed to.But the fact that she has completely exhausted her own physical strength is far more than we realize, and more than she herself understands.But when Mott soon came to fetch her home, she was frightened, her courage was lost, she could not sleep, and begged her father to let her stay at home for another period of time.

Old Imdo was a little surprised, because he thought that Gertrude would happily return to Mott with new strength and new wishes; however, he did not object, but reminded her cautiously Let her think about it, a temporary, relatively long-term separation is often the precursor to the divorce of the couple in the future.And she objected to that notion with the greatest passion. "I love him!" she cried violently. "I would never be unfaithful to him. It's just that living with him is so hard! I just want to take a little rest, maybe a few months, until I Got enough courage again." Old Imdo tried his best to comfort her, and of course he never objected to his child staying by his side for a period of time.He wrote a letter to Mott, saying that Gertrude was not in good health and hoped to rest at home for a while.But Mott refused to accept the suggestion.During this period of separation, he missed his wife very much, he was eager to see her, and he had made up his mind to get her all back and keep her for himself. Now Mr. Imdo's letter has brought him great disappointment.He immediately replied with a fierce letter, full of doubts about his father-in-law.He was sure that the old man had done something against him, because the old man wanted the couple divorced, and he demanded to see Gertrude immediately, hoping to actually regain her.The old man came to me with this letter, and we thought it over and over again, trying to find a safe solution.We both agreed that it would be right for the couple to avoid seeing each other immediately for the present period, since Gatrude's present condition clearly cannot withstand any storm.Imdo was worried, and asked me to go to Mott in person to persuade him to let Gertrude rest for a while.I now feel it is my duty to do so.At that time, I was full of worries. I was afraid that my friend would know that I was his father-in-law's confidant and knew all kinds of situations in his private life, which he himself would never disclose to me.I therefore rejected Mr. Imdo, and he had to write one more letter, which of course was of no avail. Mott showed up unannounced before long, terrifying us all with his unbridled passion for love and his suspicions.Gertrude knew nothing of the two letters between Mott and his father, so she was absolutely surprised by this unexpected visit and by Mott's almost angry agitation.I had not yet imagined that this was the beginning of a pain.All I know is that Motte is threatening Gertrude to go back to Munich with him.She expressed her intention to go home with him, and if there was no other way, she just begged him to allow her to stay with her father for a while, because she was tired and needed a quiet rest.Then Mort reproached her for being instigated by her father to leave him, and, seeing that his gentle counsels had failed, in a most foolish rage, ordered her to go home with him at once.This offended her self-esteem, and she remained calm, but she refused his request to no longer listen to him, and at the same time declared that she would stay no matter what.The quarrel was not reconciled until the next morning, when Mort declared with shame and chagrin that everything was to her will.Then he left without coming to my house to say anything. When I heard this, I was terrified, knowing that the disaster I had dreaded from the beginning had come.I thought to myself that the ugly and stupid quarrel must go on for a long time, until she had regained the joy and courage to come back to him again.And he will be in a crisis of spirit during this time, will be rough, and, although he misses her terribly, will become more distant from her.He'd be fine for a short while at home by himself, but not for long, he'd be disappointed, he'd get drunk, maybe he'd even fall in love with other women, who were chasing him everywhere anyway. But he remained silent for a while.He wrote to Gertrude, begging her to forgive him once more, and she wrote back, admonishing him to be patient for a while, very kindly and sympathetically.During this time I rarely saw her.I occasionally visit her and ask her to sing, but she always shakes her head.However, several times I have seen her sitting at the piano. It was most strange and disturbing to me that this pretty, proud woman, who had always been full of life, cheerfulness, and peace of mind, should now be so timid, apparently.The depths of her emotions were being greatly shaken.She sometimes comes to see my mother, she asks about our daily life, she sits on a gray sofa next to my mother, resting for a while, she tries to chat with us, I am sad to see that she has to pay It took a lot of effort to force a smile on.It persists, and neither I nor anyone else understands her pain, or sees it only as a nervous breakdown and superficial weakness.And so I could scarcely see in her eyes the discordant pain that tormented her, which was so evident in her face, that I remained ignorant.We talk, live, and relate to each other as if everything is the same as before, and we are ashamed of each other and avoid each other all the time!In the midst of this sad confusion, suddenly a thought seized me and made my blood boil, and I thought that her heart was no longer her husband's, had been set free, and would now turn to me, and would never again Reject me, but gain me, and take shelter in my heart from all storms and pains.And so I resolved to replay the music of my operas, the ardent pursuit of love, the music that I suddenly loved and understood again, and I passed night after night with longing and anticipation.At the same time, all the ridiculous, overcome pains and unsatisfied desires of youth were rekindled, no less than when she was the one who ignited the fire in me, and I gave her The one and only unforgettable kiss.Now it burns on my lips again, and for a moment years of peace are reduced to ashes, and abandoned thoughts are revived. This flame was only gradually extinguished when he saw Gatrude's current situation.Only by being extremely shameless and disregarding her husband and my friends can I follow my desires and chase her heart. I am warm, sensitive, and stubborn in this world.Under the eyes of a woman who is suffering in pain, I can't help but feel ashamed, I can only.Treat her with compassion and caring love.As for her, the more she suffered and even lost hope, the more arrogant and unapproachable she became.She erected her tall figure with a stern and dignified manner never before, and held up her beautiful black-gold head, not allowing any of us to offer her the slightest sympathy in order to approach her and help her. she. This long series of silent days was perhaps the heaviest of my life.Gertrude is very close to me here, but inaccessible because she prefers to be alone.And Briqi over there is suffering, I understand her love for me, after a long period of avoiding seeing each other, I have some unimportant contacts nervously. My mother saw our pain, anticipated the whole situation, and said nothing, because I myself was so obstinately kept silent.Mo Mo, unwilling to confide even a word about his situation.The worst of it was having to witness the unmistakable, irremediable facts of seeing my closest friends perish, though I didn't watch closely, but I knew it. Gertrude's father seemed to have suffered most severely. When I met him some years ago, he was a smart, strong, peaceful and cheerful old gentleman. His voice became softer and less calm, he stopped joking, and his face was sad and sad all day long.I went to see him one day in November, hoping to find out if there was anything new, and thinking that I would comfort him and cheer him up. He received me in his study, handed me one of his most prized cigars, and began to chat with me softly in a courteous tone which taxed him and soon broke off.He looked at me with a sad smile and said, "You mean to ask about the situation? It's bad, my dear sir, very bad. The child's mental burden must be worse than we understand, otherwise her condition It will get better. I've decided to divorce her long ago, but she won't even listen. She loves him, or so she says, but she's afraid of him! Poor child, she closed her eyes and didn't want to see anything, and she said something, and things were getting better, so everyone had to wait and let her be quiet. It was a mental illness, of course, but look Now she is very ill. Just think, she says that if she goes back to her husband, he will abuse her! And yet she says she loves him." He doesn't seem to understand her, and there's nothing he can do about it.I understand her pain well, and understand that she is having a struggle of love and self-esteem inside her.She was not afraid that he would beat her, but she was afraid that she would no longer respect him. She hoped that she would regain her strength through waiting full of fear.She had subdued him, kept him in orbit, and she had worn herself out because of it, and she no longer believed she had the strength to go on, and that was the root of it.Now she longed to return to him, but was afraid that if this new attempt at living together failed, she would lose him altogether.I now see clearly how blind and hopeless my brave fantasies of love are. Gertrude loves her husband, and she will never turn to any other man. Old Imdo always avoided talking about Mott, and he also knew that I was an old friend of Mott.But he hated him, didn't understand how he had seduced Gertrude, but thinking of him was like thinking of an evil magician who would never let go after capturing an innocent person.Passion is now an enigma which can never be explained, and the most regrettable reality is that life spares its most beautiful children, and often leaves these most respectable characters in loves which kill them . It was during this gloomy moment that I received a text from Mott, which was a huge relief.He wrote: "Dear Cohen, your opera is now being performed everywhere, perhaps better than here. Nevertheless, it will be wonderful to have you here again next week, and I will do it again Play the tenor in your opera. You know my wife is sick and I live alone now, you can live with me freely. Never bring anyone else with you! Love you, Mott .” He was a man who seldom wrote unless absolutely necessary, so I resolved to leave at once.He must really need me.For a moment I thought of telling Gertrude.Maybe this is the best chance to heal the rift, maybe she'll send me a letter or a greeting, maybe invite him here, or even come with me.But it was just a passing thought, and I didn't do it. I just visited her father before leaving. When I arrived in Munich, the weather was very harsh, it was the wet and stormy late autumn season.Sometimes, one can look out from Munich to the nearby mountains covered in first snow.The whole city was gloomy, rainy and lifeless.I drove straight to Mott's house.Everything was the same as a year ago, the same servants, the same rooms, and the furniture were placed in the same places, but it looked empty and uninhabited, and the flowers that Gertrude cherished in the past were gone. up.Mott was not at home, and the servant took me into the bedroom prepared for me, and helped me unpack; I changed my clothes and went into the music room.The master hadn't come home yet, and I stood behind the double-glazed windows, listening to the trees howling in the wind, and reminiscing about the past.I looked at the portraits on the wall for a while, and flipped through various books at random. I felt that the longer I sat there, the sadder my heart became, as if this house was beyond redemption.Displeased, I sat down at the grand piano, and to rid myself of such useless thoughts I played my wedding overture, as if by doing so I would be able to bring back the good things of the past. At last there was a sound of heavy, hurried footsteps, and Heinrich Motter entered.He shook my hand and looked at me wearily. "I'm so sorry," he said, "I've got something to do at the theater. You know I'm going to... play tonight. Let's go to dinner now, shall we?" He walked ahead of me and I noticed he changed, became absent-minded and inattentive' He only talked about drama and seemed unwilling to talk about anything else.It wasn't until after lunch, when we sat in the yellow rattan armchair silently and almost awkwardly, that he said to me coldly: "It's so kind of you to come here to see me! I'm going to have a good time tonight." Treat you." "Thanks," I said, "you're not looking good today." "Really? Well, let's not talk about that. I'm a celibate now, you know!" "Yes." He looked to the side. "You don't have any news about Gertrude?" "Nothing special. She's always been a little nervous, and can't sleep well at night—" "Oh, that's all right! She'll be all right with you." He got up and walked around the room.He seemed to have something to say to me, and stared at me carefully, but when he walked in front of me, he showed suspicion again. Then he smiled, but didn't say what was in his heart. "Lotte has been here again," he resumed. "Lotte?" "Yes, it is Lotte who visited your house and sued me. She is here and married. It seems that she is still interested in me. She has been here for an official visit." He gave me another sly look, then smiled because he saw that I was taken aback. "Have you received her?" I asked hesitantly. "Oh, that's your estimate of me! But no, I let her go. Oh, excuse me for telling such stupid things. I'm dead tired, but there's another show tonight. If If you don't mind, I'll go over there and sleep for an hour. " "Okay, Heinrich, you go and rest, I want to go around the city. Can you hire a car for me?" I don't want to stay in the house and be dumb, listening to the wind in the woods.I came to town and wandered aimlessly through Munich's gallery of ancient paintings.I admired those old paintings in the gray light, and after only half an hour, the gallery was closed, and I had no choice but to go to a cafe to read the newspaper and sit there and stare through the large glass windows. Street in the rain.I was determined to break this indifference at all costs, and I wanted to have a thorough and honest talk with Heinrich. But when I came home, I saw him smiling and in a very good mood. "I'm just not getting enough sleep," he says cheerfully. "Now I'm refreshed again. You must play me something, won't you? The wedding overture, if you will." His mood changed so quickly, which surprised and delighted me. I did as he said. won my heart.I can't help but think of the time when we first made friends.When we went out together again in the evening, I couldn't help asking. "You don't have a dog now?" "No more.—Gertrude doesn't like dogs." We came to the theater in silence.I greeted the conductor and he took me to an assigned seat.I heard that very familiar music again, but everything was completely different from last time.I was sitting alone in the box, and Gertrude was no longer there, and it seemed that there was a different person performing and singing on the stage.He sang with great emotion.Very powerful, the audience seemed to like him playing this role, and the atmosphere on the court was very lively from the beginning.I thought he was too enthusiastic, and his voice was too high, almost too rough.I went down to find him during the first intermission.He sat in his little room drinking champagne again, and we exchanged a few words, and I saw his eyes wander like a drunken man's.Later, while Mott was changing, I went to see the conductor. "Please tell me, is Mort sick?" I begged him. "I think he's sustaining himself on champagne. You know, I'm his friend." The man eyed me suspiciously. "Whether he's sick or not, I don't know. But he's ruining himself, I know that. He often comes on stage almost drunk, and if he doesn't drink once, he plays badly and sings. Worse. He used to have a drink before he went on the court, and now he has to drink a whole bottle. If you can persuade him, it probably won't do much. This Mott just wants to ruin himself." Mott took me to a nearby restaurant for dinner.He was as listless and unapproachable as he was at noon, and he drank red wine without restraint, otherwise he couldn't sleep.It seemed that he was willing to pay any price for his fatigue and drowsiness, as if nothing else was more important. When the carriage drove halfway, he woke up for a moment, and shouted to me with a smile: "Ah, young man, if I hadn't been here, your opera would have run aground. No one else can sing this role well except me." .” He got up very late the next morning and was still tired, delirious, with blurry eyes and a pale face.After breakfast I began to persuade him. "You're humiliating yourself," I said sadly and angrily. "You use incense and wine to cheer yourself up, and you will inevitably suffer the consequences in the future. I can understand why you are doing this. If you don't have a wife, I won't come here to tell you these things. It is your responsibility to keep yourself pure and clean in body and mind. brave." "Really?" He smiled slightly, as if my excitement amused him. "Then what responsibility does she have to me? Was she acting bravely? She went to live with my father and left me alone. Why should I pull myself together when she can't? Everyone has You know, there is nothing between me and her, you know that. And besides, I still have to sing and play for people, not from emptiness and disgust, but from all good things. Stuff, mostly from art." "Nevertheless, you must start all over again, Mort! If you want to be happy! Of course you will do it very hard. If you think you sing too much, then go on vacation, the sooner the better; you There's no shortage of money, no need to play for money. Go to the hills, or to the sea, wherever you go, and you'll be healthy again! Stop foolishly drinking! It's not only stupid, it's cowardly, You know this very well yourself.” He just smiled lightly. "Okay!" he said dryly. "Then you can try it too, go and dance a waltz! Please believe me. It will do you good! Don't just think about your unlucky leg, it's just imagination!" "Shut up!" I yelled angrily. "You know perfectly well that it's two different things. If I could, I'd love to dance, but I can't. And you'll just get yourself together so you can do it all, and you'll be wise. You've got to stop drinking first, anyway." Lose." "Anyway! Dear Cohen, you just make me laugh. I can't change, and it's harder for me to stop drinking than it is for you to dance. Drinking keeps me a little bit alive, don't you understand? An alcoholic A man who gives up drinking only when he gets into the Salvation Army or finds something else that will improve his life and satisfy his needs for a longer period of time. To me, only women can do that Point. Since I had my own wife—and she left me—I never accepted any other woman, so I—” "She didn't leave you! She will come back. She is just sick and needs to recuperate." "I know, you said exactly what she wanted to say. But she didn't come back. If a ship is going to sink, the mice are always the first to flee. Of course they don't know that the ship is about to break. They just feel a Unspeakable fear, so I ran away, of course I thought it was beautiful, thinking that I would come back soon." "Well, stop talking like that! You used to be skeptical about life, isn't that long gone?" "Yes. It's long gone, for I found a comfort or a drug. Once a woman, once a friend—yes, you served me too! And once It's the music or the applause in the theatre. Now, none of that stuff makes me happy anymore, so I drink. Right now I can't sing without a few drinks first. Without a few drinks first I can't think, I can't speak, I can't live. It's unbearable. Let me just tell you that you don't preach to me. This is the best way. There was a similar situation twelve years ago. There was also a People don't let me go, keep telling me about a girl. He became my best friend by accident—" "and after?" "Then he forced me to leave him, and I had no friends for a long time, until you showed up." "I see." "Okay?" he said gently. "Now you are faced with a choice. I have to tell you that if you leave me now, you will not be enough friends. I like you very much, and you, I consider that you also need to be happy." "If that's the case, so what?" "You see, you adore my wife—or at least you used to, and I adore her, even adores. Let us tonight—just you and me—celebrate in her honor .Besides, here is another reason. I had a portrait of her, and this spring she often went to the painter's house, and I often went with her. When this painting was about to be finished, she happened to be traveling. The painter hoped that She went to sit again, but I got impatient and asked for the portrait to be finalized as it is now. It was a week ago, and the picture is now framed and in the room since yesterday. I'm here. I could have taken you to see it right away, but I think it's better to celebrate first. Of course, I can't do without a little Xiangqi wine. How can I be satisfied! Do you think it is appropriate?" I felt that behind his jest there was a feeling, even tears, and I agreed to his proposal, though I didn't want to.我们准备好了为他太太举行的庆祝晚会，他看来已完全失去她，就象我过去失去她一样。 “你还记得她的花吗？”他问我。“我不懂花，不知道它们都叫什么名字。她一直很喜欢那种白花和黄花，也喜欢红色的。你一点儿也不知道？” “嗯，我知道一点的。干什么呢？” “你得去买花。你去叫一辆车来，我也得进城去一次。我们要做得好象她就在这里一样。” 后来他又想起了一些事情，使我感到他何等深刻而又持续地思念着盖特露德。这种迹象令我又悲又喜。为了她，他不再养狗，他一个人孤零零地生活着，而过去他绝不会长时间的没有妇女。他定制了她的画像，他让我为她采购鲜花！于是我似乎看到他揭下了假面具，看见在他那自私冷酷的外表下隐藏着一张儿童的脸容。 “不过，”我表示了不同意见，“我们还是现在去看画像好，或者中午去看也行。画像在自天光线下看效果较好。” “什么话，就是明天也有充分时间让你细看的。希望这是一幅好画，不过归根结底对我们来说，无论画像好坏全都一样，我们想看的仅只是她本人。” 饭后我们坐车进城去采购，首先是买花，买了一大把菊花，一篮玫瑰花和几枝白色的丁香花。买花的时候他又忽然想到要给R城的盖特露德寄一大盒花去。 “这可得挑特别漂亮的花，”他沉思着说。“我知道盖特露德爱花。我也喜欢花，只是不会细心侍候它们。倘若太太不在，我身边总是杂乱无章，叫人感到不舒服。” 晚上我看见新画像蒙着一块绸子陈列在音乐室里。我们为了庆祝而畅饮一通，莫特首先急于要听我那首婚礼序曲。我演奏完毕后，他揭开画上的罩于，我们默默无言地在画像前伫立了片刻。这是一帧全身像。画像上的盖特露德穿着一身白色的夏装，她一双清澈的眼睛信任地望着我们，过了相当一段时间后，我们两人才互相注视着向对方伸出手来。莫特斟满了两杯红葡萄酒，向画像点头致意，我们就一起为她干杯，两个人心里都想到了她。然后他小心翼翼把画像夹在胳膊底下，走出了音乐室。 我请他随便唱一支歌，他却不愿意。 他微笑着对我说：“你还记得当年在我结婚前我们三人坐在一起度过的那个夜晚的情景么？现在我又成了单身汉，让我们再一起来痛饮一杯，再高兴高兴吧。你的台塞尔也应该在座的，他比你我更懂得享受快乐。你回家后请好好替我向他间好。他不可能了解我的痛苦，但是尽管如此——” 他象往常一样珍惜自己的美好时刻，又开始以有节制的谨慎态度愉快地谈起话来，提醒我回忆往事，我很惊讶，因为所有的事，连那些极细微、极偶然、我认为他早已忘得干干净净的事，却仍然牢固地盘踞在他的记忆里。就连那个最初相聚的夜晚，我和他，玛丽昂，克朗采，还有其他一些人共度的晚会，甚至连我们当时的争吵他都记得清清楚楚。他就是不谈盖特露德；他始终没有提及自从盖特露德进入我们之间后的那个时期，我很喜欢他这样。 我为这个没有预料到的美好时刻感到高兴，听任他放怀畅饮，不加劝阻。我明白，这种心情在他是何等罕有，何等宝贵，难得有这种心情，美酒当然不可少。我也明白他这种心情不可能维持长久，到明天他又会变得厌烦、变得不可亲近；此刻我倾听着他那些聪明的、深思熟虑的言论，即或是矛盾百出，但仍然在我心里引起了一种温暖的、近似快活的心情。他一边说着，一边向我投来他只是在这种时刻才有的可爱的目光，好似一个刚从甜梦中觉醒的人的目光。 当他一度沉默下来，思虑着什么的时候，我便开始向他叙述我那位通神论者关于孤独者的病态的言论。 “是么？”他愉快地问，“你真的相信么？你大概也有点儿想成为通神论者吧。” “为什么不行呢？其实里面很有点道理的。” “当然。聪明的贤哲们总是随时随刻在求证，证实世间万物只是幻想而已。你知道吗，我过去常常读这类书籍的，我可以告诉你，其中一无所有，绝对的一无所有。这类哲学家所写的一切只是一种游戏而已，也许他们自己以此来获取安慰。有一个人发明了个人主义，因为他不愿自己的同时代人受苦，而另一个人发明了社会主义，因为他单独一个人不能忍受。人们可以说，孤独感是一种病态，此外便别无可说的了。梦游也是一种疾病，有一个小伙子梦游时真的站到了屋顶的檐沟里，有人朝他喊叫，他便摔下去折断了头颈。” “嗯，情况还是不一样的。” “悉听尊便，我不想争辩。我只是想，智慧对人们并无用处。世上只存在两种智慧，而在这两种智慧之间的东西全都是空谈。” “你说的这两种智慧是什么呢？” “嗯，正如佛教徒和基督教徒所说的，这个世界既丑恶又贫瘠。因此人们必须在肉体上清苦修行，放弃一切享受，我相信人们由此便能获得完全的满足。禁欲主义者并不象人们设想的那样，过着极艰苦的生活。也许，这个世界和人们的生活本来是又美好又合理的，因而人们只要参与生活，然后再静静地死去就行，因为他已完成了自己的使命……” “你自己又相信什么呢？” “不必要问这个问题。大多数人是两者都相信，就象相信天气一样，他们是健康的，不管他们口袋里有钱还是没有钱。而他们真正相信的是生活不过尔尔。这一点我也有同感、我真正相信的是佛，而生活是毫无价值的。但是我仍然生活着，还要使我的感官舒适，好象这是重要任务似的。而这仅仅是让人愉快而已！” 我们谈完话后，时间还不晚。我们穿过亮着一盏孤零零电灯的邻室时，莫特拉住我的胳膊要我停一下，他开亮了所有的电灯，揭下靠在墙边的盖特露德画像上的绸罩子。我们又朝这张可爱的脸孔注视了片刻，然后他蒙上罩子，熄了电灯。他陪我到了卧室，将几本杂志放在我桌上，供我随意翻阅。然后向我伸出手来握别，轻声道：“晚安，亲爱的！” 我上了床，半小时里一直没有睡着，脑子里只是想着他。他如此真切地记得我们友谊中的一切细微的情节，使我又感动又惭愧。他对自己所爱朋友的感情之深挚远远超过我所想象的，然而要他表达友谊却是很困难的事。 后来我睡着了，睡梦中一忽儿梦见莫特，一忽儿梦见上演我的歌剧，一忽儿又梦见洛埃先生。我醒来时，天还没有亮。我是在我那一无所获的梦中被吓醒的，看见窗子四周迷迷蒙蒙泛着白色，感到有一种痛苦压迫着心头，我从床上坐直身子，想让自己的头脑完全清醒过来。 这时有人在急促而猛力地敲我的房门，我猛然跳起打开房门，外面很冷，我也没来得及点灯。门外站着那个仆人，只穿着内衣，惊慌地呆呆瞪视着我，眼睛里充满了恐惧的神色。 “请您来一下！”他急促地喘息着说。“请您来一下！发生了不幸的事。” 我只来得及穿上挂在一边的睡袍，就匆忙跟着那个年轻人跑下了楼梯。他打开房门，退后几步让我进去。房间里一张小小的藤桌上有一盏灯，点着三支粗蜡烛，照亮了旁边一张凌乱的床铺，我的朋友莫特脸朝下趴在床上。 “我们得把他翻过来，”我轻声说。 那个仆人犹犹豫豫的不敢走近。 “医生马上就来了，”他结结巴巴地说。 但是我逼着他和我一起把躺着的人翻了过来，我看看我那朋友的脸已经灰白而变了形，衬衫胸前全是鲜血，当我们让他平躺下去重新盖上被于时，他的嘴唇极轻微地动了一下，双目已经黯然无光了。 仆人开始急促地讲述什么，但是我什么也不想知道。医生到达时，莫特已经死了。清晨我给依姆多先生发了电报，又立即回到这座寂静的房子里，坐在死人的床边，倾听窗外从树林间刮过的风声，直到这时我才确切地知道自己曾何等喜爱这个可怜的人。我不能为他惋惜，因为他的死比他活着更为轻松。 黄昏时我站在车站月台上，看见依姆多先生走下火车，身后跟着一位身着黑色丧服的高个儿妇女，我把他们带到死者旁边，莫特已穿戴整齐入殓了，安眠在他昨天买回的鲜花中间，这时，盖特露德弯下身于吻他那苍白的嘴唇。 当我们站在墓穴边时，我看见一个满面泪痕的高大美丽的女人，手里捧着玫瑰花孤零零站在一边，我好奇地看了她一眼，原来是绿蒂。她向我点点头，我报以一笑。盖特露德却没有哭泣，她的脸消瘦苍白，眼睛机灵地注视着周围，神情严肃地迎着在风中飘洒的蒙蒙细雨，恰象是一棵深深地植根于泥土中的挺直的小树。但是这一切仅只是自卫而已，两天后，当她回到家里，打开恰巧在这期间寄到的莫特给她的花金时，她支持不住了，倒下了，很长一段时间里我们大家都没有看见她。