Chapter 8 Chapter Six

There was no way Meggie had to go home.Fee could do nothing without her.By this time Stuart was alone in the convent at Gilly; he fasted once, and he too returned to Drogheda. It was August and it was freezing cold.It has been exactly one year since they came to Australia.However, this winter is colder than last year.Drought and little rain, the air is dry and cold, which is not good for the lungs.300 miles to the east of the Great Dividing Range, the snowpack has not been seen in many years.But no rain has fallen west of the Burren Estuary since a torrential monsoon rain the previous summer.People in Kiri say it's getting early again.The drought is only postponed - but it will come, maybe this drought.

When Meggie saw her mother, she felt heavy; it might have been a way of saying goodbye to her childhood, a sign of a woman about to become.Fee's appearance remained the same except for her larger belly, but her heart was like a tired old clock slowing down, running slower and slower until it stood still forever.Gone was Meggie's liveliness, which Meggie felt would never fail in her mother.As soon as she lifted her feet, she put them down again, as if she was not sure how to move her feet. The phenomenon in her gait showed that she was mentally confused.She had no joy for the baby to be born, not even the very implicit satisfaction with Hal.

The little redhead shambled all over the room, not fumbling for a moment, but Fee had no intention of punishing him, or even caring what he was doing.He toiled among the things that had always been hers, the stove, the chopping board, and the sink, as if nothing else existed.So Meggie had no choice but to fill the void in the child's life and become her mother.It was without sacrifice, for she loved him so much, felt him helpless, and was willing to pour all the love she intended to give generously into the little fellow.He cried for her and was the first to learn to call her by her name.He held out his arms for her: her heart was full of joy, content.Despite the hard work of knitting, mending, sewing, laundering, chicken feeding, and all the other chores that had to be done, Meggie thought she was having a good time.

Nobody ever mentioned Frank, but every six weeks, when Fee heard the postal van coming, she would look away for a moment and let out a moment of anger.Then Mrs. Smith would bring everyone's mail; and when she saw that there was no letter from Frank in it, the fleeting, futile attention evaporated. Two new lives were added to the family.Fee gave birth to twins and added to the Cleary family two red-haired boys, christened James and Patrick.These two lovely little fellows had their father's cheerful disposition and gentle temper.They were unremarkable members of the family from birth, because Fee had no interest in them other than to nurse them.Soon their names were shortened to Jens and Patsy.They were the favorites of the women of the big house--the two old maids and the widow and childless housekeeper--and they loved the baby like hell.This made it easy for Fee to forget them, for they had three devoted mothers - and as time went on it became an accepted fact that they spent most of their waking hours at the mansion. up.Meggie had no time to keep them around while she dealt with Hal, who was too much of a distraction, and Mrs Smith, Minnie, and Kate's clumsy, inexperienced ingratiating was not right for him.Meggie was the loving center of his life, wanted no one but Meggie, wanted no one but Meggie.

Bluey Williams traded his lovely set of horses and his big heavy buggy for a truck so the mail came every four weeks instead of every six ; but Frank never sent a single word.Gradually, memories of him faded away; that's what memories are: even the ones that are full of love and affection, like an unconscious healing process in the brain that, despite our determined never to forget, It still heals wounds.As far as Meggie was concerned, Frank's figure had gone from a shadowy respectable face to a sort of icon; a vague icon that had nothing to do with the real Frank, but an icon that was supposed to be Frank.That's how indifferent Meggie's remembrance was.As for Fee, the thought of Frank had been replaced by an unattainable silence; her enthusiasm was all extinguished.Like stagnant water, there are no more ripples.

This change came quietly, and no one noticed it.Fee collapsed in deadly silence; something inside her that no one but the new object of her secret love had had a chance to glimpse.It was something unspeakable deep between them, something that relieved their loneliness. Perhaps it was inevitable, since of all her children only Stuart resembled her.He is only 14 years old.Just like Frank, he became a man completely incomprehensible to his father and brothers.But unlike Frank, he did not create mutual animosity.He did as he was told without complaint.Toiling like everyone else did not make any waves in the Cleary family life at all.Although his hair was red, his complexion was the darkest among the boys, more auburn than them all, and his eyes were as clear as the water of the lake in the shadow, as if they could see the beginning of things stage, to see through the truth of everything.He was the only one of Paddy's sons who was thought to be good-looking when he grew up, and although Meggie privately thought her Hal would surpass him when he grew up, no one knew what Stuart was thinking, he was like Fay, very Talk less and never express your opinion.He has an unnerving knack for being completely still, as if he's receding into himself.To Meggie, who was closest in age to him, it seemed as if he could wander off to somewhere no one else could follow.But Father Ralph had a different opinion.

"That lad is hardly human!" he said, the only day he remained at the nunnery after Meggie had gone, and sent Stuart back to Drogheda, who was starving, "did he say he wanted to go home? He said Did he miss Meggie? No! He just stopped eating and waited patiently for us stupid brains to figure out what was going on. He didn't complain once when I walked up to him and yelled at him Did he just smile and nod when he wanted to go home!" But, as the years went by, it became clear that Stuart was not going to go out to work on the ranch with Paddy and the other boys, although his age meant he should.Stewart would stay home to watch the gate, chop wood, tend the vegetable garden, milk the cows—jobs that a woman with three children at home would not have time for.It would be wise to leave a man in this place, though half a man, which would prove that other men were near.Because there are always some unexpected visitors here - there will be the thumping of strangers' boots on the steps of the back porch, and a strange voice will ask:

"Hi, ma'am. Can I have something to eat for passers-by?" In the hinterland there are numerous such vagabonds, carrying blue packs, swimming from pasture to pasture; some come down from Queensland, some go up from Victoria.These are people who, when they are down on their luck, or looking for a regular job, would rather walk thousands of miles in search of something only they know.Most of them are polite people.They emerged, eating chunks of meat, wrapping a little gift of tea, sugar, and flour in their bundles, before disappearing at the end of the trails leading to Bakula and Neringam; He kept walking, and followed the dog swayingly behind him.Australian wanderers seldom ride horses, they walk.Occasionally, a bad guy would come and pay special attention to the women whose men at home went out. Their purpose was not to rape, but to rob.So Fee kept a musket top-firing in a corner of the kitchen out of the child's reach, and promised to get it before anyone came, should Fee's experienced eyes ascertain his character. .After assigning Stewart's place at home, Fee happily handed him the gun. ①Australia's southernmost state. -- Annotation

Although most of the people who came were homeless, but not always, for example, one of them was a Watkins who drove an old Model T Ford.He trafficked in everything.From horse lotion to scented soap; not to be compared with the stone-hard stuff Fee made in the copper laundry tub out of fat and caustic: he brought lavender water and cologne, Powders and pomades to keep the sun from burning the skin of the face, some things you never dreamed you could buy from anyone, but the Waterskin had it; Far better is the ointment of the balm, which heals from the side of a shepherd's dog to the sore on the skin of a man.No matter which kitchen he came to, the women would flock to him, waiting impatiently for him to bang his general box open.

There were other traders here, but none of them came to the outlying area as regularly as the Watkinsians, but they were just as popular, and they peddled everything from manufactured cigarettes to whole bolts of cloth.Sometimes, there are gaudy and alluring lingerie and corsets.The women of the interior longed for their presence, for they seldom ventured out, perhaps once or twice a year to the nearest Cointown; The product is too far away. Life always seems to be inseparable from flies and dust.It has been a long time without a drop of rain, and even a light rain will set the dust down and drown the flies.Because of the lack of rain, the more flies there are, the more dust there will be.Long, sticky, spirals of flypaper hung loosely from the ceiling of every room, blackly stuck to the corpses of flies;Everything has to be covered from time to time, otherwise it becomes either a place of carnival for flies or a burial ground for flies.Little black spots left by flies cling filthily to the furniture, to the walls, and to the calendars in Kirrambo's.

Oh, and dust!It was impossible to get the dust out of the way, the fine brown dust seeping even into tightly covered containers, dulling freshly washed hair, roughening skin, and staining the creases of clothing and curtains , in a thin layer on the smooth tabletop that has just been dusted.The floor was covered with a thick layer of dust from people carelessly polishing their boots, and from the hot, dry wind that blew in through the open doors and windows.Fee had to roll up the Persian rug in the living room and have Stuart cover it with an oilcloth she'd bought from Gilly's shop unseen. The kitchen, which gets the most traffic, is lined with planks of teak, washed to an old bone-color from endless scrubbing with wire brushes and lye soap.Fee and Meggie wanted to sprinkle a layer of sawdust on top, so Stuart carefully collected some from the woodpile, mixed the sawdust with a little precious water, and sprinkled it on the ground.Then some wet, pungent-smelling things were swept out of the door, and scattered from the back porch into the vegetable garden, where they were left to rot and become rotten. After the creek dried up into a series of puddles, nothing remained in the valley but dust, so there was nothing to draw from the creek for kitchen and bath.Stewart took the tank truck to a remote location, brought it back full, and filled it into a spare rainwater tank.Women had to get used to washing dishes, washing clothes, and bathing babies in this dreadful water; it was worse than the murky brook.The foul, sulphurous, mineral water had to be carefully wiped off the dishes; it made the hair dry and rough as straw.The little rainwater they save is used strictly for drinking and cooking. Father Ralph looked at Meggie mildly.She was brushing Patsy's curly red hair; Jens stood aside obediently, but with some determination, for his turn; his blue eyes looked at Meggie admiringly.She is really like a little mother.He was thinking: there must be something in this that makes women especially fascinated by babies.At her age, it was more of a burden than a pure pleasure, and one would have done it as quickly as possible to move on to something more interesting.Instead, she took her time and started from scratch, curling Patsy's hair between her fingers and curling the unruly hair into waves.For a moment the priest was fascinated by her movement, and then, tapping the handle of his whip on the side of his dusty boot, he retreated morosely into the corridor, and gazed in the direction of the house, which was concealed by the Devil. Among eucalyptus and vines, crowded ranch houses and pepper trees separate the foreman's quarters from this center of ranch life.What the hell is that old spider doing with the center of her huge web? "Father, don't look around," Meggie scolded him. "I'm sorry, Meggie. I was thinking about something." He turned; she had finished brushing for Jens.The three of them stood looking at him expectantly until he picked up the twins, one on each side. "Let's go and see Aunt Mary, shall we?" Meggie followed him on the road, taking his whip and leading the sorrel whip horse; he held the two children with careless affection, and although it was almost a mile from the creek to the big one, he didn't seem to care. not give a damn about.In the kitchen, he handed the twins over to an ecstatic Mrs. Smith, and taking Meggie by his side, he walked up the hallway to the upper room. Mary Carson was sitting in the high chair.She had seldom been away from it over the years: with Paddy's ability to oversee everything, nothing left her to worry about.When Father Ralph came in with Meggie in his arms, the child was distraught by her fierce stare, and Father Ralph, feeling Meggie's pulse quicken, held her sympathetically around her waist.The little girl curtsied awkwardly to her and muttered a few words of greeting indistinctly. "Go into the kitchen, girl. Have tea with Mrs. Smith," said Mary Carson briefly. "Why don't you like her?" asked Father Ralph, as he sat in the chair he had come to think was meant for him. "Because you like her," she replied. "Ah, come on!" It was the first time she overwhelmed him. "She's just a waif, Mary." "You don't see her that way, you know that." Those blue eyes rested ironically on her; he was much more at ease. "Do you think I've hurt a child? I'm a priest after all!" "You're a man first, Ralph de Bricassart! Being a priest makes you feel safe, that's all." He was taken aback, then laughed.Anyway, he couldn't put her off today; it was as if she had found a crack in his armor and slowly seeped her spider venom through there.In Kieran, perhaps he changed, became older, more willing and more precious.His passion was dying, perhaps, now it was burning for something else? "I'm not a man," he said. "I'm a priest...maybe, it's too hot, and there's dust and flies everywhere...but I'm not a man, Mary, I'm a priest." "Oh, Ralph, how much you've changed!" she said mockingly, "let me hear, can this be Bishop de Bricassart?" "It's impossible," he said, with a look of misery in his eyes. "I thought, I never want to be a bishop again." She stood up, rocking back and forth in her chair, laughing; she looked at him. "Don't you miss it, Ralph? Don't you? Well, I'll let you worry a little longer, but there's no doubt that the day you reckon is coming. Maybe not in two or three years, but The day will come. I will be like Satan and give you a chance! But don't forget, I will make you miserable. You are the most charming man I have ever met. You use your handsome Taunt us to our faces, and scorn our folly. But I'll let you taste the bitter fruit of your weakness, and I'll make you sell yourself like any whore with painted eyebrows and lips. Do you doubt that?" He leaned back, smiling. "I don't doubt you'll try. I don't think you know me as well as you think you do, though." "Don't I understand you? Time will tell, Ralph, only time will tell. I'm old and there's nothing left of me but time." "So what do you think I have?" he asked. "Time, Mary, I have nothing but time. Only time, dust and flies." The sky was thick with clouds, and Paddy began to think that rain was in sight. "It's a dry storm," said Mary Carson. "If there is no rain in this kind of sky, we will not see rain for a long time." If the Clearys thought they were seeing the worst weather Australia could experience, it was because they had never experienced a dry storm on a dry plain.Losing its comforting moisture, dry earth and air rub against each other, leaving the ground bare and cracked; an irritating friction that grows stronger.Only when this huge accumulated energy is exhausted will it be considered over.The clouds were low and the sky was dark, so Fee had to turn on the indoor lights; outside in the livestock paddock, the horses were trembling and jumping slightly agitatedly; hooting and barking; the pigs on the edge of the pasture heaps digging their noses into the dirt and looking out with gleaming, frightened eyes.The force of the low pressure of the black clouds in the sky terrified all living things, and the thick and endless clouds completely covered the sun, as if preparing to let the sun's flame burst out on the earth. Louder and louder thunder came from afar, flickering flashes flickered on the horizon, the thunder was like a wave, clearly reflecting the undulating horizon; in the dark, deep night sky, a frightening white flash I'm angry, I'm unwinding.At this time, the roaring wind stirred up dust and hit people's eyes, ears, and mouth, causing pain and pain; the world changed drastically.People no longer imagined this as the divine punishment of God in the Bible, and they withstood the disaster.No one could help being startled when the thunder exploded—it exploded with a bang, as if it were going to blow the world to pieces in a fury—but after a while, the large family that lived together got used to it.They walked out into the corridor with trepidation, staring across the river at the pastures in the distance; the huge tongues of lightning flashed across the sky like veins, and a dozen lightning bolts appeared in the sky in an instant: fleeting chain flashes Swimming in the clouds, sometimes flying out of the bottom of the clouds, sometimes drilling into the clouds, the lights are on and off, which is very spectacular.The lone lightning-struck tree in the prairie smelled of burnt smoke; at last they understood why these lonely ranch guards had died. The air took on a frightful, mysterious color, and although there was no fire in the air, it was no longer elusive.It glowed with pink, lavender, and flame-yellow, and was permeated with a lingering sweetness and an indistinguishable, ineffable aroma.The woods were shimmering, and the tongues of fire cast a halo on the red hair of the Clearys, and the hairs on their arms stood on end.This strange splendor lasted for a whole afternoon, until the sun went down, and then it slowly disappeared in the east.They recovered from the macabre yet fascinating spectacle.Feeling agitated, nervous, irritable, unhappy.Not a single drop of rain fell from the sky, but they all felt that it was as if they had survived a catastrophe and returned to the underworld, surviving the thunder and wrath of heaven and earth safe and sound.They all talked about it for about a week. "There's worse," Mary Carson said wearily. There are indeed worse ones.The second dry winter was colder than they had imagined, and they thought it was just snowless.At night, the ground freezes inches, and the dogs huddle in their kennels, frozen to the point of sifting sugar, to keep warm by feasting on kangaroo meat and the fat left over from cattle slaughtered on the farm.The weather at least meant that beef and pork were substituted for the stale mutton.They had a roaring fire in the house, and the men had to come home as much as they could from the cold of the pasture at night.However, when the shearers came, they were ecstatic, because they could finish their work quickly and sweat less.In the large sheep pens, each person's shearing rack is a circular floor, which is much lighter in color than the floors of other sheep pens. For 50 years, the shearers stood there, sweating the boards, turning them white. After the flood a long time ago, there is still grass here, but the grass grows very thin, which is unlucky.Day after day, the weather is always gloomy, the river line is dark, but it doesn't rain.The wind howled across the pastures, and it looked like it was about to rain.It spins and blows large pieces of brown dust into the sky.People mistakenly think that the sky is full of water vapor, and the sky is tortured.Clouds of dust blown up by the wind looked like cumulonimbus clouds. The children had chilblains on their fingers and tried not to smile because their lips were cracked.The heels and calves were bleeding and they had to take their socks off.The wind and dust were so severe that his face could hardly be warmed.The house, in particular, has been designed so that it takes every breath of air in, rather than keeping it out.They went to bed in the icy room and got up in the icy room, waiting for mother to have some hot water left from the cauldron on the pan-rack by the stove so that washing would be easy. It will become a chore for the teeth to fight against each other. One day, little Hal started coughing and wheezing, and then his condition took a turn for the worse.Fee mixed up a sticky paste of hot charcoal and spread it on his little panting chest, but it didn't seem to make him better.At first, she didn't feel particularly worried, but as the day dragged on, his condition deteriorated rapidly, and she didn't know what to do.Meggie sat beside him, wringing her hands and muttering incessantly, praying to the Father and Mary.When Paddy came in at six o'clock the child's panting could be heard from the corridor; his lips were purple. Paddy was off to the big one right away to make the phone call.However, the doctor is 410 miles away.Went out to see another patient.They took a tray of sulfur and held it over the cauldron, trying to get the child to cough up the sticky phlegm that was slowly choking his throat;His face became more purple, and his breathing convulsed.Meggie sat there, holding him, praying; her heart ached as the sweet little creature struggled with every breath.Hal was closest to her among all the children, and she was his mother.She had never wanted to be a grown mother before, thinking that would make her a woman like Fee; she had the power to heal him anyway.Fee had cured him because Fee wasn't his mother.She hugged her struggling little body tightly in panic and fear, trying to help Hal breathe. It never occurred to her that he was going to die, not even when Fee and Paddy knelt by the bed and prayed what would be the best of their quarrels.In the middle of the night, Paddy released Meggie's arms from holding the motionless child and laid him gently beside a pile of pillows. Meggie's eyes snapped open, she was already half asleep and calmed down because Hal was no longer struggling. "Oh, Dad, he's better!" she said. Paddy shook his head. He looked languid and old, his hair was flecked with frost, and his beard, which hadn't been shaved in a week, was flecked with frost. "No, Meggie, Hal isn't better than you say, but he's at peace. He's gone to God. Out of misery." "Father means he's dead," said Fee coldly. "Oh, Dad, no! He can't die!" but.The little thing in the pillow pile was dead.She knew it as soon as she saw it, though she had never seen anyone die before.He looked like a doll, not a child.She got up and went outside to find the boys who were sitting hunched over the kitchen fire in restless vigil.Mrs. Smith sat in a hard chair beside her, tending the twins.Their shaker had been moved into the kitchen for warmth. "Hal just died," Meggie said. Stewart looked up from his preoccupied meditation. "It's better this way," he said. "Think of the stillness." When Fee came out of the passage, he got up and walked over to her without touching her. "Mom, you must be tired. Go and lie down. I'll light a fire in your room. Come and lie down." Fee turned without a word and followed him.The two of them walked out to the aisle.The rest of the boys sat there and blamed each other for a while, then followed them.Paddy didn't show up at all.Without saying a word, Mrs. Smith pushed out the stroller from the corner of the aisle, and carefully put the sleeping Jens and Patsy into it.She glanced at Meggie, tears streaming down her face. "I'm going back to the mansion, Meggie, and I have to take Jens and Patsy with me. I'll be back in the morning, but it would be nice if the kids could stay with Minnie and Kate and me for a while." But, tell your mother." Meggie sat in an empty chair, her hands folded on her hem.Oh, he was hers, and he was dead!Little Hal, she once took care of him, loved him, and protected him like a mother.The space he occupied in her mind was still real, and she could still feel his warm, heavy body against her chest.It was terrible to know that he would never cuddle here again; she felt his heavy body cuddled here for four years.No, it's not something you can stop crying over!She had shed tears for Agnes, tears for her wounded pride, tears for a childhood that was never to return.However, she had to carry this burden to the last moment of her life; even though he died, his voice and appearance would remain in Meggie's heart.Some people's desire to live is very strong, and some people's desire is not so strong.In Meggie, the desire to live was as tenacious and resilient as a steel cable. When Father Ralph came in with the doctor, he saw her cheered up.She pointed to the aisle silently, but did not intend to follow them.Thanks to a phone call from Mary Carson to the rectory, a long-held desire in the priest's mind was fulfilled: to come to Meggie, be with her, and tell the poor Young female, just tell herself.He wondered if there was another person who fully understood what Howl meant to her. But Ralph was still busy for a long time before pulling away.Before the soul left the body, the last rites, the visits to Fee, the visits to Paddy, to give them practical advice.The doctor was gone, and in spite of his dismay, it had become routine for him, from his long habit of such misfortunes, and his all-encompassing business.According to people, there was nothing he could do to help anyway, it was too far from his hospital and its specially trained medical staff.People here have to try their luck, face the devil, and persevere.His death certificate will say "croup".This is a handy disease name. ① A type of laryngitis, formerly known as Grubb's laryngitis, or laryngitis. -- Annotation. At last Father Ralph had nobody to look after.Paddy went to Fee's and Bob and the other boys went to the carpentry to make a little coffin.Stewart was on the floor of Fee's bedroom, his perfect silhouette so much like Fee's silhouette against the night sky outside the window.She was lying on the pillow, clutching Paddy's hand, Fee never paying attention to the motley shadows cast on the cold floor.It was already five o'clock in the morning, and the rooster was stirring drowsily, but it would be dark for a while. Around Ralph's neck was still the purple holy sash, which he had forgotten to wear.He leaned over to crank up the dying fire in the kitchen, lit a raging flame, turned down the lamp on the table behind him, sat down on the wooden bench opposite Meggie, and looked at her.She was old enough to have seven leagues in her boots; that meant he was going to be left behind and she passed him.He looked at her, and now he felt a strong sense of dissatisfaction; in previous lives he had often doubted his own courage, but today this dissatisfaction was stronger than that painful, confusing doubt. Come stronger.What is he afraid of?What is it that he dare not face up to?He can be stronger than others and fearless; yet, just when he least expects that inexplicable thing to appear, deep down he just expects it to appear; it slips into his consciousness quietly , giving him a taste of fear.But Meggie, born eighteen years after him, ignored his fears and grew up. ①A league is equal to three inches. -- Annotation. She wasn't a saint, or anything better than the best.She just never complains, she has the gift of accommodating everything - maybe that's the bane?No matter what has been lost or what will happen to her, she can bear it bravely, store it up, and throw it into the furnace of her existence as fuel.What taught her this way?Can this skill be taught?Or maybe this is just her that he imagined in his fantasy?Does it actually matter?One point was even more important: who was she actually, or what did he think she was? "Oh, Meggie," he said helplessly. She turned, gazed at him, and, despite her grief, gave him an unadulterated, loving smile.This is a wanton laughter. In her world, there are no rules and restraints like adult women.This kind of love made him ecstasy, his soul was gone, and he longed to swear to the God whose existence he always doubted, to make himself an important figure among human beings, but this man was not Ralph de Brixart.Is this the unknown?Oh God, why did he love her so much?But, as usual, no one could give him an answer, and Meggie still sat smiling at him. At dawn, Fee was up to make breakfast, and Stuart was helping her.At this time, Mrs. Smith came back with Minnie and Kate.The four women stood together by the fire, talking in low, monotonous voices; they formed a little company filled with a sorrow that neither Meggie nor the priest could comprehend.After dinner, Meggie went to line the little wooden box the boys had made, trying to smooth it out and touch it up a bit.Fee silently gave her a white satin nightgown, ivory white with age; she fastened the straps to the hard frame inside the box.While Father Ralph put in a terry cloth padding, she used the sewing machine to sew pieces of satin into the padding.Together, they then thumbtacked the village in place.When this was done, Fee dressed the boy in his best velvet, combed his hair, and placed him in the soft nest; The smell of his mother's Meggie.Paddy closed the lid tightly, weeping; it was the first child he had lost. For many years the Drogheda reception room had been used as a chapel.One end of it had been remodeled, and hung Mary Carson's glittering garb of gold for the Sisters of St Mary Dusseau, costing thousands of pounds to decorate it all over.这间屋子是史密斯太太装饰的，祭坛上放着从德罗海达的花圃里采来的冬季的花朵，有香罗兰，早发的根株，迟发的玫瑰和石竹之类的一团一簇的花以及几幅褪了色的画。屋子里充满了一种不可思议的香味。拉尔夫神父就是在这里穿着不带花边的白长袍和没有任何装饰的十字褡做追思弥撒的。 与内地人多数大牧场一样，德罗海达死去的人都葬在自己的土地上。墓地在园地的外面，靠近小河那柳树成荫的岸边，周围是一圈上了白漆的熟铁栅栏。即使在这种干旱的时候，墓地依然一片葱翠，因为这里是由庄园的水箱灌溉的。迈克尔·卡森和他那个早夭于襁褓中的儿子就葬在这里的一座堂皇的大理石墓穴里；顶部的人字墙上有一个握着出鞘利剑的、真人大小的守护神，护卫着他们的安息。但是，在这座陵墓的周围，大约有十来个不那么夸饰的坟，仅仅立着素白的木十字架，白色的槌球状铁环整整齐齐地拦出了它们的墓界。有些坟上只孤零零地写着名字：一个在工棚的打架中死去的不知其亲戚是何人的剪毛工；两三个在有生之年最后一个落脚之处是德罗海达的游民；几个在牧场中发现的性别不明的无名氏的遗骨；迈克尔·卡森的中国厨师，他留下的坟墓上是一座古雅的红色飞檐式墓碑，忧伤的小铃似乎在不停地敲出他的名字："郗新，郗新，郗新"；还有一个买卖牲口的商人的坟墓，他的十字架上仅仅写着："塔克斯坦德·查理。他是个好伙计。"此外还有一些女人的坟墓。但是产业主人的内侄哈尔的墓可不能这么寒伧。他们将那自制的箱子寄放在陵墓内的一个架子上，把上面那扇锻制的青铜门合上。 过了一会儿，除了偶尔提上几句之外，他们都不再谈起哈尔了。梅吉将她的哀伤独自留在心头，她的痛苦有一种孩子们所特有的、莫名其妙的凄楚，既夸张又神秘；然而小小年纪的她却把这种感情掩藏在日常的活动之下，使它的重要性降低了。除了鲍勃之外，这件事对其他男孩的影响甚小，鲍勃已到了钟爱他的小弟弟的年龄了。帕迪深感悲伤，但是，谁也不知道菲是否伤心。她似乎离丈夫和孩子们愈来愈远，离一切感情愈来愈远了。正因为这样，帕迪对斯图关注他母亲的作法感激不尽；斯图对母亲充满了一种深沉的柔情。只有帕迪才清楚菲是怎样看待他没和弗兰克一起从基里回来的那一天的。那时，她那双柔的和灰眼睛中没有情绪激动的光芒，没有冷酷之色，也没有责备之意，没有恨也没有悲伤。仿佛她就是束手等待着这一打击的到来，就像一条被判死刑的狗在等待着那致命的一枪，明知是命中注定，但又无计规避。 "我早就知道他不会回来了。"她说道。 "他也许会回来的，菲，只要你尽快给他写封信。"帕迪说。 她摇了摇头，但是菲这个人是不会做出什么解释的。弗兰克远离德罗海达和她，去过一种新生活，这样倒好一些。她深知自己的儿子，确信她说一句话就会把他召回来，所以她决不能说那句话。假如因感到生活失败而觉得时日悠悠、痛苦辛酸的话，她一定要默默地忍受下去。帕迪不是她所要选择的男人，可是世上决没有比帕迪更好的人了。她不是那种感情强烈得无法自恃而还俗偷生的人，她曾经有过严酷的教训。差不多有25年了，她压抑着自己的感情，不使自己激动，她深信坚持到底就是胜利。 这片土地上无穷循环的生活在有节奏地进行着。第二年夏天，雨来了；这不是季雨，而是季雨的副产品。雨水注满了小河和水箱，救活了干渴的草根，揩尽了悄然四落的尘土。男人高兴得几乎流出了泪水，他们做着这一季节中固定要做的营生。人们心里有了底，牲口再也用不着手工喂养了。草地绵绵延延，一直伸向长势茂盛的树林，在那里被矮树丛截断；草地要应付使用已经是绰绰有余了。但并不是基里的所有牧场都是这样的，一个牧场到底要养多少畜口，全要看放牧人如何进行管理；对于德罗海达这样广袤的牧场来说，它的牲畜饲养数量是不足的。这就意味着青草可以支持得更久。 接着，就是给母羊接羔，要乱哄哄地忙上好几个星期，这是牧羊日程上最繁忙的季节。每一头生下来的羊羔都得抓住，在尾巴上套上标志环，在耳朵上打上记号；如果是一只公羊，没有喂养的必要，就得将它阉了。洗去羊羔身上的血是一件腌(月赞)而又令人生厌的活儿，但它是在短时间内从成千上万只羊羔中吃力地阉割雄羔的唯一方法。羊的两只睾丸被手猛地捏住，用嘴咬掉，吐在地上。羊羔的尾巴用无法伸缩的薄箍带套上，这样无论是雄羔还是雌羔，它们的尾部都逐渐失去维持活力所必需的血液循环，于是便开始发肿、萎缩、脱落。 这里的羊是世界上毛最细的绵羊，其规模之大，用人工之省，在别的任何一个国家都是闻所未闻的。所有的一切都适合完满地生产出质地上好的羊毛。先是羊臀去毛工序：绵羊臀部的周围。恶臭的粪便和蝇卵与涂伤口的焦油黑呼呼地粘成一团，这一部位必须不断地仔细剪去。或加上T字型撑架。这是一种比较轻松然而却让人很不愉快的活儿，臭气熏人，苍蝇乱飞。因此，付的工资要多一些。然后是浸洗工序：成千上百只咩咩叫着的、活蹦乱跳的小羊被连赶带拉，弄得晕头转向；它们进进出出地经过苯溶液洗浴，消灭掉它们身上的扁虱、害虫和寄生虫。还有灌肠工序：所施用的药物，通过一个大注射器从羊的喉咙强行注入，以驱除其肚内的寄生虫。 羊身上的活儿永远是没完没了的，一件工作刚刚结束，也就是另一件工作的开端。它们被聚拢成群，分成等级，从一个牧场赶到另一个牧场；有的进行交配，有的不进行交配；有剪毛的。有加支撑的，浸洗，灌肠；有的屠宰，有的运出去卖掉。德罗海达养了大约一千头与绵羊一样上好的第一流的菜牛；但是，绵羊要赚钱得多。所以在好年景，德罗海达差不多以每两英亩的土地养一只羊。大约共有12万5千只羊。由于这些羊都是美奴利细毛绵羊，所以从不当作菜羊出售。每年美奴利绵羊剪完毛之后，便将它们变为皮张、羊毛脂、羊油和胶出售，这些东西只对制革者和无用家畜收买者有用处。 逐渐地，那些丛林文学作品①变得有意义了。对克利里一家来说，读书比以往变得更重要了。由于德罗海达与世隔绝，因而他们与大千世界的唯一接触就是通过那些妙不可言的文学。但是，和韦汉一样，附近既没有借阅书籍的图书馆，也不可能每个星期到镇上去取一趟邮件和报纸，或借阅图书馆书架已新到的书籍，这也和在韦汉时一样。拉尔夫神父弥补了这一欠缺；他把基兰博图书馆、女修道院和他自己的书架搜罗一空。他惊讶地发现，他还没有把这些藏书全部搜罗完，就已经通过布鲁伊·威廉姆斯的邮政卡车搞起了一个流动图书馆。这辆卡车总是不断地装着书籍--这些破旧的、翻烂的书在德罗海达、布格拉、底班-底班、布鲁恩·Y·普尔、坎南穆塔和伊奇·乌伊斯奇之间的道路上旅行着，吸引了那些渴望精神食粮和渴望逃避现实的人。珍贵的故事书总是只有其去而无其还：不过，拉尔夫神父和修女们仔细地记下了哪种书在外面保持的时间最长，然后，拉尔夫神父就通过基里新闻社订购几套，并且若无其事地在玛丽·卡森那里报帐，作为她对"圣十字丛林文学藏书协会"的捐赠品。 ①19世纪8O年代，《悉尼报》发动了一场"澳大利亚人的澳大利亚"运动。 90年代，在生气勃勃的I·F·阿奇巴尔德的领导下，形成了一种新的文学力量，以边区丛林居民的民歌、民谣、民间传说为基础，在民歌、民遥和短篇幅小说方面取得了很大的成就。这个文学流派在澳大利亚被称为"丛林文学"。 -- Annotation 那时候，要是在书中发现一个纯洁的亲吻，就算是运气不错了；那是个性爱的情节决不会引起兴奋感的年代，因此，哪些书是给成年人的，哪些书是给大一些的孩子看的，其界线很难严格划分。帕迪这种年纪的人最爱读的书，孩子们也爱看；这并不是什么丢脸的事。例如《小不点儿和袋鼠》，描写吉姆和诺拉的丛书《死水潭》，伊尼丝·风恩大大的不朽之作《我们在荒僻的北昆士兰》。晚上，他们在厨房里轮流高声朗读班卓·帕特森和C·J·丹尼斯的诗。节奏轻松自由的《从斯诺依河来的人》使他们激动颤栗；《多愁善感的家伙》使他们纵声大笑；约翰·奥哈拉的《欢笑的玛丽》使他们潸然泪下。 我给他写了一封信， 打探他的消息。 信儿寄到莱彻兰--几年前我认识他的地方； 认识他时；他在剪全毛；噢，信儿快快飞去！ 地址试写上"奥沃弗罗·克兰西" 谁料竟打听到了他的消息， （我想，回信定是指甲蘸着柏油写成） 写信的是他的患难兄弟。 我把它抄写下来，逐字爱句： "克兰西到昆士兰赶牲口， 天知道他住在何地！ " 在我飘忽的遐想中，克兰西悄悄向我走来。 他赶着牲口到了西行的必经之地：他到了库珀。 一队队牲口缓缓前行， 克兰西跟在后面。小曲儿唱了起来， 快活哟，赶牲口的生活。 城里人永远不会明白。 丛林是他的好朋友， "沙沙"唱歌，迎接他的到来。 风儿飒飒吹，流水潺潺多欢快， 他眺望平川上的灿烂阳光， 夜晚，仰望一天星斗，闪烁着奇光异彩。 人们都喜欢这篇《住在奥沃弗罗的克兰西》；班卓是他们最喜欢的诗人。也许，这些诗不过是些蹩脚的打油诗，但这些诗本来就不是打算写给上等人看的；它们是为人民而写，属于人民。在那个时候，大多数澳大利亚人都能背诵这类诗歌。比起正规学堂里教授的丁尼生①和华兹华斯②的诗来，他们对这些诗要熟悉得多。这些诗之所以被戴上了打油诗的帽子，不过是因为它们把英国写成了一个远不可及的极乐世界罢了。丛生的水仙花和日光兰对克利里家人来说毫无意义，他们住的地方不长那些花。 ①艾尔弗雷德·丁尼生，18O9--1892，英国著名诗人。 -- Annotation ②威廉·华兹华斯，1770--1850，英国著名"湖畔派"诗人。 -- Annotation 克利里一家人对澳大利亚丛林泽影的理解胜于一切，因为奥沃弗罗就是他们的后院，诗里写的是游牧路线上放羊的生活实际。在巴温河畔，有一条曲曲弯弯的正式游牧路线，这是为了从东半部大陆的一端将生活用品运送到另一端的自由往来的官家土地。旧时，那些牲口商和他们好成群结队的、饥饿的、糟蹋草地的牲口群是不受欢迎的。当那些20头到80头一群的庞大阉牛队伍从牧场主们最好的牧草中间缓缓通过的时候，真是招人憎恨。现在，由于游牧官道已经从地图上消失，浪游者和本地居民的关系就和睦多了。 偶尔骑马而来，求一口啤酒，聊聊天，吃一顿家常便饭的牲口商是受欢迎的。有时，他们带着妇女，赶着由擦破了皮毛的、过了时的种马驾辕的轻便马车，车边挂着一圈壶啊、罐啊、瓶啊，叮叮当当地作响。这些在内地从基努瓦到帕鲁，从贡德温迪到甘达该，从凯瑟林到库里漂泊游荡的女人是最令人愉快的女人，也是最难相处的女人。这些奇怪的女人从来不知道头顶上该有屋顶，或觉得她们那铁硬的脊骨下该有木棉褥垫。没有男人能胜过她们；她们吃苦耐劳、忍饥熬寒，永不停息地用双脚走遍了全国。她们的孩子就象沐浴着阳光的树林中野生的小鸟一样。他们的父母有时端着茶杯聊天，一边山南海北地扯着，一边交换着书籍。有时，他们答应把含含糊糊的口信捎给某某人，或没完没了地扯着格纳化加的牧场主手"波末"①的种种稀奇古怪的传闻；这时候，那些孩子们羞涩地躲在马车轮子后边，或一溜烟跑到木堆后面藏起来。不管怎样，这一点是毫无疑问的：这些浪迹萍踪的漂泊者们将会为他们的孩子、妻子、丈夫或伙伴掘一个坟墓，把他们掩埋在运送牲口的道路上的桉树下。这些树看起来样样都差不多，只有他们自己才能认出坟墓在哪一棵树下。 ①澳大利亚人和新西兰人对刚刚从英国迁来的移民的贱称。 -- Annotation 梅吉连"生活的实际"这种陈腐的词汇都不懂，因为环境把她的每一条学习之路都堵住了。她父亲在家庭男女成员之间划了一条严格的界线：决不在女人面前谈论牲口繁殖育种和交配的事，男人们不穿好衣服也决不出现在女人面前。那种有可能透露出此类蛛丝马迹的书是决不会在德罗海达出现的。也没有与她同龄的朋友帮助她。她的生活就是为了这个家的各咱需要而苦干。在这个家的周围，根本没有男女之事。家内圈地里的牲口几乎都不生育。玛丽·卡森不搞马匹的繁育，她的小马都是从布格拉的马丁·金那儿买来的；他干这一行。除非一个人是专门干繁殖马匹的，否则种马就是多余的东西，因此，德罗海达没有种马。不过这里有一头公牛，这是一头又野又凶的牲口，它的圈棚被严格地建在圈地之外。梅吉对它怕得要命，从不到它附近的地方去。狗都关在窝里，拴着链子。在帕迪或鲍勃的监视下，狗的交配是以科学方法进行的，但也得在圈地之外。这里也没有机会见到猪，梅吉对喂猪既厌又恨。事实上，梅吉除了照看自己的两个小弟弟之外，没有机会看到任何人。无知乃愚昧之本，一个未被唤醒的躯体和头脑，对于那些本来能自动地使人明白事现的偶然事件是麻木不仁的。 就在梅吉15岁生日之前，暑热将要达到让人无法忍受的顶峰时，她在自己的内裤上发现了棕色的、不均匀的斑斑血迹。一两天之后，血迹没有了；但是，六个星期以后，血迹又重新出现，这使她的羞涩变成了恐惧。第一次的时候，她认为这是下体不干净而留下的痕迹、这使她感到耻辱。但是，当它们第二次出现的时候，则明明白白是血了。她想不通血是从哪儿来的，但她猜想是来自她的下体。这缓慢的出血三天之后便停止了，而且有两个月没再出现。她偷偷地把内裤洗了，没有引起别人的注意，因为毕竟大部分衣物都是由她洗的。接踵而来的打击给她带来了痛苦，使她第一次冷静而严峻地考虑她的生命了。这次血流得很多，流得太多了。她偷偷拿了一些那对双生子的废尿布，垫在内裤，生怕血会透出来。 死神像幽灵一样突然降临，带走了哈尔，但是这种慢慢消耗生命的出血更让人胆战心惊。她怎么可能去找菲和帕迪，将她下体得了这种极肮脏的、说不出口的病而将要死去的新情况向他们说破呢？只有去找弗兰克，才可能把她的苦水倒一倒，可是弗兰克已经远走高飞，不知到哪儿去了。她曾经听那些女人们在喝茶闲谈时，说起过他们的朋友、母亲或妹妹，因为得了瘤子和癌而可怕地慢慢死去。梅吉似乎相信她一定是长了什么东西，在逐渐吞吃她的内脏，并悄然地向她那颗悸动的心脏一路吞吃下去。哦，她不想死啊！ 在她的头脑中，对于死的概念是非常模糊的，不知道在进入另一个世界时将会是什么样子。宗教信仰对梅吉来讲，与其说是一种灵性感受，毋宁说是一堆条文戒律；宗教信仰对她毫无助益。塞满了她那莫名其妙的头脑中的片言只语，全都是由她的双亲、朋友、修女、教士们喋喋不休地灌进去的；在书里，坏人总要遭报应的。她无法想象大限来临时是什么样子，她夜复一夜地惶恐地躺在那里，试图想象死亡就是永恒的黑夜；或者是通往远方金色乐土而要跳越过去的一条冒着火焰的深渊；或者是置身在一个巨大的圆球之中，里面站满了歌声直于云霄的唱诗班和从其大无比的彩色玻璃窗内透进来的淡淡的光线。 她变得非常沉默了，不过，她的样子和斯图那种宁静的、如梦如痴般的孤独完全不一样。她的神态就象是一只在巨蛇怪①的凝视下吓得一动不动的小动物。要是有人猛地和她讲话，她会跳起来；要是那一对婴儿哭着要她，她也会因为忽略了他们而深感痛苦，赶紧大惊小怪地乱忙一通，以补其过。不管什么时候，只要她有片刻空闲，便要跑到墓地去看哈尔，他是她唯一认识的死者。 ①西方传说中一种一瞪眼或一叫便要死人的蛇怪。 -- Annotation 每个人都发觉了她的变化，但是他们仅仅认为这是因为她长大了；他们从未亲自问过她那不断加重的思想负担是为了什么。她把自己的抑郁之情掩藏得太好了。往日的教训已经被彻底接受，她具有非凡的自我控制能力和强烈的自尊心。谁都不会知道她心里在想什么，表面的不动声色会保持到底的，菲、弗兰克和斯图尔特已经是有例在先，而她身上也流动着同样的血液，这是她本性的一部分，是她继承下来的遗产。 但是，由于拉尔夫神父常常以德罗海达来，他发现梅吉的身上起了深刻的变化，从一个俏丽的姑娘变成了一个毫无生气的人。因此他的关怀便迅速地变成了担扰，随后又变成了恐惧。这种衣带渐宽、精神不振都是在他那锐利的双眼下发生的；她悄悄地从他的身边疏远，他无法容忍她变成另一个菲。那尖削的小脸瘦得只剩下一对呆望着可怕前景的眼睛，那从未被晒黑过或长过雀斑的柔弱暗涩的皮肤变得更加半透明了。他想，倘若这种情况继续下去的话，她就会象吞下了自己尾巴的蛇那样，在自我折磨中把自己搞垮。 唔，他要想想他是否必须采取强制手段扭转她的这种状态、这些日子，玛丽·卡森盘问得极严，对他在牧工头家度过的每一刻都充满了嫉炉，而这位不动声色、城府甚深的男人只好用无比的耐心来对抗她那隐藏的占有欲。即使他在梅吉的身上格外倾注心力，也不能完全压住他在政治上的才智。当他看到自己的魅力在象玛丽·卡森这种火气大、脾气拗的人的身上发生了作用时，他感到了一种满足。长期以来，他对孤独的梅吉的幸福关怀备至，这使他焦躁不安，辗转反侧。同时，他承认还有另一个孤独的人与梅吉同时存在着：那就是这个被他击败的冷酷残忍的母老虎，这个被他愚弄的傲慢专横的女人。哦，他一直就打算这样干的！这个老蜘蛛决不会从他这里得到什么好处。 终于，他设法摆脱了玛丽·卡森，和梅吉一起来到了小小的墓地中，站在那苍白的、表情平和、毫无复仇之心的守护神的阴影下。梅吉的脸上透出畏缩恐惧的表情，抬头凝望着他那没有生气的平和的脸。他感到，在这有感情的人和无感情的神之间有一种强烈的对比。可是，这件事和他实在没有什么关系；而应当由她的母亲或父亲去查明她到底出了什么事；然而，他却象个咯咯叫的老母鸡一样迫在她后面，他在这儿到底算是干什么呢？这仅仅是因为，她的父母什么都没看出来的事，或在她父母看来是不起眼的事，在他看来却是庆当认真对付的。况且，他是一个教士，必须安慰精神上感到孤独或绝望的人。看到她的不幸，他无法忍受；然而，种种事情使他和她连在一起，也使他为之却步。他生活中的许多事情和回忆都是和她联系在一起的，他感到害怕。他害怕那个人离不开他，他也离不开那个人；但是，他对她的爱和他的教士的本能使他获得了一种必不可少的精神力量。这种精神力量使他抵挡住了那股难以摆脱的恐惧。 当她听见他从草地上走来的时候，她转过身来，而对着他，两手叠放在下摆前，低头看着自己的脚。他在她的身边坐了下来，抱着膝头，那件皱皱巴巴的法衣只有穿在这位大方从容的人身上，才能显得如此优雅。他断定，他用不着旁敲侧击兜圈子，如果那样的话，她可能会回避问题的。 "怎么回事，梅吉？" "什么事也没有，神父。" "我不信。" "求求你，神父，求求你！我不能告诉你！" "哦，梅吉，你不老实！你什么都可以告诉我，天底下的任何事都可以告诉我。这就是我为什么坐地这里的缘故。这就是我为什么当教士的缘故。我是上帝选派在这个地方的代表，我代表他去倾听申述，我代表他去给予宽恕。小梅吉，在上帝的天地里，他和我还没有发现我们心中有任何事情不可宽恕呢。我的宝贝儿，你必须告诉我出了什么事，因为假使有什么人能够帮助你的话，那么就是我。只要我活着，我就会竭尽全力帮助你，守卫着你。如果你愿意，你可以把我当作守护神，我可比你头上的那个大理石块要强得多啊。"他吸了一口气，往后一靠。"梅吉，如果你爱我的话，就告诉我！" 她一只手紧握着另一只手："神父，我要死了，我得癌症了！" 他起先憋不住想纵声大笑，这简直是虎头蛇尾，一场可笑的虚惊；后来，他看到她那发青的细嫩的皮肤，看到她那消瘦的小胳臂，又觉得很想痛哭一场，为事情的不公平而痛哭一场。不，梅吉不会毫无理由胡思乱想的，其中必有道理。 "你怎么知道的，宝贝儿？" 为了说明这件事，她费了半天时间。在她讲的时候，他不得不低下头凑到她的唇边，不知不觉地做出了一种拙劣的听取忏海的姿势：一只手挡着自己的眼睛不去看她的脸，伸出他的耳朵去听不光彩的事。 "从开始到现在已经有六个月了，神父。我的肚子疼极了，可是和动肝火的疼不一样，而且--哦，神父！--从我的下边还流出了好多好多的血呢！" 他的头一扬，这忏悔里根本没有什么了不起的东西；他低头望着她那含羞低下的头，心中象打翻了五味瓶，脑子里乱糟糟的。他感到一种既荒谬又宽慰，一种恨不得把菲杀死才解恨的愤怒。这样一个孩子居然能不动声色地把这样的大事压在心里，使他既感到钦佩，又感到全身的不自在。 他和她一样，都是时代的俘虏。从达布林到基兰博，在他所知道的每个城镇，那些轻贱的姑娘们要是真碰上哪怕是一件能引起他对她们兴趣的小事，都会故意跑来哭着忏悔一边的。她们谪谪咕咕地抱怨男人不放过任何玷污女人的空子，抱怨其他姑娘所搞的一些不正当的把戏。有一两个想象力丰富的姑娘居然对这位教士讲起了性关系的细节。除了感到厌恶和轻蔑之外，他能不动声色地听着。因为他受过神学院的严格教育，这套特殊把戏，他根本不放在眼里。但是，那些姑娘们决不会讲述那些会使她们降低身份的秘事。 拉尔夫·德·布里克萨特神父竭力想阻止一股热潮在自己的皮肤下弥散开去，但是他办不到；他坐在那里，用手挡着的脸扭到一边去了，心里为他头一次脸红而感到羞愧。 但是，这样帮不了他的梅吉。当他确信他脸上的红潮已经褪下去之后，便站起身，把她抱起来，让她坐在那个大理石座上，使他们面对着面。 "梅吉，看着我。不，看着我！" 她抬起眼睛，看到他正在微笑着。她心里马上就有底了：要是她快要死了的话，他是不会这样笑的。她知道自己对他来说有多么重要，他是从来不隐瞒这一点的。 "梅吉，你不会死。你没有得癌症。我没有责任告诉你这是怎么回事。不过，我想我最好还是告诉你。你妈妈几年前就应该告诉你，让你有所准备的。可是我不明白她为什么没告诉你。" 他抬头望着那谜一般的大理石天使，发出了一声奇怪的、压抑的笑声："亲爱的耶稣啊！胡为乎今我做这等事！"随后，便对等在那里的梅吉说道："随着光阴的流逝，当你再长大一些，并且懂得更多世事的时候，也许你会禁不住以窘迫、甚至羞郝的心情来回忆今天的。可是你千万不要那样去回忆今天啊，梅吉。这件事完全谈不上有什么可羞愧、可发窘的。就像我做过的一切事情一样，在这件事上，我就是上帝的一个普普通通的工具。这是我在这块土地上的唯一作用，除此之外我什么都不接受。你感到十分恐惧，需要帮助，而上帝让你来接受我的帮助。仅仅记住这一点就行了，梅吉。我是上帝的教士，我是以他的名义讲话的。 "梅吉，你只不过遇上了每一个女人都会遇上的事罢了。每个月中你有几天要流些血，这种情况一般从十二、三岁左右开始发生--你多大了，有这么大吗？" "我15岁了，神父。" "15岁？你？"他摇摇头，对她的话半信半疑。"唔，要是你说已经15岁了的话，我就只好相信你的话了。不过，你比大多数的姑娘要来得晚。这种情况每个月都要出现，直到你50岁左右为止。有些女人的这种事，就像月相盈亏一样有规律，有些女人就不这么有规律。有些女人遇上这种事没有什么痛苦，而另外一些则疼痛难忍。谁也不知道这种事为什么每个女人和每个女人相差这么大。不过，每个月下血就是你已经成年的标志。你知道成年是什么意思吗？" "当然知道，神父！我在书上看见过！就是长大成人的意思。" "对，这就行了。在流血不断持续下去的同时，你就具备生育能力了。流血是生育力循环的一部分。在亚当犯原罪以前的时代里，据说夏娃是不行经的①。它的正确名称叫月经，就是行月相之经。但是，在亚当和夏娃堕落之后，上帝对女人的惩罚远胜于男人，因为他们的堕落实在是她的错。她引诱了男人。你还记得《圣经》上的话吗？尔等之忧伤将来自儿童。上帝的意思就是一个女人所做的一切与孩子有关的事都要含有痛苦在其中。这是一大乐事，同时也是一大痛苦。这是你的命运，梅吉，你必须承受它。" ①《圣经·创世纪》称，亚当是上帝用泥土造的第一个男人，上帝又用亚当的肋骨造出其妻夏娃，同置于"伊甸园"中。后因两人同时吃了禁果，遂相爱，被逐出"伊甸园"。此后，作为亚当与夏娃后代的人类便有了与生俱来的男女之爱，基督教称此为"原罪"。 -- Annotation 他自己不明白这些话，但是，在他处理不能过多地把个人牵扯进去的事情时，他正是这样对他的教民们进行安慰和帮助的：非常和蔼可亲，但是决不把自己卷进麻烦之中去。这也许没有什么可大惊小怪的，正因为他是这样做的，他才能给别人带为更大的安慰和帮助。他好像已经超脱了这些小事，因此这些小事便不足挂齿了。凡是向他求助的人既没有觉得他小瞧他们，也没有觉得他责怪他们的弱点，但他并不是有意这么做的。有许多教。让他们的教民感到自己有罪，卑微渺少；或野蛮残忍，但是他从来不这样。因为他使他们觉得他自己也自有不幸和思想斗争；也许，他的不幸让人觉得奇怪，他的思想斗争让人觉得无法理解，然而，这却是事实。他既不知道也不会理解，他的大部分感染力的吸引力并不是由于他的外表风度，而是由于他精神上的这种冷淡的、几乎是神一般的、极富人情味的东西。 由于他时刻记挂着梅吉，因此他对她讲话的方式就像弗兰克一样：好像她和他是地位相等的人似的。然而，他比弗兰克年长得多，聪明得多，受过的教育高得多，是一个更合人意的密友。而且，他的声音多美啊，他讲的是略带着一点儿爱尔兰味的、圆润的英国本土英语。这声音能驱散一切恐惧和极度的痛苦。然而，她年龄太小了，充满了好奇心，渴望立刻就能了解一切能了解的事情。有些人不是自问他们是什么样的人，而是不断地问着他们为什么是这样的人。这种人生哲学使他们感到困惑。但她可同有这种苦恼。他是她的朋友，是她心中所爱戴和崇拜的偶像，是她的天空中初升的太阳。 "为什么不该由你告诉我呢，神父？你为什么说这事应该由妈告诉我？" "这是一件女人自己相当保密的事。可千万不能在男人或小伙子面前提到自己的月经或经期啊，梅吉。这是严格地限于女人之间的事。" "why?" 他摇摇头，笑了起来。"老实讲，我也不真正明白是为什么。我甚至希望事情不是这样才好呢。不过，你得记住我说的这番话。除了你母亲以外，决不要对任何人提起这件事，也别告诉她，你和我商讨过这件事。" "好吧，神父，我不会说的。" "当一位母亲真是太难了，在生活实际中有多少需要考虑的事情得记住啊！梅吉，你必须回家，告诉你妈妈，你已经下血了，并且让她告诉你怎样照应自己。" "妈妈也这样吗？" "所有健康的妇女都这样。不过，当她们期望要个娃娃的时候，月经便停止了，直到她们生完孩子之后再开始。女人就是这样来表明她们想要孩子的。" <