Chapter 32 Chapter Thirty-Two

Philip was secretly startled when he saw his uncle and aunt.How had he never noticed how old they were before?The chaplain received him with the customary lukewarmness.The pastor was a little fatter again, a little more bald, and more gray.In Philip's eyes, what an insignificant little man Uncle was.His face reveals the weakness and self-willedness in his heart.The Louisas mother took Philip in her arms and kept kissing him, tears of happiness welled up in their eyes and rolled down their cheeks.Philip was deeply moved, but also a little disturbed. He didn't know that she loved him so affectionately.

"Oh! Philip, it's been a long time for us when you're gone," she whimpered. She stroked his hands and looked at his face with joyful eyes. "You've grown up, you're quite a grown-up." A thin layer of soft mustache had grown on his upper lip.He specially bought a razor, and carefully shaved off the soft hair on his smooth chin from time to time. "You're not at home, we're so deserted." Then, she asked shyly in a slightly trembling voice: "Is it nice to be back at your own home?" "of course!" She was thin and thin, as if the eyes could penetrate her body.The two arms that hooked Philip's neck were so bony that one could not help but think of chicken bones; the withered face was so densely wrinkled!Her grizzled hair, still combed in the curls which had been the fashion of her youth, was odd and pathetic.That shriveled and thin body is like a dead leaf in autumn, and you feel that as long as the cold wind blows, it will be blown away without a trace.Philip realized that they, two obscure little people, had finished their lives: they belonged to a past generation, which was waiting patiently and rather numbly for death.As for him, he is full of vigor and vitality, eager for excitement and adventure, and he is naturally horrified to see such a waste of time in such a muddle.They have been mediocre all their lives, and once they pass away, it is as if they have never been to this world.He felt pity for Aunt Louisa, and he loved her suddenly, because she loved him too.

At this moment Miss Wilkinson entered the room.She had sensibly avoided it just now, so that the Careys could have a chance to make out with their nephew for a while. "This is Miss Wilkinson, Philip," said Mrs. Carey. "The prodigal son is home," she said, holding out her hand. "I brought a rose for the prodigal son. Fasten it to the button of your coat." With a smile she pinned the rose she had just picked from the garden in the buttonhole of Philip's coat.Philip flushed and felt stupid.He knew that Miss Wilkinson was the daughter of Uncle William's former rector; and he knew many clergymen's daughters himself.These ladies are poorly dressed and have too big boots.They usually wear all black.During Philip's early years at Blackstable, hand-knitwear had not yet reached East Anglia, and the ladies of the clergyman did not like red and green.Their hair was shaggy and carelessly combed, and their starched underwear gave off a strange, pungent smell.They think that it is unseemly for women to show their strength, so no matter old women or young women, they all dress in the same way.They use their religion as a golden brand by which they can look down upon others.They believe that they are related to the church by blood, and their attitude towards the same kind is inevitably a bit domineering.

Miss Wilkinson was extraordinary.She was wearing a long white gauze dress with a bright pattern of small bouquets on it, a pair of pointed high-heeled shoes, and a pair of mesh stockings.In the eyes of Philip, who had never seen the world, she seemed to be dressed extremely richly, but he didn't realize that her coat was a flashy and cheap item.Her hair was well done, with a sleek lock that was deliberately pulled down the center of her forehead. It was black and shiny with backbone, and never seemed to be unkempt.A pair of black and big eyes, a slightly hooked nose, her silhouette has a bit of a fierce bird of prey, but from the front, she is very cute.She always has a good smile, but because of her big mouth, when she smiles, she has to be careful not to show her big yellow die teeth.What troubled Philip most was the thick layer of make-up on her face.He had always been very particular about the manners of women, and thought that a well-bred woman should never be painted; but then again, Miss Wilkinson was of course a well-bred lady, because she was the daughter of the clergyman, and the clergyman It belongs to the educated upper class.

Philip made up his mind not to take any liking to her.She spoke with a French accent, and he didn't understand why she should, she was born and bred in the interior of England.He found her mannerisms in her smile, and the frivolity of her shyness, which irritated him too.For the first two or three days, he was hostile and refrained from talking to her, and Miss Wilkinson, apparently oblivious to his manner, seemed particularly amiable in his presence.She talked to him almost exclusively, and there was something pleasing about her constant consultation with Philip on certain points.She also tried to make him laugh, and Philip had never been able to refuse anyone who amused him: he was quite eloquent, and he could utter a few elegant and witty remarks now and then, and now he had a confidant. Or, how can we not make him happy.Neither the Vicar nor Mrs. Carey had a sense of humor, and nothing he said could make them smile.Philip gradually became acquainted with Miss Wilkinson, he was no longer shy, and he gradually liked her: he found her French accent to be special; Philip was fascinated by the fact that he wore a printed silk dress with white spots on a blue background.

"I'm sure they'll think you're out of place," he told her, laughing. "It's always been my life's dream to be seen as a loose wild woman," she replied. One day Philip, while Miss Wilkinson was in her room, asked Aunt Louisa how old she was. "Why, my dear, you must never ask a girl's age. But one thing is certain, she will be too old for you to marry." A smile slowly appeared on the pastor's fat face. "She's not a wench, Louisa," he said. "She was pretty much a big girl when we were in Lincolnshire. That was twenty years ago. She had a big braid down her back then."

"Perhaps she was under ten then," said Philip. "More than ten years old," said Aunt Louisa. "I think she was close to twenty then," said the pastor. "Oh no, William, not more than sixteen or seventeen." "Then she's in her early thirties," said Philip. At that moment Miss Wilkinson came down-stairs, briskly, humming a tune by Benjamin Goddard.She had on her hat, for Philip had been engaged to go for a walk; she held out her hand for Philip to button the gloves for her.He was not good at it, and his movements were clumsy.Although he was a bit embarrassed, he consciously showed his chivalry.The two of them now talked freely and speculatively; now they wandered about, chatting all over the place.She told him what she had seen and heard in Berlin, and he told her about her life in Heidelberg this year.Trivial matters that seemed insignificant in the past now take on a new dimension of interest.He described the tenants at Mrs. Erlin's flat and the conversations between Hayward and Weeks.It seemed to have had a profound effect on him at the time, but now he twisted it slightly to make the two parties look ridiculous.Philip was flattered to hear Miss Wilkinson's laughter.

"You are frightening," she said, "and you have a wonderful tongue." Then, jokingly, she asked him if he had any love affairs in Heidelberg.Without hesitation, Philip told the truth: the blessing is too shallow, and nothing can be achieved.But Miss Wilkinson just didn't believe it. "You're so tight-lipped!" she continued. "How is that possible at your age? A Philip's cheeks flushed, and he laughed. "Oh, you've got a little too much to ask," he said. "Haha, I say," said Miss Wilkinson, with a triumphant laugh, "you're blushing."

To put it bluntly, she actually thinks that she is a veteran in the field of love and moon.In order to convince her that he really had all sorts of affairs to hide, he hastily changed the subject.He only blamed himself for never being in love or talking about love.There is really no chance. Miss Wilkinson was a mischievous and blaming woman.She resented having to fend for herself, and she went on and on about her life before Philip; she might have inherited a fortune from an uncle of her mother's who had married his cook. Married, changed the will.During the conversation, she hinted that her family was once quite wealthy. She compared the affluent life of traveling in Lincolnshire with a horse and a car when going out, with the current desolate situation of being dependent on others.When Philip mentioned the matter afterwards to Aunt Louisa, he was a little puzzled by what Aunt Louisa said.She told Philip that when she had known the Wilkinsons they had at best a colt and a poor one-horse carriage; Married and had a child before Emily was born, so Emily had no hope of getting his inheritance at all.Miss Wilkinson was working in Berlin at the moment, and she was saying nothing about it.She complained of the vulgarity of life in Germany, contrasting it painfully with the splendor of Paris.She had been in Paris for several years, but did not say exactly how many years.She was governess in the household of a fashionable portrait painter, a wealthy Jewish mistress.There, she had the good fortune to meet many famous people, and she uttered a series of names in one breath, which made Philip feel dizzy.Several actors from the Comédie Française were frequent visitors to her master's house.Cochrane, who sat beside her at dinner, told her that he had never met a foreigner who spoke such pure, fluent French.Alphonse Daudet also came and gave her a copy of Sappho.He had promised to write her name in the book, but she forgot to remind him later.In any case, she still kept the book as a treasure, and she was willing to lend it to Philip.And that Maupassant.Miss Wilkinson giggled at the mention of him, and looked at Philip meaningfully.Great character!Amazing writer!Hayward had spoken of Maupassant, and Philip had heard a little of his reputation.

"Did he court you?" he asked. Strange to say, the words seemed to be choked when they came to the throat, but they spit them out after all.He liked Miss Wilkinson very much now, and he could not help being excited when he chatted with her, but it was hard for him to imagine anyone making love to her. "Look at your question!" she exclaimed. "Poor Guy, he would have wooed any woman he met.Nothing can change his temper. " She sighed softly, as if recalling the past with tenderness. "He's a charming man," she muttered under her breath. Only those who have more experience than Philip can guess the possible encounter scene from her words: the famous writer was invited to a family dinner, the female teacher brought two slender female students, Bin Came in politely: the host introduced to the guest:

"Notre Melle Anglaise." "Mademoiselle." During the banquet, the famous writer talked with the hostess and hostess, and that Melle Anglaise sat silently by the side. But her words aroused in Philip's mind far more romantic fancies. "Tell me about him," he said excitedly. "There's nothing to talk about," she said truthfully, but the look on her brows seemed to say that even three thick volumes would not be able to write all the good stories about sex history in it. "You shouldn't be asking questions like that." She began to talk about Paris.She liked the boulevards and exotic trees there.All the roads are beautiful and elegant, and the tree forest garden on Elysee Garden Avenue is even more unique.The two of them were sitting on the fence ladder at the side of the road, and Miss Wilkinson looked at the tall elm trees in front of her with a look of contempt in her eyes.There is also a theater there, which is unparalleled in its magnificence and variety of programs, and in its superb acting skills.Her student's mother, Mrs. Fojo, was often accompanied by her when she went to the tailor's shop to try on clothes. "Oh, what a pain to be without money!" she yelled. "Those beautiful fashions! Only Parisians know how to dress, and I can't afford them! Poor Mrs. Foyot, she is too poorly shaped. Sometimes the tailor whispers in my ear: "Oh, madam, If only she could have your figure! " Only now did Philip notice that Miss Wilkinson was plump, and she was quite proud of it. "British men are stupid enough to only care about their faces. The French are a people who know how to love. They know that their figure is far more important than their appearance." Philip, who had never noticed such things before, now noticed Miss Wilkinson's thick and ugly ankles.He quickly looked away. "You should go to France. Why don't you live in Paris for a year. You can learn French and it will make you a deniaiser" "What does that mean?" he asked. She pursed her lips slyly. "You'll have to look it up in the dictionary. English men don't know how to treat women. They're so shy. It's ridiculous how shy men are. They don't know how to woo a woman, and even when they're flattering a woman, You can't help but look stupid." Philip felt stupid.Evidently Miss Wilkinson wished she was less reserved.Indeed, it would have been a great pleasure to say a few witty one-liners and a little courteousness at such a time.It's a pity that he searched his brains, but couldn't come up with a word; when he really thought of it, he was afraid that he would make a fool of himself if he said it. Oh, then I fell in love with Paris," sighed Miss Wilkinson, "and had to go to Berlin.The daughters of the Fojo family got married one after another, and I couldn't stay in their house any longer, and I couldn't find a job for a while, but there was a place in Berlin, which was the job I was doing now.They were relatives of Mrs. Foyot, and I agreed.I have a small flat in rue de Brida, in the cinouieme's, which is really unremarkable.You know about Brida Street--cesdames, don't you. " Philip nodded. In fact, he didn't understand what she was talking about at all, but only vaguely guessed a little bit.He was afraid that she would laugh at him and tell him nothing. But I don't care either. je suis libre. nest-ce-pas "She likes to interject French, and she does speak French well." I had an adventure there too. " She stopped abruptly, and Philip urged her on. "You won't tell me about your adventures at Heidelberg either," she said. "It's very commonplace," defended Philip. "I don't know what Mrs. Carey would say if she knew we were talking about such things." "How do you think I'm going to tell her?" "Can you promise not to tell me?" After he made his promise, she began to talk: she connected to an art student living in the room, and he—but she suddenly changed the subject. "Why don't you take art? You're pretty good at drawing." "It's not far away." "That is for others to judge. Je my connais, I believe you have the makings of a great painter." "If I should go and tell Uncle William suddenly that I'm going to Paris to study art, you'll see what he'll look like!" "You don't necessarily want to let others lead you by the nose now." "You're trying to be tricky, so please go ahead and talk about what happened just now." Miss Wilkinson smiled and went on with her story.A few times, she passed the art student on the stairs, and she didn't pay much attention to him, except that he had beautiful eyes and he politely took off his hat.One day, she found a letter slipped through the crack of the door.He wrote it.The letter said that he had secretly admired her for months, and that he deliberately stood by the stairs waiting for her to pass.Oh, the letter is so tactfully written!Of course she didn't reply to Luo.However, is there any woman in the world who doesn't like to be flattered?The next day, another letter arrived!It was a wonderfully written letter, warm and touching.Later, when she met him again on the stairs, she simply didn't know where to turn her eyes.Letters came every day begging to meet her.He said he would come at night, vers neuf heures, she didn't know what to do.Of course this is absolutely impossible, he may keep ringing the bell, and she will never answer the door; but while she is waiting for the bell to ring, he appears in front of her unexpectedly.It turned out that she forgot to close the door when she entered the house by herself. "Cetait une fatslite." "And what happened next?" demanded Philip. "That's the end of the story," she replied, with a cackle of giggles. Philip was silent for a while.His heart was beating suddenly, and waves of inexplicable emotions seemed to surge in his heart.The dark staircase and the scenes of encounters and encounters appeared in front of his eyes.He admired the boldness of the writer--oh, he would never have dared to do so--and admired how quietly, almost unnoticed, he had entered her room.In his view, this is the essence of love affairs. "What does he look like?" "Oh, pretty handsome. Charmant garcon." "Do you still associate with him?" When Philip asked this sentence, he felt a faint sour taste in his heart. "He made it right for me, men, they're all alike. You're all heartless, and none of you are good." "I don't know that," said Philip, not without embarrassment. "Let us go home," said Miss Wilkinson.