Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Nettie

I don't know how long it was between that night when Pallode showed me the comet for the first time, and I pretended to see it, and then I spent the Sunday afternoon at Zexhill. In the meantime I had time enough to say good-bye to Lawton and get out of there; time enough to look for other employment as best I could; Some very nasty words.I still have plenty of time to write a glowing letter to Nettie. The babbling and the rage are all gone now in my head.The only thing I can remember clearly now is that I wrote her a heavy farewell letter and wiped her from my heart forever.Then she replied with a square note, saying, I wrote another ironic letter.In response, she did not reply, and there must be an interval of at least three or four weeks.Because, when comets first appear in the sky, they are only small faint spots that can only be seen through a telescope.But now the comet is a vast expanse of whiteness, brighter than Jupiter, and at the same time, because the comet casts a shadow on the earth, people can no longer ignore its existence.Almost everyone is talking about the arrival of a comet, and everyone is looking for a magnificent sight in the sky that gradually changes like a setting sun.Comets appeared on the streets, in newspapers, music hall advertisements, and billboards.

Before I could get it all over with Nettie, the comet had taken over.Pa watched the mysterious and exciting band of light.It was a green unexplored band of light.I don't know how many times I looked at that object from space before I got angry.It was a strange symbol that no one knew about.Finally, I couldn't bear it anymore.I vehemently criticized Parod for wasting precious time with a superficial obsession with astronomy. "Hey," I said, "we're living in the most rural backwater period in history. Poverty and hunger are coming our way, and the competitive system of capitalism is like exacerbating a rotten wound, and you're wasting time, the whole Staring blankly at the goddamn stupid light streaks in the sky!"

Parod stared at me and said, "Yes, exactly as you said." He spoke slowly, as if having a new idea. "Why not? ... I want to find out what's going on." "I'd like to have a meeting tonight to discuss The Waste of Howden." "Do you think they'll listen?" "They're very patient now." "They weren't like that before," Parod said, continuing to fiddle with his binoculars. "On Sunday, unemployed workers demonstrated in Sway Star. They started throwing stones." Parod said nothing.After a while of silence, I said a few things, and he seemed to be thinking about something.

"But, after all, perhaps," he said at last, pointing awkwardly at the telescope, "it portends something." "A comet?" "right." "What does it portend? You're not going to make me believe in your damn astronomy too! What does it matter if something is shining in the sky when humans are starving on Earth?" "It's ... it's science. Maybe it affects us." "Science! What we need now is socialism, not science." He seemed reluctant to drop his comet. "Socialism is all well and good," he said, "but if something in the sky hits the earth, then all doctrines are gone."

"Nothing matters but people." "If the comet killed everyone." "Hey," I said, "this is a joke." "I don't know." Palod said, at the same time, as if a little helpless. He looked at the comet as if to repeat his thoughts about the approaching orbit of the Earth and the comet, and what might follow.I interrupted and said something.That was from a now-forgotten author called Ruskin.The writer's spout of fine words and pointless advice was far superior to my eloquent, sensitive youth at the time.I also said something about science being unimportant and life being the most important thing.

Parod stood listening, fingers still on the binoculars, half-turned to the sky.He seemed to have suddenly made up his mind. "No. I disagree with you," he said. "You don't understand science." Parrode seldom contended with such stubborn objections.So, his terse rebuttal hit me hard. "Disagree with me?" I repeated. "Disagree," he said. "You are stupid for doing this!" "I think science is more important," he said. "Socialism is just a theory. Science ... science is much more than that." That's all he could say.

We are having a fantastic argument.This is one of the hottest topics of debate among naive young people: science or socialism?Of course, it's like arguing about which is right for something that is irrelevant.It is quite impossible to be opposites.But my argument finally pissed Palod out.And he irritated me by denying a conclusion I was satisfied with.Our conversation ended in a heated argument. "Oh, that's wonderful!" I said, "if only I knew where we were!" I slammed the door down as hard as if I was going to blow up his house.I came to the street angrily.But before I could turn the corner, I found him back at the window to worship his holy celestial body.

After walking for about an hour, my mood returned to calm. coward!Weak! These are the words that often flashed through my mind in those days.Admittedly, that night, I was preoccupied with the most perfect scenario of the French Revolution.I'm sitting in the middle of the safety committee trying to slip away.Standing among the prisoners, Parlod had no chance of changing his opinion.His hands were bound, ready to go to the execution ground.From the open window one can hear the cry of justice, the simple cry of justice of the people.Parod will be executed, I regret, but I have to do my duty.

"If we punish those who will betray us to the king," I said in a tone of deliberate sadness, "how can we punish more severely those who will hand over the country to the useless knowledge?" Then, with With a face full of pain and frustration, he was sent to the guillotine with satisfaction. "Oh, Palod! Palod! You had better listen to me. Poor Palod!" The quarrel is still vivid in my mind, and it makes me feel extremely unhappy.Parod is the only one I can talk to.Leaving him, thinking he was evil, but at the same time not having someone to talk to me about every night cost me a lot.

After writing a tactful letter, I set Nettie free.I do think: It's over, for good.I said to Parod: "Women can't haunt me anymore." Later, after more than a week, there was no response.All week, I've been intensely wondering what's next. I find I still can't forget Nettie, and I keep thinking about her, sometimes with great satisfaction, sometimes with regret; Not believing our relationship is over is like not believing the end of the world is coming. By the end of the week, whenever I thought about her, I could see her in my mind.During the day, I think of her from time to time.At night, I often dream of her.Her appearance was clear, her face was flushed and wet with tears, and her hair seemed a little messy.As soon as I spoke to her, she turned and walked away.The dream left pain and sorrow in my heart.Waking up in the morning, I wanted to see her like crazy.

On Sunday, my mother insisted that I go to church with her.She was of two minds about it.On the one hand, she thought it would help me to find a job next week; on the other hand, because Mr. Gabitas' mysterious eyes behind his glasses could help me, my mother wanted to see if he really had a way. I reluctantly agreed to go, however, thinking of Nettie took hold of me, and I told my mother that I suddenly had something to do.At about 11 o'clock, I set out to walk 17 miles (Note: British and American units of length, a mile equals 5,280 feet, which is 1,6093 kilometers.) to Chex Hale. The sole of the boot is split at the toe.I've cut off the part of the sole that tilts.A nail piercing the sole of my shoe began to torment me.It all made my long treks harder, however, after "surgery" on the boots, the annoying snapping noise was no longer heard.On the way, I stopped at a small hotel for some bread and cheese.About four o'clock I arrived at Chexhill Park.I did not go round to the garden by the road that went past the house, but took a short cut across the ridge behind the second keeper's cabin, and followed Nettie's usual path.It was a path walked by a deer, leading to a small valley, leading to the small valley where we used to date.I went through a holly grove, and followed the narrow path beside the bushes to the garden. Looking back, the walk through the park that day is very vivid in my mind.The long walk gave me nothing but a dirt road and a pair of nasty old boots, but the coolness of the valley and the sudden tumult of doubt and strange longing made me vivid.That's when it's very important to understand what happened after this.Where should I meet her?What will she say?I have asked these questions and found the answers to them.Now, a whole new set of problems has arisen, about which I am not at all She just stood there, unaware of my existence.She is a very delicate beauty, the embodiment of my ideal, and at the same time, an unknown person, just like myself. She holds a book in her hand, which is open, as if she is reading as she walks.She is often like this.But in reality she was just standing still, looking at the mossy gray shrubbery, listening.Her lips parted slightly, curling into a faintly sweet chuckle. I can quite accurately picture her puzzled look at hearing my approaching footsteps.Seeing me, she was very surprised, with a look of panic in her eyes.I believe I can recite every important word she said and many things I said to her when we met. "It's really you, Willie!" they said. "I'm here." I said.In my embarrassment, I forgot to say the carefully woven words I planned to say. "I think I surprised you." "Surprised?" "right." She stared at me for a while.When she looked at me, I could see her lovely face... that inexplicably lovely face.She turned to a slight smile, and her face faded.Then, when she spoke, the color returned. "What surprises me?" The more I tried to explain to her, the more I couldn't think of what to say. "I want to tell you," I found it difficult to say, "that what I wrote in my letter was not my truth." I'm the same age as Nettie.At 16, I didn't feel much difference between us.Now, a year and nine months later, her body is fully grown, and I'm still at the beginning of a long male puberty. "How did you get here?" I told her I was coming. "Step by step." She immediately led me into the garden. I must be exhausted.I want to go home with her right away and sit down.In fact, it was already time for tea (the Stuarts' tea started at five o'clock according to the old tradition.) Everyone was surprised to see me.coming!really interesting!Possibly, she thought seventeen miles was nothing to a man.But when did I start to leave! She kept a distance from me all the time, and never let me touch her hand. "But, Nettie! I came to talk to you." "My sweet fellow! Have some tea first, will you? Then we'll talk, shall we?" "Lovely guy" is a new term that sounds a bit weird to me. She quickened her pace. "I want to explain." I said hastily. Whatever I wanted to explain, I didn't get a chance to say it.I said something irrelevant and she had nothing to say to me. At her request we slowed down as we walked through the bushes and walked down the slope below the beech forest into the garden. As she walked, she looked at me with her shining girlish eyes, which I think she always looked at me.But now I understand more clearly than then that she was a little nervous.She looked at the bushes in front of me for a while, and the bushes behind me for a while.And as she spoke in staccato breathlessness, she had been thinking about something. Her attire was a sign that she was no longer a girl, let me think about it. I remember that her shiny brown hair, once drawn in a large braid with a bright red silk scarf, was curled in intricate patterns around her ears, her cheeks, and her slender neck.Her white dress used to hang down to her feet.Her waist used to look full, surrounded by an imaginary equator.Today, her body has a soft curve.A year ago, her pretty little girl's face had protruded from the collar of an inexpensive coat that covered her legs wrapped in brown stockings; surge.Every movement of hers, especially the way her arms dropped to her skirts, and that graceful way of leaning forward, had a soft beauty to my eyes.A green and exquisite tulle shawl, I think you will also call it a scarf... tightly attached to her youthful body, flowing like a stream in a small wind. From time to time she pulled back the veil, cursing it. We passed through the green door in the high garden wall.I politely held the door and let her pass, looking a little embarrassed.In an instant, her body was almost touching mine.So we went into the well-groomed garden near the cabin where the gardener led us.The long, narrow glass wall is to my left.We passed among the beds of boxwood and begonias and came into the shadow of the yew hedge.Inside the fence was a goldfish pond about twenty yards or so away.By Chi Yong's side, we once swore.Then we came to the manicured wisteria-covered porch. The door was open.She walked in in front of me. "Guess who's coming," she yelled. Her father mumbled back from the living room, and then a chair creaked.I thought my presence must have disturbed his sleep. "Mom!" she yelled in a clear voice. "Pass!" Pas is her sister. She told everyone in a tone of wonder that I had come all the way from Clayton.Then, everyone gathered around me and echoed in surprise. "You'd better sit down, Willie," her father said. "Now, you're here at last. How's your mother?" He looked at me curiously as he spoke. He was dressed in prayer clothes.It was a brown tweed dress.But the vest was not buttoned properly, it was for convenience when resting.He had a ruddy complexion and brown eyes.I can still see his reddish-gold hair falling from his cheeks to his beard.He is not tall, but has a strong physique.His beard and mustache are the most remarkable things. Nettie had inherited all the good things about him, including his smooth white skin, bright hazel eyes, and she had inherited her agility from her mother.I remember her mother as a keen-eyed, very active woman who was constantly passing tea in and out, and she was always kind.Pass was about fourteen years old, and my main impression of her was the way her bright eyes stared and her mother's pale skin.All the people have been very kind to me and often show me appreciation.Sometimes they would unanimously find the same word, such as "smart," to compliment me on.Now they all stand around looking a little cramped. "Sit, sit!" said her father, Paz, "give him a chair." Our conversation was a little stiff.Apparently they were surprised by my ghostly appearance, pale, dusty, and exhausted.Nettie, however, didn't want the conversation to continue. "It must be there!" cried That suddenly, as if in a hurry. "I promise!" Then she rushed out like an arrow. "My God! What a girl!" said Mrs. Stuart. "I don't know what's the matter with her." Nettie came back half an hour later. It seemed to me that it was a long time, and she came running back, out of breath when she entered the house. At this point, I casually said, "I'm not at Lawton's anymore." I said, "I can do better than that." "I forgot the book in the little valley," she said, panting. "Is the tea ready?" This sentence is her apology. When the refreshments came, we still felt quite restrained. In a gardener's house tea is a very serious business.Refreshments include large pastries, small pastries, jams and fruit.There was also a fine tablecloth on the table. You can surely guess what I was like: sullen, preoccupied, awkward, as if something puzzled me.That thing was something inexplicable about Nettie.You can imagine me staring at her over the pastry. My eloquence is gone. 24 hours All that I've been about to say has been pitifully forgotten and snubbed in the back of my mind. Nettie's father tried to get me to talk to him.He kind of likes my talent because it's always difficult for him to express himself.Hearing my uninterrupted flow of ideas excites and amazes him at the same time. In fact, though I am a shy, stupid youth to the whole world, I have said enough at the gardener's house compared to Palod.He used to say to me, "You should write it up and send it to the paper. That's what you're supposed to do. I've never heard anything like that." We should have trained you to be a lawyer." However, that afternoon, even in his eyes, I lost my old spirit and couldn't find anything to talk about. He talked to me about looking for a job again, but I was not interested in it either. For a long time I worried that I would have to go back to Clayton without a word with Nettie.She seemed to pay no attention to my request to talk to her, which felt belated.I even wanted to announce it out of the blue in front of their entire family: I asked to speak to her. Later, it was her mother who came up with a little strategy.She had been watching me all the time, and then finally let us go to a conservatory to do something together. As for what, I don't remember now.What does it do?Close a door or close a window... This is the simplest excuse.However, I don't think that's necessarily going to work either. Nettie hastily agreed, and led me into a conservatory. The room was foggy.The shelves are densely packed with various fern plants in pots and jars.Between the shelves is a path paved with bricks.Above the head is a fixed large branch plant. We came to the shelter where these plants were thick.She stopped, as if in a desperate situation, and suddenly turned around and asked me: "Isn't that kind of barbed wire fern beautiful?" She looked at me while talking, and her eyes seemed to remind me: "Say it!" "Nettie," I said, "wrote you a letter like that, and it was all gibberish." The way she blushed in agreement surprised me.She didn't say a word, though, just stood there, waiting for me to reveal more. "Nettie," I said bluntly, "I couldn't live a day without you. I... I love you." "If you love me," she said slowly, looking at her slender white fingers among the green branches, "can you say that in a letter?" "That's not what I meant," I said. "At least, not always." In fact, I was thinking those letters were pretty good, and Nettie would be a fool to think of going elsewhere.But now I clearly realize that I can't tell her what's on my mind. "You wrote those words." "But I walked 17 miles just to tell you that I don't mean not to love you." "Yes. But perhaps you mean that." I guess I'm a little at a loss.Then, I stammered, "I didn't." "You think you...you love me, Willie, but you don't." "I love you, Nettie! I must love you." She shook her head, still not believing me. I did what I thought was the most heroic act.I said, "Nettie, I'd rather have you...and throw away my views." "You're only thinking about it now," she said. "I've thought about it for a long time, and I decided on the way here." I immediately refuted. "No," she said curtly, "it's different now." "But, why is there such a big difference between the two letters?" I said. "It's not just two letters. It's a difference, a difference forever." After saying this, she hesitated, looking for something to say.Suddenly, she looked up into my eyes, then, slowly moved away, signaling that our conversation should be over. However, I don't want it to end. "Forever?" I said. "No! . . . Nettie! Nettie! I know you don't mean that!" "That's what I mean!" she said cautiously, still looking at me.Everything she says and does carries a final message.She seemed to be bracing herself for the ensuing outburst.Of course, I continued to babble.But I didn't overwhelm her vocally, she stood there defensively, firing back at me like a machine gun with contradictory statements.I remember our conversation being ridiculous.They are arguing with each other whether I love her or not.Evidently, I was there to state the pain of my soul in depth and in full.And she could only stand there defensively, severing the relationship with me with an inexpressible helplessness.At this moment, she looked more beautiful and lovely than ever. I beg, I justify.I tried to show that even if my letter was harsh and obtrusive, it was for the sake of her association.I exaggerate my desires.I empathize with the devastation she suffered while I was away, with her pain at the loss of her love because she felt alienated.She looked at me, savoring the emotion in my words, while remaining indifferent to my thoughts.Even if my words were poor, if they are recorded calmly now, it will leave no doubt that I was eloquent then.I put a lot of emphasis on what I was going to say. With absolute sincerity I expressed to her my sense of alienation, my strongest desire. I painfully and tenaciously tried to persuade her through a set of language.Like the dawn gradually illuminating the sky, her complexion also slowly and imperceptibly changed. I could watch her coldness melt somehow as I approached her, her decisiveness softening.She began to hesitate. "No!" she exclaimed suddenly, and began to move. She put a hand on my arm, and there was a wonderful friendly emotion in her words. "It can't be, Willie, everything is different now! Everything. We made a mistake. Both of us idiots made a mistake. Everything is different forever. That's it." She turned sideways. "Nettie!" I cried, still obstinately expressing my opinion, while continuing to follow her down the narrow path between the shelves to the conservatory door.I followed her like a grievance.She stood before me like a guilty and ashamed person.Now I think of that scene. She doesn't want to talk to me anymore. However, I found that my speech to her narrowed the distance that was apparent when we met in the park.Once again I saw her looking at me with those hazel eyes.There was a novelty in the eyes... surprise.It's as if she's aware of our unusual relationship and exudes sympathetic compassion while still being very defensive. When we were back at the cabin again, I felt a lot easier talking to her father about nationalizing the railroads.Realizing that I still had something to do with Nettie mentally, my emotions and tempers were less severe, so I was able to say something to Paz to relax.Mrs. Stuart concluded from this that things seemed to be going my way better.So she started laughing. However, Nettie is still preoccupied and rarely speaks.She is in a predicament we cannot fathom.So she walked away from us and went upstairs. Naturally I couldn't walk back to Clayton because my feet hurt, and I had enough money in my pocket to cover the two-mile stop from Chaxhill.So, I'm going to go back by train. As I was about to leave, Nettie reminded me with great concern, "I'd better take the road. It's too dark to take the short cut." I was flattered to hear this. I said there was moonlight tonight, and old Stuart went on: "And comets falling from the sky." "No!" insisted Nettie, "you must take the road." We are arguing. She stood beside me and said hurriedly, "Come to me, please." The voice was low and urgent, and at the same time, she had persuasive eyes.This makes me very puzzled. For a split second, I asked myself, "Will this please her?" If she had stopped insisting, I might have done as she said. But, she went on, "It's too dark in the holly grove by the bushes, and there are fierce hounds there for fawn." "I'm not afraid of the dark," I said, "nor the deerhounds." "But those dogs are fierce! If one of them misses..." That's just a little girl's reason.She should understand that fear is only a woman's patent.Though I was terrified at the sight of those hideous lanky brutes, and chilled at the sound of their barking at night-timers at the edge of the woods, manly pride dispelled my desire to please her.Instinctively, I felt that I was able to overcome my fear and never back down, that I was capable of withstanding the constant pressure and attacks of dark animals.Especially thinking of taking a short cut with almost seven or eight locked dogs, I insisted on doing so even more. So, I still set off.I think I'm brave, and I'm glad I'm so brave.However, I also feel a little regretful, because she will think that her opinion is not adopted by me. A thin cloud covered the side of the moon.The road was dark under the beech trees.I'm not completely entangled in my love affairs, and frankly, I'm used to walking through lonely parks at night.I wrapped a hard thing around one end of my handkerchief, tied the other end to my wrist, put it in my pocket, and walked forward boldly. When I came out of the holly grove and came to the corner of the bush, I suddenly met a young man in evening dress and smoking a cigar. At that time, I was walking on the grass, and my footsteps were very light.He stood in the moonlight, and the outline was very clear.The burning cigars are like blood-red stars.At that time, I really didn't expect that I could not help walking towards him in the thick shadows. "Hey!" he yelled, with a certain mild defiance in his voice, "I got here first." I stepped out of the shadow into the moonlight, said, "That doesn't matter," and was anxious to find out what he meant. I know that lately there has been an intermittent quarrel over the road between councilors and public-spirited villagers.I don't have to say which side I should take in this controversy. "Huh?" He was surprised. "I think I should have run away," I said, and walked over to him. At the sight of his clothes and his strange way of speaking, my hatred for his class was kindled. I know him.His name is Edward Ferrer.His father not only owned a large estate, but also controlled half of Lawton Bank.His family owned properties, businesses, coal mines, rental properties, and nearly all of the blocks in Fall.People say that Worrall is a promising young man with brains.Despite his young age, Congress is already talking about him.He excelled in college.He is carefully becoming known to us.He probably thinks I'm suffering and he has more of an advantage than me.But I don't think so.When he stood there, he was the condensed shadow that filled me with pain.One day, he parked his car outside my house and I remember being furious.At that time, I noticed that there was a kind of reverent admiration in my mother's eyes as she stared at him with her dim eyes. "That's the promising Mr. Waller." Said he was very clever." "They'll say that," I replied. "Damn it!" But now it's on the side of the road. He was very surprised that I had such a face-to-face conversation with him.His tone changed. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. I responded with the same simple rhetorical question, "What about your first and last name?" "Huh?" he said. "Think it's me passing by, if you want!" I said. "You know? It's a public road—just like this used to be public land. You took it—you and yours Folks. Now, you're trying to steal access to the road. Next, you're driving us off the planet. You're not going to succeed." I am slightly shorter than him and two years younger than him.I had my club in my pocket, ready at hand, and I would have liked to beat him if I could.However, when I walked towards him, he took a step back. "You look like a socialist to me?" he said, a little jokingly, keeping his composure as he woke up. "Just one of them." "We're all socialists now," he said in a philosophical tone, "and I don't want to argue with you about your right of way at all." "This is the best." I said. "Absolutely not!" "It should be." He changed a cigar.After a pause, he threw out a sentence: "Do you want to catch the train?" It seemed unreasonable not to answer him.So, I said briefly, "Yes." He said it was a beautiful walk tonight. I hesitated for a moment, and the road ahead was the way I wanted to go.So, he stood aside, it seemed that I had no choice but to continue walking. "Good night, then," he said, and that was exactly what he meant.I then rudely said goodnight loudly. When I walk on the silent road, I really hope that a bomb will explode immediately with incredible force.During our unexpected encounter, he completely had the upper hand. I remember a strange intertwining of two completely unrelated events that stood out with particular sharpness. As I cut across the last open pasture and took the short cut to the Chexhill station, I noticed that I had two shadows.As soon as this incident jumped into my mind, it temporarily interrupted the originally full stream of consciousness, and I can still think of the rational transfer of my sudden interest.I turned around quickly and stood there, looking at the moon and the huge white comet.At this time, the floating clouds suddenly lifted its veil. The comet is estimated to be 20 degrees away from the moon, hanging in the sky with a strange appearance.In the blue and deep space, it presents a magical phenomenon of white and green.Comets are smaller than the moon, but brighter than the moon.Although comets have sharper cuts, their shadows are much fainter than those of the moon.I continued to pay attention to these phenomena and saw my two shadows ahead. In this case, I'm confused.However, she started to have this phenomenon as I rounded the corner.Suddenly, the comet disappeared from my mind again.I was again faced with an absolutely novel idea.I wonder if sometimes we cast two shadows—one of which is feminine in relation to the other; it is not taller than the other, nor does it suggest that my mind has those thoughts.What was clear to me was that my instincts were right, and I knew exactly what was causing the young man in evening dress to stand outside the bushes.Yes, he's here to date Nettie. Once the brain is spinning, it will never stop.On this day, my heart is full of confusion.Something mysterious and unseen separated Nettie from me; besides, there was something unexplainably strange about her manner.Now, all this is clear and has a reasonable explanation. I know why she made a guilty show when she saw me, I know why she stood in the garden that afternoon, I know why she let me in in such a hurry, and why she ran out to get the book, Why did she make me go back down the road, why did she treat me like this.In an instant, everything became clear to me. 你一定会想到，此时的我，一个黑乎乎的小个子，忽然悄悄地遭了殃。一刹那，僵直地站立着。紧接着，又活跃起来，打着软弱无力的手势，口里发出含混不清的喊叫，两个影子都在嘲笑我。你一定会想象出，我周围是一大片开阔的月光泼洒的草地，远处树木的影子围着这片草地。那些树很矮，远望过去模糊不清。在草地上方是那夜晚的美妙宁静发光的苍穹。 这想法使我有点头晕。我的思考暂时停了下来，完全被我的新发现所困扰住了。同时，我的双脚领着我穿过了漫暖的黑夜，来到了亮着小灯的柴克斯黑尔火车站，来到了售票处的窗口，最后上了火车。 我记得，走上火车后，我一个人孤零零地呆在一个肮脏昏暗的三等车厢里。我记得，我突然爆发的几近疯狂的愤怒有如大海的波涛在翻涌。我站起来，像狂暴的野兽一样吼叫，伸着拳头，使尽全身的力气向着面前的木板打去。 奇怪的是，不久以后，我就把这件事暂时忘掉了。但是，我知道，后来，或许也就一分钟左右，我把门打开，把自己悬在车厢外面，考虑着怎么从火车上跳跃出去。那跳跃一定非常具有戏剧性。接着，我要猛扑到她的面前，痛斥她，把她打翻在地。于是，我悬在车门外，催促自己快跳。我忘记了为什么我决定不这样做了。总之，我终于没有跳下去。 火车又走了一站，我已经不再想回去找内蒂了。我正坐在车厢的角落里，把我受伤青肿的手放在臂下，对手上的疼痛已经麻木不仁。同时，我努力策划行动。这行动要能表达出我难以摆脱的巨大愤怒。