Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Revolver

"A comet is about to hit the earth!" said one of the two people who had just boarded the train and settled down. "Ah!" The other person was very frightened. "I heard that the comet is made of gas. We won't destroy it?" What does this have to do with me? I'm thinking about how I can take revenge on the insults I received early in my life.I'm counting on Nettie and her lover.I swore I would never let him have her, I even had to kill them both to stop them, just make sure it's done, I don't care what it means!All my hurt emotions turned to anger.That night, I would not hesitate to endure any pain or suffering that night, if only to avenge it.Countless actions, scenes of violent conflict, and all kinds of violent conspiracies flashed through my raging brain one after another like a revolving lantern.The only thing I can tolerate is to avenge my personal disgrace through ruthless and cruel means.

Still thinking about Nettie?I love her at this moment, though the fiercest flames of jealousy have been kindled, my heart has been filled with hatred, my pride and dignity have been shattered, my passions have been thwarted. When I walked down the hill from Clayton Heights, the money in my pocket only allowed me to take two mile stops, so, I had to walk over the hill.I vividly remember a short man preaching to Sunday night gossip by a gas lamp on a makeshift fence.The short man was bald, with a handsome beard and curly hair, and aqua-blue eyes.He is preaching that the end of the world is coming.

I think this is the first time I've heard anyone associate comets with the end of the world.He mixes the mess with international politics and the prophecies in Daniel's book. I only stopped and listened to him for a short while.I had no intention of standing there at all.However, the gang held me back.The man's unrestrained speech and his upward gesture attracted me. "It's all coming to an end," he cried. "Look! That's the Star of Last Judgment, the Judgment from God. It was chosen to kill mankind...to kill all." Suddenly, he The voice changed to a strange, flat hymn.

I got out of the crowd and continued on the road.The strange, sometimes harsh, sometimes flat voice of the man behind me pursued me.I moved on, and the thoughts I had just now popped up again.I was thinking: Where can I buy a revolver?Do I need to learn how to use a gun?And I thought: If he hadn't been dating an insider that night, maybe I'd have forgotten all about it.I couldn't sleep most of the night, thinking of Nettie and her lover. Then, three strange days passed.For three days, I seemed to only focus on one thing. I need a revolver more than anything.I persisted in the idea that I would either revert to my former image in Nettie's eyes with my most unusual youthful vigor and frenetic behavior, or kill her.I can't bear that humiliation any longer.I felt that if I let this go by, the last bit of self-respect and pride would go away.At the same time, I also feel that from now on I will never be able to get the most basic respect and love from any woman.A sense of pride keeps me steadfast in purpose through bouts of passion.

It's hard to buy a revolver. The moment I had to face the shopkeeper, I felt a little scared.If the shopkeeper asked me why I bought the gun, I made up a lie in advance in my haste.I just said I was going to faraway Texas, and that needed guns.Texas was notorious at the time and was considered a crazy place.I don't know anything about guns, so I'll have to take it easy and ask how far the guns sold to me will kill a man or woman.I think carefully about every aspect of what I do. In the process of finding the gun seller, I also encountered a little difficulty.A bike shop in Clayton only had some small-bore guns for bird shooting.The revolvers they showed me were too small, like toys, to work.

I found the gun I wanted in the window of a pawnshop on the narrow main street in Swaying.It was a decent gun.The name tag on it reads "U.S. Army Only". I withdrew my balance from the savings bank, about two pounds more, and went into this business.In the end, I found that the sale and purchase went well.The pawnbroker told me where to get ammunition.That night, when I went home, my pockets were bulging.I became a man with a weapon. It can be said that buying a gun is the most important thing for me in those days.So, you must not have imagined that I was so absorbed in buying a gun that I walked down the street thinking about the most effective way to achieve my goal, so I didn't care about the commotion on the street.

There was talk everywhere in the street.There was a morose look in the whole district of Fall, and those who went to work and trade looked very disappointed.Crowds of people gathered on the street, just like the particles in the blood get stuck in the blood vessels when a person is inflamed.The women looked sick.Steelworkers have refused to take a pay cut and have already gone on strike.They are already in the "performance" period.The mediation committee is doing everything it can to prevent coal miners and mine owners from defaulting on their contracts.And the young aristocrat, the largest owner of the Ridka Coal Mine and the landlord of the entire Sway Star and half of Clayton, has an extremely tough attitude, and breach of contract is inevitable.

I am an eyewitness to the incident at the pithead of the Bantok Burton Mine and I don't know exactly What happened. You can imagine how things are going. At the time, I was walking down a steep cobbled road.The road was built on a sunken path, six feet high on either side.Above are rows of uniformly dark and low huts, the doors of which are all open.Houses with blue stone tile roofs and clusters of small chimneys gradually extended to the irregular open land in front of the coal mine.The clearing was covered with a layer of rutted slime.On the left is a weedy dump, and on the right is the gate of the coal mine.Outside this is the regular main road with many shops.Going further, the track of the steam locomotive began under my feet. The rails reflected a harsh light, disappeared into the shadows, and then appeared in the light of newly lit yellow gas lamps full of oil, and then turned again.In the distance is a home, countless shabby houses, and dilapidated churches.A few public buildings, schools, and various other buildings are scattered among the chimney chimneys, large and small, that can be seen everywhere in Swaying.To the right, the long frame at the head of the mine at Bantok Burton supported a large black wheel, so tall in the twilight.In the distance, scattered coal seams can be seen.When one comes to the foot of this mountain, the general feeling is that against the background of the vast night sky, the wheels of those wellheads are rising, and people are living a suffocating life under the sky.

In the vast universe, it is the giant comet that rules the silent space.At this time, the comet is emitting a pale green glow.For one who looks up at the sky, the view is marvelous.With the mountains as the background, the gradually dimming sunlight outlines the outlines of all objects. The comet was rising in the east with the smoke from the Braden Forge. At this time, the comet looks like a cloud, which is what we know from thousands of photos and sketches.At the beginning, the comet was just a spot in the telescope; then, it gradually brightened and became the largest star visible in the universe; then, it grew 16 times at an astonishing speed, and then rushed towards the earth silently , until it is as large as the moon, and then surpasses the moon.It is by far the most dazzling star around the earth.Astronomers have talked about the comet's twin tails, one in front and one behind, but they are too far from Earth to be seen clearly.So, it's more like an intensely bright central bulge emitting flashes of smoke.When it is in the night, it appears a vivid green.

It draws attention to the sky.Even though I was concentrating on the things around me, I couldn't help but stop and stare seriously at the sky, because this star is so magical and brilliant.It must mean a lot.It cannot possibly have nothing to do with our conception of life. But what will happen? I thought of Parod.I thought about people's growing horror and unease about this thing.I thought of the assurances of people in the scientific community: the comet is very light, and it is only a few hundred tons of thin and loose gas and dust.So, even if it hit the Earth head-on, nothing would happen.However, I was wondering, has anyone discovered the significance of this star to the earth?

However, when a person moves his eyes from far to near to the horizon, the buildings will emerge, and the crowds watching will also appear in front of his eyes, so the person will forget about the sky. I'm still haunted by that nightmare.The dream was about me and Nettie, about my honor and dignity.So, I wanted to squeeze past the threat of the assembled crowd, but was inadvertently attracted by the sudden appearance... Everyone is drawn to the street by an irresistible magnetism.The sight held me like a rush of water catches a bale of hay.Suddenly, the whole crowd uttered the same voice, which was either a word or a voice.The sound was somewhere between "ah" and "oh".That voice was mingled with voices of threats and protests.Finally, it gradually turned into a low "嗤嗤" sound.The tone was like that of a ferocious and rough beast.At this time, Ridka's car also made a "beep, beep".Everything seemed so strange. The crowd seemed to be moving towards the mine gate, and I moved with it. Suddenly, I heard a shout.Through the shadows of the black crowd, I see a car pull up, then drive away.At this time, I found something crawling on the ground... Then, rumors spread among the crowd: Ridka was driving and hit a kid who didn't get out of the way.What is also certain is that it was a young boy who wanted to pass in front of the car as it was slowly passing through the crowd.At this moment, his foot slipped under the wheel and he fell down. The flow of people surged forward.Cars honked their horns.Everything moved sharply to the left, about ten yards or so away.Then, there was a gunshot. All of a sudden, people ran away.A woman was holding a child wrapped in a shawl and stumbling towards me, knocking me backwards.Everyone thought that the sound was the explosion of bullets.In fact, it was the car's engine that had failed.A puff of blue-gray smoke filled the air from behind the car.Most of the people ran out from all over again in a mess.The area around the car was vacated. The fallen little boy was lying on the ground, a black mass, with one arm outstretched and his feet spread apart.No one came near him.The car had stopped, and there were three people sitting inside.Six or seven people surrounded the car, as if to prevent the car from driving away.One man, the well-known labor leader Mitchell, was arguing with Ridka in subdued tones of vehemence.I was far away so I couldn't hear what they were arguing about.Behind me, the gate of the coal mine has been opened, and someone is coming to push the car.The space between the car and the gate was very muddy. I clutched the revolver in my pocket.I walked forward a little unconsciously, but not fast.As a result, several people hurried past me to join the crowd blocking the car. Ridka, in his fur coat, stood taller than the group around him.His gestures were casual and intimidating, and his voice was sonorous.He does pay attention to his image.He was tall, blond, handsome, and had a voice as wonderful as a tenor.Mitchell is also a strong man, and his words are powerful. "They hit the boy," Mitchell repeated. "You can't go and see if the kid is okay." "It depends on whether I am happy." Ridka said, turning to the driver: "Hey, get out of the car and have a look." "You'd better be careful," Mitchell said.Later, the driver hesitated on the pedal. The man in the back seat stood up, leaned forward, and began talking to Ridka.So, my attention turned to him again.He was young Feral!The light of the comet illuminated his handsome face. Mitchell and Ridka are arguing.Their quarreling grew louder.The new circumstances before me compelled me to put their quarrel aside.Feral, it's you again! The person I secretly planned to deal with met me unexpectedly. There is going to be a fight, most likely a melee.Because both of us are here. I was thinking in my head: what should I do?I wish I had lost my memory.I don't have to worry about it anymore.I decided to act now.I clutched the revolver tightly in my hand.Suddenly, I remembered that the gun hadn't been loaded yet.I turned and squeezed my way through the flood of people rushing toward the car.I stood by the rubbish dump on the side of the road, where it was quiet and unobserved.I can quietly reload. A young man clenched his fists and strode forward. When he saw me, he hesitated for a moment. "What?" he said. "Aren't you afraid of them? Huh?" I glanced back at him again, lest he see my hand.Then, I saw a change in his eyes.He looked at me suspiciously, then, with a grunt, left. The voice behind me grew louder and shriller.I hesitated for a moment and walked towards the car.Suddenly, I returned to the garbage dump.Instinct told me that I must not be seen reloading a gun.I thought calmly about the consequences of what I had done.I looked back at the fiercely arguing crowd over there, maybe a battle has already started there? I walked to a hollow, knelt on the weeds, loaded a magazine with stiff fingers, then stood up, thinking about all possible situations, hesitated, turned around again, and loaded all the magazines bullet.My movements are sluggish and my hands are a little clumsy.I checked it one last time and I'm afraid I forgot something.Then I crouched and did not get up for a few seconds, trying to control the urge to burst out of tension.I hesitated.For a split second, a very strong white-green tracer flashed across my mind from the comet overhead.At that time, for the first time in my life, I clearly connected it with the violent violence in human society, and connected it with what I planned to do.At the very moment when that green blinding light falls upon the world, I'm going to shoot young Feral. But what about Nettie? It was impossible to make sense of this apparently complex matter in such a short time.I walked slowly over the rubbish pile towards the quarreling crowd. Of course he had to die.... Now, I want you to believe that I have no intention of murdering young Feral in this mess.I didn't imagine this event to be that kind of outcome.I have yet to associate him with the aristocratic Ridka and the dark industrial world that surrounds us.He belonged to another distant world, to Zexchel.That world is full of gardens, with emotions as warm as sunshine, and that world has Nettie.Here he has made an enmity with me.I was too tired and too hungry to put things together.The complex adversarial relationship between us stimulates me.Because of being in emotional disputes, the mind is always filled with the idea of ​​confrontation and conflict and violent actions.I keep thinking about these things, and I can't get rid of them, as if they were the result of something I can't change. At this moment, a woman screamed.The crowd began to surge backwards.The battle begins. Ridka, I believe, jumped out of the car and knocked Mitchell down, and workers were running out of the mine gate to help him. In a crowd, it was difficult for me to walk away due to the crowding.I vividly remember being stuck between two big men for a while, with my arms pinned down and unable to move. I staggered to my feet against the car, made my way around it, and met young Ferral.He was getting out of the back seat.His face reflected the color of the car's orange lights.The color overlapped with the brilliance of the comet, making him look weird, and I was irritated by the sight, the sight irritated me.Then he took a step forward.That weird dizzying brilliance was gone. I thought maybe he didn't recognize me, but he sensed that I was going to attack him.He swung his fist at me, hitting me on the cheek. Instinctively, I let go of the hand holding the gun, took my right hand out of my pocket to parry, and then hit him in the chest with my left hand. My punch made him shake.Just as he was stepping back, he recognized me with a look of surprise on his face. "You know me, you rascal!" I cried, and hit him again. Suddenly, I was punched hard on the jaw, which made me dizzy.My impression of Ridka was a big, hairy man, like a hero in a Homer epic, and I fell in front of him. He seemed to pop out of nowhere suddenly, so he ignored me.He urged Feral in a thick, low voice: "Leave him alone, Teddy! He's done. This picket is trying to embarrass you, bah!" Countless feet move before my eyes.Some miners in hobnails kicked my ankle and shambled away.There was a lot of messy voices.Later, everything disappeared.I rolled over and stared at the driver, young Vlaar, and nobleman Ridka. I support my body on my arms. Damn Flarr! I had forgotten I had a gun with me.Black coal soup splashed on my knees, elbows, shoulders, and back.I failed to draw a pistol? A strange feeling of cowardice filled me.I stood up feebly and with difficulty. I headed for the mine gate, then, after a moment of hesitation, limped home.Failure, pain, panic and shame all hit me.I didn't have the guts or the desire to coax Ridka's car into flames. At night, maybe the bread and milk I ate for dinner were indigestible, and the fever, pain, and exhaustion tormented me in my dreams and made me despair.I felt ashamed, insulted, resentful, helpless, and hopeless as if I were lost in a barren ruin.I raged at my belief that there was no God, and I cursed him.In fact, the fever was only half the cause, and Nettie was the other half.That strangely twisted Nettie entered my fleeting dream.She made me feel drained and was the root cause of my pain.Later, I felt a faint heat in the bruise on my chin; and later, I rolled over and stood up from the muddy water to face my opponents. Often something like madness overwhelms me.I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists tightly.It was only because I couldn't find enough words that I didn't swear and yell. I got up just after dawn and sat by the mirror with a loaded revolver in my hand.At last I stood up and carefully put the gun in the drawer and locked it.No matter how impulsive I am, I won't touch it anymore.After that, I slept for a while. This was not unusual when the world was in the old order.In every city and every night, there is no one who is sleeping soundly who wakes up and finds himself in the midst of intense revenge and deep pain.Untold numbers of people are terribly ill, encountering great troubles in life, suffering so much that they border on madness.Everyone feels confused and dull. The next day I passed in solitary indifference. I had intended to go to Chaxhill that day, but my injured ankle was so swollen that I could hardly walk.I sat downstairs in the dimly lit kitchen with my feet bandaged, reading a book and brooding.My dear old mother waited on me for dinner.Her brown eyes stared at me, wondering why I was so worried and silent, why my brow was furrowed and preoccupied.I didn't even tell her how my ankle was swollen or why my clothes were covered in mud.In the morning, she brushed my clothes before I got up. Oh my God!No mother in the world should be treated like that now.I think that must comfort me.I don't know if you can picture that dark, messy room now.There was a bare pine table, the wallpaper was peeling off the walls, pans and kettles sat on a narrow, cheap but inefficient stove, the fireplace was covered with ashes, and mine was bandaged. His feet were stepping on the rusty iron stove.I don't know if you can imagine what I looked like at that time: frowning, pale, tall and awkward, unshaven, wearing a simple dress and sitting in a chair.I don't know if you can imagine my mother: a little timid, uncleanly dressed, hovering beside me with infinite affection, eyes staring out from under wrinkled lids... Around eight or nine o'clock, she went out to buy some vegetables and came back with a newspaper.It's just like these newspapers on my desk, only slightly damp.And now the newspapers on my desk are particularly dry and brittle.I have a copy of the paper I read that morning.The paper was called Le Novae, and almost everyone would buy it, and called it The Scream.The newspapers that morning were full of startling information, and the headlines were even more striking.After a while, I emerged from my contemplative state and became an interested reader.Because, the newspapers said that Germany and Britain seemed to be on the verge of war. Of all the absurd, sentimental acts of the past, war is surely the craziest, The most stupid of all.In fact, war may not be the worst thing compared with more obscure evils, such as private ownership of land.However, the outcome of the war clearly shows its evil.So, in those days of suffocating confusion, one wonders about war.In modern warfare, no action is based on an understandable basis.Apart from brutally slaughtering and injuring countless people, destroying untold amounts of material wealth, and wasting vast amounts of energy, the war did not produce any good results. Let me briefly describe to you a day as described in the newspapers. In a dirty back street of old London stands a sloppily constructed building.Ragged men hurried into the building.In this factory, a group of printing workers' nimble fingers are moving nervously, frequently operating their typewriters.In a kitchen hell, workers cast metal molds piece by piece.Above this, in a slightly lit room like a honeycomb, scattered workers sat and scribbled.The telephone in the house rang regularly, and the head of the telegraph was rattling.Here and there were furious men passing newsletters, with mockups and reproductions clutched in their hands.As if affected by the surrounding environment, the machine turned faster and faster, followed by whirring and popping sounds.Engineers never had time to wash, scurrying around with oil cartridges in hand while paper scurryed off rolls.You must have imagined those bosses arriving in their cars with great vigor.They jumped out of the car before it could stand still, with a dozen letters and papers in their hands, and hurried into the house, pushing their way through the crowd, just in the way of the others.As soon as he saw him, the courier who was waiting for the letter had to stand up immediately and get busy back and forth.There was constant tension and incongruity happening around, and the sound of cursing kept coming and going.You can imagine this complex nerve-wracking machine bringing the hysteria to a head as the night wore on.In the end, only the hands of the clock were unhurried in the violently shaking house. All the activities were for the publication of the newspaper. When the intense work was successfully completed, the carriage and the crowd were mixed together immediately.There was chaos in the desolate dark streets.Many newspapers suddenly appeared in front of every house in this place, in bundles and piles everywhere.The newspapers were being scrambled and thrown like a battle.People shouted and hurried away in all directions.The printing workers began to scatter, yawning, and the noise and roar began to die down.Newspapers are printed, ready to be distributed, and bundled after distribution.We followed the bundles of newspapers. The newspaper distribution scene is hilarious.You can see bundles of newspapers being delivered to the train station, and all the newspapers are on the train just as the train is about to start.The wheels raced along the way.However, large bundles of newspapers were opened and smaller bundles were accurately thrown on the platform of the train passing by.These small bundles are then divided into smaller bundles and sent to various locations.Unknowingly, dawn has come, and a large group of newsboys are running all over the street.They stuffed the papers into the jacks of the box, threw them through the open windows, and handed them out to the bookstalls in every direction.Within hours, you'd have to believe that the whole country was fluttering with rustling white papers... and hastily crafted lies were plastered on bulletin boards everywhere for the day.People on the train are reading newspapers while eating; men are leaning on the blackboard, others are sitting on the bed, mothers and children are waiting for their fathers to read newspapers... Millions of scattered people are reading newspapers, or scribbling Read, or binge read.Behold the sight!Like a water gun spraying white foamy newspapers in every corner... Then, magically, everything disappeared, completely, like foam on sand. I am holding a newspaper in my hand.When I sat in my mother's dark kitchen, with my bandaged foot on the fender, and the blinding headlines of the newspaper, my worries were gone.Mother was sitting peeling potatoes.She rolled up her sleeves. Newspapers are like bacteria that invade the human body.I am a cell, one of forty-one million cells, in the organic body of England.These vehement headlines, the stirring news, made me forget what I was concentrating on.And then, across the country, millions of people read the papers like I did, under a spell, and they thought as I did.What do we call it?oh!It's called "Facing the Devil." Reports about comets are relegated to an unnoticed page.The column was titled "What Happened When Famous Scientist Says Comet Will Hit Earth," and the "Germans" insulted our flag.This is the content of an article in the "New Gazette".I usually picture Germans wearing coats of arms and swords like mythical evil emperors.Now the monster is before me, insulting the sacred flag of my country, and committing new crimes.Someone hoisted a Union Jack on the right bank of a tropical river I'd never heard of.A drunken German officer tore down the flag without understanding the order.As a British national it is incumbent on us to stand up.As a result, a local was shot in the leg, however, the specific circumstances are not yet clear.The only thing that is clear is that the British will not accept the lies spun up by the Germans.Whatever happened or didn't happen, they have to apologize to us.However, they obviously don't want to obey orders. "Will War Break Out? " This is the banner headline.People immediately agreed with this... For hours that day I completely forgot about Nettie, and all I could think about was the land and sea battle, the gunfire, the victory, the trenches, and the dead bodies of hundreds of rising soldiers.Next morning I set off for Chaxhill.As I set off, I wondered, filled with hope, forgetting the comet, forgetting the strike, and forgetting the war. You must be well aware that when I walked towards Zexhale, I had no murder plan at all, and all the thoughts in my mind: the possible danger, the fear of being denounced, are now a mess .I have no plan to kill them.The pistol is prepared against an opponent who is superior to me in age and physique... But, I don't intend to use it!pistol!I'm carrying a gun because I have a gun, because I'm a stupid big ass!Holding a gun is hilarious.I have to say, I don't have any plans at all. I was on another long trek to Chaxhill.I was enveloped by a new and irrational ray of hope.In the morning, I woke up with this hope.This hope is the only illusion left in a shattered dream.I'm not hoping that Nettie will take pity on me.Although I remembered what had happened, I even imagined that I had misunderstood Nettie.Maybe she'll explain everything to me. At first, I limped out a mile.My feet are tired but not painful.The rest of the way, I went fine.Maybe, after all, I was wrong? I was still thinking about it as I walked through the garden.Approaching the small paddock near the ranger's cabin, the blue-purple bluebells reminded me of the time Nettie and I used to pick them together.It seemed impossible for us to really say goodbye forever.A warm emotion passed through my heart.This warm feeling permeated my body as I passed through the small valley and approached the holly woods.However, the lovely Nettie gradually blurred.I thought again of the lustful new Nettie and the man I met in the moonlight.I thought again of the urge to achieve due to jealousy, which was a strong impulse of my adolescence, and my mood sank again. I walked through the beech woods towards the garden.I have made up my mind, but with great sorrow in my heart.When I reached the green door in the garden wall, I felt a little nervous, and my hands were shaking so violently that I could not grasp the latch and lift it.I no longer doubt the outcome of things.A cold, pale, self-pitying emotion replaced the trembling.I was surprised to find my face deformed and my cheeks moist.I don't even want to wipe it off.I have to take some time to adjust my mood.So I staggered a little way on by the side door, and wept aloud.I lay down among the ferns that no one saw, and soon calmed down.I lay down for a while, trying to stop the idea.For a moment, the emotion fades away like a passing cloud shadow.I calmly walked into the garden. Through the open door of a glass house, I saw old Stuart.He was leaning against the scaffolding with his hands in his pockets, he was thinking about something so he didn't notice me. I paused, then walked slowly toward the cabin. When I was about to arrive, I seemed to be hit by something unusual.But I can't figure out what it is. A window in the bedroom was open.The brass bars above the curtains were a little loose, half hanging in the air.It seemed a little odd, a little careless.Because, usually everything in the cabin feels orderly. The door was open, and no sound could be heard from all around.It was about half past two in the afternoon. The normally tidy lobby now looks a little out of the ordinary.There were three dirty plates with several used knives and forks on a chair in the hall. I walked into the hall and looked into the room on the west side, feeling a little hesitant.Then I reached for the doorknob, knocked it hard, and greeted me kindly. No one agreed.I stood there waiting, meanwhile, holding the pistol.At this time, there was a sound upstairs, and then it fell silent again.My nerves tense. I put my hand on the knocker again.At this time, Paz suddenly stood in the doorway. For a moment, we looked at each other without saying a word.Her hair was disheveled, her face was dirty, as if she had just cried, and her face was also red, which was different from usual.Seeing me, she was very surprised, I guess she might want to say something, suddenly, she ran out of the room quickly. "I say, Paz!" I cried, "Paz!" I followed her and ran out the door. "Pass, what's the matter? Where's Nettie?" She disappeared in a flash around the corner. I was very disturbed, wondering if I could find her.What the hell is going on here?Then, I heard someone walking upstairs again. "Willie," said Mrs. Stuart's voice, "is that you?" "Yes," I agreed. "Where is everyone? Where's Nettie? I want to talk to her." She didn't answer me.However, I heard the rustle of her clothes as she moved.I figured she was on the landing above. I stopped at the foot of the stairs, waiting for her to come downstairs. Suddenly, a strange sound came.The voice was chaotic and incoherent, From a hoarse throat, full of pain, and finally a wail. "I can't," she said, "I can't." That was the only sound I could make out.The sound scared me a little.I ran up to the second floor in a few steps.She's on the landing.She was sobbing on the messy table in the bedroom.I've never seen her like that.The black hair on the first floor is gone, and there is a big braid behind it. 当我爬到楼上的平台时，又传来了她的声音：“噢！我必须告诉你，威利！噢！我必须告诉你！”接着她又把头低下来。于是，喷涌出来的泪水把所有要说的话都淹没了。 我无话可说，只感到异常惊愕。我靠近她，等待着…… 我从来没有见她哭过，她的手绢湿透了。她一直等候着我。 “我本该活着看到就在今天！”她哭着说，“我宁可让她千百次地撞死在我脚下。” 我渐渐明白了。 “斯图亚特夫人，”我清了清嗓子说，“内到底怎么样了？” “我本该活着看到就在今天！”她哽咽着。 我等着，她激动的心情平静下来。 paused for a while.我已经忘了衣袋里的手枪。我一言未发，突然，她站在我面前，擦拭着她那红肿的眼睛说：“威利，她走了！” “是内蒂吗？” “走了！……跑掉了……从家里跑掉了。噢，威利，威利！她使我们蒙羞！这是罪孽，这是耻辱！” 她猛地扑到我怀里，附在我的肩头，又说希望她女儿会撞死在她的面前。 “那，那，”我说着，全身震颤了一下，“她上哪儿去了？”尽力在克制着自己。当时，她正为自己的悲痛所困扰，我只能搂着她，用我唯一的一句安慰她的话。 “她上哪儿去了？”我第四次问。 “我不知道——我们都不知道，噢，威利，她是昨天早上不见的！'内蒂，'我对她说，'你今天简直漂亮极了。''好日子要穿好衣服嘛！'她说。这就是她最后对我说的话！威利！这孩子是我喂大的。” “对，对。可她上哪儿去了？” 我真按奈不住了。 她又哭起来，然后，她断断续续地讲开了，“她走了，打扮得漂漂亮亮，光彩照人。她永远离开了这所房子了。她是笑着走的。”（“开心地走了。”无声地回应着）'你早上简直漂亮极了。 '我说，'漂亮极了。 ''姑娘年轻就该让她漂亮！ '她父亲说。接着她从什么地方拿出了一些她藏好的东西。于是，她走了，永远地离开了。 " 她不再抽泣了。 “就该让姑娘漂亮。”她重复着，“姑娘年轻就该让她漂亮……，噢！我们可怎么活哟，威利？……她爸爸没再提起她，但他就像一头受伤的野兽。我知道他的伤在心里。他爱内蒂。他从来没有像关心内蒂那样关心过帕斯。可是，她却伤透了他……” “她上哪儿去了？”我翻来覆去只问这句话。 “我们不知道。她留下了自己的血。她相信她自己噢，威利，这可让我们怎么办呀！我希望她和我一起埋在我的坟墓里。” “但是，”我湿润了一下嘴唇，慢慢地说，“她可能和别人结婚了。” “但愿如此！我要祈求上帝保佑，威利。我已经祈求上帝宽恕她。他，就是她要嫁的人。” 我急忙问：“那人是谁？” “她信里说他是一位绅士，她确实是这么说的。” “在她信里？她写过信吗？我能看看吗？看看怎么说那位绅士的。” 她注视着我。 “你知道他，是吗。” “威利！”她的人手把你都押在我的身上。 “不管她说没说过，你知道他是谁。”她的眼神里带有一种不太有把握的否定。 “是弗拉尔？” She was noncommittal. “我知道的都告诉你了。威利。”她说。 “是那个年轻的弗拉尔吗？”我追问。 我们对视着，彼此完全理解了……然后，她突然转身到抽屉里去取她的湿手绢。我知道她想逃避我。 我不再同情怜悯她了。她不仅知道我，还知道她的女主人的儿子。而且，她已经知道一段时间了。她全都知道。 我寻思了一会儿，感到恶心。我忽然想到了老斯图亚特。他正在暖和的屋里。我转过身下了楼，一边想着，一边抬头看，只见斯图亚特太太萎靡不振地一瘸一拐地回到自己的房间。 可怜的老斯图加特。 他仍呆在那间暖房里，他依旧面无表情。我从他身边走过，他一动也不动，扫了我一眼，然后又盯着面前的那块花畦。 “嘿，威利，”他说，“我们全家太不幸了。” “你打算怎么办呢？”我问。 “我太自作自受。”他说，“我要离开这儿。” “你打算干什么？” “在这种情况下一个男人还能干什么？” “当然有事要干！”我喊道，“而且必须要干！” “他应该娶她。”他说。 “老天作证，天哪！”我喊到，“他肯定会那么做。” “他应该娶她。否则，那就太不幸了。可是，我该怎么办？如果他不娶她？这很可能，他做得出来，那该怎么办？”他精神简直已经崩溃了，更加绝望了。 “就是这间房子，”他说，就是那间我曾为婚约而兼吵的那间房子，“我们一直生活在这儿。你会说……一下子就离开了。在我这把年纪……。人不能死在贫民窟里。” 我在他面前站了一会儿，揣摩着他那些断断续续的话里还将补充点什么。我觉得他的话有一种冷漠和无可奈何，这令人很生气。我硬硬地问：“你有她的信吗？” 他在内衣口袋里搜索着，默无声响地过了十秒钟，终于找出了她的信。他迟继地把信从信封里取出来，无精打彩递给我。 “嘿！”他叫道，样子好像头一次见到我，“你的下巴怎么啦？威利！” “不碍事。”我说，“有点青肿。”接着，我取出信。 信写在一张漂亮的绿信纸上。内蒂一改已往陈旧的不妥当的用词。她的字体清晰秀丽，清清楚楚，就像完成了一份整理的书面作业。 那封信的内容是这样的： dear mom: 不要为我担心，我到一个安全的地方去了。在那里，有个人非常关心我。对于您，我舍不得离开您。可是，事情似乎只能这样。爱是一种非常复杂的事情，它会使任何人都难以预料。不要认为我对自己的行为感到羞耻。The truth is quite the opposite.您不必对我过于忧虑。我非常非常幸福（幸福得难以言表）。 我也深深地爱着爸爸和帕斯，请您也告诉他们。 爱您的内蒂 那是一份让人看了很不是滋味的信。我现在把它当成一件充满孩子气的事。可是，在我读这封信的时候，心中却积满怒火。它使我陷入了绝境。要报仇雪耻，否则，我还有什么自尊可信。我站在那儿，眼睛盯着那些圆润的字母，呆滞了。最后，我瞥了斯图亚特一眼。 他手里拿着信封，眼睛盯着邮戳。 “你现在说不清她在哪儿。”他说，一边绝望地把信封卷起来，然后又停了下来。“这事使我们很难看，威利。这就是她的想法。她没有什么好抱怨的。她让我们大家都很伤心。这并不是指让别人去干她该干的那份家务。她走了。离开了我们，就像一只刚学会飞的雏鸟儿。她不相信我们。她对我也是如此。可是，我们却非常担心她？” 他摇了摇头表示他无法解决这个问题。 “你去追赶她。”我镇静下来，“你要让他娶她？” “我去哪儿？”他绝望地说，然后举起信，打了个手势， “而且我能干什么？我到哪去找她？即使我知道去哪儿，我又怎能离开这些花园？” “天哪！”我喊叫着，“怎么能离开这些花园！先生，这关系到你的名声。如果她是我女儿……如果她是我的女儿，我要摧毁这个世界！”我哽咽着，“你的意思是不是就任她去了？” “我能干什么？” “让他娶她！用马鞭揍他！我说，就用马鞭揍他！勒死他！”他慢慢地搔了搔他的长满胡子的脸，张着嘴，摇了摇头。 接着，他用一种缓慢的、开明的、难以让人忍受的语调说：“威利，我们这样的人是不能那样做的。” 我差点就要破口大骂了。一股强烈的冲动使我想扇他的脸。在我童年时代，我曾经遇到一只鸟儿被一只猫抓伤了，接着在一阵恐怖和疯狂的挣扎中，鸟死了。我现在忽然迸发出同样的感觉，似乎觉得这个肢体残缺不全的笨蛋正在我面前的尘土中乱扑敌跳。然而，你知道，我最终还是没有把手伸出去。 “我可以看看吗？”我问。 他不情愿地递过信封。 “给你，”他说着，一边用食指给我看，“IAPAMP，你知道那是什么意思？” 我接过来。信封上贴着当时流行的那种带胶粘剂的邮票，邮票被一个圆形邮戳损伤了外观。邮戳上有发信邮局的地名和发信的日期。可是，这封信上的邮戳盖得比较浅，而且墨迹也比较淡，致使邮局地名的字母有一半模糊不清。我只能看清在DSO字母下面的模糊的IAPAMP。 直觉使我猜想那是夏弗姆伯里。字母的间隔使我想到了它。或许是上面模糊不清的字母启迪了我。 “嘿！”我喊着。突然，又停了下来。 告诉他有什么用？ 老斯图亚特迅速地抬起眼看我，说：“你……你知道了吗？”夏弗姆伯里……我应该记住那儿。 “你还没弄明白吗？”他追问着。 我把信封又还给他。 “我一下想起来了，那儿可能是汉普顿。”我说。 “汉普顿。”他重复着，“汉普顿，你怎么会想到是那？”他把信封翻了个儿。“嘿，HAM，威利，你在这方面可不如我！” 他改换了信封上的字母，然后，站起来把信封又放到内衣口袋里。 在这件事上，我可不打算去冒什么风险。我从背心的口袋里掏出了一截铅笔，转身背着他，快速地在我那已经弄破的肮脏的衬衣袖口上写下了“夏弗姆伯里”几个字。 “好了。”我说，带着一种很轻松的样子。 我转身向他说了一些不关痛痒话，现在我已经忘记说过什么了。 我抬头看到另一个人站在暖房门口。那人是老弗拉尔夫人。 我不知道是否我能把她的外表描述给你。她的个子不高，长着极不寻常的淡黄色头发。她那虚弱弯曲的身体皱缩着，但仍有一种骄傲和高贵的气派。她的衣着很华丽，用华丽的英国古语或哥特体（注：哥特体：指粗黑体活字。）字母构成的词印在了衣料上。如今，世界上没有任何人穿得像她那样豪华。你一定不要把豪华想成是因为五彩缤纷，黑色和淡褐色是主要颜色。只所以豪华完全是因为使用了极昂贵的衣料。她喜爱丝绸锦缎，复杂的图案和精巧的丝质饰品，滚动的天鹅绒镶边，贵重的黑色饰带附在米色或紫红色的锦缎上。冬天，她则穿价格昂贵裘皮衣。她戴着高雅精致的手套，精美的金饰链和珍珠链。她有许多手镯。豪华是我想形容给你们的有关这位老夫人的第一显要特征。第二是整洁。你可以感觉到老弗拉尔夫人的高雅洁净。你就是把我那可怜的老妈妈放在碱水里煮一个月也不可能像弗拉尔夫人那样整洁。她所表现出来的第三个特征就是她对世界上地位低下人的明显的信任。 那天，她面色有点苍白，喘着粗气，但却一点也没有影响她的仪态。显然，对于我来说，在情感爆发的时刻，她来拜访斯图亚特，这会弥补两家所产生的不快。 如果你能回忆过去生活的不道德的种种怪异，你就会理解突然跃出我脑海的对老弗拉尔太太外表的描述。 她对这种不愉快事情采取折衷的解决办法！ 而斯图亚特家居然也妥协了！我只可惜他心太软。 斯图亚特和他的女主人的表现使我非常恶心，使我异常暴躁。我想离开他们，我不想看到他们会面时，老斯图亚特表现出来的毫无人格，毫无志气。 “我要走了。”我说着，转过身，背对着他说了一声，没有再与他道别。 我往外走时被老夫人挡住了。我仍然向前走去。 我看到她的外表有些异样。她的嘴角下垂，嘴唇微微张开，锁着额头上有皱纹，眼睛睁得圆圆的。一眼看到我，便觉来者不善。我朝前走的样子使她害怕。她站在有三四个台阶的最上一层，台阶可以通到暖房地面。看到我要冲她过去，她向后退了一两步。 我根本没向她表示任何敬意。 我的内心充满了令人难以忍受的冲动愿望，想骂她。因此，我用下面这些话来说明我对这个可怜的、衣着华贵的老太婆的看法，“你们霸占着土地，你们这些该死的土地窃贼们！”我直截了当地冲着她说。 没等她回过味来，我粗野地把她甩在一边，攥着拳头，大步而去……。 I walked over.宇宙还像往常一样没有变化，只不过里面出现了漩涡和危险的征兆。 当时，我一直没有想到大部分富有的人绝对地相信他们的富有。我认为他们看待事物和我没什么两样。但是，事实却不定如此。 毫无疑问，我使她受了惊，并吓坏了她。但是，她仍搞不懂我为什么会这样。 像她那类人中没有一人会想起这种仇恨的火花总在照亮他们看不到的黑暗。这火花从黑暗中一跃而起，然后消失了。就像夜晚漆黑的路边一个身影被车灯照亮，然后又重新被黑暗吞没了。他们视其为恶梦，于是想方设法在受它困扰时忘记这究竟是为什么。