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简爱CHAPTER XV

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CHAPTER XV 
 

MR. ROCHESTER did, on a future occasion, explain it. It was one afternoon, when he chanced to meet me and Adele in the grounds: and while she played with Pilot and her shuttlecock, he asked me to walk up and down a long beech avenue within sight of her.
He then said that she was the daughter of a French opera-dancer, Celine Varens, towards whom he had once cherished what he called a 'grande passion.' This passion Celine had professed to return with even superior ardour. He thought himself her idol, ugly as he was: he believed, as he said, that she preferred his 'taille d'athlete' to the elegance of the Apollo Belvidere.

'And, Miss Eyre, so much was I flattered by this preference of the Gallic sylph for her British gnome, that I installed her in an hotel; gave her a complete establishment of servants, a carriage, cashmeres, diamonds, dentelles, etc. In short, I began the process of ruining myself in the received style, like any other spoony. I had not, it seems, the originality to chalk out a new road to shame and destruction, but trode the old track with stupid exactness not to deviate an inch from the beaten centre. I had- as I deserved to have- the fate of all other spoonies. Happening to call one evening when Celine did not expect me, I found her out; but it was a warm night, and I was tired with strolling through Paris, so I sat down in her boudoir; happy to breathe the air consecrated so lately by her presence. No,- I exaggerate; I never thought there was any consecrating virtue about her: it was rather a sort of pastille perfume she had left; a scent of musk and amber, than an odour of sanctity. I was just beginning to stifle with the fumes of conservatory flowers and sprinkled essences, when I bethought myself to open the window and step out on to the balcony. It was moonlight and gaslight besides, and very still and serene. The balcony was furnished with a chair or two; I sat down, and took out a cigar,- I will take one now, if you will excuse me.'

Here ensued a pause, filled up by the producing and lighting of a cigar; having placed it to his lips and breathed a trail of Havannah incense on the freezing and sunless air, he went on- 'I liked bonbons too in those days, Miss Eyre, and I was croquant- (overlook the barbarism)- croquant chocolate comfits, and smoking alternately, watching meantime the equipages that rolled along the fashionable streets towards the neighbouring opera-house, when in an elegant close carriage drawn by a beautiful pair of English horses, and distinctly seen in the brilliant city-night, I recognised the "voiture" I had given Celine. She was returning: of course my heart thumped with impatience against the iron rails I leant upon. The carriage stopped, as I had expected, at the hotel door; my flame (that is the very word for an opera inamorata) alighted: though muffled in a cloak- an unnecessary encumbrance, by the bye, on so warm a June evening- I knew her instantly by her little foot, seen peeping from the skirt of her dress, as she skipped from the carriage step. Bending over the balcony, I was about to murmur "Mon ange"- in a tone, of course, which should be audible to the ear of love alone- when a figure jumped from the carriage after her; cloaked also; but that was a spurred heel which had rung on the pavement, and that was a hatted head which now passed under the arched porte cochere of the hotel.

'You never felt jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you; because you never felt love. You have both sentiments yet to experience: your soul sleeps; the shock is yet to be given which shall waken it. You think all existence lapses in as quiet a flow as that in which your youth has hitherto slid away. Floating on with closed eyes and muffled ears, you neither see the rocks bristling not far off in the bed of the flood, nor hear the breakers boil at their base. But I tell you- and you may mark my words- you will come some day to a craggy pass in the channel, where the whole of life's stream will be broken up into whirl and tumult, foam and noise: either you will be dashed to atoms on crag points, or lifted up and borne on by some master-wave into a calmer current- as I am now.

'I like this day; I like that sky of steel; I like the sterness and stillness of the world under this frost. I like Thornfield, its antiquity, its retirement, its old crow-trees and thorn-trees, its grey facade, and lines of dark windows reflecting that metal welkin: and yet how long have I abhorred the very thought of it, shunned it like a great plague-house? How I do still abhor-'

He ground his teeth and was silent: he arrested his step and struck his boot against the hard ground. Some hated thought seemed to have him in its grip, and to hold him so tightly that he could not advance.

We were ascending the avenue when he thus paused; the hall was before us. Lifting his eye to its battlements, he cast over them a glare such as I never saw before or since. Pain, shame, ire, impatience, disgust, detestation, seemed momentarily to hold a quivering conflict in the large pupil dilating under his ebon eyebrow.

Wild was the wrestle which should be paramount; but another feeling rose and triumphed: something hard and cynical: self-willed and resolute: it settled his passion and petrified his countenance: he went on-

'During the moment I was silent, Miss Eyre, I was arranging a point with my destiny. She stood there, by that beech-trunk- a hag like one of those who appeared to Macbeth on the heath of Forres. "You like Thornfield?" she said, lifting her finger; and then she wrote in the air a memento, which ran in lurid hieroglyphics all along the house-front, between the upper and lower row of windows, "Like it if you can? Like it if you dare!"

'"I will like it" said I; "I dare like it;" and' (he subjoined moodily) 'I will keep my word; I will break obstacles to happiness, to goodness- yes, goodness. I wish to be a better man than I have been, than I am; as Job's leviathan broke the spear, the dart, and the habergeon, hindrances which others count as iron and brass, I will esteem but straw and rotten wood.'

Adele here ran before him with her shuttlecock. 'Away!' he cried harshly; 'keep at a distance, child; or go in to Sophie!' Continuing then to pursue his walk in silence, I ventured to recall him to the point whence he had abruptly diverged-

'Did you leave the balcony, sir,' I asked, 'when Mdlle. Varens entered?'

I almost expected a rebuff for this hardly well-timed question, but, on the contrary, waking out of his scowling abstraction, he turned his eyes towards me, and the shade seemed to clear off his brow. 'Oh, I had forgotten Celine! Well, to resume. When I saw my charmer thus come in accompanied by a cavalier, I seemed to hear a hiss, and the green snake of jealousy, rising on undulating coils from the moonlit balcony, glided within my waistcoat, and ate its way in two minutes to my heart's core. Strange!' he exclaimed, suddenly starting again from the point. 'Strange that I should choose you for the confidant of all this, young lady; passing strange that you should listen to me quietly, as if it were the most usual thing in the world for a man like me to tell stories of his opera-mistresses to a quaint, inexperienced girl like you! But the last singularity explains the first, as I intimated once before: you, with your gravity, considerateness, and caution were made to be the recipient of secrets.

Besides, I know what sort of a mind I have placed in communication with my own: I know it is one not liable to take infection: it is a peculiar mind: it is a unique one. Happily I do not mean to harm it: but, if I did, it would not take harm from me. The more you and I converse, the better; for while I cannot blight you, you may refresh me.' After this digression he proceeded-

'I remained in the balcony. "They will come to her boudoir, no doubt," thought I: "Let me prepare an ambush." So putting my hand in through the open window, I drew the curtain over it, leaving only an opening through which I could take observations; then I closed the casement, all but a chink just wide enough to furnish an outlet to lovers' whispered vows: then I stole back to my chair; and as I resumed it the pair came in. My eye was quickly at the aperture.

Celine's chambermaid entered, lit a lamp, left it on the table, and withdrew. The couple were thus revealed to me clearly: both removed their cloaks, and there was "the Varens," shining in satin and jewels,- my gifts of course,- and there was her companion in an officer's uniform; and I knew him for a young roue of a vicomte- a brainless and vicious youth whom I had sometimes met in society, and had never thought of hating because I despised him so absolutely. On recognising him, the fang of the snake Jealousy was instantly broken; because at the same moment my love for Celine sank under an extinguisher. A woman who could betray me for such a rival was not worth contending for; she deserved only scorn; less, however, than I, who had been her dupe.

'They began to talk; their conversation eased me completely: frivolous, mercenary, heartless, and senseless, it was rather calculated to weary than enrage a listener. A card of mine lay on the table; this being perceived, brought my name under discussion.

Neither of them possessed energy or wit to belabour me soundly, but they insulted me as coarsely as they could in their little way: especially Celine, who even waxed rather brilliant on my personal defects- deformities she termed them. Now it had been her custom to launch out into fervent admiration of what she called my "beaute male": wherein she differed diametrically from you, who told me point-blank, at the second interview, that you did not think me handsome. The contrast struck me at the time and-'

Adele here came running up again.

'Monsieur, John has just been to say that your agent has called and wishes to see you.'

'Ah! in that case I must abridge. Opening the window, I walked in upon them; liberated Celine from my protection; gave her notice to vacate her hotel; offered her a purse for immediate exigencies; disregarded screams, hysterics, prayers, protestations, convulsions; made an appointment with the vicomte for a meeting at the Bois de Boulogne. Next morning I had the pleasure of encountering him; left a bullet in one of his poor etiolated arms, feeble as the wing of a chicken in the pip, and then thought I had done with the whole crew.

But unluckily the Varens, six months before, had given me this filette Adele, who, she affirmed, was my daughter; and perhaps she may be, though I see no proofs of such grim paternity written in her countenance: Pilot is more like me than she. Some years after I had broken with the mother, she abandoned her child, and ran away to Italy with a musician or singer. I acknowledged no natural claim on Adele's part to be supported by me, nor do I now acknowledge any, for I am not her father; but hearing that she was quite destitute, I e'en took the poor thing out of the slime and mud of Paris, and transplanted it here, to grow up clean in the wholesome soil of an English country garden. Mrs. Fairfax found you to train it; but now you know that it is the illegitimate offspring of a French opera-girl, you will perhaps think differently of your post and protegee: you will be coming to me some day with notice that you have found another place- that you beg me to look out for a new governess, etc.- Eh?'

'No: Adele is not answerable for either her mother's faults or yours: I have a regard for her; and now that I know she is, in a sense, parentless- forsaken by her mother and disowned by you, sir- I shall cling closer to her than before. How could I possibly prefer the spoilt pet of a wealthy family, who would hate her governess as a nuisance, to a lonely little orphan, who leans towards her as a friend?'

'Oh, that is the light in which you view it! Well, I must go in now; and you too: it darkens.'

But I stayed out a few minutes longer with Adele and Pilot- ran a race with her, and played a game of battledore and shuttlecock. When we went in, and I had removed her bonnet and coat, I took her on my knee; kept her there an hour, allowing her to prattle as she liked: not rebuking even some little freedoms and trivialities into which she was apt to stray when much noticed, and which betrayed in her a superficiality of character, inherited probably from her mother, hardly congenial to an English mind. Still she had her merits; and I was disposed to appreciate all that was good in her to the utmost. I sought in her countenance and features a likeness to Mr. Rochester, but found none: no trait, no turn of expression announced relationship. It was a pity: if she could but have been proved to resemble him, he would have thought more of her.

It was not till after I had withdrawn to my own chamber for the night, that I steadily reviewed the tale Mr. Rochester had told me. As he had said, there was probably nothing at all extraordinary in the substance of the narrative itself: a wealthy Englishman's passion for a French dancer, and her treachery to him, were every-day matters enough, no doubt, in society; but there was something decidedly strange in the paroxysm of emotion which had suddenly seized him when he was in the act of expressing the present contentment of his mood, and his newly revived pleasure in the old hall and its environs. I meditated wonderingly on this incident; but gradually quitting it, as I found it for the present inexplicable, I turned to the consideration of my master's manner to myself. The confidence he had thought fit to repose in me seemed a tribute to my discretion: I regarded and accepted it as such. His deportment had now for some weeks been more uniform towards me than at the first. I never seemed in his way; he did not take fits of chilling hauteur: when he met me unexpectedly, the encounter seemed welcome; he had always a word and sometimes a smile for me: when summoned by formal invitation to his presence, I was honoured by a cordiality of reception that made me feel I really possessed the power to amuse him, and that these evening  conferences were sought as much for his pleasure as for my benefit.

I, indeed, talked comparatively little, but I heard him talk with relish. It was his nature to be communicative; he liked to open to a mind unacquainted with the world glimpses of its scenes and ways (I do not mean its corrupt scenes and wicked ways, but such as derived their interest from the great scale on which they were acted, the strange novelty by which they were characterised); and I had a keen delight in receiving the new ideas he offered, in imagining the new pictures he portrayed, and following him in thought through the new regions he disclosed, never startled or troubled by one noxious allusion.

The ease of his manner freed me from painful restraint: the friendly frankness, as correct as cordial, with which he treated me, drew me to him. I felt at times as if he were my relation rather than my master: yet he was imperious sometimes still; but I did not mind that; I saw it was his way. So happy, so gratified did I become with this new interest added to life, that I ceased to pine after kindred: my thin crescent-destiny seemed to enlarge; the blanks of existence were filled up; my bodily health improved; I gathered flesh and strength.

And was Mr. Rochester now ugly in my eyes? No, reader: gratitude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made his face the object I best liked to see; his presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire. Yet I had not forgotten his faults; indeed, I could not, for he brought them frequently before me. He was proud, sardonic, harsh to inferiority of every description: in my secret soul I knew that his great kindness to me was balanced by unjust severity to many others. He was moody, too; unaccountably so; I more than once,  when sent for to read to him, found him sitting in his library alone, with his head bent on his folded arms; and, when he looked up, a morose, almost a malignant, scowl blackened his features. But I believed that his moodiness, his harshness, and his former faults of morality (I say former, for now he seemed corrected of them) had their source in some cruel cross of fate. I believed he was naturally a man of better tendencies, higher principles, and purer tastes than such as circumstances had developed, education instilled, or destiny encouraged. I thought there were excellent materials in him; though for the present they hung together somewhat spoiled and tangled. I cannot deny that I grieved for his grief, whatever that was, and would have given much to assuage it.

Though I had now extinguished my candle and was laid down in bed, I could not sleep for thinking of his look when he paused in the avenue, and told how his destiny had risen up before him, and dared him to be happy at Thornfield.

'Why not?' I asked myself. 'What alienates him from the house? Will he leave it again soon? Mrs. Fairfax said he seldom stayed here longer than a fortnight at a time; and he has now been resident eight weeks. If he does go, the change will be doleful. Suppose he should be absent spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!'

I hardly know whether I had slept or not after this musing; at any rate, I started wide awake on hearing a vague murmur, peculiar and lugubrious, which sounded, I thought, just above me. I wished I had kept my candle burning: the night was drearily dark; my spirits were depressed. I rose and sat up in bed, listening. The sound was hushed.

I tried again to sleep; but my heart beat anxiously: my inward tranquillity was broken. The clock, far down in the hall, struck two. Just then it seemed my chamber-door was touched; as if fingers had swept the panels in groping a way along the dark gallery outside. I said, 'Who is there?' Nothing answered. I was chilled with fear.

All at once I remembered that it might be Pilot, who, when the kitchen-door chanced to be left open, not unfrequently found his way up to the threshold of Mr. Rochester's chamber: I had seen him lying there myself in the mornings. The idea calmed me somewhat: I lay down.

Silence composes the nerves; and as an unbroken hush now reigned again through the whole house, I began to feel the return of slumber. But it was not fated that I should sleep that night. A dream had scarcely approached my ear, when it fled affrighted, scared by a marrow-freezing incident enough.

This was a demoniac laugh- low, suppressed, and deep- uttered, as it seemed, at the very keyhole of my chamber door. The head of my bed was near the door, and I thought at first the goblin-laugher stood at my bedside- or rather, crouched by my pillow: but I rose, looked round, and could see nothing; while, as I still gazed, the unnatural sound was reiterated: and I knew it came from behind the panels. My first impulse was to rise and fasten the bolt; my next, again to cry out, 'Who is there?'

Something gurgled and moaned. Ere long, steps retreated up the gallery towards the third-storey staircase: a door had lately been made to shut in that staircase; I heard it open and close, and all was still.

'Was that Grace Poole? and is she possessed with a devil?' thought I. Impossible now to remain longer by myself: I must go to Mrs. Fairfax. I hurried on my frock and a shawl; I withdrew the bolt and opened the door with a trembling hand. There was a candle burning just outside, and on the matting in the gallery. I was surprised at this circumstance: but still more was I amazed to perceive the air quite dim, as if filled with smoke; and, while looking to the right hand and left, to find whence these blue wreaths issued, I became further aware of a strong smell of burning.

Something creaked: it was a door ajar; and that door was Mr.

Rochester's, and the smoke rushed in a cloud from thence. I thought no more of Mrs. Fairfax; I thought no more of Grace Poole, or the laugh: in an instant, I was within the chamber. Tongues of flame darted round the bed: the curtains were on fire. In the midst of blaze and vapour, Mr. Rochester lay stretched motionless, in deep sleep.

'Wake! wake!' I cried. I shook him, but he only murmured and turned: the smoke had stupefied him. Not a moment could be lost: the very sheets were kindling, I rushed to his basin and ewer; fortunately, one was wide and the other deep, and both were filled with water. I heaved them up, deluged the bed and its occupant, flew back to my own room, brought my own water-jug, baptized the couch afresh, and, by God's aid, succeeded in extinguishing the flames which were devouring it.

The hiss of the quenched element, the breakage of a pitcher which I flung from my hand when I had emptied it, and, above all, the splash of the shower-bath I had liberally bestowed, roused Mr. Rochester at last. Though it was now dark, I knew he was awake; because I heard him fulminating strange anathemas at finding himself lying in a pool of water.

'Is there a flood?' he cried.

No, sir,' I answered; 'but there has been a fire: get up, do; you are quenched now; I will fetch you a candle.'

'In the name of all the elves in Christendom, is that Jane Eyre?' he demanded. 'What have you done with me, witch, sorceress? Who is in the room besides you? Have you plotted to drown me?'

'I will fetch you a candle, sir; and, in Heaven's name, get up.

Somebody has plotted something: you cannot too soon find out who and what it is.'

'There! I am up now; but at your peril you fetch a candle yet: wait two minutes till I get into some dry garments, if any dry there be- yes, here is my dressing-gown. Now run!'

I did run; I brought the candle which still remained in the gallery. He took it from my hand, held it up, and surveyed the bed, all blackened and scorched, the sheets drenched, the carpet round  swimming in water.

'What is it? and who did it?' he asked.

I briefly related to him what had transpired: the strange laugh I had heard in the gallery; the step ascending to the third storey; the smoke,- the smell of fire which had conducted me to his room; in what state I had found matters there, and how I had deluged him with all the water I could lay hands on.

He listened very gravely; his face, as I went on, expressed more concern than astonishment; he did not immediately speak when I had concluded.

'Shall I call Mrs. Fairfax?' I asked.

'Mrs. Fairfax? No; what the deuce would you call her for? What can she do? Let her sleep unmolested.'

'Then I will fetch Leah, and wake John and his wife.'

'Not at all: just be still. You have a shawl on. If you are not warm enough, you may take my cloak yonder; wrap it about you, and sit down in the arm-chair: there,- I will put it on. Now place your feet on the stool, to keep them out of the wet. I am going to leave you a few minutes. I shall take the candle. Remain where you are till I return; be as still as a mouse. I must pay a visit to the second storey. Don't move, remember, or call any one.'

He went: I watched the light withdraw. He passed up the gallery very softly, unclosed the staircase door with as little noise as possible, shut it after him, and the last ray vanished. I  was left in total darkness. I listened for some noise, but heard nothing. A very long time elapsed. I grew weary: it was cold, in spite of the cloak; and then I did not see the use of staying, as I was not to rouse the house. I was on the point of risking Mr. Rochester's displeasure by disobeying his orders, when the light once more gleamed dimly on the gallery wall, and I heard his unshod feet tread the matting. 'I hope it is he,' thought I, 'and not something worse.'

He re-entered, pale and very gloomy. 'I have found it all out,' said he, setting his candle down on the washstand; 'it is as I thought.'

'How, sir?'

He made no reply, but stood with his arms folded, looking on the ground. At the end of a few minutes he inquired in rather a peculiar tone-

'I forget whether you said you saw anything when you opened your chamber door.'

'No, sir, only the candlestick on the ground.'

'But you heard an odd laugh? You have heard that laugh before, I should think, or something like it?'

'Yes, sir: there is a woman who sews here, called Grace Poole,- she laughs in that way. She is a singular person.'

'Just so. Grace Poole- you have guessed it. She is, as you say, singular- very. Well, I shall reflect on the subject. Meantime, I am glad that you are the only person, besides myself, acquainted with the precise details of to-night's incident. You are no talking fool: say nothing about it. I will account for this state of affairs' (pointing to the bed): 'and now return to your own room. I shall do very well on the sofa in the library for the rest of the night. It is near four:- in two hours the servants will be up.'

'Good-night, then, sir,' said I, departing.

He seemed surprised- very inconsistently so, as he had just told me to go.

'What!' he exclaimed, 'are you quitting me already, and in that way?'

'You said I might go, sir.'

'But not without taking leave; not without a word or two of acknowledgment and good-will: not, in short, in that brief, dry fashion. Why, you have saved my life!- snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death! and you walk past me as if we were mutual strangers! At least shake hands.'

He held out his hand; I gave him mine: he took it first in one, then in both his own.

'You have saved my life: I have a pleasure in owing you so immense a debt. I cannot say more. Nothing else that has being would have been tolerable to me in the character of creditor for such an obligation: but you: it is different;- I feel your benefits no burden, Jane.'

He paused; gazed at me: words almost visible trembled on his lips,- but his voice was checked.

'Good-night again, sir. There is no debt, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case.'

'I knew,' he continued, you would do me good in some way, at some time;- I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not'- (again he stopped)- 'did not' (he proceeded hastily) 'strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing.

People talk of natural sympathies; I have heard of good genii: there are grains of truth in the wildest fable. My cherished preserver, good-night!'

Strange energy was in his voice, strange fire in his look. 'I am glad I happened to be awake,' I said: and then I was going.

'What! you will go?'

'I am cold, sir.'

'Cold? Yes,- and standing in a pool! Go, then, Jane; go!' But he still retained my hand, and I could not free it. I bethought myself of an expedient.

'I think I hear Mrs. Fairfax move, sir,' said I.

'Well, leave me': he relaxed his fingers, and I was gone.

I regained my couch, but never thought of sleep. Till morning dawned I was tossed on a buoyant but unquiet sea, where billows of trouble rolled under surges of joy. I thought sometimes I saw beyond its wild waters a shore, sweet as the hills of Beulah; and now and then a freshening gale, wakened by hope, bore my spirit triumphantly towards the bourne: but I could not reach it, even in fancy- a counteracting breeze blew off land, and continually drove me back.

Sense would resist delirium: judgment would warn passion. Too feverish to rest, I rose as soon as day dawned.
 
 

第十五章
 

 
 
在日后某个场合,罗切斯特先生的确对这件事情作了解释。一天下午,他在庭院里碰到了我和阿黛勒。趁阿黛勒正逗着派洛特,玩着板羽球的时候,他请我去一条长长的布满山毛榉的小路上散步,从那儿看得见阿黛勒。

他随之告诉我阿黛勒是法国歌剧演员塞莉纳.瓦伦的女儿,他对这位歌剧演员,一度怀着他所说的“grandepassion”。而对这种恋情,塞莉纳宣称将以更加火热的激情来回报。尽管他长得丑,他却认为自己是她的偶像。他相信,如他所说,比之贝尔维德尔的阿波罗的优美,她更喜欢他的“tailled'athlete”。

“爱小姐,这位法国美女竟钟情于一个英国侏儒、我简直受宠若惊了,于是我把她安顿在城里的一间房子里,配备了一整套的仆役和马车,送给她山羊绒、钻石和花边等等。总之,我像任何一个痴情汉一样,开始按世俗的方式毁灭自己了。我似乎缺乏独创,不会踏出一条通向耻辱和毁灭的新路,而是傻乎乎地严格循着旧道,不离别人的足迹半步。我遭到了——我活该如此——所有别的痴情汉一样的命运。一天晚上,我去拜访塞莉纳。她不知道我要去,所以我到时她不在家。这是一个暖和的夜晚,我因为步行穿过巴黎城,已很有倦意,便在她的闺房坐了下来,愉快地呼吸着新近由于她的到来而神圣化了的空气。不——我言过其实了,我从来不认为她身上有什么神圣的德性。这不过是她所留下的一种香锭的香气,与其说是神圣的香气,还不如说一种麝香和琥珀的气味。我正开始沉醉在暖房花朵的气息和弥漫着的幽幽清香里时,蓦地想起去打开窗门,走到阳台上去。这时月色朗照,汽灯闪亮,十分静谧。阳台上摆着一两把椅子,我坐了下来,取出一支雪茄——请原谅,现在我要抽一支。”

说到这里他停顿了一下,同时拿出一根雪茄点燃了。他把雪茄放到嘴里,把一缕哈瓦那烟云雾喷进寒冷而阴沉的空气里,他继续说:

“在那些日子里我还喜欢夹心糖,爱小姐。而当时我一会儿croquant”(也顾不得野蛮了)巧克力糖果,一会儿吸烟,同时凝视着经过时髦的街道向邻近歌剧院驶去的马车。这时来了一辆精制的轿式马车,由一对漂亮的英国马拉着,在灯火辉煌的城市夜景中,看得清清楚楚。我认出来正是我赠送给塞莉纳的‘voiture’。是她回来了。当然,我那颗倚在铁栏杆上的心急不可耐地跳动着。不出我所料,马车在房门口停了下来。我的情人(这两个字恰好用来形容一个唱歌剧的情人)从车上走下,尽管罩着斗篷——顺便说一句,那么暖和的六月夜晚,这完全是多此一举。——她从马车踏步上跳下来时,我从那双露在裙子下的小脚,立刻认出了她来。我从阳台上探出身子,正要响响地叫一声‘MonAnge’——用的声气光能让情人听见——这时,一个身影在她后面跳下了马车,也披着斗篷。但一只带踢马刺的脚跟,在人行道上响了起来,一个戴礼帽的头正从房子拱形的portecochere经过。

“你从来没有嫉妒过是不是,爱小姐?当然没有。我不必问你了,因为你从来没有恋爱过?;姑挥刑寤峁饬街指星?。你的灵魂正在沉睡,只有使它震惊才能将它唤醒,你认为一切生活,就像你的青春悄悄逝去一样,也都是静静地流走的。你闭着眼睛,塞住了耳朵,随波逐流,你既没有看到不远的地方涨了潮的河床上礁石林立,也没有听到浪涛在礁石底部翻腾,但我告诉你——你仔细听着——某一天你会来到河道中岩石嶙峋的关隘,这里,你整个生命的河流会被撞得粉碎,成了漩涡和骚动,泡沫和喧哗,你不是在岩石尖上冲得粉身碎骨,就是被某些大浪掀起来,汇入更平静的河流,就像我现在一样。

“我喜欢今天这样的日子,喜欢铁灰色的天空,喜欢严寒中庄严肃穆的世界,喜欢桑菲尔德,喜欢它的古色古香,它的旷远幽静,它乌鸦栖息的老树和荆棘,它灰色的正面,它映出灰色苍穹的一排排黛色窗户??墒窃诼さ乃暝吕?,我一想到它就觉得厌恶,像躲避瘟疫滋生地一样避之不迭:就是现在我依然多么讨厌——”

他咬着牙,默默无语。他收住了脚步,用靴子踢着坚硬的地面,某种厌恶感抓住了他,把他攫得紧紧的,使他举步不前。

他这么突然止住话头时,我们正登上小路,桑菲尔德府展现在我们面前。他抬眼去看城垛,眼睛瞪得大大的。这种神色,我以前和以后从未见过。痛苦、羞愧、狂怒——焦躁、讨厌、僧恶——似乎在他乌黑的眉毛下涨大的瞳孔里,暂时进行着一场使他为之颤栗的搏斗。这番至关重要的交战空前激烈,不过另一种感情在他心中升起,并占了上风,这种感情冷酷而玩世不恭,任性而坚定不移,消融了他的激情,使他脸上现出了木然的神色,他继续说:

“我刚才沉默的那一刻,爱小姐,我正跟自己的命运交涉着一件事情,她站在那儿,山毛榉树干旁边——一个女巫,就像福累斯荒原上出现在麦克白面前几个女巫中的一个。‘你喜欢桑菲尔德吗?’她竖起她的手指说,随后在空中写了一条警语,那文字奇形怪状,十分可怖,覆盖了上下两排窗户之间的正壁:‘只要能够,你就喜欢它!只要你敢,你就喜欢它!’

“‘我一定喜欢它,’我说,‘我敢于喜欢它,’(他郁郁不欢地补充了一句),我会信守诺言,排除艰难险阻去追求幸福,追求良善——对,良善。我希望做个比以往,比现在更好的人——就像约伯的海中怪兽那样,折断矛戟和标枪,刺破盔甲,扫除一切障碍,别人以为这些障碍坚如钢铁,而我却视之为干草、烂木。”

这时阿黛勒拿着板羽球跑到了他跟前。

“走开!”他厉声喝道,“离得远一点,孩子,要不,到里面索菲娅那儿去。”随后他继续默默地走路,我冒昧地提醒他刚才突然岔开去的话题。

“瓦伦小姐进屋的时候你离开了阳台吗,先生?”我问。

我几乎预料他会拒绝回答这个不合时宜的问题,可是恰恰相反,他从一脸愁容、茫然若失之中醒悟过来,把目光转向我,眉宇间的阴云也似乎消散了。“哦,我已经把塞莉纳给忘了!好吧,我接着讲。当我看见那个把我弄得神瑰颠倒的女人,由一个好献殷勤的男人陪着进来时,我似乎听到了一阵嘶嘶声,绿色的妒嫉之蛇,从月光照耀下的阳台上呼地窜了出来,盘成了高低起伏的圈圈,钻进了我的背心,两分钟后一直咬啮到了我的内心深处。真奇怪!”他惊叫了一声,突然又离开了话题。“真奇怪我竟会选中你来听这番知心话,年轻小姐,更奇怪的是你居然静静地听着,仿佛这是人世间再正常不过的事情,由一个像我这样的男人,把自己当歌女的情人的故事,讲给一个像你这样古怪而不谙世事的姑娘听。不过正像我曾说过的那样,后一个特点说明了前者:你稳重、体贴、细心,生来就是听别人吐露隐秘的。此外,我知道我选择的是怎样的一类头脑,来与自己的头脑沟通。我知道这是一个不易受感染的头脑,与众不同,独一无二。幸而我并不想败坏它,就是我想这么做,它也不会受影响,你与我谈得越多越好,因为我不可能腐蚀你。而你却可以使我重新振作起来。”讲了这番离题的话后,他又往下说:

“我仍旧呆在阳台上。‘他们肯定会到她闺房里来,’我想,‘让我来一个伏击。’于是把手缩回开着的窗子、将窗帘拉拢,只剩下一条便于观察的开口。随后我关上窗子,只留下一条缝,刚好可以让‘情人们的喃喃耳语和山盟海誓,’透出来,接着我偷偷地回到了椅子上。刚落座,这一对进来了。我的目光很快射向缝隙。塞莉纳的侍女走进房间,点上灯,把它留在桌子上,退了出去。于是这一对便清清楚楚地暴露在我面前了。两人都脱去了斗篷,这位‘名人瓦伦’一身绸缎、珠光宝气——当然是我的馈赠——她的陪伴却一身戎装,我知道他是一个vicomet,一个年青的roue,——一个没有头脑的恶少,有时在社交场中见过面,我却从来没有想到去憎恨他,因为我绝对地鄙视他。一认出他来,那蛇的毒牙——嫉妒,立即被折断了,因为与此同时,我对塞莉纳的爱火也被灭火器浇灭了。一个女人为了这样一个情敌而背弃我,是不值得一争的,她只配让人蔑视,然而我更该如此,因为我己经被她所愚弄。

“他们开始交谈。两人的谈话使我完全安心了,轻浮浅薄、唯利是图、冷酷无情、毫无意义,叫人听了厌烦,而不是愤怒。桌上放着我的一张名片,他们一看见便谈论起我来了。两人都没有能力和智慧狠狠痛斥我,而是耍尽小手段,粗鲁地侮辱我,尤其是塞莉纳,甚至夸大其词地对我进行人身攻击,把我的缺陷说成残疾,而以前她却惯于热情赞美她所说我的“beautemale”。在这一点上,你与她全然不同,我们第二次见面时,你直截了当地告诉我,你认为我长得不好看,当时两者的反差给我留下了深刻印象。”

这时阿黛勒又奔到了他跟前。

“先生,约翰刚才过来说,你的代理人来了,希望见你。”

“噢!那样我就只好从简了。我打开落地窗,朝他们走去,解除了对塞莉纳的?;?,通知她腾出房子,给了她一笔钱以备眼前急用,不去理睬她的大哭小叫、歇斯底里、恳求、抗议和痉挛,跟那位子爵约定在布洛尼树林决斗的时间,第二天早晨,我有幸与他相遇,在他一条如同瘟鸡翅膀那么弱不禁风的可怜的胳膊上,留下了一颗子弹,随后自认为我已了结同这伙人的关系,不幸的是,这位瓦伦在六个月之前给我留下了这个fillette阿黛勒,并咬定她是我女儿。也许她是,尽管我从她脸上看不到父女之间的必然联系。派洛特还比她更像我呢。我同瓦伦决裂后几年,瓦伦遗弃了孩子,同一个音乐家或是歌唱家私奔到了意大利。当时我并没有承认自己有抚养阿黛勒的义务,就是现在也不承认,因为我不是她的父亲,不过一听到她穷愁潦倒,我便把这个可怜虫带出了巴黎的泥坑,转移到这里,让她在英国乡间花园健康的土壤中,干干净净地成长,费尔法克斯太太找到了你来培养她,而现在,你知道她是一位法国歌剧女郎的私生女了,你也许对自己的职位和保保人身份,改变了想法,说不定哪一天你会来见我,通知我己经找到了别的工作。让我另请一位新的家庭教师等等呢?”

“不,阿黛勒不应对她母亲和你的过失负责。我很关心她,现在我知道她在某种意义上说没有父母——被她的母亲所抛弃,而又不被你所承认,先生——我会比以前更疼爱她。我怎么可能喜欢富贵人家一个讨厌家庭教师的娇惯的宠儿,而不喜欢象朋友一样对待她的孤苦无依的小孤儿呢?”

“啊,你是从这个角度来看待这件事了,好吧,我得进去了,你也一样,天黑下来了。”

但我同阿黛勒和派洛特在外面又呆了几分钟,同她一起赛跑,还打了场板羽球。我们进屋以后,我脱下了她的帽子和外衣,把她放在自己的膝头上,坐了一个小时,允许她随心所欲地唠叨个不停,即使有点放肆和轻浮,也不加指责。别人一多去注意她,她就容易犯这个毛病,暴露出她性格上的浅薄。这种浅薄同普通英国头脑几乎格格不入,很可能是从她母亲那儿遗传来的。不过她有她的长处,我有意尽力赏识她身上的一切优点,还从她的面容和五官上寻找同罗切斯特先生的相似之处,但踪影全元。没有任何性格特色,没有任何谈吐上的特点,表明相互之间的关系。真可惜,要是能证实她确实像他就好了,他准会更想着她。

我回到自己的房间过夜,才从容地回味罗切斯特先生告诉我的故事。如他所说,从叙述的内容来看,也许丝毫没有特别的地方,无非是一个有钱的英国男人对一个法国舞女的恋情,以及她对他的背离。这类事在上流社会中无疑是司空见惯的。但是,他在谈起自己目前心满意足,并对古老的府楼和周围的环境恢复了一种新的乐趣时,突然变得情绪冲动,这实在有些蹊跷。我带着疑问思索着这个细节,但渐渐地便作罢了,因为眼下我觉得它不可思议。我转而考虑起我主人对我的态度来,他认为可以同我无话不谈,这似乎是对我处事审慎的赞美。因此我也就如此来看待和接受了。几周来他在我面前的举动己不像当初那样变化无常。他似乎从不认为我碍手碍脚,也没有动不动露出冷冰冰的傲慢态度来。有时他同我不期而遇,对这样的碰面,他似乎也很欢迎,总是有一两句话要说,有时还对我笑笑。我被正式邀请去见他时,很荣幸地受到了热情接待,因而觉得自己确实具有为他解闷的能力。晚上的会见既是为了我,也是为了他的愉快。

说实在,相比之下我的话不多,不过我津津有味地听他说。他生性爱说话,喜欢向一个未见世面的人披露一点世事人情(我不是指腐败的风尚和恶劣的习气,而是指那些因为广泛盛行、新奇独特而显得有趣的世事),我非常乐意接受他所提供的新观念,想象出他所描绘的新画面,在脑海中跟随着他越过所揭示的新领域,从来不因为提到某些有害的世象而大惊小怪,或者烦恼不已。

他举手投足无拘无束,使我不再痛苦地感到窘迫。他对我友好坦诚,既得体又热情,使我更加靠近他。有时我觉得他不是我的主人,而是我的亲戚;不过有时却依然盛气凌人,但我并不在乎,我明白他生就了这付性子。由于生活中平添了这一兴趣,我感到非常愉快,非常满意,不再渴望有自己的亲人,我那瘦如新月的命运也似乎壮大了,生活中的空白已被填补,我的健康有所好转,我长了肉,也长了力。

在我的眼睛里,罗切斯特先生现在还很丑吗?不,读者。感激之情以及很多愉快亲切的联想,使我终于最爱看他的面容了。房间里有他在,比生了最旺的火还更令人高兴。不过我并没有忘记他的缺陷。说实话,要忘也忘不了,因为在我面前不断地暴露出来。对于各类低于他的人,他高傲刻薄,喜欢挖苦。我心里暗自明白,他对我的和颜悦色,同对很多其他人的不当的严厉相对等。他还郁郁不欢,简直到了难以理解的程度。我被叫去读书给他听时,曾不止一次地发现他独自一人坐在图书室里,脑袋伏在抱着的双臂上。他抬头时,露出闷闷不乐近乎恶意的怒容,脸色铁青。不过我相信他的郁闷、他的严厉和他以前道德上的过错(我说“以前”,因为现在他似乎已经纠正了)都来源于他命运中某些艰苦的磨难。我相信,比起那些受环境所薰陶,教育所灌输或者命运所鼓励的人来,他生来就有更好的脾性,更高的准则和更纯的旨趣。我想他的素质很好,只是目前给糟塌了,乱纷纷地绞成了一团。我无法否认,不管是什么样的哀伤,我为他的哀伤而哀伤,并且愿意付出很大代价去减轻它。

虽然我已经灭了蜡烛,躺在床上,但一想起他在林荫道上停下步来时的神色,我便无法入睡。那时他说命运之神已出现在他面前,并且问他敢不敢在桑菲尔德获得幸福。

“为什么不敢呢,”我问自己,“是什么使他与府楼疏远了呢?他会马上再次离开吗?费尔法克斯太太说,他一次所呆的时间,难得超过两周。而现在他己经住了八周了。要是他真的走了,所引起的变化会令人悲哀。设想他春、夏、秋三季都不在,那风和日丽的好日子会显得多没有劲!”

我几乎不知道这番沉思之后是否睡着过。总之我一听到含糊的喃喃声之后,便完全惊醒过来了。那声音古怪而悲哀,我想就是从我房间的楼上传出来的。要是我仍旧点着蜡烛该多好,夜黑得可怕,而我情绪低沉。我于是爬起来坐在床上,静听着。那声音又消失了。

我竭力想再睡,但我的心却焦急不安地蹦蹦乱跳。我内心的平静给打破了,远在楼底下的大厅里,时钟敲响了两点。就在那时,我的房门似乎被碰了一下,仿佛有人摸黑走过外面的走廊时,手指擦过嵌板一样。我问,“谁在那里?”没有回答。我吓得浑身冰凉。

我蓦地想起这可能是派洛特,厨房门偶尔开着的时候,它常?;嵘璺ɡ吹铰耷兴固叵壬允业拿趴?,我自己就在早上看到过它躺在那里。这么一想,心里也便镇静了些。我躺了下来,沉寂安抚了我的神经。待到整所房子复又被一片宁静所笼罩时,我感到睡意再次袭来。但是那天晚上我是注定无法睡觉了。梦仙几乎还没接近我的耳朵,便被足以使人吓得冷入骨髓的事件唬跑了。

那是一阵恶魔般的笑声——压抑而低沉——仿佛就在我房门的锁孔外响起来的。我的床头靠门,所以我起初以为那笑着的魔鬼站在我床边,或是蹲在枕旁。但是我起身环顾左右,却什么也没有看到。而当我还在凝神细看时,那不自然的声音再次响起,而且我知道来自嵌板的背后。我的第一个反应是爬起来去拴好门,接着我又叫了一声“谁在那里?”

什么东西发出了咯咯声和呻吟声。不久那脚步又退回走廊,上了三楼的楼梯。最近那里装了一扇门,关闭了楼梯。我听见门被打开又被关上,一切复归平静。

“那是格雷斯.普尔吗,难道她妖魔附身了,”我想。我独个儿再也待不住了。我得去找费尔法克斯太太。我匆匆穿上外衣,披上披肩,用抖动着的手拔了门栓,开了门。就在门外,燃着一支蜡烛,留在走廊的垫子上。见此情景,我心里一惊,但更使我吃惊的是,我发觉空气十分混浊,仿佛充满了烟雾,正当我左顾右盼,寻找蓝色烟圈的出处时,我进一步闻到了一股强烈的焦臭味。

什么东西吱咯一声。那是一扇半掩的门,罗切斯特先生的房门,团团烟雾从里面冒出来。我不再去想费尔法克斯太太,也不再去想格雷斯.普尔,或者那笑声。一瞬间,我到了他房间里?;鹕啻哟埠退闹艽艹?,帐幔己经起火。在火光与烟雾的包围中,罗切斯特先生伸长了身子,一动不动地躺着,睡得很熟。

“快醒醒!快醒醒!”我一面推他。一面大叫,可是他只是咕哝了一下,翻了一个身,他已被烟雾薰得麻木了,一刻也不能耽搁了,闪为连床单也已经了火。我冲向他的脸盆和水罐,幸好一个很大,另一个很深,都灌满了水。我举起脸盆和水罐,用水冲了床和睡在床上的人,随之飞跑回我自己的房间、取了我的水罐,重新把床榻弄湿。由于上帝的帮助,我终于扑灭了正要吞没床榻的火焰。

被浇灭的火焰发出的丝丝声,我倒完水随手扔掉的水罐的破裂声,尤其是我慷慨赐予的淋浴的哗啦声,最后终于把罗切斯特先生惊醒了。尽管此刻漆黑一片,但我知道他醒了,因为我听见他一发现自己躺在水潭之中,便发出了奇怪的咒骂声。

“发大水了吗?”他叫道。

“没有,先生,”我回答,“不过发生了一场火灾,起来吧,一定得起来,现在你湿透了,我去给你拿支蜡烛来。”

“基督世界所有精灵在上,那是简.爱吗?”他问“你怎么摆弄我啦,女巫,妖婆,除了你,房间里还有谁,你耍了阴谋要把我淹死吗?”

“我去给你拿支蜡烛,先生,皇天在上,快起来吧。有人捣鬼。你不可能马上弄清楚是谁干的,究竟怎么回事。”

“瞧——现在我起来了。不过你冒一下险去取一支蜡烛来,等我两分钟,让我穿上件干外衣,要是还有什么干衣服的话——不错,这是我的晨衣,现在你快跑!”

我确实跑了,取了仍然留在走廊上的蜡烛。他从我手里把把蜡烛拿走,举得高高的,仔细察看着床铺,只见一片焦黑,床单湿透了,周围的地毯浸在水中。

“怎么回事?谁干的?”他问。

我简要地向他叙述了一下事情的经过。我在走廊上听到的奇怪笑声;登上三楼去的脚步;还有那烟雾——那火烧味如何把我引到了他的房间;那里的一切处在什么样的情况下;我又怎样把凡是我所能搞到的水泼在他身上。

他十分严肃地倾听着。我继续谈下去,他脸上露出的表情中,关切甚于惊讶。我讲完后他没有马上开口。

“要我去叫费尔法克斯太太吗?”我问。

“费尔法克斯太太?不要了,你究竟要叫她干什么?她能干什么呢?让她安安稳稳地睡吧。”

“那我就叫莉娅,并把约翰夫妇唤醒。”

“绝对不要。保持安静就行了。你已披上了披肩,要是嫌不够暖和,可以把那边的斗篷拿去。把你自己裹起来,坐在安乐椅里,那儿——我替你披上。现在把脚放在小凳子上,免得弄湿了。我要离开你几分钟,我得把蜡烛拿走,呆在这儿别动,直到我回来。你要像耗子—样安静。我得到三楼去看看。记住别动,也别去叫人。”

他走了。我注视着灯光隐去。他轻手轻脚地走上楼梯,开了楼梯的门,尽可能不发出一点声音来,随手把门关上,于是最后的光消失了。我完全堕入了黑暗。我搜索着某种声音,但什么也没听到。很长一段时间过去了,我开始不耐烦起来,尽管披着斗篷,但依然很冷。随后我觉得呆在这儿也没有用处,反正我又不打算把整屋子的人吵醒。我正要不顾罗切斯特先生的不快,违背他的命令时,灯光重又在走廊的墙上黯淡地闪烁,我听到他没穿鞋的脚走过垫子。“但愿是他,”我想,“而不是更坏的东西。”

他再次进屋时脸色苍白,十分忧郁。“我全搞清楚了,”他们蜡烛放在洗衣架上。“跟我想的一样。”

“怎么一回事,先生?”

他没有回答,只是抱臂而立、看着地板。几分钟后,他带着奇怪的声调问道:

“我忘了你是不是说打开房门的时候看到了什么东西。”

“没有,先生,只有烛台在地板上,”

“可你听到了古怪的笑声?我想你以前听到过那笑声,或者类似的那种声音。”

“是的,先生,这儿有一个缝衣女人,叫格雷斯.普尔——她就是那么笑的,她是个怪女人。”

“就是这么回事,格雷斯.普尔,你猜对了。象你说的一样,她是古怪,很古怪。好吧,这件事我再细细想想。同时我很高兴,因为你是除我之外唯一了解今晚的事儿确切细节的人。你不是一个爱嚼舌头的傻瓜,关于这件事,什么也别说。这付样子(指着床),我会解释的。现在回到你房间去,我在图书室沙发上躺到天亮挺不错,已快四点了,再过两个小时仆人们就会上楼来。”

“那么晚安,先生,”我说着就要离去。

他似乎很吃惊——完全是前后不一,因为他刚打发我走。

“什么!”他大叫道,“你已经要离开了,就那么走了?”

“你说我可以走了,先生。”

“可不能不告而别,不能连一两句表示感谢和善意的活都没有,总之不能那么简简单单,干干巴巴。嗨,你救了我的命呀?——把我从可怕和痛苦的死亡中拯救出来!而你就这么从我面前走过,仿佛我们彼此都是陌路人!至少也得握握手吧。”

他伸出手来,我也向他伸出手去。他先是用一只手,随后用双手把我的手握住。

“你救了我的命。我很高兴,欠了你那么大一笔人情债。我无法再说别的话了,要是别的债主,我欠了那么大情,我准会难以容忍,可是你却不同。我并不觉得欠你的恩情是一种负担,简。”

他停顿了一下,眼睛盯着我,话几乎已到了颤动着的嘴边,但他控制住了自己的嗓音。

“再次祝你晚安,先生,那件事没有负债,没有恩情,没有负担,也没有义务。”

“我早就知道,”他继续说:“你会在某一时候,以某种方式为我做好事的——我初次见你的时候,就从你眼睛里看到了这一点,那表情,那笑容不会(他再次打?。?,不会(他匆忙地继续说)无缘无故地在我心底里激起愉悦之情,人们爱谈天生的同情心,我曾听说过好的神怪——在那个荒诞的寓言里包含着一丝真理。我所珍重的救命恩人。晚安。”

在他的嗓音里有一种奇特的活力,在他的目光里有一种奇怪的火光。

“我很高兴,刚巧醒着,”我说,随后我就走开了。

“什么,你要走了?”

“我觉得冷,先生。”

“冷?是的——而且站在水潭中呢!那么走吧,简!”不过他仍然握着我的手,我难以
摆脱,于是我想出了一个权宜之计。

“我想我听见了费尔法克斯太太的走动声了,先生”我说。

“好吧,你走吧,”他放开手,我便走了。

我又上了床。但睡意全无,我被抛掷到了具有浮力,却很不平静的海面上,烦恼的波涛在喜悦的巨浪下翻滚,如此一直到了天明。有时我想,越过汹涌澎湃的水面,我看到了像比乌拉山那么甜蜜的海岸,时而有一阵被希望所唤起的清风,将我的灵魂得意洋洋地载向目的地,但即使在幻想之中,我也难以抵达那里,——陆地上吹来了逆风,不断地把我刮回去,理智会抵制昏聩,判断能警策热情,我兴奋得无法安睡,于是天一亮便起床了。 
 
 

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